The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [108]
Raney approached the Camaro, stopped at the center post, and looked down at the driver, a young Hispanic male. His hands were empty, as were the center console, dashboard, and the passenger and rear seats.
Raney asked for his driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance. Fidel handed them out the window. Raney walked backward to her unit, stood behind the open driver’s door, and called Clayton. “The driver is Narvaiz.”
“Can you get me something with his fingerprints on it?” Clayton asked.
“Ten-four. Do you want me to write him?”
“Be nice, give him a written warning.”
Raney wrote out the ticket, returned to Narvaiz, and explained that he wouldn’t be cited, only issued a written warning. She handed the ticket book to him and asked him to sign.
“Thanks,” Fidel said, smiling. He signed the form and handed the book back to the cop.
Raney tore out a copy, gave it to Narvaiz, and sent him on his way.
“I’ve got his prints,” Raney said into her handheld microphone. “They’re all over my ticket book.” She held it between a thumb and forefinger.
“Bag it, tag it, give it to Dillingham, and ask him to deliver it to Artie Gundersen,” Clayton said. “Dillingham knows what case I’m working, and can tell you what’s up.”
“Ten-four.”
At the sheriff’s office, while Clayton huddled with Paul Hewitt, Kerney wrote out the arrest affidavit on Norvell. Because his evidence was wholly circumstantial, he took his time, making sure all the relevant facts were convincingly included. Then he faxed it to the private office of the DA in Santa Fe, along with a note to have a copy of the warrant sent to Deputy Istee.
He walked in on Clayton and Hewitt to learn that the task-force packet had arrived, and Narvaiz’s fingerprints matched the partials found on Ulibarri’s body.
“You’ve got your killer,” Kerney said. “Congratulations. When are you going to arrest him?”
“All in due course,” Clayton said, smiling slyly.
Kerney laughed. “Keep me informed. You’ve got my phone number.”
“You’re leaving?” Hewitt asked, rising to offer his hand.
Kerney shook it. “It’s your show, Paul. You don’t need me filling up space. That’s something you don’t have a lot of around here.”
“Tell me about it,” Hewitt said with a chuckle.
“I’ll walk you out,” Clayton said.
Outside, Kerney and Clayton looked for the blue Camaro and didn’t see it. The clear day accented the dull slate-colored mountains behind a sea of tall-stemmed soapweed yuccas that spread out across the high desert plains, rippling in low waves against a slight breeze.
“Grace was hoping you’d stay over, and come to dinner tonight,” Clayton said.
“Another time,” Kerney replied, smiling.
“The kids will be disappointed.”
“You’ve got a great family.”
“Good luck with your surgery,” Clayton said.
“Thanks.”
Hesitantly, Clayton extended his hand. “Give my best to your wife.”
“Sara,” Kerney said, gripping Clayton’s hand. “I’ll send her your good wishes.”
“Yeah.”
“Take care, and be careful,” Kerney said.
“Yeah. You, too.”
Clayton started to say more, but the moment passed, and he turned away. Kerney watched him disappear into the building. Maybe it wasn’t a big breakthrough, but he felt a definite warming trend in the air.
As he passed the restored train caboose in the postage-stamp roadside park on the main drag that served as the chamber of commerce visitors’ center, Kerney thought about Sara. As soon as he got home, he’d write her a love letter, even if he had to struggle halfway through the night to find the right words to tell her what she meant to him.
Chapter 14
A little more than four weeks after his surgery, Kerney had a new knee and a new limp, although it was much less pronounced and less painful, and was disappearing fast due to the punishing rehab program he’d set for himself. There were certain situations where bullheadedness wasn’t a bad thing, and given the progress he’d made, this was one of them. Even Sara, who’d been getting daily progress reports from Kerney