Sara smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m armed and dangerous.”
Drenching rain beat down on the roof of the mobile command trailer as Kerney and the district attorney, Sid Larranaga, listened to Ramona Pino give her report. The thunderstorm had blown in just as the crime scene techs were finishing up at the shooting site, and the search-and-rescue team was carrying Larsen’s body down the mountain trail, accompanied by detectives and Kerney’s Internal Affairs commander.
“That’s all you got from the house search?” Larranaga asked when Detective Pino stopped talking.
“Yes, sir,” Ramona replied, pushing a strand of wet hair away from her face. She’d gotten soaked running from her unit to the command trailer, which only made her feel more miserable about the situation.
“I’m taking this to the grand jury,” Larranaga said, running a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket. He glanced hard at Kerney and nodded toward the door.
“You’re excused, Detective,” Kerney said. He waited for Pino to leave before addressing Larranaga. “That’s a premature call to make, Sid. Why not wait until you hear what my Internal Affairs commander has to say?”
Larranaga snorted and shifted his bulk in the chair. “It was stupid to call out SWAT and you know it. Even if your IA commander agrees with that assessment, the public is going to want an independent review made on this case. I’m charging the officers who shot Larsen with involuntary manslaughter. This was a lawful act, incautiously done, that resulted in the death of what clearly appears to be an innocent man. The grand jury can decide if it was justified or not.”
“Is that the way you intend to present it?” Kerney asked.
“I don’t know,” Larranaga replied. “But I will tell you this: I’ve got growing reservations about this big love affair cop shops have with special weapons and tactics units. This whole thing with the combat boots, military-style fatigues, automatic weapons, and all that high-tech stuff is getting to be a bit much. You’re supposed to police the community, not act like some sort of quasi-militia.”
“SWAT has a role to play in policing,” Kerney replied.
“Sometimes,” Larranaga said. “But not when a poor, unbalanced sucker who’s scared shitless is hiding in the woods because his deranged girlfriend has blown things all out of proportion.”
“Are you going to sacrifice my people to make your point?”
“Do you disagree with my analysis of the situation?” Larranaga shot back.
“No.”
Larranaga stood up. “Then make damn sure all the facts are available to present to the grand jury. The only defense you’ve got is to provide conclusive proof above and beyond the officers’ statements that they were forced to stop the action when they came under fire. You’d better hope and pray the evidence is there. I want the reports on my desk by morning.”
“What are you going to tell the media?” Kerney asked.
“For now, nothing,” Larranaga said. “I’ll announce my decision tomorrow after I’ve read your reports.”
Larranaga flipped up the collar of his suit jacket and left, running through the rain to his car. Through the open trailer door Kerney saw Otero and Molina sitting in a nearby unit. He gestured for them to join him and spent a few minutes discussing Pino’s report, Larranaga’s reaction, and laying out exactly what he wanted to see on his desk no later than six o’clock in the morning.
Molina opened his mouth to speak, and Larry Otero cut him off.
“I’ll take responsibility for authorizing SWAT,” he said grimly.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Kerney answered sharply, as he moved toward the door. “This is my kitchen, and I’ll take the heat.”
Chapter 4
I t took Kerney a minute to realize that the new vehicle parked next to his truck outside the guesthouse belonged to Sara. Stirred by the uneasy realization that he’d spaced out their appointment to take delivery of the car, he hurried inside to apologize. He shucked off his wet windbreaker, hung it on the hall closet doorknob, and called her name as he walked into the living room.
Sara answered from the kitchen. She sat at the table eating her dinner, a bowl of pasta with asparagus in a cream sauce. Kerney’s. 38 sat next to the place mat by her right hand.
He lowered himself into a chair, eying the handgun. “Sorry I couldn’t get back in time to take you to pick up your car.”
“I managed.” Sara stood, moved to the stove, and spooned out a bowl of pasta. She seemed calm, not at all upset with him.
“You didn’t have to make my dinner.”
“Yes, I did. I need to practice cooking for two, at least for a little while. Besides, I was hungry.”
He took the bowl from Sara’s hand and reached for a fork. “What’s up with the pistola?”
“We had a dead rat delivered to our front door this afternoon,” Sara replied, returning to her chair, “by person or persons unknown.”
Kerney set aside the fork. “And?”
Sara laid the story out, including the call from Tug Cheney confirming that the rat, according to Byron Stoll’s toxicology test, had been poisoned with strychnine.
“It’s commonly used in rodenticides sold over the counter,” Sara added calmly.
“Rodenticides?”
“That what Tug Cheney calls them,” Sara answered, stabbing the last asparagus spear. She chewed it slowly. “Anyway, the pistola is a precaution until we find out who is playing this unpleasant little game.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Kerney said.
Sara shook her head, and pushed aside her empty bowl. “Don’t go getting all macho on me, Kerney. I’ve already started the ball rolling. I spoke to both the city and the county animal control supervisors this afternoon and asked about any recent calls regarding dead rats.”
She got up and fetched a notepad next to the kitchen telephone. “Two days ago, a rat was removed from in front of a house off Hyde Park Road, just outside the city limits. The woman who requested the service was afraid of contracting Hantavirus. She didn’t realize that the disease was spread to humans only by deer mice droppings, not from rats. An animal control officer removed the rat and disposed of it. In his report he noted the animal appeared to have been poisoned. The woman found it in the driveway next to her car.”
“Was it a kangaroo rat?” Kerney asked between forkfuls of pasta.
“The officer thought so, but wasn’t sure,” Sara replied, returning to the table. “Requests to remove dead rats aren’t all that common.”
“Who was the woman?”
“Dora Manning.”
“That name sounds familiar,” Kerney said.
“I tried phoning her several times and got no answer.”
His mouth full, Kerney nodded in approval before speaking. “Was the rat tested before it was destroyed?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Sara went to the sink and rinsed out her bowl. “I think we should pay a visit to Ms. Manning’s house after you finish your dinner.”
“Why should we do that?”
“I got the phone company to give me the names and numbers of Manning’s immediate neighbors, and one of them hasn’t seen her for a day.”
“How did you do that?”
“I asked questions.”
“No, I mean find the neighbors.”
“You’re not the only member of this family with law enforcement experience. I commanded a military police unit, remember? The phone company was very cooperative. Anyway, I spoke to a neighbor. Manning is an older woman who lives alone. Her car is at the house but the neighbor hasn’t seen her outside since yesterday evening, and she always lets him or his wife know when she’s going out of town.”
Sara held out her key ring. “Come on, I’ll let you drive my new SUV.” She eased the. 38 into her purse.
Kerney dropped the fork in the bowl. “Okay, let’s go. Good chow, by the way.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” Kerney asked, as he followed suit and rinsed out his bowl in the sink.
“Perhaps a tiny bit,” Sara said with a smile. “You can tell me about your afternoon in the car.”