He shrugged it off and passed the time listening to a Haydn concerto, trying not to think too much about Karen Cox. He'd gone back to his solitary lifestyle after Sara Brannon, the Army officer who had worked with him on the White Sands case, left for her new duty station in Korea. That was more than a while back, and he found himself missing her.
After Stiles showed up, they drove to Silver City hospital and learned that Jose Padilla was still in the Intensive Care Unit. A hospital security guard at the I.C.U door asked Kerney and Stiles who they wanted to see. Kerney gave him Jose Padilla's name and showed his badge. The guard shook his head and said the state police had forbidden any visitors. Kerney asked to speak to the nursing supervisor.
Eriinda Perez came to the door and inspected Kerney's badge.
"What does the Forest Service have to do with this?" she asked.
Nurse Perez, a thin, middle-aged woman with a long, narrow nose, had coal-black eyes and a rather stern demeanor. She crossed her arms and waited for an answer.
"We found the gentleman," Stiles said in Spanish, before Kerney could speak, giving the nurse his most winning smile.
"We're interested in how he's doing."
Eriinda relaxed a bit. She answered in English for the other man's benefit.
"Mr. Padilla will be with us for a while. He had a stroke a few hours after he was admitted."
"Is he oriented?" Kerney inquired.
"Not to time, place, or person," Eriinda responded.
"We have him stabilized, but it will be some time tomorrow before the doctor can determine the extent of the cerebral damage."
"What's your prognosis?" Kerney queried.
"I'm not a doctor," Eriinda replied.
"That's why I asked."
Eriinda smiled.
"I'd say fair, but you never can tell. He has some physical impairment.
The right side of his body is paralyzed. He may recover from that, to a degree. With any trauma to the brain it's impossible to predict how much function can be restored. Especially at his age."
"Has he talked about anything at all?" Stiles wanted to know.
"Names? Places? Events?"
"He calls me Cariotta. That's it." "His wife's name," Kerney said.
"He told me she was dead. Has the family been notified?"
"Yes. His daughter should be here shortly. She's flying in from Mexico City. It was her son who was murdered."
"Any other visitors?" Stiles asked.
"Just the two of you and some reporters. People may have called or asked about him at the front desk. You can check there. I've got to get back."
"Thanks for your time," Kerney said.
At the reception desk Kerney asked the volunteer lady if anyone had called or stopped by to inquire about Jose Padilla.
"Yes. An older couple," the woman responded.
"They came in this morning."
"Did you get their names?"
"No, but I remember seeing them on Friday. I usually only volunteer on Sundays, but one of our girls was out sick, so I filled in for her that day. The woman came in with her husband for an outpatient test."
"What kind of test?"
"A mammogram. She asked me where she needed to go."
"Did she give you a name?" Kerney asked.
"No. But the admitting office is open. They might be able to help."
The clerk in the admitting office resisted releasing the names of the mammogram outpatients until Kerney convinced her he wasn't interested in medical information, just names. She checked with the administrator on duty, got approval to give out the information, and wrote the names on a piece of paper.
Kerney took it, read it quickly, and passed it to Jim.
"Who is Margaret A. Cox?" he asked.
"I'll be damned," Stiles said.
"The only Margaret Cox I know is Karen's mother."
"Do any other names look familiar?"
"Not a one."
"Let's pay Mr. Cox and his wife a visit."
"I thought he might be somebody I knew," Edgar said. He sat back in his reclining chair, his long legs dangling over the footrest, looking at Kerney with an expressionless gaze. Margaret was across from Edgar on the overstuffed couch, sitting next to Jim Stiles.
K-erney sat in an easy chair at the narrow end of a squat maple coffee table.
The room felt snug and lived-in. There was a television in a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that held a small but nice collection of Indian pots and framed family photographs. The furniture was ranch-style, all in good taste, with a few antique pieces mixed in.
"You thought you knew Jose Padilla," Kerney repeated back to Edgar Cox.
"I went to grammar school in Mangas with a boy by the same name. It was a one-room schoolhouse with about sixteen students. Jose was one of the older boys at school that I liked. I'd say he would be in his early eighties by now."
"And you got the information about Padilla from the Sunday paper,"
Kerney added.
On the wall behind Edgar Cox was a glass display box containing military memorabilia. It held four rows of service ribbons, the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant colonel, a Combat Infantry Badge, a World War II unit insignia, and an impressive array of medals, including the Purple Heart.
"That's what I said," Edgar replied.
"So, you wanted to renew an old acquaintance?" Kerney probed.
"Look, my wife and I took our grandchildren out to Sunday brunch. The medical center was nearby. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing."
"You were just checking to see if it was the same Jose Padilla you knew as a boy."
"This is getting old real fast, Mr. Kerney," Edgar replied.
Margaret Cox, her arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles, looked only at her husband. Everything about her posture was tense and secretive.
Kerney's smile in her direction had no impact.
Kerney pushed on.
"Was there something specific you wanted to say to Mr. Padilla?" "Am I under suspicion for something because I asked about the welfare of a patient at the hospital?" Edgar retorted.
"Not at all," Kerney answered.
"It's just that we know very little about Dr. Padilla. The more we can learn about him, the better our chances to find out why his grandson was murdered."
"I can't help you. I never got to see him. I'm not even sure if he's the Jose Padilla I knew or not."
Kerney fell silent and watched Edgar Cox. A minute passed without conversation. Cox's hands were gripping the armrests of the recliner when Kerney broke the silence.
"Assuming Senor Padilla is your old friend, can you think of any reason he would come back to Catron County?"
"When you get to be my age, Mr. Kerney, there's a tendency to want to reacquaint yourself with the past. If Jose Padilla is my old school chum, I will enjoy seeing him, and offer him a helping hand, if he needs one."
"That makes sense," Kerney agreed, standing up.
"Thanks for taking the time to talk to us. It was very kind of you."
Edgar Cox rose from his chair and said nothing in reply.
Kerney and Jim said goodbye to a distant and worried Mrs. Cox at the door. Her husband stood as though his feet were glued to the floor.
"What do you think?" Jim asked, as they climbed into the truck.
"He's holding something back," Kerney replied, "and his wife knows it."
Karen heard a vehicle leaving as she left her house to round up Mom and Dad. Finally, everything was clean and organized. Even the books were arranged on the shelves that covered most of the walls in the small living room. Cody and Elizabeth were freshly scrubbed and neatly dressed-an achievement for Cody-and Karen looked forward to serving her parents the meal she had prepared to celebrate her homecoming. She found Edgar alone in the living room, looking wistfully at the family pictures on a bookcase.