Everyone Dies Read online

  He sat down and considered his options. Perhaps he should just walk back to the car and let the cops spend the next two or three hours trying to figure out how to disarm the explosives and blow themselves up in the process. But he hated the idea of chancing everything to fate and possibly seeing all his hard work go to waste. Better to salvage something then to walk away empty-handed.

  Killing Potter and Manning had been nothing but a prelude, although they both deserved to die for their part in ruining his life. On the other hand, the woman he’d killed with the rat poison had been an innocent victim. But her death was essential to his plan.

  Now it all came down to Kerney, who’d destroyed Green’s manhood and taken away any chance for a family or a normal relationship with a woman. That should cost Kerney everything and everybody, although if Green had to settle for taking out the pregnant wife that might still be good enough.

  Green retraced his way to his car, drove down the highway, made sure he wasn’t being followed, and pressed the transmitter button. In the rearview mirror a sudden flash of light erupted into the night sky just as the sound waves from the explosion rolled through the open window.

  The spectacle made Samuel Green smile. Maybe it would start a big fire on the Rez.

  Chapter 8

  The explosion brought Grace and the children outside. They gathered wordlessly around Clayton, watching flames from their burning house throw sparks into the air. The propane gas tank had blown up, spewing fire that licked at the large pine trees and spread through the native grass.

  Grace gripped Clayton’s hand as though she was trying to squeeze away the anguish that showed on her face. Wendell stood frozen between them, his arms wrapped around Clayton’s leg. Perched on Grace’s hip, Hannah, too young to understand, watched in wonder.

  Fire trucks and personnel moved to attack the flames. Through the darkness and the growing light from the scattered fires Clayton saw the figures of Perry Dahl and his dog come out of the trees on the opposite side of the lane. He sighed in relief as Paul Hewitt moved off to meet them.

  The reality of what he’d witnessed hit, and a biting, hollow feeling swept over him. All that he’d done to build a home for his family had been wiped out. Despondency, quickly replaced by anger, gave way to an ice-cold detachment that wiped all emotion from Clayton’s mind. He wrapped himself in the feeling. This wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself. He had to think and act like a cop. He wondered how long he could pull it off before the shock of what had happened hit him again.

  “Take the children and go inside,” he said to Grace.

  She was slow to respond. “Then what?”

  “Call our families and wait for me,” Clayton replied, as he watched Paul Hewitt and Perry Dahl talking thirty yards away in front of a police cruiser.

  She let go of his hand, pulled Wendell away from Clayton, and turned to face him. In the reflection of her dark eyes flames danced like pinprick blood wounds. He could see tears forming and it almost made him want to cry.

  “It will be all right,” he said.

  She shook her head in a silent rejection of such a ludicrous notion, turned on her heel, and went into the house, yanking a reluctant Wendell along. Clayton walked quickly to join Hewitt and Dahl. There was much to do, and if he kept his thoughts on the job, maybe he’d get through the night without losing his self-control.

  Kerney got the call from Paul Hewitt telling him that Clayton’s house had been destroyed. He left Sara with Andy, who promised to take her to his house and assign two state police agents to stay with her for personal protection. Before flying off in a borrowed state police helicopter to Mescalero, Kerney beefed up security by putting two of his own officers on duty outside Andy’s home.

  Ever since he’d been shot down during an extraction from a hot landing zone in ’Nam, choppers had been Kerney’s least favorite mode of transportation. He sat stiffly in the passenger seat listening to the rotors cut through the air in monotonous mechanical thuds, bracing for the sickening lurch that would plow the chopper into the ground.

  Below, in the weak light of the thin moon, Kerney could see the faint ribbon of empty roadway that dropped out of low-lying hills into the small ranching village of Corona.

  The word meant “crown” in Spanish, but the village was no jewel by any stretch of the imagination. Corona had once been a thriving trade and agricultural center. But all that had slipped away years ago when the trains no longer stopped at the station. Now, like so many other rural towns and villages in New Mexico, it was just another decaying strip of old buildings interspersed with a few roadside businesses along a lightly traveled state highway.

  They were halfway to Mescalero and the pilot had the chopper cruising at top speed, paralleling the highway that ran south to the county seat of Carrizozo. Once there, they would skirt the high mountains, cut across the mesa east of Ruidoso, drop through the narrow pass that led into the city, and follow it to Mescalero.

  Kerney closed his eyes and thought about what he could possibly say to Clayton and Grace. The couple had been made homeless and all their possessions destroyed because of a sick killer bent on revenge that went far beyond the ordinary.

  They would want answers, and Kerney had little to give them other than some fairly reasonable speculation. He could tell them about the dead victims, the dead animals, the stolen art, the killer’s notes and phone call. But even with all that, he still had no clear motive for the crimes that might lead to a suspect, and only an artist’s sketch that could possibly ID the unknown perp when and if he was found.

  Kerney switched his thoughts to Clayton and Grace’s situation. Even with insurance, which he assumed they had, there would be immediate and large out-of-pocket expenses. Aside from temporary housing, the family would need clothes, bedding, kitchen utensils, everything necessary to set up housekeeping again. Beyond that, some of what had been lost could never be replaced, and rebuilding their home would only be a small part of what it would take to restore the family to some sort of emotional normalcy.

  He wondered if Clayton would accept an offer of financial help. Although their relationship over the past few months had improved slightly, they were still basically strangers to each other, and Clayton was an extremely proud man who might not take kindly to the idea. Kerney decided he’d make an overture anyway.

  Flying low through the pass to Mescalero, Kerney could see smoke in the night sky. The pilot circled over it, but the cover was too thick to give them a view of what was happening on the ground.

  They landed in the parking lot of the tribal administrative offices, where a state cop was waiting to take Kerney to the Naiche residence. During the short drive, Kerney learned that Clayton and Grace had lost both of their vehicles in the blast, that the explosives expert and his dog had escaped without injury just before detonation, and that burning debris had ignited a fire that scorched two acres around Clayton’s house before it had been brought under control.

  The dirt lane in front of the Naiche residence was lined with police, emergency, and private vehicles with firefighter license plates. Kerney entered the front room and saw Clayton, Paul Hewitt, and a group of tribal officers organizing a crime scene investigation and a first-light reconnaissance of the foot trails leading into the mountains. The explosives specialist, who was covered in dust, sat to one side in a chair with a clipboard on his lap and a dog at his feet, writing notes.

  Paul Hewitt, a big, somewhat beefy man who had grown a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard since Kerney last saw him, spotted Kerney first, gave him a curious look, and touched Clayton on the arm. All talk ceased as Clayton stepped away from the group and approached him.

  “When did it happen?” Kerney asked.

  “About an hour and thirty minutes ago,” Clayton answered. “The firefighters have it just about put out and we’re waiting for clearance to go in.”

  “Are Grace and the children all right?”

  “Everyone’s safe.”

  �
��And the damage?”

  “According to the reports, it’s all blown to hell. From what I saw, that’s just about right.”

  Kerney searched Clayton’s face looking for anger, shock, or outrage. All he saw was a slight tightness at the corners of Clayton’s mouth. He scanned the group behind Clayton. The officers gazed at him silently.

  “Tell us what you know,” Clayton said as he rejoined the group.

  “This guy isn’t going to be easy to catch,” Kerney said as he followed along and handed Clayton a manila folder he’d carried with him. “We’ve had two sightings, and have an inconclusive shot of him on a surveillance video tape. That folder contains a copy of a police artist’s sketch of the perp along with physical descriptions we got from witnesses.”

  Clayton studied the material before passing it around. “This is it? You haven’t made an ID?”

  “He’s still an unknown subject,” Kerney replied.

  “And you’ve got nothing from forensics?”

  “We have a lot of evidence, but nothing that allows us to identify him yet,” Kerney replied. “So far, he’s killed three times. His victims have been a former assistant district attorney, a former forensic psychologist, and an unidentified woman whose body he left in a van outside the municipal court in Santa Fe earlier tonight.

  “Before he strikes, he likes to get his victim’s attention. He’s left dead rats at houses, killed a pet dog, and swiped a number of valuable paintings belonging to one of the victims. After the first homicide, he’s been leaving messages at the crime scenes. I’m his final target.”

  “You know that for sure?” Clayton asked.

  “I do.”

  “How?”

  “He slaughtered my horse, left poisoned rats outside my house, and called me.”

  “What did he say when he called?” Hewitt asked.

  “That everyone will die. Then he asked if I’d figured out who was next on his list before he comes after me. He also said he planned to wipe out my bloodline completely. That’s why I called Grace and told her to get the children and leave the house.”

  “So who else is on his list?” Hewitt asked.

  “My wife and our unborn child. But since he missed taking out Clayton and his family, he may try again before he moves on.”

  The hush in the room was broken only by the cough of one of the officers. The men tensed and exchanged hard looks. A killer who had targeted two cops was bad enough. But to go after their families went beyond the unthinkable.

  Clayton bit his lip. “How did the perp find out that I’m your son?”

  “I don’t know,” Kerney said. “But I plan to look into it. Who have you told on your end?”

  “It’s common knowledge on the Rez,” Clayton replied.

  “That could mean a couple of thousand people know about it.”

  “At least.”

  “You can’t waste time trying to interview the entire tribe,” Kerney said. “I’ll work my list and see where it goes.”

  Clayton nodded. “When do we get all of your case material?”

  “One of my detectives is en route. You should have it soon. What have you got going?”

  “We’re patrolling the tribal roads that lead to the trails into the mountains behind us,” Paul Hewitt said. “But nobody has been spotted, and the perp’s had more than enough time to clear the area. The feds are on the way, and once they get here, it’s their ball game. So for now, we’ll seal off the crime scene and get the sketch distributed to all personnel. That’s the best we can do until daylight.”

  Kerney nodded and turned to Clayton. “I’d like a minute of your time.”

  The officers, including Paul Hewitt, took the cue and filed out.

  “Thanks for calling Grace,” Clayton said when they were alone.

  “How is she doing?”

  “She’s pretty shook up, but coping.”

  “And the children?”

  “Hannah’s too young to know what really happened, but Wendell’s taking it hard.”

  “What about you?”

  Clayton glanced away. “I’m trying not to think about it.” The strain showed clearly in his eyes.

  Kerney changed the subject. “Aren’t you and the sheriff outside your jurisdiction?”

  “No, all department officers are cross-deputized under an agreement with the tribal government.”

  “Do you want me to talk to Grace?” Kerney asked.

  “Yeah, she wants to know what’s going on. She’s at the back of the house with her parents and my mother.”

  “I’d like to help out financially. After all, I’m the reason you’re all in this mess.”

  Clayton shook his head. “We’ll be okay.”

  He took Kerney into a family room where Grace, her parents, and Clayton’s mother, Isabel Istee, were waiting. Clayton introduced him to his in-laws, Orlin and Lillian Chatto, while Isabel took Hannah and Wendell out of the room. When she returned, Grace raised her dark eyes to Kerney’s face.

  “Why has this happened?” she asked. She wore borrowed clothes that hung loosely on her slender frame, and her narrow-eyed gaze held a tangible pain.

  “It’s complicated,” Kerney replied. “To put it simply we have a killer who’s seeking revenge. Who he is and why he’s doing it are still unknown.”

  “Why did he try to kill us?” Grace asked.

  “Because I’m Clayton’s father,” Kerney replied. “He wants all my blood relatives dead before he attempts to kill me. But I’m not his only target. He’s already murdered three people, and we believe the killings have something to do with an old criminal investigation of mine. Two of the victims worked with the courts. One was a former prosecutor and the other was an ex-forensic psychologist.”

  “And that’s all you know?”

  “It narrows down the field considerably,” Kerney answered. “We’re reviewing every possible suspect.”

  “Will he try to hurt us again?”

  “We won’t let him do that,” Kerney replied. “You’ll be protected.”

  Grace looked at Clayton for confirmation, who nodded his head. “If you don’t know who he is, how can you stop him?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

  “He’ll make a mistake,” Kerney replied, “or the evidence we’ve collected and the work we’re doing will lead us to him.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “I am.”

  “You said he wants to kill everyone related to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Including Sara?”

  Kerney nodded. “She has twenty-four-hour police protection, just as you and the children will have as soon as you leave here.”

  “And your baby. Has he been born yet?”

  “He’s due any day.”

  “Yet, with all of that you came here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Kerney looked at Clayton. “Because for the sake of us all we have to catch this man.”

  “Yes, you must,” Grace said, forcing a smile. “You saved our lives.”

  “I think it was more a question of lucky timing,” Kerney said, as he looked directly at Clayton. “I would like to help you and your family recover from this.”

  Orlin Chatto stood up before Clayton could respond. Probably Kerney’s age, he was barrel-chested with a slim waist. His nose was broad above a round, full chin.

  “Perhaps such talk should wait,” he said, “until all of us have had time to think about what has happened.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kerney replied, getting to his feet.

  Orlin nodded. “It is late and we should go. Grace and the children will stay with us.”

  “You’ll have a police escort and an officer will be on duty outside the house,” Clayton said to his wife.

  “Will I see you in the morning?” Grace asked him.

  “As soon as I can get free,” he said.

  Isabel, who’d remained frozen in silence on the couch during the conversation, her ha
nds clasped in her lap, rose and went to gather up the children. When they came into the room, Orlin Chatto shook Kerney’s hand, said good night, and ushered his wife outside. Grace, Clayton, and the children followed behind.

  Kerney watched from the front door as Clayton put his family in his father-in-law’s car. The state police officer took the lead in his unit and the two vehicles slowly drove away.

  Isabel brushed past him in the doorway and turned to face him. An expression of cold anger, which had been carved across her face from the moment she saw him, remained.

  Kerney looked at the woman who in his distant past had once meant so much to him. Eyes that had once danced with humor now flared with accusation, and her soft mouth was a thin, angry line.

  As a cop, he’d taken the brunt of people’s misplaced outrage many times before. But this time it felt justified. He waited for her to confront him, but she left without saying a word, stopping only to give Clayton a hug before hurrying to her car.

  “Are you leaving?” Clayton asked as he drew near.

  “Not yet,” Kerney answered. “I want to see what turns up at the crime scene. It could yield some important evidence.”

  “Thanks for not going into too much detail with the family.”

  “It would have only served to upset them more than they already are. Grace handled it well.”

  “She’s a strong person.”

  “Yes, she is,” Kerney said, reaching for his cell phone. “I need to make some phone calls.”

  “I’ll let you know when the feds get here.”

  Kerney searched Clayton’s face. Although he was still keeping the lid on, the strain had become more visible, especially around his mouth. He wondered when Clayton would let himself feel something. It needed to happen soon.

  “Good deal,” he said.

  Clayton left Kerney at the house and checked in with tribal dispatch on his handheld. Officers were still out on the back roads, the fire was out, firefighters were scouring the surrounding woods looking for any flare-ups, and Perry Dahl had returned to the bomb site, accompanied by officers who’d secured the perimeter.