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case,” Kerney said.
    “Don’t worry about me.”
    “I was only making an observation, Deputy.”
    “It sounded patronizing to me, Chief. ”
    “Let’s change the subject.”
    “What good would that do?” Clayton asked.
    “It might give you understand that you have my goodwill.”
    “That’s very generous. What do you want to talk about?”
    “Forget about it,” Kerney said after a pause, barely keeping an edge out of his voice. “I’ll handle the Montoya case personally. Keep me informed of any new developments.”
    “I’ve told you what I know,” Clayton said, checking a surprised reaction.
    “You may learn more,” Kerney said. “Since we share jurisdiction, let’s set aside any personal issues and agree to cooperate.”
    “Do you have personal issues with me, Chief?” Clayton asked.
    “It’s more like a question,” Kerney answered. “Why, whenever we talk, do you seem intent on pushing my buttons?”
    “I can’t get into any of this now,” Clayton said.
    “Then get your head around this thought,” Kerney said, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. “I understand that you consider me nothing more than a sperm donor. I accept that, and if we can’t be friends, fine. But at the very least, let’s deal civilly with each other as professionals. In fact, Deputy, I expect no less from you.”
    The point struck home and Clayton clamped his mouth shut. In this situation with any other ranking officer from another department, he never would have acted so impertinently. “Agreed,” he finally said.
    “Good enough,” Kerney said before he hung up.
     
    Kerney got in his unit and drove off to meet with George and Lorraine Montoya, Anna Marie’s parents. In the last two months, he’d stopped participating directly in departmental operations, particularly those of the major crimes unit, and shifted his emphasis to purely administrative oversight. The change followed the murder in early February of Phyllis Terrell, an ambassador’s wife. Kerney’s investigation had set off a chain of events that resulted in his being harried and watched by government spies, placed under electronic surveillance, fed disinformation, and forced to accept a trumped-up solution to the case, spoon-fed to him by the FBI—all to enable the government to keep secret a state-of-the-art intelligence-gathering software program.
    His efforts to get to the truth of the matter had ended in an assassination attempt against him and Sara by a U.S. Army intelligence agent. The agent had bushwhacked them on a rural New Mexico highway during a winter snowstorm as they returned from a meeting with the murdered woman’s father. Fortunately, they had survived, but not the assassin.
    The experience had shaken Kerney’s trust in his government and heightened his paranoia about the intelligence community. Privy to information about the government-decreed killings of citizens, Kerney could not assume that he, Sara, or their unborn child were safe from retaliation, or would ever be. The spycraft organizations involved in the cover-up could easily decide their knowledge was a dangerous, unacceptable liability.
    To cope, he’d been steering a survival course by keeping a low profile and operating on the assumption that he was still under surveillance, and probably would be for some time to come. It was the right thing to do, but it left Kerney with a caged feeling. He hoped that taking on the Montoya homicide follow-up investigation would lift his spirits.
    In truth, hunkering down and concentrating on management issues had paid good dividends. Dead-wood had been cut, response times on calls had improved, the percentage of cleared cases had increased, and a new pay system for patrol officers was about to be established that would bring their salaries in line with plainclothes personnel. Still, Kerney couldn’t bring himself to get jazzed about his successes.
    George and Lorraine Montoya lived on a dead-end dirt lane within easy