Tularosa: A Kevin Kerney Novel (Kevin Kerney Novels) by Michael McGarrity
Book: Tularosa: A Kevin Kerney Novel (Kevin Kerney Novels) by Michael McGarrity
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Authors: Michael McGarrity
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He'd left it open a fraction of an inch and now it was completely closed. He undressed and got into bed, exhausted from the twenty-hour day. He reread Sammy's letters to Maria. She was absolutely right about his attitude. The letters were upbeat and filled with plans for the future. Kerney mulled over the information he'd gathered since his arrival. It was both inconclusive and unpromising.
He was almost asleep when he started thinking about Sara Brannon and the muddle he'd made with her. He groaned at the memory, stuffed a pillow over his head, and went to sleep. *** PFC Bobby Jaeger drove his Camaro up the back road from Fort Bliss toward the missile range. He was a little drunk from all the beers that guy had bought him in a Juarez nightclub. What was his name? Greg, or something like that. Jesus, what a build! He looked like he could bench-press three hundred pounds easy, maybe more. A real nice guy. The Camaro started to weave. Bobby brought it to the center line and concentrated on the white stripe. He could ride the middle of the two-lane road straight to Orogrande. There weren't any other cars on the road. He gave the Camaro a nudge up to eighty-five and listened to the sound of the pipes. Sweet. Greg-that was his name. He knew Sammy.
Couldn't believe Sammy went A.W.O.L.. Shit! Who could believe it? Asked a lot of questions about Sammy. Bobby's eyes started to close. He snapped his head up and shook off the cobwebs. No problem, he thought, blinking rapidly to get things in focus. He was still in the middle of the road. Pick up the pace a little bit, he counseled himself. Need to get home and get some rack time.
PFC Bobby Jaeger was fast asleep as the Camaro sped toward the ninety-degree turn at the Orogrande curve. When the right tires left the pavement, Bobby woke up. He turned the wheel and stood on the brakes, and the Camaro slowed to a hundred miles an hour before crashing through the barrier. It flipped on the hood and ground a deep furrow through the desert. The phone rang at two-thirty in the morning, waking Kerney from a deep sleep.
"Get dressed and meet me outside," Sara Brannon ordered when Kerney answered. Kerney grunted, got up, and dressed. Outside Captain Brannon waited in a marked patrol car.
"What's up?" Kerney asked, as he climbed into the front seat. Sara hit the overhead emergency lights and pulled away from the curb before Kerney had the door closed.
"PFC Jaeger is dead." Kerney was wide awake.
"What happened?"
"He rolled his car and put his face through the windshield." They drove through the main post to the Orogrande turnoff, where Sara floored the unit. In the distance Kerney could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. There were four military police and a medical team at the scene when Sara and Kerney arrived. Two units blocked the road and two more were positioned to spotlight a length of the highway. The sergeant in charge approached at a run as Sara jumped out of the unit and slammed the door.
"What have you got, Sergeant?" she demanded.
"Skid marks and yaw marks, ma'am," the sergeant replied. He was an Asian-American about thirty, with the frame of a distance runner.
"He went off the pavement with the right tires, tried to adjust, and hit the brakes. Looks like he fell asleep at the wheel. Probably alcohol-induced."
"Walk me through it." Kerney watched Sara put the sergeant through his paces as he reviewed the skid marks and physical evidence on the roadway. She asked all the right questions. Then, with Kerney in tow, they walked to the Camaro, which was upside down a good hundred feet from the pavement. A portable generator and light illuminated the overturned vehicle. Bobby Jaeger's face, his expression frozen in surprise, features mangled and bloody, protruded halfway through the shattered glass.
"No seat belt," the sergeant noted. Sara nodded.
"I want a forensic team out here on the double. Nobody touches the body or the car until they're finished. I want to know
He was almost asleep when he started thinking about Sara Brannon and the muddle he'd made with her. He groaned at the memory, stuffed a pillow over his head, and went to sleep. *** PFC Bobby Jaeger drove his Camaro up the back road from Fort Bliss toward the missile range. He was a little drunk from all the beers that guy had bought him in a Juarez nightclub. What was his name? Greg, or something like that. Jesus, what a build! He looked like he could bench-press three hundred pounds easy, maybe more. A real nice guy. The Camaro started to weave. Bobby brought it to the center line and concentrated on the white stripe. He could ride the middle of the two-lane road straight to Orogrande. There weren't any other cars on the road. He gave the Camaro a nudge up to eighty-five and listened to the sound of the pipes. Sweet. Greg-that was his name. He knew Sammy.
Couldn't believe Sammy went A.W.O.L.. Shit! Who could believe it? Asked a lot of questions about Sammy. Bobby's eyes started to close. He snapped his head up and shook off the cobwebs. No problem, he thought, blinking rapidly to get things in focus. He was still in the middle of the road. Pick up the pace a little bit, he counseled himself. Need to get home and get some rack time.
PFC Bobby Jaeger was fast asleep as the Camaro sped toward the ninety-degree turn at the Orogrande curve. When the right tires left the pavement, Bobby woke up. He turned the wheel and stood on the brakes, and the Camaro slowed to a hundred miles an hour before crashing through the barrier. It flipped on the hood and ground a deep furrow through the desert. The phone rang at two-thirty in the morning, waking Kerney from a deep sleep.
"Get dressed and meet me outside," Sara Brannon ordered when Kerney answered. Kerney grunted, got up, and dressed. Outside Captain Brannon waited in a marked patrol car.
"What's up?" Kerney asked, as he climbed into the front seat. Sara hit the overhead emergency lights and pulled away from the curb before Kerney had the door closed.
"PFC Jaeger is dead." Kerney was wide awake.
"What happened?"
"He rolled his car and put his face through the windshield." They drove through the main post to the Orogrande turnoff, where Sara floored the unit. In the distance Kerney could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. There were four military police and a medical team at the scene when Sara and Kerney arrived. Two units blocked the road and two more were positioned to spotlight a length of the highway. The sergeant in charge approached at a run as Sara jumped out of the unit and slammed the door.
"What have you got, Sergeant?" she demanded.
"Skid marks and yaw marks, ma'am," the sergeant replied. He was an Asian-American about thirty, with the frame of a distance runner.
"He went off the pavement with the right tires, tried to adjust, and hit the brakes. Looks like he fell asleep at the wheel. Probably alcohol-induced."
"Walk me through it." Kerney watched Sara put the sergeant through his paces as he reviewed the skid marks and physical evidence on the roadway. She asked all the right questions. Then, with Kerney in tow, they walked to the Camaro, which was upside down a good hundred feet from the pavement. A portable generator and light illuminated the overturned vehicle. Bobby Jaeger's face, his expression frozen in surprise, features mangled and bloody, protruded halfway through the shattered glass.
"No seat belt," the sergeant noted. Sara nodded.
"I want a forensic team out here on the double. Nobody touches the body or the car until they're finished. I want to know
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