Tularosa: A Kevin Kerney Novel (Kevin Kerney Novels) by Michael McGarrity Page B

Did he talk to you about it?"
    "He certainly did," Steiner replied emphatically.
    "I had no problem with the request if it added to his technical skills. I didn't think art courses qualified. I turned him down."
    "Was he disappointed?"
    "Maybe a little bit," Steiner responded, "but he knew that the job came first. Is that all. Lieutenant?"
    "Did you ever have any reason to informally discipline Sammy?"
    "Sammy never gave me any problems."
    "When did you notice him absent from duty?"
    "He failed to report back to work after his rest period."
    "He wasn't missed until then?"
    "The facility covers a lot of territory. Think of it like an outpost. We have full dining, sleeping, and recreational accommodations, supply and support buildings, plus a number of secure structures."
    "What did Sammy like to do on his downtime?"
    Steiner ran his finger over the brim of his fatigue cap and hesitated before answering.
    "He liked to draw."
    "And that was okay for him to do?" He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and didn't answer.
    "You liked Sammy, didn't you?" Kerney said with an understanding smile.
    Steiner relaxed a bit.
    "Sure I did. He was damn good at his job and easy to get along with."
    "And you couldn't change the schedule for one man," Kerney added sympathetically. "I understand that. I bet Sammy did, too. Police work is the same way. You just can't afford to play favorites."
    "That's right," Steiner agreed.
    "But somebody like Sammy," Kerney continued, "a good worker, a team player-if it was me, I'd try to keep him happy, keep him productive."
    Steiner nodded in agreement.
    "That's what being a good supervisor is all about. Is this conversation off the record?"
    "Absolutely. I don't work for the Army, Sergeant. I'll make sure it doesn't get back to anybody on the post."
    Steiner thought about that for a minute, removed his fatigue hat, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
    "Okay. Technically, any kind of drawing or photography isn't allowed up range He knew I wasn't going to change my mind about the duty roster, and I knew he wasn't going to draw pictures that jeopardized national security. Sometimes the regulations just don't match the individual circumstance. So when he asked if he could do his artwork on his free time, I said I would allow it, as long as he turned the drawings over to me when he returned."
    "Returned from where?"
    "I told him he could only sketch away from the compound. He'd hike into the desert and come back in a couple of hours with some drawings. It was all harmless stuff."
    "What did you do with pictures?"
    "I destroyed them. That was part of the deal." Steiner put his fatigue cap back on his head and looked at his wristwatch.
    "I've got a long drive ahead of me. Is that all. Lieutenant?"
    "Was Sammy on a hike the day he turned up missing?"
    "Yeah. He always checked in with me before he took off. He was real good about it."
    "Who went looking for him when he didn't return?"
    "Half the MPS on the post, plus myself and all the off-duty people at the facility."
    "How long was he gone before you started looking?"
    "Almost the full twelve hours." Kerney didn't hold Steiner back from leaving. He ran the information through his mind, his spirits sinking. From what Steiner told him, the probability that Sammy had gone
    A.W.O.L., no matter what the Army believed, was highly unlikely. *** Kerney cooled his heels in the company orderly room outside Captain James Meehan's office. Master Sergeant Roy Enloe was at his desk, reading reports and ignoring him. Finally, the phone on Enloe's desk rang. After answering it, Enloe sent Kerney into the captain's office.
    The captain, young and engaging, had a thin nose, a dimpled chin, and sandy hair cut short. His uniform was sharply tailored, with airborne jump wings pinned above two rows of service ribbons.
    Like Sara Brannon, he wore a West Point ring. Meehan leaned back in his chair and studied Kerney, his expression somewhat perplexed.
    "I'm a little