Free The Big Gamble by Michael McGarrity

people’s fears that they would never see their loved ones again, fears that were all too frequently and tragically realized. But it irked him when civilians thought that cops didn’t care about the mothers, wives, and children who’d gone missing, never to be found.
    At the office, he shut his door and started working the list of Anna Marie Montoya’s old friends, colleagues, ex-employers, and graduate student classmates. As he’d suspected, many had moved on, changed jobs or residences, or were no longer living in Sante Fe. He spoke to a few, left phone messages for others, and got leads on a couple of the people who’d moved out of state.
    Larry Otero, his second in command, popped in briefly to get approval to hire a new civilian crime scene tech. Kerney signed off on the paperwork. With slightly more than two months in his present position, Otero had been cautiously feeling his way in his new job.
    Kerney’s decision to appoint Larry had been challenged by the city manager, who for political reasons had tried to torpedo Otero’s career shortly before Kerney became chief. He’d placated the city manager by putting Otero in the job on a sixty-day trial period. He’d said nothing to Larry about it, and now the probationary time was up.
    “Did we screen, test, interview, and conduct a background investigation on this candidate?” Kerney asked, handing Otero the signed personnel action form.
    Larry looked nonplused. “Of course. We do it with every new hire. It’s procedure.”
    “My point exactly,” Kerney said. “I’d like to review applications and meet prospective employees once they’ve been selected. But unless either of us sees a problem, in the future just sign these things yourself.”
    He leaned back and gave Otero a smile. “From now on, think of your job this way: When I’m not here, you’re the chief. When I’m sick or on vacation, you’re the chief. When I don’t want to be found, bothered, or I’m out of town on business, you’re the chief. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
    Otero smiled back. “I do. What happens when I get my ass in a sling?”
    “Then I’m the chief,” Kerney said with a laugh, “and I get the privilege of taking full responsibility for all the screwups, including yours and mine.”
    “So, it’s full speed ahead,” Otero said.
    “Yeah, your honeymoon is over,” Kerney replied.
    “I can handle that,” Larry said. “How’s the Montoya case going?”
    “I could probably put thirty people on it with the same results,” Kerney replied.
    “Nothing?”
    “Zilch, but there’s still a lot of ground to cover,” Kerney said.
    He waved Otero out the door, made a few more phone calls, and left to visit with Anna Marie’s brother and sister, who’d agreed to meet him at their parents’ house.
    Cars parked along the narrow lane forced Kerney to leave his unit at the corner. A somber group of visitors filled the small porch and spilled onto the lawn in front of the Montoya residence. Kerney approached slowly, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. His uniform drew some questioning looks as he walked up the pathway, and a few people deliberately turned away. Anna Marie’s brother waited for him at the door.
    “I’ve come at a bad time,” Kerney said, looking into the crowded front room.
    “We can talk in my mother’s craft studio,” Walter Montoya said shortly, “although I don’t see what good it will do. My sister’s waiting for us there.”
    Platters of food filled the coffee table, and empty plastic cups littered the lamp tables bracketing the couch. A framed photograph of Anna Marie, surrounded by lit candles, was centered on top of the television. Mr. and Mrs. Montoya sat on the couch in the company of a priest. Kerney paused and paid his respects as friends and family watched.
    “I won’t take much of your time,” Kerney said, after stepping away from Anna Marie’s parents.
    “Does that mean you have no leads?” Walter