Hermit_s Peak

"Why are you doing this?" Debbie yelled.

Ben had Debbie firmly in hand.

Gabe used a thumb lock to hold Santistevan still while he did a weapons pat down.

"Why are you doing this?" Debbie asked again, her voice filled with rage.

Gabe couldn't resist the impulse.

"Ask his girlfriend."

"I want a twenty-four-hour tail on Bernardo Barela, starting now,"

Kerney said.

Captain Garduno winced. Even with Russell Thorpe's recent assignment to the district, he was still four officers shy of a full complement.

"What have you got going, Chief?"

Kerney handed Garduno a microcassette tape.

"I have no proof that Barela is our murderer, but everything I've learned about him points in that direction. I think he may have targeted another victim, a woman named Kerri Crombie. She's a waitress at a bar he frequents.

Crombie's five-year-old daughter made a positive ID. She saw Barela near the family's residence. As far as I can tell, he had no legitimate reason to be in the neighborhood."

"I'll have the tape transcribed and give hard copies to the team."

Garduno said.

"Is Crombie at risk?"

"Barela may not think she's a good target. She's married and her husband is always home when she gets off work.. Bernardo may be just sniffing around, but you never know. I've warned her to be careful.

Now that Bernardo no longer thinks he's under suspicion, I want to see what he does."

Garduno ran down the district duty roster assignments in his head. He had three officers scheduled for court appearances, two attending advanced training courses in Santa Fe, and one on maternity leave.

"I'm strapped for manpower. Chief," he said.

"Can I get some help out of headquarters?"

"Not for a couple of days," Kerney replied.

"Have Ben Morfin take the lead. Aside from Gabe Gonzales, he's your most experienced investigator. Put two uniforms in plain domes to work with him."

"I'll have to assign Thorpe to the detail. I've got nobody else."

Kerney nodded his approval.

"Make sure he's brought up to speed on surveillance tactics by Morfin.

Have him ride along with Ben on the first shift."

"That means they both work double shifts."

"They can handle it. Tell Ben I don't want Barela spooked. Keep it low key all the way. Have the team use their personal vehicles, handheld radios, and cell phones.

All radio transmissions on secure undercover channels only. Restrict operational need to know to your senior commanders. I will personally fire any supervisor who leaks the operation to line staff."

Garduno nodded, wrote himself a note, and waited for more.

"If he goes near Crombie, I want to know about it immediately."

"If we get anything on Barela, do you want the collar?"

Garduno asked.

"I want him watched, not busted. Barela is to be picked up only if he poses a dear and present danger."

"Understood."

"Is Gabe Gonzales on his way back to the district?"

"It may be a while," Garduno answered.

"He's booking Santistevan into the county jail."

"Give him my compliments on a job well done, and my congratulations on his promotion."

"I'll do that." Garduno tapped his pendl on the desktop and gave Kerney a searching look.

"What's on your mind. Captain?"

Garduno smiled uneasily.

"That disciplinary report you asked me to write to Chief Baca-I'd like to forget about it. I'd rather not start my new second-in-command off with a reprimand."

"I ordered you to censure me for policy violation, not Lieutenant Gonzales."

"I know, but it would still smear egg on Gabe's face."

Kerney gave Garduno a tight smile.

"You can drop it.

A word of advice, Captain: When you have to chew butt, do it behind closed doors. Otherwise you humiliate your people, and it makes you look petty."

Garduno swallowed hard before replying.

"Thank you."

"Tell Morfin to stay in close contact with me."

Garduno watched Kerney limp out of his office.

Ouch, he thought to himself.

The dispatcher tapped on the glass partition to the radio room as Kerney walked by. He stuck his head inside and the woman gave him a pile of telephone messages He started scanning through them on his way to the outer office. About every third message was from Ruth Pino.

"You're a hard man to reach. Chief Kerney."

He looked up to find Professor Pino standing in front of him. Her tone carried a note of displeasure and her expression wasn't cheery. He waited for more.

"I've made an appointment for you to meet with Reese Carson at the Nature Conservancy tomorrow morning."

"That's not possible. Professor," Kerney said as he returned his attention to the phone messages to hide his irritation at her pushiness.

"Is the Nature Conservancy interested in the land?"

"Reese has been exploring options. Several possibilities have been discussed, including an initial purchase by the conservancy for resale to the Forest Service, or a joint purchase under the Natural Lands Protection Act."

"I'm not familiar with that law."

"It's a state statute that allows a nonprofit organization to purchase land with ninety percent public money.

The conservancy would pay the remaining ten percent and manage the preserve. Isn't there some way you can free up your schedule?"

"Not tomorrow."

"We must move quickly. Chief Kerney. There are many legal issues to be ironed out before probate is settled.

It is to your advantage to meet with Reese."

Kerney thumbed through more of his phonemes sages. Nothing appeared urgent.

"I should have some time this weekend."

Pino sighed in exasperation.

"I suppose that will have to do. Reese will be with me and a group of volunteers on the mesa this weekend."

"What's that all about?" Kerney stared at the last message. The brief note read "Call home. Sara" It had been logged in before noon.

"We're continuing the field survey and putting up temporary fences to protect the cactus."

"What did you say?"

"The plant and habitat assessment must be completed and protective fencing needs to be done. Nestor Barela has agreed to provide materials."

Kerney nodded, his mind sixty miles away in Santa Fe.

"I'll come up to the mesa this weekend."

"When, this weekend?" Pino's voice was tinged with irritation.

"Either Saturday or Sunday," Kerney said, no longer willing to hide his exasperation with the woman.

"Very well," Pino said. A frosty look matched her chilly tone.

Kerney nodded a curt good-bye to Pino and left the building. He considered calling to see if Sara was still waiting at home for him, and decided against it. If she had already come and gone, he didn't want to get slammed by that reality.

As he gunned his unit out of the parking lot, the events of the day faded. All he could think of was Sara and what she might have to say to him when he got home.

Kerney saw Sara's Jeep and all of his uncertainty about her sudden departure rushed through his mind again. He got out of the unit not knowing what to expect, and moved slowly up the walkway to his house.

He was halfway there when the door opened and Sara stepped out.

Kerney froze in his tracks.

"Did you stop off to say good-bye again?"

"Where's your dog, Kerney? What happen to Shoe?"

"I sent him to an eight-year-old boy in California who desperately wanted him back."

"You didn't."

"I had to. I wasn't about to lie to the kid and keep his dog."

"But Shoe was abandoned, abused."

"Lost is more like it. The boy called me at work after Shoe arrived to thank me. Shoe is safe and his owner is happy."

"Then you did the right thing."

"It wasn't easy."

"You really liked that dog."

"You can't always have what you want. What do you want to tell me, Sara?"

"We need to talk."

"About?"

"Things. Can we talk inside?"

"Okay" Sara stood aside as Kerney approached the front door. The expression on her face looked dead serious.

He ducked past her, sat on the couch, and waited for her to join him.

She sat on the floor across from him, a good six feet away, and tucked one leg under the other.

"I didn't come here to say good-bye, Kerney. If I wanted to kiss you off, there are much easier ways to doit."

"What do you want?"

"First, I want to apologize for the way I left. But I had to get my head straight. I was feeling shy, frightened, wary, and confused."

"About what?" Kerney asked.

"You."

"I thought we were getting along well." His body felt stiff. He tried to relax, but couldn't.

"We were. Look, I came here thinking it would be great to see you and that it would just be a lot of fun.

Then I wound up realizing that I couldn't treat this lightly" "This?"

"You and me. My feelings about you aren't casual."

Sara's gaze drilled into Kerney.

"What do you want, Kerney?"

Kerney opened his mouth, closed it, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't want to lose you."

A faint smile crossed Sara's lips.

"My friend Susie says I should hit you with my best shot."

"Which is?"

"A straightforward question: How do you feel about marriage?"

Kerney's felt the muscles in his shoulders loosen up.

"The woman would have to be very special."

"Don't be glib."

"I take it back."

"I'm not going to give up my career."

Kerney nodded glumly.

"I know that. And I can't see myself following you around from post to post for the next ten or twenty years."

"I wouldn't ask you to." She threw up her hands in frustration.

"See? It's too damn impossible. Only a complete fool would jump into a part-time, long-distance marriage."

"I've been called a lot worse."

"I'm not talking about you." Sara studied Kerney's face.

"Why are you grinning at me?"

Kerney's got off the couch and sat next to Sara.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm feeling foolish."

Sara pulled away when Kerney tried to touch her, and got to her feet.

"Don't do that." She looked down at him.

Kerney froze and the tension in his shoulders returned. The frosty look in Sara's eyes kept him from speaking.

"Tell me how you really feel," Sara said.

Kerney stood, his stomach churning.

"As confused as you. I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's it?"

"No. I'm scared I might lose you, and right this minute that's all that matters. What are you feeling?"

Sara sighed.

"That it's so right to be with you."

"Then let's be together, as much as we can."

Sara's eyes searched Kerney's face.

"Does that mean you want a relationship with me? Something more than time together every year or two, when we can fit it in?"

"I want as much of you as I can get."

"Seriously?" Sara asked quickly.

Kerney swallowed hard.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life."

Sara's hard look faded, replaced by a soft smile. She moved to him, put her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his chest.

"That sounds like a plan. Take me to bed, Kerney. We can work out the details later."

Kerney grasped Sara's waist and pulled her close. He could feel a smile spread across his face.

"Is that the relationship you have in mind?"

"Partially"

In the bedroom, Sara snuggled against Kerney's shoulder.

"That was lovely," she said.

"Exceptionally lovely."

"Maybe we should just stay lovers," Sara said.

"We could see each other as time allows, write, vacation together."

"Sort of a non nuptial agreement?"

"You don't like my idea."

"It doesn't feel right."

"So marry me," Sara said.

"Seriously?"

"If you're game."

"Just like that?"

"Say yes before I back out, Kerney."

"Yes."

"I want to get married at my parents' ranch," Sara said.

"We've got three weeks to pull it off."

"Have you ever been to Ireland?" Kerney asked.

"You want a honeymoon trip, too?"

"Why not?"

"This is scary, Kerney."

"Let's do it anyway."

"I bought you a present."

"What is it?" Kerney asked.

Sara turned on the bedside lamp, got up, and walked to the dresser.

Kerney forgot about the gift as Sara moved across the room. She was incredibly sexy.

She came back and handed him a package.

"What is it?" he asked again.

"Open it."

Kerney pulled himself into a sitting position, unwrapped the package, saw the drawing of Hermit's Peak, and knew it was Erma's work.

"My God, it's beautiful.

She did it from the mesa."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. I love it."

"Isn't it exquisite? That reminds me. You owe me a camping trip to the mesa."

"This weekend?"

"That's fine by me."

He put the drawing to one side and reached for Sara.

"What are you doing?"

"Come here."

"Don't distract me, Kerney. I have to call my mother."

"That can wait."

"No it can't. Once I tell my mother we're getting married, there's no backing out."

"Call her right now."

"I'm going to keep my maiden name." Sara leaned over and kissed him.

"I love you."

"And I love you."

The answering machine message light blinked at Gabe when he got home.

He hit the play button and listened to three calls from Orlando's boss at the burger joint, each more agitated than the last. Orlando had not shown up to work his shift.

It wasn't like Orlando to treat his job lightly. Unless he was sick, Gabe couldn't remember a time when Orlando had missed work. Even though Orlando's car wasn't in the driveway, Gabe went to the bottom of the stairs, called out, and got no response. To be doubly sure, he checked Orlando's room and found it empty.

The messages had come in during the first hour Orlando had been scheduled to work. Maybe something had come up at school to make him run late. Gabe called the burger joint and asked for Orlando. The night shift manager, still sounding pissed, told him Orlando had been a no-show.

Gabe's thoughts turned to Captain Garduno's briefing on the special surveillance operation Chief Kerney had ordered on Bernardo.

He got out the copy of Kerney's report Garduno had given him, read through it, and stared out the kitchen window hoping Orlando hadn't kissed off work to hang out with Bernardo.

He dialed Ben Morfin's cell phone number.

"This is Morfin."

"Ben, are you and Thorpe on station?"

"You bet," Ben said.

"Is my son with the subject?"

"Negative. The subject is home. He arrived alone and there have been no visitors."

"Thanks."

"You got a problem, Lieutenant?"

"It's probably nothing."

"You want me to keep an eye out for your son?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Gabe replied.

"What does your son drive?" Ben asked.

Gabe rattled off the information, including the license plate number.

"Got it," Ben said.

"He's probably out cruising. If I see him on the streets, I'll chase him home and give you a call."

"Thanks."

"Anytime, LT. Way to go on the promotion."

"Thanks, Ben." Gabe hung up and tried to remember when Orlando was planning to visit his mother in Albuquerque.

He thought it was next week, but he couldn't be sure. He punched in Theresa's numbers, and her boyfriend answered.

"Is Orlando there?"

"No. You want to talk to Theresa?"

"Just ask her when Orlando is due to visit."

There was a muffled exchange and Theresa came on the line.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, sounding terse.

"Not really. Orlando isn't home and I couldn't remember when he was going down to Albuquerque to see you."

"Late next week. Why are you looking for him?"

"To tell him something."

"It must be important or you wouldn't have called me. Should I know?"

Gabe hesitated.

"Should I?"

"I wanted to tell Orlando that my promotion came through." Silence greeted his announcement.

Finally, Theresa responded.

"I hope it makes you happy. Personally, I could care less."

Gabe hung up without saying another word.

He spent the next several hours at the kitchen table taking the sergeant stripes off his uniform shirts and sewing doth lieutenant bars on the collars. He'd purchased the new insignias several months ago in a moment of optimism.

Gabe had half a mind to go looking for Orlando, but held back. Orlando didn't need an overprotective cop father looking for him in the middle of the night. He was over twenty-one, technically an adult, and a hell of a good kid to boot. If he needed a night out to blow off some steam, so be it.

Gabe stripped down to his underwear, dumped his clothes on top of the dresser, and climbed into bed. He wanted to get an early start in the morning. There was still a bunch of work to do on the AlaridSantistevan bust, and he planned to get settled into his new office before the shift began.

Gabe checked Orlando's room early in the morning. His bed hadn't been slept in. He decided to think positively about Orlando's overnight absence. The kid didn't talk about his love life, and Gabe didn't pry.

Sometimes Orlando would stay out all night, come home looking pleased with himself, and shrug off any mention of where he'd been. Within a couple of days, Orlando would start getting lots of phone calls. When that happened, Gabe didn't see much of his son until Orlando's interest in the girl cooled off.

He got to work before the day shift arrived and found a hand-carved name plaque with his new rank and name on the desk in his new office. A card rested against the plaque. The gift was from Captain Garduno.

Gabe unpacked some personal gear he'd brought from home. He put a framed enlargement of Orlando's senior high school yearbook picture on the desk and hung a few of his department commendations on the wall.

Then he cleared out his paperwork from the watch commanders' cubicle and dumped it on the floor next to his office desk. He put the Alarid-Santistevan case file on top of the stack and checked with dispatch to get an update on the Barela surveillance. Bernardo had stayed home all night with no visitors.

That made Gabe feel better about things. Orlando had probably spent the night with some girl. What normal kid wouldn't trade a night of flipping burgers for a hot date with a babe? If there was a new girl in Orlando's life, maybe that was part of the reason he was restless to move. Maybe the girl was graduating, going to Albuquerque, and Orlando wanted to be with her. If so, then it all made even more sense.

He left a message on the answering machine at home for Orlando to call him at the office, and hung up as the day shift trickled in. He spent some time accepting congratulations, along with the usual kidding, teasing, and small gifts that went with them, before the troops started work.

He put the Alarid-Santistevan files for his meeting with the ADA in his briefcase and looked up to find Art Garda standing in the doorway. New sergeant chevrons decorated his uniform shirt.

"Those stripes look good on you. Art," Gabe said.

"You want to go in on a promotion party with me?"

Garda forced a smile.

"Yeah, let's do that."

"What's wrong?"

"A rancher just called in the license plate of an abandoned vehicle south of town, on the Gallinas River. Dispatch ran it through Motor Vehicles. It's your son's car."

"Orlando didn't come home last night."

"It may mean nothing, Gabe. The rancher said kids use that spot along the river all the time to party. Maybe Orlando just left his car and went off with some friends."

"Who's the rancher?"

"Arlin Pullerton."

"Did he give you directions?"

Art held out a slip of paper.

"Call Pullerton back and have him meet me there.

Tell dispatch to cancel my meeting with the DA's office.

I'll reschedule later."

"You want somebody to go with you?"

Gabe shook his head as he hurried out the door.

Garda found Captain Garduno making coffee in the break room and filled him in.

Garduno put the pot down.

"Is that all you have?"

"So far."

"Is Bemaido Barela still at home?"

"No. He's sitting in a truck outside a hardware store.

You want him picked up?"

"Negative. Call Chief Kerney and brief him. Then put search and rescue on standby, including bloodhounds.

When did Gabe leave?"

"Two minutes ago."

"I'm on my way," Garduno said.

Orlando's car was unlocked and his keys were in the ignition. A bank envelope sat on the dashboard. Gabe reached in through the open window, picked it up, and counted the bills-over seven hundred dollars. There were two withdrawal slips and a pay stub, all with yesterday's date. Orlando had cashed his check and zeroed out his accounts.

He looked at Garduno and fanned the bills.

"Orlando would never do this with his money. Never. Or leave his keys in an unlocked car."

"Take it easy, Gabe," Garduno said.

"You can't always tell what kids will do. When Orlando shows up, I'm sure he can explain everything."

"Orlando didn't party here last night. Nobody did.

Look around. There's no fresh litter or beer bottles anywhere."

"Maybe the party was over there." Gaiduno raised his chin toward the crumbling walls of two old homesteads that flanked the dirt road.

"Or maybe he's camped nearby with some friends."

Gabe looked at the dense forest on the far side of the river.

"Orlando doesn't like to camp. Where the fuck is that rancher?"

"Pullerton will be here," Garduno said as he went to his unit and reached for the radio handset.

"Check around those stone walls. Lieutenant."

Gabe didn't move.

Garduno took his thumb off the transmit button.

"Stop thinking the worst and check the ruins, Gabe.

Let's go to work and find Orlando."

Garduno waited until Gabe moved off before clicking on the handset.

"I want search and rescue and every available unit at my location ASAP," he said.

"Contact Chief Kerney and ask him to get up here pronto."

He dropped the handset on the car seat and went to join Gabe.

The helicopter pilot cleared the ridgeline and dropped down to follow the river. Below, Kerney could see an assembly of police cars and search and rescue vehicles, some with horse trailers. A blue domestic coupe, cordoned off with crime scene tape, sat in the middle of a dirt road. On a small rise behind the car, several uniforms were searching the ruins of old settlers' cabins.

The pilot gained altitude to keep propeller wash from disturbing the activity on the ground and planted the bird on the road a hundred yards away from the blue coupe. Kerney jumped out. Garduno and Gonzales met him halfway.

Gabe's face had worry written all over it. Garduno's impassive expression looked forced.

"What have we got?" Kerney asked.

Garduno took the lead.

"Gabe's son left home yesterday morning. He cut his classes at the university, didn't show up for work last night, and never went home.

One of Ariin Fullerton's ranch hands noticed Orlando's car here about noon yesterday. There was nobody around.

The car wasn't reported as abandoned until this morning when Fullerton and a few of his people came back to move some cattle to another part of the ranch."

Kerney looked at Gabe.

"No sign of struggle?"

"No," Gabe said flatly.

"You searched the car?"

Gabe nodded.

"Nothing's missing. But I found over seven hundred dollars on the dashboard. Orlando cashed his paycheck and cleaned out his savings and checking accounts right after the bank opened yesterday morning.

Withdrawal slips were in the envelope with the money."

"That gives us a time frame to work with," Kerney said.

"Was the vehicle locked?"

"No, and the keys were in the ignition," Gabe said.

"Orlando would never do that. He worked too damn hard for the money to buy that car."

"Did the car break down?"

"It runs just fine," Gabe answered.

"Do you have any ideas why Orlando needed so much cash?"

"None," Gabe said.

"But it's every dime he had."

Garduno broke in.

"Ariin Fullerton said mat people park here to hike and camp in the woods or party by the river. There are several trails on the other side of the river that lead to some remote, pretty canyons."

"Orlando isn't into camping," Gabe said.

"I'm still sending the search and rescue people up there," Garduno said.

"For all we know Orlando may be with some of his friends, or snuggled into a sleeping bag with some pretty young thing."

They reached Garduno's unit and stopped.

"Have you found anything to suggest Orlando is with friends?"

Kerney asked.

"We lifted four different sets of fingerprints from the vehicle, but that could mean anything," Garduno said.

"Is there any other physical evidence?"

Garduno shook his head.

"Pullerton and his people trashed the area. They loaded the cattle on stock trucks right in the road. There's nothing but hooforints, cow shit, and heavy-duty tire tread marks."

Kerney turned to Gabe.

"When did you last see Orlando?"

"Early yesterday. About an hour before he went to the bank."

"Did the two of you talk?"

"Yeah. He said you'd questioned him about Bernardo's friends. He asked me what was up. I told him you were investigating the mesa homicide."

"How did he react to that?"

"He seemed okay with it."

"Did you talk about anything else?"

"I asked him why he was leaving early. He said he had to meet some guy from school who wanted to borrow his lecture notes. He didn't say who it was."

"Is that all?"

"Pretty much. He got a phone call while I was in the shower."

"Who from?"

"Orlando said it was from the kid who wanted to borrow his notes."

"Does Orlando have a steady girlfriend?"

"No."

"Would he tell you if he was planning to cut classes and meet some girl or go camping with friends, like Captain Garduno suggested?"

"Not necessarily. He'd know I wouldn't approve," The search and rescue team had mounted up. Four riders crossed the river, moved through the bottom land, and disappeared into the forest.

"So, it's possible Orlando decided to play hooky," Kerney said.

"Don't feed me crap," Gabe said.

"Something stinks here. You know it, and I know it."

"Let's assume he came here to meet someone. Seven hundred dollars could buy two ounces of very good pot."

"Orlando doesn't use drugs," Gabe said.

Gabe was reacting like a parent, not like a cop. Kerney dedded not to push the point.

"Who would he come here to meet?"

"I don' trucking know," Gabe said.

"Okay, we'll talk to all his friends. But first let's see if we can find out who called him." Kerney opened his pocket notebook, tore out a page, and gave it to Garduno.

"What's that?" Gabe demanded.

"The names and phone numbers of everyone I talked to about the mesa homicide." Kerney looked at Garduno.

"Call dispatch and have them request phone company records on any calls made to Gabe's phone. Start with Bernardo."

"You're fucking crazy to think Orlando had anything to do with that."

"You wanted me to cut the crap, Lieutenant.

Bernardo works twenty miles from here. He's the only person I know with a legitimate reason to be anywhere near this place during the day."

"You're way off the mark."

"Let's hope so," Kerney said.

Garduno reached inside his unit to pick up the radio handset. Gabe gave Kerney an unpleasant look, walked to the river, and stood alone with his back turned and head lowered.

Garduno finished up with dispatch, glanced at Kerney, and nodded in Gabe's direction.

"He knows it could be bad, Chief."

"I understand that."

A pickup truck with three dogs in the bed stopped next to Garduno's unit, and a stocky woman with short brown hair got out.

"I'm Martha Owens. Where do you want my dogs?" she asked.

Before either could answer, the dogs started barking, straining against their leashes.

Owens went to the dogs and tried to calm them. The barking continued in spite of her efforts.

"They smell something," she said.

"What?" Garduno asked.

"Either a body or blood."

"We've searched," Garduno said.

"Nothing's here."

"My dogs say otherwise."

"Where?" Garduno asked, spreading his arms.

"Anne will show us. She's the best of the lot." Martha unsnapped the leash of a female hound, and the dog jumped out of the truck before Owens could drop the tailgate. The hound made for a spot just off the road and started digging while her companions in the truck kept up a steady howl.

Kerney and Garduno converged on Owens and her dog. Clumps of dirt flew as the hound dug deeper.

Martha dropped to one knee, scooped up a handful of moist dirt, and sniffed it.

"It smells like blood to me.

Lots of it. The ground is saturated."

"What kind of blood?" Garduno asked.

"I can't tell you that," Owens answered.

"But something got slaughtered here recently."

Kerney felt the presence of someone at his side and looked over.

"Sweet Jesus, Mother Mary," Gabe said, his voice cracking.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Gabe," he said.

Gabe looked at Kerney like he was a complete stranger.

"I want Bernardo in custody now."

"We'll do this my way. Lieutenant."

"What way is that, Kerney?"

"Cool it, Gabe," Garduno said.

"Fuck you. Cap. I want to know what happened to my son."

Garduno's call sign came over the radio. He hurried to his unit.

"Go, dispatch."

"The phone company reports a call made from the first number you gave me to the Gonzales residence at oh-six-fifty hours, last date."

Ten-four."

"Let's go get the son of a bitch," Gabe said.

Kerney grabbed Gabe's arm to hold him back.

"Not yet. We need a plan."

"You need a fucking plan. I don't."

Kerney tightened his grip.

"Give me your weapon and your shield." For a moment he thought Gabe was going to swing at him.

"You'd do that?"

"Unless you work with me, I will."

Gabe glared at Kerney.

"What's your plan?"

Kerney swung his attention to Garduno.

"Check with Pullerton. Find out if he slaughtered an animal here this morning. He may have had to put down an injured calf or a yearling."

"Pullerton is on his way back to his ranch house."

"Contact him ASAP." Kerney turned to Gabe.

"You're going back with me to the office. We're going to see what the surveillance team has on Bernardo, and get people out backtracking on Orlando. I'll ride with you."

"To watch me?"

"You bet. Send the chopper home and keep working the search.

Captain."

"waldo."

"Let's go. Lieutenant."

Garduno called dispatch and snapped off an order to make contact with FuUerton.

"Patch me through when you reach him. I'll stand by."

"Ten-four."

Still clutching the microphone in his hand, Garduno watched Gabe and Kerney drive away. He threw it on the front seat of his unit in disgust, put his hands to his face, and rubbed his eyes. What a shitty, shitty day it had turned out to be.

At the district office, Kerney kept Gabe Gonzales at his side during the time it took to implement a sweep to gather information about Orlando's whereabouts during the last twenty-four hours. Bernardo Barela would remain under full surveillance while officers backtracked at the bank, the university, and the burger joint where Orlando worked, questioning employees, classmates, professors, and anyone else who might have seen Orlando, or knew where he could be.

Kerney pulled Ben Morfin back on duty to do follow ups on the people who'd been interviewed in the Luiza San Miguel slaying. He couldn't discount the possibility that it might tie in to Orlando's disappearance.

Garduno called in to report that Fullerton hadn't put down any of his livestock at the river, and the look on Gabe's face told Kerney that Gonzales was about to explode.

"Tell Fullerton we're coming out to talk to him," Kerney said.

They left the district office for the Box Z Ranch in Gabe's unit, running a silent code three. Gabe kept the unit floored until the drop-off into the canyon forced him to slow down. On the ranch road, he pushed the unit to its limit, blowing out the shocks, struts, and alignment, fighting to keep control as they pitched, bounced, and veered through rough water crossings and over jagged rock outcroppings.

Kerney didn't say a word.

They found Ariin Pullerton in the equipment barn watching one of his employees weld a new lip on the bulldozer blade.

"Did you find that missing boy yet?" Fullerton asked.

"We're still looking," Kerney said.

"Did you see Bernardo yesterday?"

"Yeah, when he returned the 'dozer. He was late getting it back."

"What time was that?"

"Pour o'dock, or thereabouts. He came looking for me to say he'd gouged a chuck out of the blade. Said he'd hit some hard rock while he was grading the road."

Fullerton shook his head.

"I don't see how he did it. That's mostly shale and sandstone he was moving around."

"How did he get back to his truck?"

"I gave him a ride."

"Did he talk about anything?"

"He told me you'd paid him a visit yesterday."

"And?"

Fullerton shook his head.

"That was it, except for some small talk about how many cow and calf units his uncle planned to run during the summer."

"Did you see him after that?"

"Haven't seen him since."

"Did any of your ranch hands see anyone around the abandoned car yesterday?"

"I would have heard if they did. They have standing orders to run off trespassers and report them to me.

Those kids make a mess when they party at the river, and I don't pay my people to spend their time cleaning up beer bottles, garbage, and broken glass."

"I'd like to talk to the man who first spotted the car," Kerney said.

"You'll find him at the old Callon La Liendre headquarters.

His name is Marcelo. He doesn't speak much English. It's the last ranch house on the way out."

"I've seen it from the road," Kerney said.

Although he was tired, Russell Thorpe's enthusiasm for his first solo surveillance assignment hadn't diminished.

He'd followed Bernardo to an early-morning stop at a hardware store, and then to a ranch and farm supply business where Bernardo loaded up an order of steel fence posts and rolls of wire.

From there, Bernardo drove out of town on the frontage road to the San Geronimo overpass and took a blacktop highway that turned to gravel a few miles outside the village. Thorpe used the dust trail kicked up by the tires to follow Barela through the settlement to Chief Kerney's property.

With binoculars he watched Bernardo unlock the gate, drive through, and park. After twenty minutes, Ruth Pino and her students arrived in a van. He saw Bernardo and the professor exchange a few words and then drive down the ranch road in a caravan, Bernardo leading the way.

Several hours passed before Bernardo returned alone with an empty truck and headed toward town.

Russell stayed well back of the pickup to avoid being spotted. He caught sight of the truck on the ramp to the interstate and closed the gap, keeping two cars between himself and Bernardo. Back in town, Bernardo led Russell down the main drag and onto a side street adjacent to the university, cruising through a residential neighborhood of old homes that had been converted into duplex and apartment rentals for college students.

Several blocks into the neighborhood, on a tree-lined street, Bernardo pulled to the curb, parked, and walked to a waiting car. A middle-aged man got out, shook Bernardo's hand, and took him up the sidewalk to a small two-story Victorian cottage. The man unlocked the front door and gestured for Bernardo to enter first.

Russell waited for a minute, then drove by the house slowly, jotting down the phone number on a rental sign in the front window, and the license plate number of the man's car. He circled the block and parked at the end of the street. A few minutes passed before Bernardo and the man came out and stood on the sidewalk talking. Whatever the man said made Bernardo shrug his shoulders and shake his head. The man handed something that looked like a business card to Bernardo, went to his vehicle, and drove away.

Bernardo waited until the man was out of sight before he dropped the card into the gutter and crossed to his truck.

Russell retrieved the card after Bernardo left, caught up with him at a red light, and tailed him across the main drag to a street that fronted the old railroad station and hotel. Bernardo parked and went inside the Rough Rider Bar.

Russell sat in his hot car. The day had warmed considerably and Thorpe's air conditioner didn't work. His face and hands were covered in dust from driving with the windows down on dirt roads and his mouth felt like dry cotton.

After ten minutes of waiting, Russell decided to eat lunch. He wiped his gritty hands on his pant legs and unwrapped the sandwich he'd packed. The bread was mushy and the meat was limp. He ate it anyway, and washed it down with a warm soda, thinking that sitting inside the Rough Rider Bar with a cold beer was a much more appealing idea.

He crumpled the wax paper, tossed it on the floorboard, and looked at the business card Bernardo had thrown away. It was from a local property management company. The phone number on the card matched the number on the rental sign in the window of the house.

Maybe Bernardo was thinking about getting a place of his own.

Russell's shirt collar felt sticky against the back of his neck and he could feel sweat dripping down his armpits.

He checked the time. In ten minutes he was due to call in on the secure channel and give an update to dispatch.

Eating something hadn't been a good idea. After yesterday's double shift, and only a few hours of sack time, the food in his stomach made him drowsy.

His eyes closed and when his head dropped to his chest, he woke up.

Startled, he shook off the drowsiness.

Bernardo's truck was gone and the dispatcher was calling his unit number. He pushed the transmit button on the handheld and answered.

"You're five minutes late on your call-in," the dispatcher said.

"Is everything ten-four?"

Russell cursed, put his car in gear, gunned it to the main drag, and checked both directions for any sign of Bernardo. Nothing. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

"Respond," the dispatcher said.

"Negative," Russell said, "I've lost the subject."

"Standby."

Russell waited with a sinking feeling that he'd fucked up.

"Return to station," the dispatcher said.

Russell swallowed hard.

"Acknowledge."

"Ten-four," Russell said.

Gabe rattled his unit over a flagstone outcropping that bisected the ranch road. The vehicle bottomed out and Kerney's head hit the roof.

They drove past a stock pen that looked large enough to hold five hundred head of cattle, and into the old La Liendre ranch headquarters.

At the north end of Fullerton's half-million-acre spread, the ranch compound charmed Kerney's eye.

Two side-by-side houses surrounded by mature trees faced a stone barn and horse stable that was bermed into the ground and covered with a slanted tin roof.

The older clapboard house looked to be a Victorian-style craftsman model popular during the 1920s.

Ordered by catalog, the complete building package was shipped by rail, hauled to the building site, and assembled following step-by-step instructions. The screened front porch sagged a bit and a fresh coat of paint was in order, but the house looked to be in fair shape.

The newer house was flat-roofed, stuccoed, and bordered by a low fence that kept a dark-haired, four-year-old boy in and a small herd of nearby goats out. A satellite television dish was anchored to the side of the dwelling.

Gabe ground to a stop in front of the gate. The boy ran inside the house as the goats scattered to the horse stable and clattered over the tin roof, raising a racket with their hoofs.

"I'll take this one," Gabe said as he got out of the unit.

Kerney followed Gabe up the walkway, stepping around the toys the boy had been playing with. A man in bare feet, with a chubby unshaven face, stepped out to meet them.

He eyed Gabe's uniform and in Spanish asked what Gabe wanted.

"Are you Marcelo?" Gabe replied in Spanish as he stepped onto the porch. Through the screen door, Gabe could see a television. It was tuned to a Spanish-language afternoon talk show.

"Yes."

"What time yesterday did you discover the abandoned car?"

"Eleven, no later."

"And you saw no one?"

"No. I was in the feed truck. I just stopped and wrote down the license number so I could give it to the boss."

"Where were you before you found the car?" Gabe asked.

"Loading the feed truck," Marcelo said.

"I always put out range supplement the day before we move cattle to a new pasture. It keeps them nearby and easier to find."

"Did you see anybody while you were loading the truck?"

"The Barelas drove by."

"How could you see them from here?"

Marcelo pointed to the large three-bin feed storage unit that stood opposite the stock pens. On high stilts with chutes under each bin, the unit was designed to fill feeder trucks quickly and easily.

"I was on top of the bins, checking to see if I needed to reorder,"

Marcelo said.

"I can see the road from there."

"You're sure you saw Bernardo and his uncle?"

"I just saw their pickup. I don't know who was in it."

"What time was that?"

"Maybe ten or a little later."

"Which way was the pickup traveling?"

"Toward their ranch. They were in a hurry. Driving fast. I think maybe Bernardo was by himself and late getting to work. His uncle doesn't let him drive that way when he's around."

"Did you see any other vehicles on the road?"

"No. This is not a place where people go driving, except for the town kids who want to drink away from their parents' eyes. But they don't come out here much until the weather gets warmer. Did you find the owner of the car?"

"Not yet."

"I hope he's not injured up in one of those canyons," Marcelo said.

"We've got bear, mountain lions, and coyotes out here that will take down a sick or crippled animal very quickly. We lose stock to them every year. If he's hurt, he could be in big trouble."

Gabe turned away from Marcelo.

"Thanks for talking to me."

"Sure."

Gabe walked past Kerney, his face pale, his mouth drawn in a hard line.

Kerney gave Marcelo a business card, asked him to call if he remembered anything else, and joined Gabe in his unit.

"Did you get any of that?" Gabe asked as he backed up and started down the ranch road.

"I got it all."

"Let's go get Bernardo," Gabe said.

"Not yet."

"What more do you want, for chrissake? We got Bernardo calling Orlando at home, and a witness who puts Bernardo in the immediate vicinity an hour before Orlando's car was discovered."

"I want the same thing you do, Gabe. But first we find out what everybody working the case has uncovered."

"My son could be out there hurt or dead."

"I know how you feel."

"No, you don't know. You just think you know."

Kerney's call sign came over the radio. He picked up the microphone and responded.

"Go to secure channel," the dispatcher said.

Kerney switched over.

Garduno came on the horn.

"Our subject has eluded surveillance."

"When did it happen?"

"At twelve hundred hours."

"Where?"

"The Rough Rider Bar."

"Bring Thorpe in and have him stand by."

"He's standing by."

"Swarm the city with every available officer," Kerney said.

"I want that subject found."

"We're already looking. Nothing so far. Stop and detain. Chief?"

"Negative. Locate and follow only. Morfin gets the call as soon as the subject has been spotted."

"Ten-four."

"Anything from search and rescue?" Kerney asked.

"No sign of any campers in the canyons. The dogs are out and the team is still looking. They'll shut it down at nightfall."

"Ten-four." Kerney's head hit the roof as Gabe gunned the unit over the flagstone outcropping.

"We're on our way back."

"This is bullshit," Gabe said as he spun the wheel and made the last turn before the county road.

"For chris sake, tell Garduno to pick Bernardo up. We've got enough to hold him for questioning."

The unit hit a series of bowling ball-size rocks and Gabe fought the wheel to keep control. The ruined undercarriage jolted Kerney's head into the roof again.

"We do it my way, or you go home," Kerney said.

One block over from Jessica Varela's apartment, Bernardo waited in his truck until the lunch hour ended and students were hurrying out of their apartments headed to afternoon classes. He walked down the alley between the two streets, past the detached garages at the back of the lots. He stopped, pushed against the side door to the garage in Jessica's backyard, and stepped inside. Except for some old garden tools, a rusty green push lawn mower, and several cardboard boxes, the garage was empty. A small window facing the back porch of the house let in a shaft of light. The garage and the window would give Bernardo a perfect hiding place and vantage point.

He left the garage and continued down the alley, watching and listening for dogs. On his past visits he'd seen only one, a young puppy kept on a leash in the front yard at a corner house. It was far enough away from Jessica's apartment for Bernardo to easily avoid it. But he wanted to be completely sure he hadn't overlooked any other dogs that could draw attention to him. He heard no barking as he walked, and saw no evidence of animals kept in the yards.

The alley wasn't used much. Weeds, leaves, and small branches from backyard trees carpeted the lane and there was no evidence of recent tire tracks. Bernardo figured only meter readers and utility trucks used the alley.

He didn't see anybody outside, but a few backyard windows were open and he could hear the sounds of music every now and then. Since just about everybody in the neighborhood attended the university, Bernardo guessed some students were home studying or kicking back after morning classes.

He ran over his plan as he walked to the truck. The only access to Jessica's apartment was through the front door that led to the ground floor apartment and a staircase to the second story. He would have no trouble getting into the building. During his tour of the empty apartment with the property management dude, he'd unlocked the back door and unlatched a kitchen window.

Once inside, breaking into Jessica's apartment would be no sweat. Her apartment door had been hung with the hinges on the exterior side. All he had to do was pop off the hinges and he'd be in. Then he'd rehang the door and be waiting when Jessica got back from her night class.

Bernardo had given the man from the property management company a fictitious name and a story that he was moving to town from Santa Fe to attend summer school and looking for a place to rent. If the cops questioned him it would be enough to throw them off.

He lit a cigarette and drove away, wondering what he would do to Jessica after she got home. There were so many options to consider.

But he had all day to decide.

The thought struck him that Jessica's long blonde hair would be a trophy worth keeping.

Russell Thorpe stopped talking and sat on the edge of his chair in the conference room with his knees locked together, looking like an overgrown, burly schoolboy who'd been sent to the principal's office.

He didn't know which made him feel worse, blowing his assignment or lying about it with a lame story about how a beer delivery truck had blocked his view of the bar just long enough to allow Bernardo to leave unnoticed.

Russell kept his gaze fixed on the wall behind the four men sitting across the conference table and waited for the ax to fall.

Captain Garduno consulted the notes he'd made while Russell had been talking.

"What exactly happened at the vacant apartment?"

Russell blinked and met Garduno's hard stare.

"Uke I said, Bernardo met this man from a property management firm. They were inside the apartment for maybe five minutes. When they came out, they talked briefly, the man gave Bernardo his card, and then left.

Bernardo threw the card away. I guess he didn't like the place."

Kerney read the name on the business card.

"Aside from Ruth Pino and this Chuck Beasly, did Bernardo talk to anyone else?"

"Not as far as I know. Chief. He may have when he was in the bar."

"He didn't stop to take a piss or make a phone call?"

Art Garda asked.

"No, Sergeant."

"So, Bernardo went directly from the hardware store to the ranch supply store, to the mesa, and then met with Beasly at the apartment," Gabe said.

"That's right. Lieutenant."

"Did he buy anything at the hardware store?" Gabe asked.

"I didn't see him walk out carrying anything," Russell said.

"That's strange," Kerney said.

"How long was Bernardo waiting for the hardware store to open?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes."

"You don't wait for a store to open, go in, and buy nothing," Art Garda said.

"Maybe they didn't have what he needed," Russell suggested.

"Maybe," Gabe said.

Kerney looked at Gabe.

"We'll follow up with Beasly and the hardware store."

Gabe nodded.

"That's all, Thorpe," Garduno said.

Russell stood up.

"Where do you want me. Captain?"

"Out looking for Bernardo."

"Don't leave until I talk to you, Thorpe," Kerney said flatly.

"I'll just be a few minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Kerney waited to speak until the door closed behind Thorpe.

"Do we have anything from the field?" he asked Garduno.

"With the exception of Gabe, the teller at the bank, and the burger joint manager, so far nobody has seen or talked to Orlando since yesterday morning."

"What about the student who called and asked to borrow Orlando's class notes?"

Garduno consulted his paperwork.

"We've talked to every student enrolled in Orlando's classes. No one admitted to making any such call."

"So the only verified early-morning call to Orlando we've got is from Bernardo."

"That's right. Chief."

"Do we have Kerri Crombie covered?"

"We've got her buttoned down," Garduno said.

"The ADA has been calling. She wants a meeting with Gabe ASAP.

Otherwise she's going to release Santistevan and Aland."

"Let them walk," Gabe said.

"We can arrest them again later."

Kerney switched his attention to Art Garda.

"Can you handle the meeting with the ADA?"

"No problem. Chief."

Kerney got to his feet and looked at Gabe.

"I'll meet you at your unit."

Til be there."

Outside the conference room, Kerney found a nervous Russell Thorpe waiting for him. He led the young man to Garduno's office, closed the door, and searched Thorpe's face.

"You fell asleep on duty, didn't you?"

Russell blushed and nodded.

"I tried not to."

"It happens to every officer at least once," Kerney said.

"Most are lucky and don't get caught."

"Are you going to fire me, Chief?"

"No. But if you ever lie to me or any other supervisor again, you'll be driving that imaginary beer truck that stopped outside the bar. Do I make myself dear?"

Russell gulped.

"Yes, sir."

"Go to work."

Outside, Gabe's unit was missing from the parking lot. Kerney checked with the dispatcher, who said Gonzales wasn't on the air, and found Garduno in his office.

"Gabe took off," he said.

"I need a vehicle."

"Take my unit." Garduno tossed Kerney his keys.

"Go easy on him. Chief. He's a good man."

"I know that."

Chuck Beasly looked at the photograph. He wore a genial smile that seemed permanently fixed on his face.

He ran his hand through his thinning hair and nodded.

"That's the kid," he said to the state police lieutenant.

"He called yesterday to set up the appointment. I showed him the place this morning, but he didn't take it.

I don't know why, it's a nice unit. Maybe he couldn't afford it."

"Did he tell you anything about himself?" Gabe asked.

"Just that he was moving up from Santa Fe to go to summer school at the university."

"What name did he give you?"

Beasly flipped a page back on his desk calendar and ran his finger down a list of names.

"Salazar. Ben Salazar."

"How many tenants are in the building?"

"Just one. It's a duplex converted from a two-story home. A young woman has the upstairs unit. She goes to the university part-time."

"Her name?"

"Jessica Varela."

The name didn't ring any bells for Gabe, nor did it match with any of the people Chief Kerney had interviewed.

"Was she at home when you showed the apartment?"

"I don't mink so."

"What did Barela do while he was inside?"

"Is that his real name? The usual. He opened doors, looked at the backyard, checked the appliances. I gave him my standard pitch about the place. Told him it would probably rent fast and if he didn't grab it, he'd lose it."

"Was he interested?"

"I thought so, at fast. He wanted to know if I was showing it to anyone else anytime soon. I told him a young couple would be looking at it this evening. He even asked me what time I was showing it."

"When are you showing it?"

"Six-thirty" "Thanks."

Beasly walked to the office door with the lieutenant.

As the officer got to his car, another police vehicle drove up and a man in civilian domes got out. The uniformed cop froze at the side of his squad car. The guy in civvies limped to the lieutenant and started talking. The lieutenant waved a finger in the man's face and poked him hard in the chest, his face red with anger.

For a minute, Beasly thought the men were going to start fighting. But when the cop in dwies pushed the finger away from his chest and said something, the lieutenant backed down.

Beasly watched the two men get into the lieutenant's vehicle and leave, wondering what the fuck that was all about.

In front of the hardware store, Gabe killed the engine and set the brake. Kerney could have pulled his shield and weapon for any number of reasons, including insubordination and conduct unbecoming an officer.

Poking the chief in the chest and calling him a stupid son of a bitch outside of Beasly's office had been a dumb thing to do.

Gabe turned and looked Kerney in the eye.

"Sorry, Chief. I was way out of line. I've been acting half-crazy."

Kerney studied the mounted antelope in the store window, a centerpiece display for the chain saws arranged on tree stumps and wood logs at the animal's feet.

"You have cause," Kerney said.

"No apology necessary.

Let it slide."

"Did you jump on Thorpe for lying about how he lost Bernardo?"

"I read him out royally. He stays on the job."

"He's a good kid." Gabe shook his head.

"Jesus, cops.

We're a crazy bunch, aren't we?"

"Sometimes we are."

Inside the store, rows of caps and hats were hung on lines that ran above the center aisle, and cattle brands burned into wood boards were nailed to the walls above the shelves.

"Yeah, Bernardo was in this morning checking on something at the order desk," the manager said.

In his early thirties, the man looked impatient and not at all happy to have cops in the store distracting his customers.

"Who did he speak to?" Gabe asked.

"Jessica talked to him."

Gabe glanced at the young woman standing behind the center aisle order counter. She was blonde and very Anglo looking.

"Where is Jessica now?"

"That's her at the desk."

"Is her last name Varela?"

"You got it."

"Can you relieve her for a few minutes and give us a place where we can talk?" Kerney asked.

"Sure. Use the break room in the back. I'll have Jessica meet you there."

Just off the receiving dock, the break room doubled as a storage room for excess inventory. Jessica Varela entered and pushed some strands of hair away from her face.

"What's this all about?" Her voice carried a childlike quality.

"You spoke to Bernardo Barela this morning," Kerney said.

"I don't know why he came in." Jessica kept her head slightly lowered and gave Kerney a sidelong, timid look.

"He knew the fence post driver he'd ordered wouldn't get here for another ten days. I told him that earlier in the week."

"Did he talk to you about anything else?" Kerney asked.

"He always tries to talk to me. I don't mind it if I'm not busy."

"What did he talk about?" Gabe asked.

"This morning?"

"Yes."

"Silly stuff. He wanted to know if I liked to study and do homework with other students in my classes."

"He knows you go to the university?" Kerney asked.

"Sure."

"What else does he know about you?" Gabe asked.

"That I'm divorced and that I moved up here from Albuquerque. How old I am. That's about it."

"Has he tried to date you?" Kerney asked.

Jessica shook her head and her long hair covered one eye.

"I think he'd like to, but he hasn't asked. I'd turn him down anyway.

He's too young and I'm not interested in dating. After what I've been through, men aren't very popular with me right now."

"What, exactly, did you tell him about your study habits?"

"Just that I like to study alone, and with my job and school and all I don't have a lot of time to socialize and stuff."

"Did you mention there was an apartment for rent in your building?"

Gabe asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"He didn't ask?"

"Why should he? He doesn't know where I live."

"Have you ever seen Bernardo away from the store?"

Kerney asked.

"No, just here. Did Bernardo do something wrong?"

"What time do you get off work?" Gabe said.

"Today? At five. Then I go straight to the library and study before my classes."

"What time do you get home from classes?" Kerney asked.

"Nine-thirty. You're scaring me with these questions.

What's going on?"

"We think Bernardo is a stalker," Kerney said.

"And he's stalking me?" Jessica's voice quivered.

"Possibly" "What should I do?"

"Keep to your normal routine," Gabe said.

"We'll be watching Bernardo."

"What about me? Who'll be protecting me?"

"There will be a plainclothes officer following you when you leave work," Kerney said.

"You'll be under constant observation."

"For how long?"

"Until the situation is resolved. I'd like to take a look inside your apartment."

"What for?"

"To make sure Bernardo hasn't been there."

"Do you think he may have?"

"It's possible. I'll need your key."

"I have a spare." Jessica reached for her purse, extracted a key chain, and gave Kerney a house key with a shaky hand.

"I never should have moved here," she said.

"I hate this town."

Kerney sent Gabe off on a door-to-door canvas of one part of Jessica's neighborhood while he covered the other. He worked the street behind Jessica's apartment, half expecting to find Gabe gone when he returned.

The last place he stopped was a one-story adobe with a deep portal and territorial moldings around the windows. An old hacienda that had somehow survived the neighborhood's late-nineteenth-century conversion to Victorian architecture, it had been transformed into apartments with a series of doors that opened on to the portal.

At the last apartment, a young man, no more than five four, answered Kerney's knock. Kerney showed him Bernardo's picture.

"I saw him sitting in a pickup truck," the young man said, pointing to a spot across the street.

"When was that?"

"On my way to my one o'clock."

"He was just sitting in the truck?"

"That's all I saw."

"How long was he there?"

"I don't know."

Gabe was waiting on the sidewalk in front of Jessica's apartment when Kerney turned the corner.

"Did you get anything?" Gabe asked as Kerney approached.

"Bernardo was parked a block over at about one o'clock. Did you?"

"Nothing."

With Gabe at his heels, Kerney checked the front door, found it locked, walked to the backyard, and tried the rear door to the empty apartment.

The doorknob turned and he stepped inside the kitchen of the empty apartment.

Gabe moved to the sink.

"This window is unlatched," he said.

"I think Bernardo is ready to make his move," Kerney said.

"I hope you're right. Chief," Gabe said as he stared out the window.

"What's Orlando got to do with this?" he asked softly, almost to himself.

It wasn't Kerney's question to answer. By now, Gabe had to suspect Orlando and Bernardo were somehow linked together in the Luiza San Miguel slaying. Maybe Orlando had been just a witness to the rape and murder, or maybe he was an equal partner in the crime. Whatever fell out, it was impossible to dismiss Orlando's disappearance as a coincidence.

"Let's see what pans out," Kerney replied.

They took a quick tour of Jessica's apartment to check the layout.

Bernardo threw the empty beer can out the truck window and popped open another one. There were only a few old dudes fishing along the shore of the lake at the Maxwell National Wildlife Refuge. The wintering waterfowl were gone for the season and without the birds as an attraction nobody but fishermen, a few curious tourists, and occasional picnickers came to the place during the spring and summer.

Situated on the high plains a few miles outside of Las Vegas, there wasn't much to the refuge-just marshes, the lake, cornfields planted to lure and feed migrating birds, and a view of the mountains.

Bernardo swallowed some beer, thought about Jessica Varela, and got a warm feeling in his groin. Everything he knew about her told him she was going to do exactly what he wanted, the way he wanted. Which meant he'd be able to save the best for last. That made Bernardo smile. He was going to have a real good time.

He finished the beer, flipped the can out the window, and fired up the truck. Everything was set to go. The cops were off his case, Orlando was dead and buried, and Jessica would be all alone in her apartment with no downstairs tenants for him to worry about. It couldn't be better.

On the highway into town, a state police cruiser passed him going in the opposite direction. He smiled and waved, and the cop waved back.

He watched in his rearview mirror. The cop kept heading south without slowing. Cops, including Orlando's old man and that gringo with the limp, were stupid fuckers.

He checked the time. He had a couple of hours of work to do at home in the horse barn. Then he'd eat supper, clean up real good, and get ready for his date with Jessica.

Beasly and his prospective renters showed up late and didn't leave until eight o'clock. Kerney and Gabe waited until they drove away before approaching the house.

Ben Morfin, who'd been glued to Barela since he'd been sighted on the highway, came on Kerney's handheld as they crossed the street.

"He's moving toward town."

"Shit," Kerney said as he unlocked the front door.

"ETA?"

"Traffic is light," Ben said.

"Five minutes, max."

"Talk him in to me."

"Copy that," Ben said.

With Gabe behind him, Kerney hurried up the stairs.

He opened the door and used his flashlight to scan the front room. It was crammed with furniture. In the middle of the room, a Victorian love seat faced a bentwood rocker and two walls of books sat on shelves made out of bricks and boards. Under the front window, an arrangement of plants in ceramic pots filled the top of an occasional table.

Magazines and newspapers littered a glass-top coffee table and spilled over onto the floor.

"ETA two minutes," Ben said.

"He's coming your way."

"Check the bedroom," Kerney said to Gabe as he opened the entry closet.

It was small and stuffed with coats, jackets, boots, mops, brooms, and an upright vacuum cleaner.

"Clear," Gabe said as he came out of the bedroom.

Kerney threw an armload of coats in Gabe's arms.

"Put this stuff on the bed." He grabbed the vacuum cleaner, mop, broom, and a few more coats, followed Gabe into the bedroom, and dumped the load on the floor.

"He parked three blocks away," Ben said.

"He's on foot and carrying a small bag."

"Roger mat," Kerney said, turning to Gabe.

"I'll take the bedroom. You take the closet."

"I want first crack at him. Chief," Gabe said.

"Do it by the book. Lieutenant."

Gabe didn't answer.

Kerney shined his flashlight in Gabe's face.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"Two blocks," Ben said.

Kerney clicked his send button to acknowledge Ben's transmission.

"I want Barela all the way inside, understand?

We don't move until we see what he does."

Gabe nodded, switched off his flashlight, and got inside the closet.

In the bedroom, Kerney fanned his flashlight quickly over the room before killing it. The beam illuminated a row of teddy bears on a dresser top, a desk that held a lamp, clock radio, and laptop computer, and a mattress and box springs that sat on the floor covered by a comforter.

The apartment felt like a hideout from the world.

Kerney doubted that another human being had been invited to the apartment since the day Jessica moved in.

"He's in the garage at the back of the house," Ben said.

"We're going off the air," Kerney said.

"Two radio clicks mean you move, Gabe."

"Ten-four."

Kerney left the bedroom door slightly ajar so he could see into the living room. With Gabe positioned in the closet, once Bernardo gained entry, he'd be boxed in.

Kerney glanced out the bedroom window. A gusting wind buffeted branches of an elm tree against the glass.

He wondered what Gabe would do once he got his hands on Bernardo.

Kerney wanted answers as badly as Gabe.

Should he let Gabe step over the line, or hold him back?

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Kerney stop thinking about Gabe. He heard the rattling of tools, followed by the sound of a hammer striking metal. It made no sense until Kerney realized Bernardo was taking the door off the hinges. The first pin popped free and clanged against the wood floor of the landing.

Two more pins fell and Kerney heard the scrape of metal against metal as Bernardo pulled the locked door free. It thudded against the threshold. A brief silence was followed by the sound of the hammer striking metal again as Bernardo rehung the door. Then the door closed and the deadbolt clicked into place.

Through the crack of the door, Kerney could see the beam of Bernardo's flashlight sweep across the living room. Bernardo put the flashlight on the coffee table, dropped to his knees, took a blanket out of the bag, and spread it on the floor. He reached into the bag again, removed a long-handled butcher knife, and placed it on the blanket. He brought out two candles, placed them on the coffee table, and lit them. Then he sat on the blanket, stripped to the waist, and started sharpening the knife with a whetstone. Finished, he put the knife down, stood up, and walked to the bedroom door.

Kerney took a step back, clicked the transmit button twice to signal Gabe, and tossed the handheld on the bed. When the door opened, he stepped forward and slapped the barrel of his semiautomatic against Bernardo's mouth. Barela reeled back into Gabe's arms.

Gabe spun him quickly, slammed him against the wall, and stuck his weapon into Bernardo's bloodied mouth, breaking teeth as he did it.

Kerney hit the light switch and Bernardo blinked in the glare.

"Where's Orlando?" Gabe asked, forcing the barrel deep into Bernardo's mouth.

"He can't talk with a gun in his mouth, Gabe," Kerney said.

"He can move his fucking head," Gabe said.

"Is my son alive?"

Bernardo didn't react. Gabe cocked his weapon.

Bernardo gurgled, choking on the barrel.

"Don't kill him with the gun," Kerney said. He picked up Bernardo's butcher knife and held it out.

"Use the knife. Open him up from his balls to his neck."

Gabe shook his head and jammed the gun barrel to the back of Bernardo's throat.

"Puck the knife. Is Orlando dead?"

Bernardo's eyes grew wide and he nodded.

"Did you kill him?" Gabe asked.

Bernardo nodded again.

"You pissant little fucker."

"Take the gun out of his mouth, Gabe," Kerney ordered, pulling on Gabe's arm.

"Puck you, Kerney." Gabe's eyes bored into Bernardo.

"Where is he? Where s Orlando?"

Bernardo gurgled some more.

"The gun, Gabe," Kerney said, pulling hard on Gabe's arm.

Gabe yanked the barrel out, busted Bernardo across the nose, and kneed him hard in the groin.

Blood spurted down the front of Bernardo's bare chest as he sank to the floor. He sat holding himself, gasping in pain.

Gabe bolstered his weapon and held out his hand.

"Give me the fucking knife, Kerney."

He took it, knelt down, and pulled Bernardo's hands away from his groin.

When the point of the butcher knife pricked Bernardo's balls, he started spilling his guts.

Arlin FuUerton brought the bulldozer out to the ranch road and started stripping dirt at the spot where Kerney had told him to start digging.

Four officers, including the lieutenant who had come to the ranch with Kerney earlier in the day, stood nearby. Police cars were lined up on each side of the road, all with headlights and spotlights on.

Fullerton trenched two feet down until the blade hit a buried granite boulder. That's how Bernardo gouged the dozer's lip, he thought, as he skipped over the obstruction and started scraping away broken shale and sandstone on the other side.

The twin spotlights on the cab roof lit up the excavation as he pushed the earth into a mound at tile end of the trench. It would have been faster and neater to use a backhoe or a front end loader. But Pullerton knew he could do the job. He'd logged countless hours on the 'dozer and could peel an inch of dirt away with each pass and have it be almost dead level.

The men on either side of the trench stood like statues as he worked, not talking, just staring and beaming their flashlights into the ever-deepening ditch.

Pullerton didn't want to mangle the body so it took a while to get three feet down. Even then, nothing showed. He backed up, got out of the cab, and adjusted the 'dozer spotlights to shine directly into the trench.

Then he climbed down, walked to the back of the machine, got two long-handled shovels off a jerry-rigged rack, and approached Kerney.

"Two more feet and I'll hit bedrock," he said.

"Best to dig by hand from here."

Kerney and the lieutenant climbed into the hole and started digging.

The three other officers stood at the edge of the pit and watched. When Kerney exposed the body, the lieutenant sank to his knees and started retching, his head turned away from the crushed face.

One of the officers, a sergeant, dropped into the trench, pulled the lieutenant to his feet, and hauled him out. Kerney slammed his shovel against the side of the pit and joined the men standing around the lieutenant, who quickly broke away from the group and walked into the darkness.

Kerney followed him while the other men stood fast.

One by one, their flashlights went dark.

Wisely, Arlin cut off the 'dozer's spotlights and retreated into the shadows to wait.

Gabe didn't cry as he walked down the road but his breath sounded ragged. Kerney stayed a few steps behind, keeping his distance. When Gabe stopped, a long time passed before he spoke.

"I wanted a good life for him. Chief," he said dully, his face turned away.

"College, a decent job, meet the right girl, start a family. Make me proud. You know what I mean?"

"I do."

"I always thought he'd be a great father. Better than me.

Kids just seemed to take to him. He had a way with kids."

Kerney didn't respond.

"Jesus, his mother is going to flip out. I need to call her. What do I say?"

"Do it later."

Gabe's back stiffened.

"He was a fucking rapist, Kerney."

"Maybe Bernardo made that part up."

Gabe kept his face averted and shook his head.

"You know he didn't."

"There was a lot of good in Orlando," Kerney said.

"He was my only son. My only child."

"I know."

"I raised him better than this."

"I know."

"What the fuck did I do wrong?" Gabe asked.

"You can't take the blame."

"Then who does. Chief?" Finally, Gabe turned toward Kerney.

"Tell me that. Who the fuck does?"

At the trench they found Orlando's body covered by a blanket. Kerney thanked Fullerton, guided Gabe to a unit, and put him inside. Garduno met Kerney at the front of the squad car.

"I'm taking him home," Kerney said.

"Is he okay?"

"How can he be? I want somebody with him all night and all day tomorrow. Maybe longer."

"Every off-duty officer in the district will volunteer."

"Have somebody standing by for us at Gabe's house."

"Consider it done," Garduno said.

"Gabe doesn't deserve this."

"Let's keep a close watch on him." Kerney glanced at Gabe. Through the windshield, Gabe stared back at Kerney with empty eyes.

"A real close watch."

"We'll stay on top of it, Chief."

Kerney looked up at the night sky. Venus dazzled like a pendant next to a three-quarter moon. He stared at it dumbly, numbed by all that had happened. He could only wonder what Gabe was going through. It had to be a thousand times worse.

"I'll take care of this," Garduno said, gesturing toward the body in the trench.

Kerney nodded, got behind the steering wheel, and drove Gabe away.

Kerney spent the next day in Las Vegas doing paperwork, dealing with the news media, and meeting with the ADA who had been assigned to prosecute Bernardo. Because Bernardo had lost some front teeth and sustained a broken nose, the lawyer hired by the Barelas was already making accusations of police brutality.

The ADA had questioned Kerney closely about the incidents leading up to the arrest. Without hesitating, Kerney lied about the facts. He told the ADA that Bernardo had entered Jessica's apartment armed with a deadly weapon and in the scuffle to disarm him, necessary force had been used. He knew full well he would have to perjure himself at trial, otherwise Bernardo's confession could be thrown out of court and the case dismissed.

Lying wasn't something Kerney enjoyed doing, or had ever done before in a criminal matter. But truth, in this instance, wouldn't serve justice.

The ADA seemed to buy Kerney's version of the facts, at least for the present. But Kerney needed to due Gabe in on the spin, just in case the ADA decided to call and take a preliminary statement from Gabe over the phone.

He parked his unit, stood on the sidewalk in front of Gabe's house, and looked around. It was the first time he'd seen the neighborhood in daylight. Behind him the Las Vegas Public Library, donated to the city by Andrew Carnegie, dominated a tree-lined park that covered a dry block. With its center dome, cross wings, and portico entrance, it looked like a miniature Monticello.

Gabe's house, lovingly cared for, stood directly behind the library. It was a two-and-a-half-story clapboard Victorian with a sloping mansard roof, an arched tower with circular windows, a widow's walk on the top level, and lead glass windows, Art Garcia, dressed in dwies, his eyes ringed with dark circles, came out to meet Kerney as he opened the gate to the walkway.

Art gave Kerney a tired smile.

"Chief."

"How is he?" Kerney asked.

"Sleeping. The doctor gave him a sedative. Gabe's got an appointment to see a shrink in the morning. I sent all the relatives away about two hours ago."

"Did his ex-wife come up from Albuquerque?"

"That was ugly," Art said with a nod.

"She made it sound like Gabe was responsible for Orlando's murder.

That nearly flipped him out."

"Is the ex-wife here now?"

"No. She checked into a motel with her boyfriend.

Do you need to see her?"

Kerney shook his head.

"Keep her away from Gabe if she acts up again. He doesn't need a guilt trip laid on him. He's carrying enough as it is."

"I'll let the troops know. You need to speak to Gabe? I can wake him up."

"Let him sleep. Tell him it's very important not to talk to the ADA until he speak with me."

"Wll do."

"Have the funeral services for Orlando been set?"

"Not yet." Art eyed Kerney warily.

"Gabe told me he put a big hurt on Bernardo to get a confession."

"I didn't see it that way. I told the ADA we used reasonable force to stop the action, and Bernardo's confession was voluntary."

Art looked relieved.

"I'll tell him that when he wakes up."

"Do that, and have him call me."

Bernardo looked up from his concrete bunk and stared at Kerney through the bars of his cell. His broken nose, which had been set by the jail doctor, was covered with a bandage, and two of his upper front teeth were missing.

"I'm not talking to you," Bernardo said.

"My lawyer said not to."

"You don't have to talk, just listen. You're going to prison on a life sentence without parole, if they don't fry your ass. Either way, I'm going to make the time you have in the slammer very interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The boys in the joint are going to smack their lips when they hear that you're going to join them. You'll be somebody's girlfriend within a week. Maybe everybody's."

Bernardo flinched.

"You can't do that."

Kerney smiled.

"Watch me. Take my advice, Bernardo.

Go with the flow. You're not going to survive in prison any other way."

"I'm walking out of here. My lawyer said he's going to get my confession suppressed because you and Gonzales beat it out of me."

"I don't think so. It will be your word against ours.

But if by chance you ever live to see the light of day outside of a prison cell, let me tell you a secret, Bernardo."

"What?"

Kerney gestured with his finger.

"Come here."

Cautiously, Bernardo approached the cell bars.

Kerney dropped his voice to a whisper.

"I'll hunt you down and kill you."

Kerney's bluff made Bernardo's face turn white.

"Have a good day," Kerney said.

Kerney called Dale Jennings at five-thirty Saturday morning just as Sara came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but panties. She kissed him on the cheek, ruffled his hair, and moved to the kitchen, drawn by the smell of fresh coffee.

Dale answered on the first ring.

"Have you had your coffee yet?" Kerney asked, knowing full well Dale had been up for at least an hour.

"Yep. I don't have a cushy eight-to-five job like you.

Gotta work for a living."

"Are you sitting down?"

"Should I be?"

"Maybe. Sara and I are getting married."

Dale whooped.

"Well, I'll be damned. What a lucky son of a bitch you are."

"I know it. I want you to be my best man."

"Tell me when and tell me where."

"Montana in a week, at the Brannon ranch. Can you, Barbara, and the girls make it?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Damn, Kerney, I'm happy for you.

It's about time."

"I'm pretty happy myself."

Sara came back from the kitchen, sat next to Kerney on the couch, and sipped her coffee.

"You got yourself a prize, old friend."

"My prize is nibbling on my ear as we speak."

"Barbara hasn't nibbled on my ear in a week."

"I hear that happens to old married folks."

"Stop wisecracking and put the bride-to-be on the phone. Maybe I can talk her out of making a big mistake."

"Who's wisecracking now?" Kerney held the phone out to Sara.

"He's all yours."

Sara put the coffee cup down, covered the receiver with her hand, and glanced at Kerney's crotch.

"You look very sexy in boxer shorts. What's that thing that's poking out?"

"A surprise."

"I like surprises." She took her hand off the receiver and sat on Kerney's lap, facing him.

"Dale, can I call you right back, in about twenty minutes?"

"Sure thing," Dale said.

"Talk to you then." Sara dropped the phone on the floor.

Kerney and Sara arrived at the old stone cabin at the foot of the mesa to find the gate open and a dozen or so vehicles neatly parked in front of a cardboard sign stapled to a wooden stake that read volunte bbs park here.. Another similar sign at the ranch road read shuttle

VAN AND DELIVERY TRUCKS ONLY.

Kerney had filled Sara in on the weekend project underway at the Knowkon cactus site, and the demand Ruth Pino had made that he meet with a Nature Conservancy staffer.

"It seems she has everything well organized," she said.

"I don't think Professor Pino leaves much to chance.

I'll bet she's working her volunteers like an infantry squad on bivouac."

"She's not your favorite person."

"Maybe you can relate to her."

"Are we hiking in on our own, or taking the Ruth Pino-guided nature tour?" Sara asked as she reached for her backpack and slipped her arms into the shoulder straps.

"We'll hike," Kerney said.

He slung on his backpack and made a beeline up the side of the mesa. At the top, Sara tried to slow Kerney down. She stopped to take in the view, examine wild 5 flowers, and adjust the harness on her pack. Each time, Kerney waited impatiently, looking preoccupied and withdrawn, before striding off again.

When they reached the windmill and stock tank, Sara tugged on Kerney's shirtsleeve.

"Want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Your silence. This forced-march pace we're on. The fact that you haven't said five words in the last hour."

"Sorry."

"What's bothering you?"

"I can't get Gabe Gonzales out of my mind."

"You're worried about him," Sara said.

"He's a damn good man, and his life has been ripped apart. He has to live with the fact that his murdered son was a rapist."

"That can't be easy," Sara said.

"It's a hundred times worse if you're a cop."

"Can Gabe cope?"

"I hope so. I don't know."

"What about you?" Sara asked.

"Me?"

"You don't seem very happy."

Kerney looked at the high flanks of the mountains that dominated the skyline and the soft green spring grass that rippled across the mesa.

"I've been trying to enjoy myself," he said, "but it isn't working. I can't hold on to this land, Sara."

"Sell it."

Kerney smiled sadly.

"That's what Dale said. I've got no choice in the matter, anyway."

"Do it."

"Erma wanted me to have it."

"Erma wanted you to be happy. That was her gift to you." Sara stroked Kerney's face.

"Use it to make her wish come true."

"Think she would understand?"

"Of course." Sara pulled Kerney by the collar and kissed him on the lips.

"What's that forF Kerney asked.

"Luck. Let's go hear what kind of deal the Nature Conservancy has to offer. Just don't give the place away."

"I'm not that stupid."

Sara's voice rippled with laughter.

"You'd better not be."

After arriving at the Knowlton cactus site, Kerney and Sara worked through the morning with Ruth Pino and her volunteers, setting fence posts and stringing wire.

At the noon lunch break, they sat down with Reese Carson and listened to his proposal. The Nature Conservancy wanted to buy all ten sections, not only to protect the rare Knowlton cactus, but to stop any further subdivision of the land.

The open range on the mesa influenced the Nature Conservancy's decision. As one of the last grassland mesas in the area, the land was prime grazing for deer and elk migrating down from the mountains.

"It would be a wonderful plant and wildlife habitat, Mr. Kerney,"

Carson noted.

"I hope you'll consider selling it to us."

"At full value?" Kerney asked.

"No. You sell the property to us for less than the appraisal. But it reduces your state and federal taxes.

While it's not an even trade-off, you get the satisfaction of not paying the full tax burden, and insuring that the land remains intact and unspoiled."

"How much of a per-acre reduction are you looking at?" Kerney asked.

"We can negotiate that," Carson said.

"If you agree in principle to the idea, we'll crunch some numbers for you at different per-acre costs. I promise you'll come out of the deal well compensated."

"Give me a ballpark figure."

"We've got to do the math first, Mr. Kerney. But you'll still be a very rich man."

Kerney mulled it over. He'd always hoped to scratch together just enough cash to get a ranch started, never expecting more would ever be possible. Even if he gave up some of the proceeds, the mesa would be protected, and he would still be able to comfortably realize his dream.

"You can verify our financial analysis with your own CPA before deciding on our offer," Reese added.

Kerney looked at Sara.

She nodded her head.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I think Erma would like to see the land stay just the way it is," she said.

Kerney smiled and turned to Carson.

"Go ahead and crunch the numbers. We'll take a look at your offer."

"That's great," Reese said.

"What are you going to call the preserve?" Sara asked.

"We usually retain the most commonly used place name," Reese said.

"I think it should be called the Pergurson Mesa Ranch," Sara said.

"Or the Erma Fergurson Ranch," Kerney offered.

"Or the Erma Fergurson Mesa Ranch Preserve," Sara countered.

Reese Carson smiled at Kerney and Sara.

"If we strike a deal, and the two of you can agree, you can stipulate the name. I'll put it in the contract as a condition of the sale."

Two weeks after Orlando's funeral, Gabe knew that everything had changed forever. The terrible burning sensation in his stomach never stopped and at night sleep came only after he took a sedative. But the pills didn't keep away the dreams that left him dazed in the morning, wondering if he'd been sleeping or hallucinating.

One dream recurred over and over. In it, he was standing at the edge of the trench looking down at Orlando's crushed body, watching it decay to an anonymous skeleton, all traces of identity dissolved away.

Each time he would awake from the dream with throbbing temples and a racing heart.

Gabe's shrink had him keep a daily journal of his thoughts and feelings. Gabe didn't write down anything about his dream, and not much about how he felt, for that matter. He just didn't have the words for it. He doubted there were any.

In his sessions, the shrink kept pushing him to talk about his grief, anger, and pain. Although he felt empty and drained, Gabe faked it well enough to get a green light to return to duty.

He sat on the living room couch, bit into the sandwich, chewed mechanically, and stared at the television.

Tomorrow he was due back to work. Yesterday, Theresa and her boyfriend had come up from Albuquerque to cart away some of Orlando's things as keepsakes.

After they left, Gabe had packed up everything else-Orlando's clothes, books, old toys, the stereo, the TV, the linens and pillows from the bed, even the baseball card collection-and had taken it all to the dump.

Then he'd cleaned the room from top to bottom and locked the door.

He put his half-eaten sandwich on the plate and went to the kitchen.

All his thank-you notes for the sympathy cards were ready to be mailed.

Chief Kerney wouldn't get his note until he got back from his honeymoon in Ireland. He gathered them up, took them to the mailbox outside the public library, and dropped them down the chute.

This was the first night that he wasn't being watched like a hawk by some cop pretending to keep him company.

It felt good not to bullshit people that he was doing all right.

On his way back to the house, Gabe looked at the moon and saw two bright stars nearby. He didn't know much about stars, constellations, or astronomy. Maybe they were satellites. But satellites weren't supposed to flicker.

Orlando would have known whether they were stars or not, Gabe thought as he stood in his front yard. But Orlando would never be around to tell him such things again.

He placed the muzzle of the pistol in his ear, but couldn't pull the trigger. His hand shook so hard the weapon banged against his cheekbone. He lowered the gun and stared at the house his grandfather had built, wondering why he'd put all his time, money, and effort into restoring it. His family was shattered and his pride in what the house once represented no longer mattered.

He leveled the gun at the living room window and pulled off a round.

The lead glass shattered. He kept pointing and firing at every window in the front of the house until the handgun emptied. Lights went on inside the neighboring houses. As the growing sound of a siren pierced the night, Gabe walked to the porch step, sat, and stared at the ground. Glare from a spotlight washed over him, and Art Garcia's voice came out of the darkness.

"Toss the handgun, Gabe."

The weapon felt heavy in Gabe's hand.

"It's empty."

"Please, Gabe, lose the gun," Art said, almost pleading, as he came up the walkway.

Gabe flipped it onto the grass and started crying, unable to hold back the sobs.

Art sat on the porch step, put an arm around Gabe's shoulders, and waited for the crying to stop.

When Gabe opened his eyes, he saw Russell Thorpe, Ben Morfin, Captain Garduno, and several state and city patrol officers standing in the front yard.

Embarrassed, he dropped his head, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"What am I gonna do, Art?" he asked softly Art patted Gabe's shoulder.

"You'll get through it."