Santistevan finished the call and turned to Gabe. He had the same lean build as Orlando and looked to be about the same height.
"What can I do for you?"
Gabe showed Santistevan his credentials.
"I'm looking for a woodcutter who drives a dark blue, three-quarter-ton Chevy with a winch on the front bumper, side rails, and a hydraulic lift in the bed."
"I see trucks like that in and out of here all the time.
Do you have a name?"
"Rudy" "That's it?"
"That's it," Gabe said, handing Santistevan the composite drawing.
"Does your father have an employee named Rudy?"
"No/"Joaquin looked at the drawing and gave it back.
"Maybe he does contract woodcutting for your father."
"I handle that end of the business. Nobody who looks like that cuts wood for us."
"What did you do with the license plate from the truck you left at your uncle's place?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"It was reported to be on a vehicle used in a crime."
"Somebody needs glasses." Santistevan stood up.
"We've got a wall of old license plates in the storage building. I added it to the collection. It's been there for months. Want to see it?"
"I do," Gabe said, followingjoaquin out of the office.
The license plate collection ran the length and width of two frame walls of a corner office. It included plates from the 1930s right up to the present, in chronological order.
"It's right there," Santistevan said, pointing to his plate.
"The tag doesn't even expire until August. What kind of crime are you investigating?"
"Wood poaching. You wouldn't knowingly buy firewood that's been illegally harvested, would you?"
"I can account for every cord in the yard, either by Forest Service permit or a contract with a private landowner."
"Thanks for your time."
Gabe left, parked down the road where he could see traffic leaving the wood lot and tried to figure out what in the hell was bothering him. It was something about the photograph of Santistevan's wife and her maiden name. Isaac Medina had said it was Debbie Espinoza.
Shit, he knew the Espinoza family, he thought to himself.
He pulled out the composite drawing and studied it.
It was Debbie Espinoza's brother, Rudy.
He called dispatch.
"Go to Channel two," Gabe said.
Channel 2 was the secure broadcast frequency not picked up by police scanners.
"Ten-four," the dispatcher replied, switching over.
"Run a check on Rudy Espinoza. Keep it local. I busted him about four years ago for driving under the influence."
After a long wait, the dispatcher came back on the air.
"He's done six months' probation for a second DWI since then, and he was booked and released for lack of evidence on a breaking-and-entering charge."
"Where?"
"San Geronimo, last summer."
"When was the DWI bust?"
"June of last year."
"What was he driving?"
"Hold on."
Gabe could hear the dispatcher's keystrokes as she entered the search into the computer.
"A nineteen-ninety-four Chevy three-quarter-ton pickup, blue in color.
Tags are expired. Plate number Two-six-six CJR."
"Got an address?"
"Anytime you're ready."
Gabe took down the information, signed off, and made contact with Duran, Houge, and Morfin on Channel 2 as he pulled onto the highway and started rolling toward the interstate.
"I've got a possible suspect in the Boaz murder," he said as he hit the switch to the overhead lights and floored the unit.
"Go," Duran said.