Lawrence. Lawrence's assessment wasn't hard evidence, but narrowing the possibility that the murder victim might be either a Central American or Mexican national could prove helpful.
The work Prank Houge had done before being pulled off the case was inconclusive. None of the three missing women who matched the victim's age had suffered an old fracture to the left arm, nor had any of the others from the remaining open cases.
Kerney skimmed the missing persons printout from the National Crime Information Center, came up empty on any matches, and decided it was time to get out and do some old-fashioned legwork. It would also give him a chance to meet some of his new neighbors.
His ride across the mesa with Dale replayed through his mind as he drove out of Santa Fe. It was a beautiful piece of land Erma Fergurson had left to him. He tried to visualize it through Erma's artistic eye.
He could see the crowns of the tall ponderosas in the heavy timber at the rim of the mesa with the stark face of Elk Mountain splitting the horizon, and the rich rangeland, thick with grasses bent by the weight of heavy seeds sparkling like pale white jewels in the breeze.
He wondered where Erma had gone with her brushes and her canvas to paint, and how many landscapes she'd produced during her summer retreats on the mesa. She'd left one of her paintings to him, but he hadn't seen it, and wouldn't until he had a chance to get down to Las Cruces. He knew he would love it. Maybe it would be a landscape of the mesa.
The pessimistic thought that he wasn't going to be able to keep all the land washed over him. He slapped his hand hard against the steering wheel to drive the thought away.
Gabe reviewed the background checks on Nestor Barela and his family that had been requested by Chief Kerney.
On paper Nestor, his three sons, their wives, and the grandchildren were all law-abiding citizens with no criminal records. Nestor had served in World War II as a tank commander and his oldest son, Roque, had been in Vietnam with the Ordnance Corps.
Nestor's three sons, Roque, Lalo, and Elias, all had clean slates.
Roque, the oldest, had retired from the state highway department and now ran the family ranch.
Lalo, the middle son, was a medical technologist at the local hospital, and Elias worked as an independent plumbing contractor.
Lalo's boy, Fermin, was a career marine assigned to embassy duty in the Philippines. The other grandchildren consisted of two boys-Bernardo and Gerald-offspring of Nestor's youngest son Elias, and Roque's three girls, who were still in high school. Both Gerald and Bernardo lived at home.
Gerald worked in the business office at a regional vocational school and was engaged to be married in June. Bernardo worked with his Uncle Roque on the family ranch south of Las Vegas that Nestor had bought with part of the proceeds from the sale of Horse Canyon.
Nestor had one great-grandchild, a two-year-old girl born out of wedlock to Bernardo and his former high school girlfriend, who lived in Denver. Under a court order, Bernardo paid child support of three hundred dollars a month, and his payments were up to date.
Nestor's wife had died several years before he'd sold Horse Canyon.
He'd built the family compound on the Gallinas River to have his sons, their wives, and the grandchildren close to him, deeding a house and five acres to each of his boys, and keeping one parcel and a home for himself.
Gabe approved of Nestor's old-fashioned yet modern scheme to keep his extended family together. Too many Hispanic families had scattered as land changed hands and children moved away.
None of the information about the Barelas surprised Gabe. He'd grown up with Elias Barela and knew the family fairly well.
Nestor's truck was parked in front of his house, but there wasn't an answer when Gabe knocked at the door.
He turned the corner of the house, saw three men leading saddled horses from the barn to a stock trailer, and walked down to meet them. When he got close, he recognized Nestor, Roque, and Bernardo.
He nodded a greeting to Bernardo.
"Did you have a good time with Orlando last night?"
"Yeah, we drank a few beers and hung out for a while."
Gabe shook Roque's hand.
"Working hard, Roque?"
Roque smiled.
"Always. My father treats us like peons."
Nestor laughed.
"You tell such stories, Roque." He eyed Gabe's civilian attire.
"What brings the state police to see us?"
"To ask a few questions. Did you know Carl Boaz?"
"I didn't even know his name until I read it in the paper," Nestor said.
"How about you?" Gabe asked Roque.
"I knew him by sight," Roque replied.
"But not to talk to."
"How about Rudy Espinoza?"
"We all knew Rudy," Roque said.
"He was nothing but trouble."
"Do not speak unkindly of the dead," Nestor said.
"I heard a rumor that you shot him," Roque said, "for cutting wood and speeding."
"Did Rudy have your permission to enter the Fergurson property?" Gabe asked, sidestepping the remark.
"Never," Nestor answered.
"I give no one permission to go on that land."
Gabe turned to Bernardo.
"Did you ever see him driving a three-quarter-ton dark blue Chevy long bed?"
"If I did, I don't remember it. We don't spend much time at the mesa."
"That's right," Roque added.
"You said Rudy was trouble. Did he cause you any?"