"That's him."
"How do I get to their place?"
"Take the left fork out of my gate and follow the road ten miles due west. They use an old homestead as their line camp. You can't miss it. They come down from Las Vegas most days. You should find them there. They borrowed my bulldozer this morning to do some road work."
"Thanks."
"Mind telling me what this is all about?"
"You've got a nice place here, Mr. Fullerton," Kerney said as he turned and stepped away.
"Thanks, again."
At home, Gabe waited restlessly for Russell Thorpe to deliver the burglary reports that the Texas law enforcement agencies had faxed to the district office. Now that Orlando had announced his intentions to move away, the house seemed too big, and Gabe felt vaguely uncomfortable in it.
Thorpe arrived and hung around with an eager look on his face, hoping to learn what was up. Gabe thumbed through the papers, verified that the stolen items matched the information out of Texas, and looked at Thorpe.
"Go recover the stolen property at Boaz's cabin, and see what else you can find," he said.
Thorpe could barely contain a grin.
"How do I keep you out of it?"
"If anyone asks, say you got an anonymous tip. Also, write up a search warrant for Angie Romero's house, get it signed, and toss the place.
Take somebody with you. Who is the shift commander on duty?"
"Art Garcia is filling in for you."
"Tell him-and only him-what's up, and ask him to go with you."
"What's my probable cause for the warrant?"
"You have reason to believe that items taken in a Texas burglary are in Angle's house. Cite the Midland Police Department report. Art can help you fill in the blanks."
Gabe waved the Midland Police Department report at Thorpe.
"Did you make copies for yourself?"
Thorpe nodded.
"You bet."
"Good. Now go do your job."
Thorpe strode through the front door and almost bounced his way down the front porch to his unit. Gabe smiled at Thorpe's rookie enthusiasm, knowing that soon it would get washed away by harsh reality.
He read the reports again. All three Texas burglaries were professional scores, and the MO on each case was nearly identical. He wondered if the cops in West Texas even knew they had a crime ring operating in their backyards.
Maybe, maybe not.
The thought slipped away as he reached for the ringing telephone.
Several miles west of the Box Z headquarters the ranch road was freshly graded and crowned. Not yet packed down and compressed, the loose dirt was soft under Kerney's tires, and his vehicle drifted into the old ruts hidden under the fresh topping spread by the bulldozer.
The road took him away from the open rangeland toward a somber line of steep-walled, forested mesas tinged purple and red. In places the mesa clifis had been scoured bare by rock slides of massive proportions, and large boulders littered the canyon floor.
Halfway to the line camp he passed an unattended bulldozer, and the road became a worn indentation of tracks in ground-up sandstone and powder-dry day. The road veered toward a blocky rimrock mesa, and the day and sand gave way to shale and cobbles.
The line camp consisted of a battered mobile home on concrete blocks and a pump shed behind a falling-down single-story house with a spindle work porch. All the windows and doors were missing and part of the brick diimney had crashed through the roof. Across a bare patch of ground, next to a weathered corral containing two saddled mounts, was a horse trailer.
Kerney recognized the truck in front of the mobile home as one of the ve hides he'd seen at Nestor Barela's family compound. The sound of his arrival brought two men out on the three-step, rough-cut stairs to the trailer.
The men studied Kerney as he approached the trailer.
The older man stepped down to meet him. Kerney ignored the kid, who had to be Bernardo, and kept his attention fixed on Roque.
Built along the same lines as his father, Roque sported a well-fed belly tightly cinched by a belt. A large silver buckle dug into his midsection.
"You must be really lost," Roque said with a shake of his head.
Tm Kevin Kerney."
The amused expression vanished from Roque's face.
"You're the cop who lied to my father."
"That's one way to look at it."
"What do you want?"
"I'm investigating the disappearance of Luiza San Miguel." Over Roque's shoulder Kerney saw Bernardo stiffen.
"I know the girl," Roque said.
"Haven't seen her around. I heard she went back to Mexico."
"You knew her, too, didn't you?" Kerney called out to Bernardo.
"Yeah, I did." A frown line crossed Bernardo's forehead and the corners of his eyes tightened.
Kerney stepped around Roque toward Bernardo.
"I understand you were interested in Luiza."
"Me? No way."