But Kerney had a strong hunch that, with the pressure off, Bernardo might feel free to make a move on Kerri Crombie. He decided to put a surveillance team in place to watch Bernardo.
Gabe Gonzales felt damn good about the way his day had gone. Lenny Aland's confession had generated major busts in West Texas and New Mexico. In Albuquerque, agents had raided a damaged freight appliance store, confiscated a warehouse full of stolen goodies, and arrested the owner and several employees, in Lubbock, Midland, Amarillo, and El Paso, key members of various burglary rings had been rounded up and were undergoing interrogations. Large quantities of merchandise taken in recent West Texas heists had been seized, and three fencing operations peddling items taken in New Mexico burglaries were about to be shut down.
It was, without a doubt, one of the biggest cases Gabe had cleared in his twenty year career.
He signed the last report as Captain Garduno walked in the conference room.
"The arrest warrant for Sannstevan just came in," Garduno said.
"Good deal."
"And the grand jury delivered a true bill of justified homicide on the Espinoza shooting. You can go back to work now."
Gabe couldn't tell if Garduno's remark was snide or joking. He said nothing as Garduno eased into a chair and put a department memorandum on the table. He pulled the document close and read it. Art Garda had been bumped up to sergeant and Gabe's promotion to lieutenant had come through. He was assigned as Garduno's assistant district commander.
He damped his jaw tight to keep from smiling and looked at Garduno.
"Are you okay with this. Cap?"
Gabe asked.
Garduno nodded and smiled.
"Hell, I wouldn't have it any other way. You've earned it."
Gabe's smile turned into a grin.
"Thanks, Cap."
"When are we going to celebrate?"
Gabe knew he'd have to invite all the troops to a promotion party, and spring for the booze and eats.
Maybe he and Art Garda could go in together on a joint bash to keep the costs down. But celebrating was the last thing on his mind. Joaquin Santistevan needed to have his ass busted and thrown into jail. Gabe was looking forward to the arrest.
"I'll get back to you on that," Gabe said as he headed for the door.
To keep Santistevan from bolting, Gabe had threatened Bema with arrest if she tipped off Joaquin about the investigation. To counter the possibility that Joaquin might learn of the events in Anton Chico from some other source, Gabe had put him under constant surveillance.
No vehicles were parked outside Santfstevan's house when Gabe drove by.
He positioned the unmarked police unit at the end of the block and waited. For a twenty-seven-year-old, Joaquin wasn't doing badly at all. His house was a sweet little Victorian cottage in tiptop condition on a block lined with big shade trees.
Twenty minutes into the stake-out, Debbiejoaquin's wife, arrived home and parked her five-year-old subcompact hatchback in the driveway. If cars were an indication of Joaquin's affection for the women in his life, Bema won hands down with her new sport utility vehicle.
Debbie walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk. She looked decidedly pregnant. At least Joaquin wasn't playing favorites when it came to making babies. She lifted out a bag of groceries, walked slowly up the front porch, and went inside the house.
Ben Morfin, the officer tailing Joaquin, made radio contact.
Gabe acknowledged.
"Looks like he's heading to his happy home and loving wife," Ben said.
"ETA five minutes."
"Ten-four." Gabe checked his watch and settled back to wait.
According to Lenny Aland, Santistevan's method of targeting burglary victims was quite simple. When firewood orders came in from well-heeled customers, Joaquin would make the deliveries himself and take a look around. Did the customer have dogs or a security system?
What kind of cars did the customer drive?
What kind of score would a burglary yield? Were the neighbors too close by to risk a break-in?
Joaquin would ask a few innocent-sounding questions, like what the customer did for a living, or something about children and spouses, to get an idea of the family's daytime schedule.
If everything looked cool, Rudy would cruise the neighborhood for a couple of days peddling pickup loads of firewood. He would go door to door, sell a few loads here and there, and scope out the target some more. A month or so later, when no one remembered the friendly wood peddler, Rudy would pull the job.
In eighteen months, Rudy had pulled more than fifty burglaries, many of them in upscale rural Santa Fe areas, a short hour's drive from Las Vegas.
Rudy's break-ins at the weekend cabins and vacation homes around San Geronimo had also been Joaquin's idea. He'd used his time living with Uncle Isaac to scope out the best places to rob. When the firewood season ended, he sent Rudy out to rip off the second homes and mountain retreats of baby boomers who'd built expensive hideaways in the cool foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
Santistevan's truck came into view, followed shortly by Ben's unmarked unit.
"Block him when he stops in the driveway," Gabe said into his microphone as he pulled away from the curb.
"Affirmative. There's a hunting rifle in his rear window gun rack."
"You know the drill," Gabe said.
"Here we go again," Ben replied.
When Santistevan made the turn into his driveway, Gabe accelerated, veered across the street, pointed the nose of the unit at the side of the truck, and hit the brakes. He stopped six feet short of the truck.
He was out of the unit with his handgun drawn and leveled just as Santistevan reacted with a look over his shoulder.
Joaquin's right hand reached back for the rifle.
"Don't do it," Gabe said.
Joaquin's hand froze in midair.
"Check your rearview mirror," Gabe said.
Joaquin turned his head and glanced in the mirror.
Another cop had a shotgun pointed at him through the rear window.