I sat silently digesting that. “She’s sure?”
“No, sir, she’s not. But Archie Sisneros called here a while ago to ask if one of our people was still working the Baca place. Archie says he saw the white vehicle parked in front, and someone inside the house with a flashlight.”
“He thought that was kind of odd, did he?” I said.
“Yep. Jackie took the call. On her way down the hill from the pass, she saw a vehicle exit the lane and then park behind the church. She decided it would be better to hang back a little and see what developed.”
“Well,” I said, “we developed. I’ll go have a chat with Mr. Walsh-or whoever has his truck.”
“It might be useful if he didn’t know that the deputy was sitting up the hill.”
“You got it.” I snapped off the phone. “Cat and mouse time.” I shook my head and looked across at my son. I handed him the cell phone. “That button right there”-and I pointed to one of the white buttons on the left side-“is the auto-dial to the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Why am I going to need that?”
“Hopefully, you won’t. But I have to try and pry myself out of your stealth bomber again. If I get stuck partway, we may need to call for assistance.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
I was halfway out of the car, contorted like Houdini, when I started to count down all the stupid things I was doing. If I had caught one of the rookie deputies pulling the same dumb stunt, I’d have chewed his ass up one side and down the other. Had the person waiting in the dark vehicle ahead of us been an armed psychotic in a stolen truck, he needed to look no further for an easy target.
The interior courtesy light of the Corvette wasn’t much, but it did a thorough job of illuminating my gyrations as soon as I opened the door. Finally struggling to my feet and taking a deep breath of relief, I pushed the door closed and walked around the front of the car.
The dome light of the Durango snapped on just as I rounded the left rear fender. The driver’s side window was down, and I could see an elbow resting on the sill. The headlights of my son’s car behind me worked to my advantage.
“Good morning,” I said as I came up behind the open window.
Scott Gutierrez leaned forward a bit so that he could twist around to peer at me. He grinned and then turned away from the glare of the headlights. “Good morning, Sheriff. I was wondering who that might be.” He gestured toward the northwest.
“I saw you turn into the lane down there, but I lost you through that grove of trees. And then I saw the Border Patrol unit do the same thing. I figured the two of you were having a chat.”
“The night shift,” I said. “That was Bergmann and Tomlin-son chasing coyotes.” I moved forward so that I could lean on the Durango’s door. “My son and I are roaming around, sharing insomnia on a nice peaceful Sunday morning.”
He laughed. “Yep.” He stretched, straight-arming the steering wheel with his left while thumping his right hand against the vehicle’s roof.
“I thought you were on leave,” I said. “That’s what Bergmann told me. And you told me earlier that you were going hunting this weekend.”
Gutierrez yawned and nodded. “I am. Or rather, we are. My sister and me. And my stepdad. He’s visiting from Del Rio.” He turned and looked up at me. “The annual pilgrimage.”
“He’s staying in Posadas?”
“Yes. With Connie French. My sister.”
“Aren’t you still living in Deming?” Gutierrez caught the puzzled note in my voice and grinned.
“I thought it would be easier if I bunked on sis’ floor for the weekend, rather than driving back and forth. We’re going out and set up camp this afternoon, over on the north side of the mountains.” He nodded at the San Cristobals. “Then, come first light Monday”-and he held up and sighted an imaginary rifle-“the champion twelve-point buck who’s waiting out there is mine.”
He put down the rifle. “But see, the problem is that my step-dad sees it as his goal in life to rearrange my life to his satisfaction. We always end up arguing about something. There’s about a six-hour grace period after he and I show up in the same house. And then, it’s anybody’s guess.”
“I know how that can be.”
The young man’s expression turned to one of chagrin. “This time I didn’t even get the six hours. We had a good row earlier this evening. I went back to sis’ place after that ruckus at the Broken Spur, and I made the mistake of mentioning it to my stepdad…you know, about that stupid kid running from the cops.” He shook his head ruefully. “That lit the fuse, I guess. What he really wants is for me to be partners with him in the dealership in Del Rio.”
“That doesn’t appeal to you?”
“Jesus, no. I can’t even imagine that.”
“He’s trying to bribe you into it by letting you drive this fancy truck?”
“Right.” He surveyed the inside of the Durango. “It’s not bad, either.”
“I hope you left your stepdad a note.” I chuckled. “He’s apt to wake up, find his baby gone, and go ballistic.”
“Not likely. He sleeps like a rock. In fact, he usually misses all the good dawn hunting when we go out.”
“So,” I said, and paused. “Any brilliant ideas about this mess we’ve got on our hands?”
“The Baca thing, you mean?” He shrugged. “There’s two possibilities that are the most logical. One is that the old man had an argument with a relative over something. Domestics are number one, right?” He laughed. “I should talk.”
I nodded.
“With what happened to his son and all, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened. And then you gotta figure”-and he swept his hand in a general arc that included all of Regal-“if he’s out on the highway, he’s fair game for just about the whole world. Somebody saw him, figured to take whatever money he had, maybe brought him back to the house by force.” He looked up at me again. “That’s what I think, for what it’s worth…which ain’t much.”
I glanced at the digital clock on the Durango’s dashboard. “So how long have you been sitting here?”
“Hell, I don’t know. A while.” He yawned. “I pulled in here on impulse. A good place to do a lot of thinking. You never know what you’re going to see.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Well, the old lady who lives in that adobe with the yellow window frames”-and he pointed to a single porch light across the way that wasn’t blocked by the bulk of the church-“she let her dogs out for about ten minutes, and then called ’em both back in again at three-oh-five. That’s big news. The Contreras’ kitchen light came on at three-thirty for a few minutes and then went off again, so husband or wife or both were up and got a snack. That’s big news.” Gutierrez laughed.
“Hot times,” I said.
“And then a little bit ago, at about oh four hundred hours, this big, bad-ass ’Vette sneaks down the hill into town. I thought I had something fun going on with that one, until the Border Patrol nailed him.”
“I hadn’t thought of it as sneaking,” I said.
“Well.” Gutierrez looked at me sideways with a “gotcha” grin. “You were comin’ off the hill like some airplane. I could hear all the way down here. And then you slowed, and didn’t come out from behind that big foothill there for a long time. And when you did, you were just kinda of drifting along.”
“Lots of deer out,” I said.
“Ah,” Gutierrez agreed. “Leave some for me, all right?”
I straightened up and stretched, and glanced back at my son sitting patiently in the car. “I have to climb back in that thing,” I said. “It’s a major undertaking.”
“Life’s tough.” Scott chuckled.
“Did you happen to drive through the village tonight?” Before he had a chance to respond, I added, “See any foot traffic? Hear any dogs going nuts?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I didn’t have to drive through. I can hear every sniffle and giggle right from here. The whole valley is as quiet as this church.” He sighed and settled even farther down in the seat. “One of the things that’s on my mind is seeing that youngster get hit. That’s one reason I’m out and around. I lie down to sleep, and that’s what I see.” With a grimace, he smacked one hand against the other. “Bam. Just like that. I don’t guess I’ll ever forget that sound.”