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“Try these,” she said, and handed me a pair of heavy binoculars.

That was the operative word…try. The eyepieces weren’t designed to use with bifocals, and without glasses all I saw was black. A light flashed briefly and I managed to pin it down so that it created a neat star pattern in the lenses without showing me a damn thing.

“So you decided to park here and check out the village,” I said.

“I always do that, if I have time. I like the idea of an overview.”

“Outstanding. And you saw the headlights, I assume, over by Baca’s. Then you saw the vehicle drive out the lane. As it passed by Contrerases’ you’d catch a glimpse of the color, if their porch light was on.” I tried to find the Contreras house, but gave up. Without car headlights to serve as a marker, the whole place was just a black hole to me.

“Yes, sir. And then it drove out to the pavement, turned south, and then swung around behind the church. That’s where he parked. After about ten minutes, I decided to drive on down the hill and check him out. I was about to get back into the unit when you drove by.” She beamed again. “And then after I found out who Thunder Pipes was, I thought it might be useful, if you were touring Regal, for me to stay up here. I wanted to know what the occupant of the vehicle behind the church would tell you. I talked to the undersheriff, and he agreed.”

I handed the binoculars to my son. “Can you see anything, Commander Thunder Pipes?”

Buddy cranked the objectives a little farther apart and spun the focus knob like someone who uses those sorts of gadgets on a regular basis. “As a matter of fact, I can. Our white Durango is coming out from behind the church with his headlights off. Ah…now they’re on.” Even without the binoculars, I could see the beams stab out across the parking lot. “And now he’s on the highway, turning up the hill.” Buddy handed the binoculars back to Jackie.

“By the way, Scott told me that he hadn’t driven through the village, Jackie,” I said. “Either tonight, or on Saturday morning, despite what Betty Contreras says.” She nodded, and I added, “That confuses me, see. Tony Abeyta said that Betty never mentioned a vehicle driving through the village while he and Scott were talking to her…she certainly didn’t mention a Border Patrol vehicle driving through. That’s what Tony says. Now Betty says that she did mention the vehicle while she was talking to Scott.”

I turned and listened. “You can hear him now, coming up the hill.” Looking back at the deputy, I said, “So either Betty is lying, or Tony Abeyta is lying. And Scott Gutierrez is lying, about tonight, anyway.”

“Betty told the undersheriff the same thing, sir. Just what she told you.”

“She did?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She told him that she saw the Border Patrol unit drive by her house? Around eight?”

“Yes, sir. She said that she only caught a quick glance, but that it was two agents.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” I said wearily. “Betty, Betty, Betty.” At the sound of an approaching vehicle, I turned and saw headlights pop into view, and a moment later, the white Durango passed us, its aggressive all-season tires howling on the pavement. Scott Gutierrez tapped the horn twice.

As the taillights disappeared around the bend, I said, “Archie Sisneros called dispatch and said that he saw a light inside Sosimo’s house while the vehicle was parked there. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Scott says he didn’t even drive into the village.”

“You’ve got an interesting potpourri of what passes for the truth on this side of the mountain,” my son said.

“That’s what has the undersheriff on edge,” Jackie said quietly.

“The obvious thing to do at this point,” I said, “other than thinking about finding breakfast somewhere, is to talk with Mrs. Contreras again. Her husband doesn’t recall seeing any traffic, of any kind…but part of the time he was inside the church sniffing paint. So…” I shrugged. “Tell you what. Let me talk with Betty again. We’ll see what she’s up to. In the meantime, I’d like you to find out all you can about Scott Gutierrez.”

“The undersheriff is working that way, too,” Jackie said.

“Then I need to talk to Robert. He’s at the office, or at least he was a few minutes ago.”

Buddy held up a hand in surrender. “Dad, we need to head on back to the house. Tadd will be up and around, and maybe we can catch up with you later in the morning.” He pushed a button on his watch. “It’s about four-forty now, and beginning to look like you’re going to have a busy morning. I’ve got a couple of errands I need to run, myself. Let’s try to meet at noon. How about that?”

“Noon for lunch,” I said. “If it won’t hurt your feelings, I’ll ride back in with Jackie.”

The only luggage I’d had with me in the sports car was my cell phone, about the size of a pack of cigarettes. It didn’t take much to transfer that. The Corvette’s bellow was already fading as Jackie and I pulled out onto the highway in the Bronco.

“Your son flies jets in the navy, sir? That’s what some of the others were saying.”

“That he does.” I chuckled. “Choppers too. You can tell?”

“He has that military look,” she said. “The big watch, and all.” The military “look” was nothing new to Jackie Taber, fresh out of six years with the army when Posadas County hired her. “How long will he be visiting?”

“Through the middle of the week. More if I can twist his arm. Where’s your sketch pad, by the way?” The large drawing pad had become a Taber trademark, and her work was stunning. Others might sit in the patrol unit and smoke a cigarette during an off moment. Jackie Taber hauled out her charcoal pencil and drawing pad.

“Under my briefcase,” she said, indicating the clutter between us.

“You keep after that,” I said. “It’s a real talent.” I laughed. “You need to talk Sheriff Torrez into moving you to days. The light is a whole lot better.”

She made an amused little sound, noncommittal at best. “Maybe swing shift, sir. Then there’s the best of both worlds. Lots of gray tones.”

As we headed north, both of us fell silent. I didn’t have to ask what prompted the occasional impatient drumming of Deputy Jackie Taber’s fingers on the steering wheel. The puzzle had enough pieces to keep us all busy.

Something had been on Scott Gutierrez’s mind. There was no question about that. Only old, fat insomniacs parked themselves in the dark corners of the county in the middle of the night, listening to the dim pulse of the world. No doubt, Scott had his share of troubles-a recent divorce, a nagging stepfather, the dull routine of chasing people trying to come into the country without a ticket.

A young, aggressive cop with his whole career ahead of him had better things to do than sulk behind buildings just to fritter away time.

There was something on the undersheriff’s mind, too, enough to keep him sleepless, despite the best efforts of his beautiful wife. I knew it wasn’t the election just two days away. I hadn’t met a single person who took his opponent seriously-and Robert Torrez wasn’t the sort to lose sleep over politics.

Chapter Twenty-nine

The undersheriff’s door was open, two doors downstream from my office and immediately across from the dispatcher’s island. One might have assumed that someone of Robert Torrez’s size would have sought out an office to match, a place where he could stretch out. Instead, he wore the room like a polished, tight military boot.

Small to begin with, the oddly shaped office featured one corner lopped off at an angle to accommodate ductwork for our recently updated heating and cooling system. Torrez had skewed his large metal desk so that the light coming in from the single tall, narrow window wouldn’t blanket the screens of his two computers with reflections. That desk, along with two filing cabinets and two chairs, didn’t leave room for amenities.