The middle-aged woman who opened the door of the hillside house looked at Kerney and shook her head. "I'm sorry, our bed and breakfast is closed," she said. "So are the hotels. You'll have to drive to South Fork if you want a room. I don't know why Eddie at the bar keeps sending people up here."
Kerney introduced himself, displayed his shield, and held up a photograph of Linda Langsford. "Do you know this person?"
"Of course. Linda Langsford. She stays with us for several days every fall."
"The notice on the door says that you close on the fifteenth of September. Ms. Langsford supposedly stayed at your bed and breakfast in early October."
The woman nodded. "We shut down the breakfast operation then, but we'll rent rooms into October, especially to returning guests. We get some overnighters who check in at the gift shop next door, but most who come when the season has ended make reservations through the mail or by phone."
"How do they get a room key?"
"I leave the place open with a key in each room."
"What day and time did Ms. Langsford check in?" Kerney asked. "I think we mailed her a key at her request. Let me double-check." She left and returned holding an open ledger. "Yes, she got a key and a reservation confirmation by mail." She read off the dates of Linda's stay.
"Did you see her on the day of her arrival?" he asked.
"I didn't see her at all, but her luggage was in her room."
"On the day she was due to arrive?"
"Yes. I stopped by to say hello. Her bags were there and she had started to unpack. I assumed she'd either gone out for a short walk to stretch her legs, or she was getting something to eat."
"What time was that?"
"Around two in the afternoon."
"Did you see her the next day?"
"No, I went to Alamosa for the day and didn't get back until long after check-out time."
"Did you give my agent this information when he called?"
"No, all he asked about was the dates Linda was registered as a guest."
"Was her room used? The bed? The bathroom?"
The woman nodded. "I cleaned it after she left. She was very sweet about not needing her room cleaned until then. She said there was no reason for us to bother since she was only staying two nights."
"When did she tell you this?"
"When she called to make her reservation. Why are you investigating her?"
"Did you have any other guests registered at the same time as Ms. Langsford?"
"Two couples. We only have six rooms."
"Would you give me their names, addresses, and phone numbers?"
"Certainly, but you didn't answer my question," the woman said in an eager tone. "And the detective who called wouldn't tell me anything, either."
Kerney shrugged and smiled. "We're not always free to do so, and this, unfortunately, is one of those situations."
The town hall and sheriff's department were just beyond the quaint string of Victorian buildings that defined the business and tourist area of town. A four-wheel-drive patrol unit was parked outside.
Kerney entered the small office where he was greeted by a tanned, calm-looking uniformed officer who rose from behind a paper-cluttered desk.
The man matched Kerney's height and weight and looked to be in excellent condition. He had sandy hair about to turn gray and sharp eyes that took everything in and gave nothing away.
"I'd like to talk to the sheriff," Kerney said.
"I'm the sheriff," he said. "Ira Morley. What can I do for you?"
Kerney identified himself, told Morley why he was in town, and asked to use the phone to make two long-distance calls.
"Help yourself," Morley said, gesturing at the desk phone.
Of the two couples who'd stayed at the B amp; B the same time as Linda Langsford, he was able to make contact with only one, a retired southern California high school band director and his wife. Neither had seen Linda on the first day she was a guest at the establishment, but had visited with her the next day, before she'd left. All the man could remember was that they had made small talk for a few minutes.
"Was there anything unusual about the conversation?" Kerney asked.
"Not the conversation," the man said. "But she sure did look exhausted, and her clothes were all wrinkled like she'd slept in them."
He hung up to find Ira Morley paging through a small stack of printouts.
"This is about that spree killer you're hunting, isn't it?" he said.
"That's right. Did anyone from my office contact you personally about this case?" Kerney asked.
Morley looked up. "Nope. My records show no car registered to a Linda Langsford in town on those dates."
"You run license plates?" Kerney asked.
"Especially during the tourist season," Morley said, "or when things get slow, which happens fairly often around here. It's just me and two deputies, and we don't have a lot of crime to speak of. Cabin break-ins, lost hikers, dead animals on the roadways, sick tourists-that's about the extent of it. We've had only one murder in the sixteen years I've been sheriff. Mexican fella from Alamosa killed by some drinking buddies and dumped in the forest. Occasionally we'll get a computer hit back on a stolen car."
Morley returned his attention to the papers in his hand. "The only New Mexico plate in town on the days you were asking about was registered to a Drew Randolph, out of Roswell."
"Make and model?" Kerney asked.
"A Volvo station wagon," Morley said. "One of those new fancy all-wheel-drive models."
If Kerney remembered correctly, Volvo station wagons had tail lights that ran vertically along either side of the rear window, just like the vehicle Clark Beck, the trucker with the broken water pump, had described. Maybe Beck had been wrong about it being a Honda.
"What time was the license plate check run?"
"Eleven in the morning on the day of her arrival. But it was gone all night and most of the next day. We keep a pretty close eye on tourist vehicles."
Kerney did a quick mental calculation, figuring that if Linda had dropped off her bags and then turned around to make the long drive back to Carrizozo to start her killing spree, she had plenty of time to finish up, return to Creede, and establish her alibi. He smiled.
"You've got something?" Morley asked.
"Thanks to you, I may have," Kerney replied.
At the state police district office in Roswell, Kerney worked late into the night carefully' preparing search warrant affidavits: one each for the residences of Murray, Gibben, and Linda Langsford, and one for the corporate offices of Ranchers' Exploration and Development.
Since the fruits of the investigation hinged solely on circumstantial evidence and the statements of Margie Hobeck and Kay Murray, Kerney knew he would need to mount a sufficient and convincing probable cause argument before a judge would agree to issue the warrants.
Using the information supplied by Margie and Kay, he summarized Vernon Langsford's known sex crimes and asked for permission to look for specific financial documents, notes, records, photographs, personal or business letters, personal or corporate checks, and any pertinent personal diaries, electronic mail, or computer data that could identify victims or could demonstrate payment of money to possible victims.
To strengthen his argument, Kerney listed the financial benefits Langsford had given Kay Murray and Penelope Gibben over the years to buy their silence, and specified the acts of collusion they had engaged in during the current investigation to protect Langsford's reputation from exposure. That should be enough to secure a warrant to search both women's houses and the corporate office.
Kerney tracked down Clark Beck, who answered on a cell phone. He was hauling culverts for a highway construction project, and Kerney could hear the sound of the engine and the truck radio in the background. He asked Beck to describe again the arrangement of the taillights on the vehicle he'd had seen exiting the road from Three Rivers.