Michael McGarrity - Hermit_s Peak

After taking the tour of the crime scene, Kerney pitched in and gave Sergeant Gonzales a hand. He spent several hours helping Gabe systematically search the cabin, which yielded further information on Wanda Knox and her son. He now had a very good photograph of the woman, plus a small address book Wanda had left behind with the names and addresses of friends and relatives in Southern California.

Back at state police headquarters in Santa Fe, Kerney prepared a brief summary of the known facts pertaining to the Boaz murder case, typed up questions for Wanda Knox, and photocopied the address book.

According to the letters sent to Boaz, Wanda currently lived in Arcadia, California. Kerney checked her address against a map. Arcadia was close to Pasadena, and many of the entries in the address book showed friends and family living either in Arcadia, Pasadena, or surrounding communities.

He called the Arcadia PD, talked to the chief, told him what he needed, and got quick agreement to have a detective follow up as soon as Kerney faxed the information.

"If Ms. Knox can't positively identify a man named Rudy, ask your officer to do an Identi-Kit," Kerney said.

The kit was used to produce a facial likeness of a person based on verbal descriptions furnished by a witness.

"That's no problem," the chief said.

"Anything else?"

"A list of names of anyone else she knew or met in New Mexico would be helpful."

"You've got it. How's the weather out there?"

"High fifties, windy, and blue skies," Kerney answered.

"Jesus, what I'd give to see blue skies again. We've had solid smog for two months."

Kerney faxed the information to Arcadia, cleared some paperwork off his desk, and checked the wall dock.

If he hustled he could get to the real-estate appraisal company before closing time.

Capital City Land Survey and Appraisal was located on De Vargas Street in a building that faced the Santa Fe River Park. The window in Donald Preston's office gave a nice view of the park and the duster of buildings across the way that denned the downtown city core.

Preston sat behind a map-covered desk. On the floor were an assortment of surveying instruments and two metal field satchels.

Somewhere in his forties, Preston had a prominent nose, thick lips that he rubbed together before speakng, and a florid complexion.

"I just did the valuation assessment on your property," Preston said.

"We're working up the final report to send to the estate executor this week."

"I'm really here on a different matter," Kerney said.

He showed Preston his shield and sketched out the facts of the skeleton discovered on the mesa.

Preston's eyes widened.

"I walked right by that grove of trees."

"When did you do the appraisal?"

"The week before last. I went out with my land surveying team."

"Were you with them all the time?"

"No, only the last day. The team was on-site for a good three or four days before I got there."

"Who was on the team?"

"Bill Kemp, Johnny Nelson, and jude Mondragon."

"Did they mention seeing anyone during the survey?"

"If they did, I didn't hear about it."

"Did you see anybody while you were on the property?"

"Not a soul."

"Did you see a dog?"

"I didn't see a dog."

"Did you come across any old campsites, discarded clothing, or litter?"

Preston shook his head.

"I saw nothing like that."

"Did you see any woodcutters or loggers on the road?"

"No, but I sure saw the clear-cut area in the canyon on the west boundary. I'm including it in my report."

"Did you inform Mr. Lynch?"

"No. It's not unusual to find logging on private property, although whoever did the cutting sure chewed up the area."

"Have you done other appraisals in the valley recently?"

"Three, as a matter of fact. The Horse Canyon Ranch owner bought some parcels contiguous to her property. Each was about three hundred acres."

"Was there any woodcutting on those parcels?"

"Nope."

"Are Mondragon, Kemp, and Nelson here?"

"They should be in the back room."

"Do you mind if I speak with them?"

"Not at all."

Brief conversations with Preston's employees resulted in no additional information about the crimes. As a matter of personal interest, Kerney asked to see the surveys of the parcels bought by Alicia Bingham, the Horse Canyon Ranch owner. Except for the Boaz cabin property and the National Forest land on the west boundary, his ten sections were surrounded by Bingham's holdings.

Already late for this dinner date with Sara, Kerney thanked the men for their assistance and drove home in a hurry. He entered the house and stared at Shoe in disbelief.

The dog was almost unrecognizable. His hindquarters had been clipped, his belly shaved, his paws and legs trimmed, and his coat glistened.

Only the sneaker in his mouth identified him.

The door to the bedroom was closed and Sara was nowhere in sight.

"What did you do to my dog?" Kerney called out.

"He got a shampoo, a cut, and a pedicure," Sara said, stepping out of the bedroom.

"He's a handsome brute, isn't he?"

Kerney found it hard to answer. Sara wore a long brown dress that covered her from ankle to neck and revealed every curve of her body.

"Both of you look fantastic."

"I'm glad you noticed. Change your clothes, Kerney, and take me to dinner. I'm hungry."

The Canyon Road restaurant was in a low adobe building tucked behind some expensive condos. The maitre d' met them at the door in a finely tailored suit, greeted them in a Swiss German accent, and led them through the small antechamber into the dining area. The interior was painted an austere white, and a few understated weavings on the wall were accented by recessed lights. The tablecloths were linen, the glassware was crystal, and the place settings were silver. The customers were nicely dressed and the hum conversation in the room was muted and subdued.

The maitre d' took them through the front dining area to a smaller, more intimate room. He seated Sara and Kerney at a corner table near a fireplace while a waiter dressed in a crisp white server's jacket and black slacks stood nearby.

Kerney wore a raw silk oatmeal-colored sport coat, a charcoal linen shirt buttoned at the collar, dark gray wool dress slacks, and a pair of black alligator cowboy boots. He looked distinguished and handsome.

Two women dining at a nearby table gave Kerney the once over. Sara smiled sweetly at them until they turned away.

"Did you catch any bad guys today?" Sara asked, as the busboy poured water and the waiter stood by with the wine list.

"Not a one."

"When do I get to see your ranch?"

"It's hardly a ranch, at this point," Kerney said.

"And I can't see how I'm going to keep it."

"Taxes?"

Kerney nodded. The waiter discreetly interrupted with the wine list and asked for a drink order.

After the waiter left with the order, Kerney filled Sara in on the money he'd have to pay in taxes, and how Erma's instructions to give him the land free and dear hadn't been executed before her death.

"How sad," Sara said.

"But I'm sure Erma had no intention of dying."

"No, she was enjoying life too much. I guess I just have to accept the fact that it's the thought that counts."

"Does it?" Sara asked.

"Somewhat."

"My parents have been selling sections of the ranch to my brother and me so we can avoid the heavy inheritance tax, plus giving us the maximum tax-free gift each year in land. We'll be half owners within the next five years."

Kerney had visited the Montana sheep ranch with Sara. It covered a hundred thousand acres that encompassed three lush valleys and some beautiful high country "Do you plan to return to the ranch after you retire from the army?"