Michael McGarrity - Hermit_s Peak

"Did Bernardo recognize you?"

"No. We were in Nancy's new Pathfinder. Her father had just bought it for her."

"Did Luiza know Bernardo?"

"Sure."

"Would she have accepted a ride from Bernardo?"

"If she wanted to get back to the ranch before dark, she might have. I don't know."

"How well do you know Bernardo?"

"Not well. He stops by at the ranch every now and then."

"Did he ever say anything to you about Luiza?"

Richard laughed.

"Straight Hispanic dudes don't tend to talk about women with gay men."

"He knows you're gay?"

"Everybody knows." Richard stood up.

"It's who I am. I have to go now."

Reese Carson rewound his last roll of film and returned his camera to its case. The day had turned windy and a strong gust coursed down the west slope of the mountains, picked up loose top soil from the dear-cut area, and spun a dust devil up the side of the mesa. As he turned away, his wispy, baby-fine brown hair fluttered in the wind and his red-rimmed gray eyes watered.

"Allergies," Reese said ruefully to Ruth Pino as he sniffled.

"What a find you have here. It's absolutely amazing.

This is the last place I'd look for Knowlton's cactus."

"I agree," Ruth said. She wiped some dust from her own eyes and watched as her graduate students moved slowly across the dear-cut area.

The Knowlton's cactus census was complete-over eight thousand plants had been counted at the two separate sites-and now other indigenous plants were being studied and recorded.

"But if you compare soil samples, plant life, and elevation to the San Juan County preserve, it's almost a perfect ecosystem match."

"You mean it was a match," Reese replied. The devastation of the woodlands turned his stomach.

"This site is a disaster waiting to happen. And you could lose the second site when the erosion spreads down the valley."

"We have to move fast," Ruth said.

"Spring runoff in the canyon is going to wash away more of the alluvial fan." She pointed to the mesa.

"And summer storms will cut more erosion furrows down from the ridgeline. It will be a double whammy."

Reese nodded glumly in agreement.

"Protecting the site is essential," Ruth added.

"We need to restore the riparian vegetation along the streambed, reforest the woodlands, and stop the accelerated runoff."

"And fence it," Reese said.

"That's a given. Actually, we need a series of fences.

One for each site and then a perimeter fence."

"How much of a perimeter?"

"If I could, I'd do the whole ten sections," Ruth answered.

"The ranches east of the county road are being subdivided and sold off.

Eventually, development could spread right to the national forest boundary."

"Is the leaseholder willing to keep his livestock out of the area?"

"He is, and he's willing to supply the materials so we can do some immediate fencing."

"That will help," Reese said.

"What about money to buy the property?"

"Slow down, Ruth. That isn't going to happen overnight."

"Like hell, slow down."

"We don't even know what the new owner is willing to consider."

"What can we offer him as an incentive?"

"For now, our assistance. If you're willing to complete the floral and plant community survey, I'll get a hydrologist out here to map out an emergency erosion control plan."

"When?" Ruth asked.

"This week. And I think the state forestry division would be willing to donate seedlings. I can get a volunteer crew to do the planting."

"How fast can you move?"

"I'll get on it right away. Since the land adjoins the national forest, the feds might be willing to help out."

"Putting a Band-Aid on this isn't going to solve the problem."

"I know it. I'll call my chapter board members when I get back to the office, explain the situation, and ask for authorization to begin negotiations with the owner. It shouldn't be a problem. I'll need to borrow your field notes and plant and analysis charts."

"They're in rough draft form and incomplete."

"It doesn't matter. After I get the board's permission to move, I'll need to sit down with the owner and find out if he's willing to work with us."

"He will be." Ruth reached into her back pocket and handed Reese a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"A check for a thousand dollars. I took the money out of my oldest son's college fund. It's for this project only."

"You don't have to do this."

"I want those volunteers here next week and the seedlings on hand for planting." Ruth waved in response to a call from one of her students and started to walk away.

"Anything else. Dr. Pino?" Reese called after her.

Ruth turned and smiled.

"We're going to have a post setting, wire-stringing party this weekend.

Bring the family, your camping gear, and enough food for two days."

"You are something," Reese said.

"Is that an RSVP?"

Til be here."

Although Carl Boaz's cabin had been thoroughly tossed during the original search, Gabe felt he'd missed something.

If Boaz's journal truly reflected the amount Rudy Espinoza had agreed to pay for access to the woodcutting area, Boaz had settled for chump change.

It was hard to believe Boaz had been that stupid. Boaz had a doctorate, and had put together a sophisticated marijuana production scheme that might have gone undetected if Rudy hadn't blown him away.

Beyond that, Gabe still couldn't figure out why Rudy had iced Boaz. Why would Rudy want to kill a conspirator in what amounted to nothing more than a low-grade felony? Assuming Rudy knew about the marijuana cultivation, wouldn't he think Boaz had every reason to keep his mouth shut about the wood poaching?

He checked the time. He had hours before the phone company records on the women who attended the singles parties would be ready. He searched every nook and cranny of the cabin, the greenhouse, and Boaz's truck, looking for hiding places that might have been missed. He tore out sections of the cabin walls, shoveled topsoil out of the greenhouse nursery tables, and stripped the interior of the truck down to the metal. He found nothing.

Frustrated, Gabe leaned against the front fender of the truck, and scanned the meadow and the buildings waiting for inspiration. What was he missing? He was about to give up when his gaze settled on the gas-powered electric generator installed on a concrete pad halfway between the cabin and the greenhouse.

He walked to it and took a closer look. The generator, expensive and fairly new, sat on two long metal runners that were bolted to the pad.

He found the manufacturer's plate and a metal tag from an electrical supply company in Lubbock, Texas.

Why would Boaz buy a generator from a company hundreds of miles away when he could get the same item locally? He wrote down the information, went to the greenhouse, and climbed on the roof to inspect the bank of south-facing solar panels. All of them were tagged by the same Lubbock company.

At the water well, he disconnected the power supply, removed the housing cover, pulled up the submersible pump, and found another tag from the Lubbock supply house.

In the cabin, Gabe sat at the table and went through Boaz's cancelled checks, cash purchase receipts, and lists of expenditures for construction costs he'd checked out of the district office evidence room. Boaz had kept detailed records of his costs to get the operation up and running. None of the items from Lubbock showed up as purchases.

Gabe looked around the cabin. The propane refrigerator and the propane stove looked new. He ran through Boaz's records again and found no documentation for the purchase of either item.

Where did Boaz get all this stuff?

He pulled the stove and refrigerator away from the wall, wrote down the make, model, and serial numbers, and used his cellular phone to call Russell Thorpe.