Michael McGarrity - Hermit_s Peak

After ten minutes of waiting, Russell decided to eat lunch. He wiped his gritty hands on his pant legs and unwrapped the sandwich he'd packed. The bread was mushy and the meat was limp. He ate it anyway, and washed it down with a warm soda, thinking that sitting inside the Rough Rider Bar with a cold beer was a much more appealing idea.

He crumpled the wax paper, tossed it on the floorboard, and looked at the business card Bernardo had thrown away. It was from a local property management company. The phone number on the card matched the number on the rental sign in the window of the house.

Maybe Bernardo was thinking about getting a place of his own.

Russell's shirt collar felt sticky against the back of his neck and he could feel sweat dripping down his armpits.

He checked the time. In ten minutes he was due to call in on the secure channel and give an update to dispatch.

Eating something hadn't been a good idea. After yesterday's double shift, and only a few hours of sack time, the food in his stomach made him drowsy.

His eyes closed and when his head dropped to his chest, he woke up.

Startled, he shook off the drowsiness.

Bernardo's truck was gone and the dispatcher was calling his unit number. He pushed the transmit button on the handheld and answered.

"You're five minutes late on your call-in," the dispatcher said.

"Is everything ten-four?"

Russell cursed, put his car in gear, gunned it to the main drag, and checked both directions for any sign of Bernardo. Nothing. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

"Respond," the dispatcher said.

"Negative," Russell said, "I've lost the subject."

"Standby."

Russell waited with a sinking feeling that he'd fucked up.

"Return to station," the dispatcher said.

Russell swallowed hard.

"Acknowledge."

"Ten-four," Russell said.

Gabe rattled his unit over a flagstone outcropping that bisected the ranch road. The vehicle bottomed out and Kerney's head hit the roof.

They drove past a stock pen that looked large enough to hold five hundred head of cattle, and into the old La Liendre ranch headquarters.

At the north end of Fullerton's half-million-acre spread, the ranch compound charmed Kerney's eye.

Two side-by-side houses surrounded by mature trees faced a stone barn and horse stable that was bermed into the ground and covered with a slanted tin roof.

The older clapboard house looked to be a Victorian-style craftsman model popular during the 1920s.

Ordered by catalog, the complete building package was shipped by rail, hauled to the building site, and assembled following step-by-step instructions. The screened front porch sagged a bit and a fresh coat of paint was in order, but the house looked to be in fair shape.

The newer house was flat-roofed, stuccoed, and bordered by a low fence that kept a dark-haired, four-year-old boy in and a small herd of nearby goats out. A satellite television dish was anchored to the side of the dwelling.

Gabe ground to a stop in front of the gate. The boy ran inside the house as the goats scattered to the horse stable and clattered over the tin roof, raising a racket with their hoofs.

"I'll take this one," Gabe said as he got out of the unit.

Kerney followed Gabe up the walkway, stepping around the toys the boy had been playing with. A man in bare feet, with a chubby unshaven face, stepped out to meet them.

He eyed Gabe's uniform and in Spanish asked what Gabe wanted.

"Are you Marcelo?" Gabe replied in Spanish as he stepped onto the porch. Through the screen door, Gabe could see a television. It was tuned to a Spanish-language afternoon talk show.

"Yes."

"What time yesterday did you discover the abandoned car?"

"Eleven, no later."

"And you saw no one?"

"No. I was in the feed truck. I just stopped and wrote down the license number so I could give it to the boss."

"Where were you before you found the car?" Gabe asked.

"Loading the feed truck," Marcelo said.

"I always put out range supplement the day before we move cattle to a new pasture. It keeps them nearby and easier to find."

"Did you see anybody while you were loading the truck?"

"The Barelas drove by."

"How could you see them from here?"

Marcelo pointed to the large three-bin feed storage unit that stood opposite the stock pens. On high stilts with chutes under each bin, the unit was designed to fill feeder trucks quickly and easily.

"I was on top of the bins, checking to see if I needed to reorder,"

Marcelo said.

"I can see the road from there."

"You're sure you saw Bernardo and his uncle?"

"I just saw their pickup. I don't know who was in it."

"What time was that?"

"Maybe ten or a little later."

"Which way was the pickup traveling?"

"Toward their ranch. They were in a hurry. Driving fast. I think maybe Bernardo was by himself and late getting to work. His uncle doesn't let him drive that way when he's around."

"Did you see any other vehicles on the road?"

"No. This is not a place where people go driving, except for the town kids who want to drink away from their parents' eyes. But they don't come out here much until the weather gets warmer. Did you find the owner of the car?"

"Not yet."

"I hope he's not injured up in one of those canyons," Marcelo said.

"We've got bear, mountain lions, and coyotes out here that will take down a sick or crippled animal very quickly. We lose stock to them every year. If he's hurt, he could be in big trouble."

Gabe turned away from Marcelo.

"Thanks for talking to me."

"Sure."

Gabe walked past Kerney, his face pale, his mouth drawn in a hard line.

Kerney gave Marcelo a business card, asked him to call if he remembered anything else, and joined Gabe in his unit.

"Did you get any of that?" Gabe asked as he backed up and started down the ranch road.

"I got it all."

"Let's go get Bernardo," Gabe said.

"Not yet."

"What more do you want, for chrissake? We got Bernardo calling Orlando at home, and a witness who puts Bernardo in the immediate vicinity an hour before Orlando's car was discovered."

"I want the same thing you do, Gabe. But first we find out what everybody working the case has uncovered."

"My son could be out there hurt or dead."

"I know how you feel."

"No, you don't know. You just think you know."

Kerney's call sign came over the radio. He picked up the microphone and responded.

"Go to secure channel," the dispatcher said.

Kerney switched over.

Garduno came on the horn.

"Our subject has eluded surveillance."

"When did it happen?"

"At twelve hundred hours."

"Where?"

"The Rough Rider Bar."

"Bring Thorpe in and have him stand by."

"He's standing by."

"Swarm the city with every available officer," Kerney said.

"I want that subject found."

"We're already looking. Nothing so far. Stop and detain. Chief?"

"Negative. Locate and follow only. Morfin gets the call as soon as the subject has been spotted."

"Ten-four."

"Anything from search and rescue?" Kerney asked.

"No sign of any campers in the canyons. The dogs are out and the team is still looking. They'll shut it down at nightfall."

"Ten-four." Kerney's head hit the roof as Gabe gunned the unit over the flagstone outcropping.

"We're on our way back."

"This is bullshit," Gabe said as he spun the wheel and made the last turn before the county road.

"For chris sake, tell Garduno to pick Bernardo up. We've got enough to hold him for questioning."

The unit hit a series of bowling ball-size rocks and Gabe fought the wheel to keep control. The ruined undercarriage jolted Kerney's head into the roof again.