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  He put one round in the chamber, got out of the unit, and walked to a tree twenty feet off the shoulder of the road. He could see the dust spreading into the canopy of the trees, and could hear the harsh sound of Morfin's siren closing in.

  The Mustang tore into view, suspension bucking over the washboard road.

  Gabe watched as the driver stood on the brakes, over corrected his steering, went into a skid that spun the vehicle like a top, and put it nose first into the deep shoulder.

  He could hear me hiss of radiator steam and the squeal of metal as the driver opened the car door. Through the dissipating dust, two hands emerged and grasped the roof of the car. Legs followed, feet found the ground, and Rudy Espinoza pulled himself out of the Mustang.

  The lights from Ben Morfin's unit cut through the haze twenty feet down the road. Ben was crouched behind the open door of his unit with his weapon at the ready.

  "Rudy," Gabe called, raising the shotgun to his shoulder.

  "Walk toward me with your hands over your head.

  Do it now!"

  Hands raised, Espinoza moved sluggishly up the embankment and started walking across the road.

  "Stop," Gabe called when Rudy reached the middle of the road.

  "Lock your hands at the back of your head and drop slowly to your knees. Do it now."

  Espinoza sank to his knees and started to lower his hands.

  "Hands up," Gabe yelled.

  "Now."

  "I can't," Rudy said.

  "Something is wrong with my head." He raised his left hand and fell facedown on the ground with his right arm concealed under his body.

  "Bring your right hand out where I can see it," Gabe ordered.

  Rudy didn't move.

  "Don't!"

  "Kiss my ass," Rudy said as he rose to his knees and pulled out a pistol.

  "Gun!" Morfin hollered as Gabe pulled the trigger.

  Gabe heard the crack of Ben's nine millimeter as the blast of his shotgun echoed in his ears. Rudy jerked under the impact, rocked back on his heels, and fell forward on his face.

  Gabe racked another shell into the chamber while Morfin drded behind Rudy, kicked the pistol away, and checked the body.

  "He's dead," Ben said as he bolstered his weapon.

  "The stupid son of a bitch," Gabe said, lowering the shotgun. He held it tight to keep his hands from shaking.

  After hanging up on Kerney, Sara tried without success to reach Susie Hayes at home. Susie, her best friend at West Point, was now a civilian living in Tucson. She thought about calling Susie at work, but took Shoe on a long walk instead, wandering for several hours through quiet neighborhood streets. Overhanging trees thick with buds about to blossom into leaves lined row after row of a charming mixture of older homes. Some were Victorian, some were flat-roof adobe casitas, and others were California mission style. Sprinkled throughout the neighborhood were red-brick cottages that had been turned into apartments, and midwest em farmhouses with pitched roofs that looked as though they had been magically transported to Santa Fe from Kansas wheat fields.

  Very little else on the walk registered with Sara. She spent the time chiding herself for acting like such a brainless schoolgirl with Kerney. Where did all her silliness come from? She'd never intended to come to Santa Fe and talk about babies and keeping a stud book. Kerney seemed to take it all in jest, which was almost as troubling. He was the only man she'd ever mentioned the possibility of making babies with, and she wondered if he'd caught her serious undertone. But did she really want a baby? Did she really want Kerney to be the man in her life?

  She returned to Kerney's house and let Shoe off the leash. He went directly to the kitchen, drank his water bowl dry, and curled up on the vinyl floor with his chin resting on the sneaker.

  She refilled the water bowl, sat at the kitchen table, kicked off her shoes, and looked at Shoe. He was such a sweet dog. He eyed her shoes with interest. She decided to ease up on herself. She needed to decompress and get the last two years behind her. Her virtual isolation in South Korea, immersed in a male-dominated, combat-ready unit had taken its toll. The rewards had been satisfying. But sublimating almost every feminine feeling had been more emotionally expensive than she'd realized. Maybe being with a sexy man after so long without any healthy lovemaking had opened up her hormonal floodgates, and her confusion was nothing other than a readjustment to a more normal life.

  Peeling less unsettled, she got to her feet, snagged her shoes before the dog could pounce on them, and walked into the living room, glad that her first attempt to reach Susie had been unsuccessful. All she would have done was blabber. Now, at least she had her head screwed on somewhat straight.

  She found her address book, looked up Susie's work number, and dialed it. When Susie answered, she told her a fraction of what was going on inside her head, and asked if she could come for a visit.

  "Get your butt down here, girl," Susie said.

  "We've got some serious talking to do."

  "I'll be there sometime tomorrow."

  "Call me when you get into town."

  Sara hung up. She would wait for Kerney to return before leaving. He deserved some sort of explanation, but she wasn't sure exactly what it would be.

  Word of the Espinoza shooting cut short Kerney's meeting with the U.S.

  Attorney in Albuquerque. He made the 120-mile drive to Las Vegas in good time, using his radio to stay updated on the situation. Three hours after the shooting, no evidence had been developed linking Espinoza to the Boaz murder-no Chevy truck, no murder weapon, and no matching fingerprints.

  A large number of police vehicles were parked in front of the district office, including a crime scene van and the unmarked unit assigned to the headquarters shooting team supervisor, who was responsible for investigating all deadly force incidents.

  Kerney killed the engine and gave himself a minute to push down his worry about Sara. She had been snappish on the telephone, and while he'd toyed with the idea that she was merely disappointed about the postponed camping trip, he didn't really believe it. Sara wasn't one to pout or get testy about trivial matters, and she knew firsthand that the demands of police work often screwed up a personal life.

  He shrugged off his anxiety and walked into the building where a dozen or so officers, agents, and technicians filled the reception area. Some were busy writing reports while others waited to give statements to the shooting team. In a corner of the room. Officer Thorpe sat with a petite, attractive Hispanic woman dressed in jeans, a sweater, and hiking boots. There was a backpack at her feet and she was writing notes in a journal balanced on her knees. Kerney had no idea who the woman was. Captain Garduno, Sergeant Gonzales, and Agent Morfin were nowhere in sight.

  As he crossed to the reception desk, Thorpe approached him.

  "Chief, Professor Pino would like to speak with you." Thorpe nodded his head in the direction of the woman.

  "Who?"

  "Professor Pino. She's a plant specialist-a botanist-who teaches at the university."

  "What does she want?"

  "She found a rare plant on your property. It's called Knowlton's cactus. It has her really pumped."

  "Can she wait?"

  Thorpe nodded.

  "I told her you might be busy for a while."

  "Good enough."

  Kerney smiled at the woman as he passed by, wondering what was going on. He filed the thought as a question for Captain Garduno and found him in his office.

  "Chief," Garduno said, gesturing at the empty chair in front of his desk.

  "How far along is the shooting team?" Kerney asked as he sat. Both Gonzales and Morfin would be treated as murder suspects until cleared of the charges by the DA and a grand jury. Only a finding of justified homicide in the death of Rudy Espinoza would allow the officers to remain with the department. If the shooting wasn't legal, both faced the possibility of felony convictions and prison time.

  "They're finished with Gonzales and are interviewing Morfin
now,"

  Garduno said.

  "It looks good. Both Gabe and Ben used voice-activated recorders to tape the traffic stop. They fired in self-defense; there was no other way to stop the action."

  "When will the report go to the grand jury?"

  "Three days. I've put both men on paid administrative leave, effective immediately."

  "Has Espinoza been positively made as Boaz's killer?"

  Garduno wrinkled his nose.

  "Not yet. But Wanda Knox identified Espinoza from the mug shot we faxed to the Arcadia PD. The call just came in."

  "So, for now, we've got a dead suspect whose only known crimes were trespassing on private property, illegal woodcutting, and speeding."

  "It was a righteous use of deadly force. Chief.

  Espinoza pulled a gun on Gonzales."

  "I'm not questioning that, Captain. But the press could decide to hound us until we have clear proof that Espinoza was a murderer and not some petty crook who got gunned down by an overly aggressive state police officer during a routine traffic stop."

  "Agents Duran and Houge will start the legwork on Bspinoza tomorrow,"

  Garduno said.

  "We'll find the evidence."

  "Houge and Duran will be in southern New Mexico, working a rape-murder case of an elderly woman."

  "That scuttles the investigation for the next three days."

  "I'll find a way to keep it going. Officer Thorpe has a botanist waiting to see me. What's that about?"

  "Ben Morfin took the cactus plants found in Boaz's greenhouse to Professor Pino for an identification. She got real excited and asked to conduct a field survey to determine where the plants had been collected. I sent Officer Thorpe along with her. According to the professor, you've got only the second known distribution of Knowlton's cactus growing on your property."

  "In the state?"

  "In the world. Chief. Ruth Pino can tell you all about it."

  "Where is Gabe Gonzales?" Kerney asked, getting to his feet.

  "Sequestered in the conference room."

  "I'd like to see him."

  "Go on in."

  Kerney found Gabe Gonzales tapping his fingers on the conference table.

  "How are you holding up. Sergeant?"

  "I've seen a lot of dead people over the years, but this is the first time I ever had to put somebody down."

  "It's not the same, is it?"

  "Not even close."

  "Are you all right with it?"

  "I will be. I know it was a clean shooting."

  "How far did you get before the shooting team pulled you in for a statement?"

  "Not very. Angle Romero, Espinoza's girlfriend, swears the only vehicle Rudy normally drove was the Toyota pickup parked in her driveway."

  "Is she playing it straight?"

  Gabe shrugged his shoulders.

  "Who knows? She drinks her breakfast straight out of a whiskey bottle.

  She's half-blasted most of the time. Ben Morfin searched the crude and found nothing. I'm pretty sure Espinoza's brother-in-law, Joaquin Santistevan, tipped him that he was about to get busted. Otherwise, Espinoza had no reason to run. But the phone company has no record of a call made from me wood yard to Espinoza, or from Angle's house to Santistevan.

  Frank Houge is chedcing with cellular providers now."

  "We need to find that Chevy truck," Kerney said.

  "And the murder weapon. Maybe Houge and Duran will score while I'm cooling my heels for the next three days."

  "That's not going to happen. They're both reassigned to another case effective tomorrow."

  "That sucks. Chief."

  "I know it does. Can I make a suggestion?"

  "Sure."

  "You need a couple of days out in the fresh air. Meet some new people, take scenic drives, poke around and explore, visit new places. It's a pretty time of year."

  "Am I hearing you right. Chief?"

  "It depends on what you want to hear. Sergeant."

  Gabe rubbed his chin and gave Kerney a long look.

  "It's your call. Sergeant. I can't order you to violate department policy."

  "Who would I report to?"

  "Me alone. No one else."

  Gabe grinned.

  "I like the idea."

  "I was hoping you would," Kerney said, handing Gonzales his business card.

  "On the back you'll find my private office and home telephone numbers.

  Use those numbers to reach me or leave messages."

  Gabe took the card.

  "You were pretty sure I'd go along with this, weren't you?"

  "I pulled your personnel jacket. Sergeant. There was enough in it to convince me that you don't always go by the book."

  "I've heard that said about you."

  "I guess that make us members of the same dub.

  Nail Espinoza to the Boaz murder."

  Ruth Pino contemplated the man who limped into the interview cubicle and sat at the small table across from her. Since he looked intelligent, Ruth dedded he might be capable of understanding the important points that needed to be made.

  Kerney listened as Ruth Pino explained the rarity of the Knowlton's cactus, its value to collectors, and the importance of the discovery of a new habitat on the alluvial apron at the bottom of the mesa. She spoke with intensity, in clipped sentences, and Kerney could imagine her in the classroom putting fear into the hearts of easily intimidated undergraduates.

  "Whoever destroyed the trees along the watershed should be shot," Pino said, spreading out her field sketch on the small table in the interview cubical. She turned it so that Kerney could read the neat lettering and symbols.

  Kerney held back from telling Pino her hopes had been realized.

  "The tire tracks from the vehicle alone destroyed over a hundred plants." Pino's finger traced the line of destruction.

  "I can't even begin to estimate how many more were eradicated during the woodcutting."

  "But some remain," Kerney said.

  "Yes, but heavily threatened. The habitat has been altered, and unless the erosion along the alluvial apron is stopped, the entire distribution could be wiped out by the end of the rainy season."

  Pino's finger poked the sketch in two places.

  "The cactus still thrives here and here, at the downstream points away from the dear-cutting. I estimate the total surviving population will exceed two thousand plants, with a very high ratio of mature specimens.

  Had the site been left undisturbed, the total would have probably exceeded eight to ten thousand. What happened is a travesty."

  "Can the cactus be protected?"

  "With your cooperation and some very substantial financial resources,"

  Pino said.

  "Cooperation I can give, Professor, but my resources are fairly limited right now."

  "It must be done."

  "I don't disagree," Kerney said.

  "Tell me how I can help."

  "Give me unlimited access to the site. I'll bring in a team of graduate students from the university. We need to do a thorough mapping, a complete census, and some immediate, temporary erosion control."

  "Of course."

  "Once the distribution range has been dearly established, the tract must be fenced and possibly even guarded from poachers."

  "Who would know about the site?" Kerney asked.

  "Harvesting has already taken place, Mr. Kerney. It cannot be allowed to happen again."

  "From what I've been told, the woman responsible for the harvesting had no idea the cactus was an endangered plant."

  "That may well be," Pino said with a shake of her head.

  "But Knowlton's cactus was persistently collected in northwestern New Mexico until the Nature Conservancy stepped in and bought the land.

  European collectors have been known to pay over two hundred dollars for a mature plant, sometimes more. Any word of a new discovery will bring out the poachers. They're no different than pot hunters who violate the Federa
l Antiquities Act."

  "How much fencing will be needed?"

  "That's impossible to say at this point. I've had less than a day to conduct a spot field analysis. If other viable distributions are found, each will require protection."

  "Let me know what you come up with. Professor."

  "You will help us save this site, won't you?"

  "I can't even promise you that I'll be able to retain ownership of the land. Professor. But I'll do what I can while I can."

  With her eyes locked on to Kerney, Ruth Pino held up a hand.

  "What exactly does that mean?"

  "The land is still in probate, and the tax bite is rather large. I may have to sell off a part of it."

  "I see. Would you mind if I brought a few outside experts into the loop?"

  "Who might they be?"

  "Representatives from organizations who can help me develop a restoration plan for the site. It won't cost you any money."

  "By all means."

  "Have you ever seen a Knowlton's cactus?"

  "I doubt it."

  "It isn't a very dramatic or exotic specimen, but it deserves to continue to exist on the planet."

  "I agree. I'll help you build the fences and pay for what I can.

  Professor. I don't like what was done to the land any more than you do."

  Ruth Pino assembled her map and notes, tucked the papers inside her leather-bound journal, and gave Kerney an agreeable smile.

  "I may have to revise my opinion of police officers."

  "Why is that?"

  "It seems that not all of them suffer from authoritarian personality disorders."

  Kerney smiled as he stood.

  "Can you say the same about university professors?"

  "Occasionally."

  Emotionally and physically drained from the events of the day, Gabe arrived home to find a car parked next to Orlando's subcompact in the driveway. He left his unit on the street, entered through the side door to the kitchen, dumped his briefcase on the table, and sank down on a chair. From upstairs he could hear music and the sound of male voices coming from Orlando's room. He wondered who was visiting his son.

  He rubbed the back of his neck where the muscles felt like corded knots, twisted his torso to relieve the strain in his back, stared at the wall, and thought about his day. The image of Rudy Espinoza reeling under the impact of the shotgun blast kept spinning though his mind.