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  Additionally, agents from the state police district headquarters in Alamogordo and Roswell would be pulled into Lincoln County to target Tyler Norvell. APD vice, with Detective Pino as lead investigator, would go after Bedlow, Tully, and Deacon. The FBI would use El Paso special agents to nail down Rojas.

  The DA agreed to supply a prosecutor full-time to work with detectives on the arrest and search warrant affidavits. He'd coordinate the effort with the U.S. attorney and other state DAs to get necessary judicial sign-offs. SFPD would be the lead agency, with Deputy Chief Larry Otero in charge. Molina and his two detectives would run the task-force casebooks and assemble and coordinate all documentation.

  "Stay focused, people," Kerney said. "We're going for racketeering, drug trafficking, tax evasion, prostitution, money laundering, and related federal charges right now."

  "What about the Montoya homicide?" Sal Molina asked, "and that murder Greer talked about in Ruidoso?"

  "At present, Montoya is our weakest case," the DA said. "I doubt you could convince a judge to approve an arrest warrant based on what you have, although it's close."

  "Agreed," Kerney said. "We need something that will connect Norvell to the crime scene where Montoya's body was found."

  "That would do it for probable cause," the DA said.

  "I'll handle the Montoya homicide follow-up," Kerney said. "I'm going down to Lincoln County tonight. I'll ask the sheriff and his investigator to join the task force and find out where they are with the Ulibarri homicide investigation."

  Kerney closed his file and gave it to Helen. "Mrs. Muiz and her staff will prepare comprehensive task-force packets on everything we've got so far and distribute them to you ASAP. We have to move fast but carefully, ladies and gentlemen. Let's set a target date of one month from now to make our initial arrests. After that, we'll continue to file charges as the facts roll in. IRS and the state police will probably need more time to nail down the tax-evasion and money-laundering parts of it."

  Kerney pushed back his chair and stood. "Everybody stay tight-lipped, and maintain a low profile. We don't want to telegraph our intentions to our targets. Do whatever is necessary within the scope of your authority to keep them off guard. From now on, need-to-know communication is limited to task-force members only and their immediate superiors. If any word about the task force leaks out we'll be facing a media circus and an army of defense attorneys. Good hunting, everyone."

  There were smiles and approving nods throughout the room. Everyone was pumped and ready to go, and not just because some dirty politicians were going to be brought down. If all went well, the task force would be a career-making opportunity for every law-enforcement official in the room.

  Ramona Pino walked with a frowning Jeff Vialpando to his unit parked outside the SFPD headquarters.

  "I didn't want to bring it up during the meeting," he said, "but we've got a slight problem."

  "Yeah, I know," Ramona said. "We can't keep Stacy Fowler under wraps for thirty days without raising suspicions."

  "So, what do we do about it?"

  "Improvise," Ramona replied as she watched the state police criminal investigation commander drive away. "Would a faked one-car traffic fatality work? Perhaps a rollover investigated by the state police?"

  "Would your chief go for that?" Jeff asked.

  Ramona laughed. "Didn't you hear what he said about keeping the targets off guard? I think he'd be pissed if we didn't do it."

  "Let's set it up," Vialpando said.

  "Then I'll buy you an early dinner."

  "Are you taking me on a date?" Jeff asked.

  "That will have to wait until we're no longer working together, Sergeant," Ramona said, flashing a brilliant smile. "After all, I am the designated lead investigator now, which makes you my subordinate."

  Vialpando groaned. "Are you telling me I have to wait months before I can date you?"

  Ramona patted Jeff's arm. "You'll just have to suffer through it."

  Paul Hewitt rolled a pencil on his desktop and thought hard before speaking. The last two hours had been spent listening to Clayton's verbal report and reading through all his extensive documentation.

  "I'm not saying your assumptions about Norvell are flawed, Deputy Istee. But proving them is a whole different matter. For now, Luis Rojas is the prime suspect. If that leads us to some clear-cut evidence of Senator Norvell's involvement in this prostitution ring, then we can take action."

  Clayton looked miffed.

  "Speak your mind," Hewitt said.

  "Are you talking to me as the sheriff, or as a politician?" Clayton asked.

  "You really need to learn to be a bit more diplomatic, Deputy," Hewitt said firmly. "Norvell and I sit on opposite sides of the political fence. Even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't give a shit. First and foremost, I'm a cop. If he's dirty, then he's dirty."

  Clayton dropped his gaze. "Sorry about that. I don't do very well at being subtle."

  "No, you don't. Now, we're going to have to contain this investigation and keep it focused on the Ulibarri homicide. Since Staggs hasn't surfaced, your best bet is that Deborah Shea woman. Since she's a whore, she shouldn't be all that hard to find. She lied to alibi Rojas, so you need to pull her in and break her down."

  Clayton nodded. "What about the prostitution ring?"

  "That's way outside the scope of what we can handle on our own," Hewitt replied. "Besides, what's happening in El Paso is outside of our jurisdiction. When the time comes, we'll turn your findings over to the appropriate Texas state authorities, not the El Paso police."

  The phone rang. Hewitt picked up, listened, and told his secretary to put the call through.

  "How are you, Chief?" he said as he smiled and sat back in his chair.

  Chief who? Clayton wondered, watching Hewitt's smile gradually fade. Hewitt reached for a pencil and started busily scribbling notes, his eyes signaling surprise as he listened.

  Although the call didn't last long, time dragged as Clayton waited.

  Finally, Hewitt dropped his pencil and said, "We'll see you first thing in the morning."

  He hung up and looked at Clayton. "Seems we don't have to worry about limiting our scope. The Santa Fe police investigation into the Montoya homicide has led to the creation of a multiagency task force, and we're in on it. The targets are Rojas, Norvell, his sister, two Albuquerque state legislators, and a member of the Tully family. They're looking at a whole range of possible state and federal felony charges. Chief Kerney wants everything we have on Rojas, Norvell, and the Ulibarri homicide faxed to his deputy chief right away. Plus he wants your assistance on the Montoya case. He'll brief us here tomorrow at seven a.m."

  Clayton looked at the thick file in his lap. "I better get started."

  Fidel was restless and irritable. Except for a couple of quick trips to buy some food and take a leak, he'd been sitting outside the sheriff's office all afternoon, still waiting for the Indian cop to come out of the building.

  He called Rojas with the news that nothing was happening, hoping he'd get to go home. Instead, Rojas wanted him to stick with the cop for one more day, which was a total downer.

  Around dusk the cop got into his unit and drove away. Fidel followed at a distance. It was easy to keep the four-by-four police car in view with its high profile and rack of roof lights without trailing too close behind.

  The cop turned off at the reservation village just as darkness fell. Fidel decided it was too risky to follow. He parked and waited across the road near a Catholic church for a couple of hours, in case the cop reappeared. He played some music and counted passing cars to keep his mind occupied.

  When the cop didn't show, Fidel decided to bail and head to his motel room. He'd be back at first light. Small-town cop work sure must be boring, he thought as he sped down the highway.

  Chapter 13

  Kerney didn't do well in motels; he missed his own bed and pillow. He'd rolled into Ruidoso last night at a reasonable hour, hoping to catch
up on some sleep. But Sara's harsh annoyance about his bullheadedness and the prospect of facing Clayton's negativity made for troubled dreams that woke him off and on throughout the night.

  At six a.m. Kerney called his office to get an update. Helen Muiz had pulled her people in at five a.m. to finish preparing the task-force packets. All participating agencies would have complete packets by noon. Larry Otero, who was also at work early, had ordered them hand-delivered by uniformed officers running silent Code Three to the out-of-town cop shops.

  Kerney arrived promptly on time at the Lincoln County courthouse to find Paul Hewitt and Clayton waiting for him in the sheriff's office. After greetings, handshakes, and some small talk with Hewitt, they got down to business. Kerney kicked it off by detailing the breadth of the task force's mission, maintaining an equal amount of eye contact with both men so as not to give Clayton any reason to feel slighted.

  When Kerney finished, Hewitt pulled at his chin in a failed attempt to hide a smile. "This could blow the roof off the state capitol, and put the good citizens of Lincoln County into an uproar. I wonder if Norvell and his political pals traded a week with a whore for votes from their legislative buddies."

  "There's no telling," Kerney said as he handed out material on Sally Greer, Stacy Fowler, and Helen Pearson, who was described only as a confidential informant. "But discovering who their clients are will prove interesting. What I've just given you includes statements from three different women with personal knowledge about the operation, which has direct bearing on the Montoya case and Deputy Istee's homicide investigation. This is fresh information, gentlemen, gathered in the last thirty-six hours. You'll get full task-force packets as soon as they're completed."

  Kerney watched as Hewitt and Clayton worked their way through the reports. The further Hewitt read, the more appalled he looked. Clayton seemed thoughtful and sober. He finished first.

  "So Sally Greer was the woman with Ulibarri at the cabin," Clayton said, "and Fidel Narvaiz was nearby to keep an eye on her because Ulibarri was her first trick."

  "That's what Greer says," Kerney replied.

  "Did she witness the homicide?"

  "No. Ulibarri paid in advance for twenty-four hours with Greer. When he went to the racetrack, Narvaiz checked on Greer and found her badly beaten. He got her out of there, took her to a motel room, and called Cassie Bedlow, who came and picked Greer up."

  "I don't see that in these reports," Clayton said, tapping the pages with a finger.

  "Greer's interviews were videotaped by APD vice officers," Kerney said. "The transcription of the second session wasn't completed by the time I left to come here. Greer did say, however, that Narvaiz left her with Bedlow at about eleven o'clock in the morning."

  "Ulibarri was killed several hours later," Clayton said, "so Narvaiz had opportunity."

  "What do you know about him?" Kerney asked.

  "He lives on the Rojas estate and supposedly serves as a personal assistant to Rojas. The Debbie that Greer mentioned is Deborah Shea. According to an El Paso hotel security guy, she's a hooker. He also identified seven other prostitutes who probably work for Rojas. Initially, Shea alibied Rojas when I talked to both of them. Said she'd flown up to Ruidoso with him on his plane. Turns out that was BS."

  "Tell me about it," Kerney said.

  Clayton filled Kerney in on his inspection of Rojas's vacation cabin, which had exposed Shea's false statements.

  Impressed with Clayton's good work, Kerney held back any praise and moved on to another subject. "And this Fidel Narvaiz, have you questioned him?"

  "I've never met him," Clayton said.

  "That's good," Kerney said.

  "What's good about that?" Clayton asked. "At this point, he's our prime murder suspect."

  "We need to work these cases without tipping our hand," Kerney replied. "Narvaiz was most likely ordered to kill Ulibarri by Rojas, so putting a murder charge on Rojas is a distinct possibility, if we can prove it. Did you get any hard physical evidence at the crime scene?"

  "Ulibarri was strangled," Clayton said, "and we got some partial latents off the body around his throat that are good enough to make a match once we have something to match them to. And a few blond pubic hairs probably left behind by Sally Greer."

  "Those hairs can confirm Greer's story," Kerney said. "Let's ask for a DNA comparison."

  "If you get me her fingerprints," Clayton said, "we might be able to put her in the cabin that way, also. We lifted a number of unknown latents at the crime scene."

  "You'll have them today," Kerney said.

  "You're sure Greer isn't the killer?" Clayton asked.

  "I believe her story," Kerney said. "So do the detectives who interviewed her."

  Clayton nodded. "That's good enough for me."

  "What's next?" Hewitt asked.

  "The Montoya case," Kerney replied. "I've got strong circumstantial evidence that Norvell killed her to keep her from exposing the racket, but I need more."

  "Two of your reports mention Adam Tully," Paul Hewitt said, leaning forward to put his elbows on the desk.

  "He and Norvell go way back," Kerney said. "They were boyhood friends."

  "I haven't heard Adam's name in years," Hewitt said. "His father, Hiram, owns the fruit stand where we found Montoya's body."

  "What do you know about Adam?" Kerney asked, his interest rising.

  "He was the baby of the family-unexpected and spoiled rotten by Hiram. His mother died giving birth. She was in her forties at the time. His two sisters are a good twenty years older. Something happened when Adam was a teenager. The family doesn't talk about it, but Hiram kicked him out of the house, sent him to the New Mexico Military Institute in Roswell, then up to Albuquerque to the university. I don't think he's ever been back here since."

  "What did folks think happened between Tully and his father?" Kerney asked.

  "Oh, there were rumors that Adam had gotten some girl in trouble, stolen money from his father, was using drugs-stuff like that. But they were just rumors and there was no evidence anyone could point to. The family stayed tight-lipped, of course."

  "Was Tyler Norvell mentioned in those rumors?" Kerney asked.

  "Not as I recall," Hewitt replied. "But Deputy Istee saw Senator Norvell's car leave Rojas's house two nights ago."

  Kerney turned to Clayton.

  "And I know where the ranch is," Clayton said.

  "Excellent. Have you had any contact with the Tully family?"

  "Yeah. I interviewed Hiram, one of his daughters, and her husband, and a granddaughter." He passed his field notes to Kerney.

  Kerney scanned through the papers. "I'd like to talk to these people."

  "I'll take you around to see them," Clayton said. With a resigned look he retrieved his notes from Kerney's hand and held out his casebook. "I guess this is your investigation, now."

  Kerney shook his head. With few resources, and virtually no help, Clayton had done an amazingly good job. "You don't get to bow out, Deputy," Kerney said. "The state police officers assigned to investigate Senator Norvell have been advised that the Lincoln County Sheriff's Office is in charge of this piece of the task force. As far as I'm concerned, you're the lead investigator, unless your boss says otherwise."

  Clayton's look of resignation lightened into a smile that he couldn't completely contain.

  "I'm fine with that," Hewitt said. "How many agents and what's their ETA?"

  "Four. They'll be briefed at noon. They should be here soon after that."

  "I'd better get cracking," Hewitt said, rising from his chair. "Leave the casebook with me, Deputy. I'll free up some space in the building we can use as a command center, take care of the details, and have everything we've got ready to go."

  Kerney stood. "You'll have the task-force packet in hand before the agents arrive. Thanks, Paul."

  Hewitt hitched up his blue jeans and smiled. "No thanks are necessary, Kerney. Hell, this is one party I wouldn't want to miss."

  F
idel, who had followed the cop from the highway turnoff to his house back to the county courthouse, waited for something to happen. It seemed like the Indian deputy and the cowboy sheriff went to work early so they could spend more time doing nothing. Ten minutes after parking, Fidel watched another cowboy-this one with a limp-park and go inside. Soon after that a few civilians and uniformed deputies arrived.

  Fidel had hoped that the day would prove more interesting, but it wasn't turning out that way. It was, he decided, way beyond boring to be a cop in Lincoln County.

  From his hallway desk Clayton put in calls to the people Kerney wanted to talk to while Kerney used his cell phone to ask to have Greer fingerprinted and provide some hair samples to be sent down for comparison to the evidence collected at the Ulibarri crime scene.

  Page Seton, Hiram Tully's granddaughter, and her parents, Morris and Lily, were traveling out of state to attend a wedding in West Texas. Hiram Tully had been moved from the hospital to a state-run rehabilitation center in Roswell.

  While Clayton called the rehab center to confirm that Tully could see them, Kerney stood with his back against the hallway wall thinking that the working conditions at the sheriff's department were abysmal. Clayton had no privacy, and the staffers from other county offices passing by had to step sideways behind Clayton's chair in order to get around him.

  He didn't fault Paul Hewitt; sheriffs in rural counties pretty much always got the short end of the stick when it came to divvying up tax dollars.

  The trip to Roswell with Clayton started out in silence. They passed the city park on the outskirts of town, a rather bleak-looking place bordering the highway that consisted of a poorly landscaped nine-hole golf course, some ball fields, picnic tables, and a scattering of trees. Soon after, Clayton slowed and pointed at the burned-out fruit stand up ahead.

  "Want to take a look at the crime scene?" he asked.

  "I would," Kerney replied.

  Clayton pulled off the highway and together they walked to the building.

  "At least the mud has dried up," Clayton said as he turned on his flashlight to show Kerney where Montoya's body had been found.