Spring wildflowers, hot yellow and pale blue, scattered color throughout the native grass that fluttered in a mild breeze. ATV tire tracks flattened the grass in two lines, running straight toward the center of the meadow.
Jim reined in his horse at the edge of the meadow and waited for Kerney.
'Bet you a dollar we don't find the carcass,' he said when Kerney pulled up next to him.
'Why do you say that?'
'Every part of a cougar is valuable. The blood. The bones. The skin.
If it's a male, even the testicles are worth significant money. It all gets ground up, cut up, boiled, or mixed with other ingredients and sold as medicine and folk remedies on the Asian market.
'Did you know poachers are killing all the tigers in China and India?'
Stiles continued.
'Most are about done in. It's at the point now that any big cat is at risk, the demand is so great.'
'What about the black bear?' Kerney asked.
'A lot of that animal was left behind.'
'It's still the same MO. The poachers only take what's valuable. The gallbladder is worth its weight in gold. It's used to make an aphrodisiac. With bighorn sheep, they go after the horns. It gets ground into powder and used for a medicine to treat a dozen or more illnesses.'
'So this is poaching for pure profit,' Kerney replied.
'Big-time,' Stiles agreed, moving ahead.
'What we're gonna look for is evidence of the kill. That's the best we can hope to find.'
In the middle of the field they found what Stiles expected, the remains of a partially eaten, hamstrung rabbit used to lure the cat, and a small patch of dried blood where the lion had fallen after the kill. Kerney took pictures and Stiles bagged all the evidence.
'That should do it,' Stiles said as he finished.
'We have enough blood samples for a DNA comparison.'
He stuck the evidence in a canvas tote bag and tied it to his saddle.
'I'll get this up to the Santa Fe crime lab tomorrow.'
'How much would a poacher stand to make on a kill like this?' Kerney asked, passing the camera back to Stiles.
Stiles stuffed the camera in the saddle bag.
'Two or three thousand dollars, easy. But the profit is in retail sales. Whoever markets the product overseas stands to make four or five times that amount.' He pointed behind Kerney.
'The old wagon road I talked about comes out over there, at the side of that mountain. Want to take a look? Maybe we can find out how that old man got up here.'
First, they found the body of a young man thirty yards from the kill site. A coyote had chewed away most of the face and feasted on the chest cavity.
When they turned him over, they saw the exit wound from the bullet hole.
Kerney took a wallet from the dead man's pants and scanned the contents.
'Who is he?'
'The man's name was Hector M. Padilla,' Kerney said.
'A Mexican citizen.'
'Hector,' Stiles repeated.
'Well, I'll be damned.
Isn't that what the old man called you? Let's see what other surprises we can find before we call the state police.'
Then they found the truck.
All that could be done to secure the crime scene and conduct a preliminary investigation was accomplished quickly. Kerney found himself frustrated by their lack of equipment but at the same time pleased with Jim Stiles. He worked efficiently, made few mistakes, and had good cop instincts. They had a confirmed identity of the dead man and a strong suspicion, from the registration papers found in the truck, that the old man in the cave was Dr. Jose Padilla.
Positioned on a small rise with a clear view of the body. Stiles had a rifle in hand just in case the coyotes came back for another meal. He could see three of them moving in the tall grass, fifty yards away.
Kerney sat down next to him. As they waited for the state police to arrive, he started asking Stiles questions.
'What do we know, so far?'
Stiles grinned.
'Are we debriefing?'
'Why not?' Kerney replied.
'That's great. I haven't had anybody to debrief with since I transferred to Reserve. It gets boring analyzing things by yourself.'
Kerney laughed.
'I know that feeling. Let's build a scenario of what may have happened.' 'Okay,' Stiles said.
'Hector and Dr. Padilla, citizens of the Republic of Mexico, drive up to the meadows, for God knows what reason, and get the truck hung up in a gully. Hector Padilla decides to hike out and get help, leaving the old man to wait in the truck. Why he decides to walk to the meadow instead of heading back down the road is a mystery.
It's a shorter route, but how would he know about it?
He runs into the poacher and gets himself blown away. Probably the old man would have been murdered too, if the killer knew he was in the vicinity.'
'That makes sense. What about the killer?'
'He's got to be one of the locals.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Elderman Meadows is protected. Off limits. Has been for years. It's prime elk breeding ground.'
'Okay,' Kerney said.
'Not much traffic. Known only to locals and off the beaten path. What about the lion? You said it was relocated. Would the killer know it was here?'
'The word is trans located It's a technical term we Game and Fish types love to use. You've got to use it if you want to be politically correct.'
'Okay, trans located Tell me how the killer knew about the lion.'
'We don't publicize translocations. Just a few of the area ranchers are informed so they don't start shooting when they see a cougar.'
'Who knew?' Kerney prodded.
'Phil Cox and his father. The Johnstons, over by Allegros Mountain. Al Medley. Vance Swingle. Ray Candelaria down in Bear Canyon. Law enforcement personnel. That's it.'
'Did any of the ranchers protest?'
Stiles shook his head.
'Not a one. I know these people. They'd be on the telephone yelling at me in a minute if there was even a remote possibility that a lion was taking their stock. Demanding permission to kill it.'
'People talk,' Kerney suggested.
'True enough. We can't keep a project like this completely secret. That would be impossible. But I don't think folks sit around in Cattleman's Cafe talking to tourists about wild mountain lions.'
'So it's a local,' Kerney agreed.
'Are there any prime suspects in other cases we can check out?'
'Not really.' Stiles tugged at his ear.
'How did these guys find the road up the mountain? It hasn't been used in decades. You can barely see the ruts. In fact, you can't see a damn thing at all from the highway.'
'The Forest Service map in the truck was folded open to Mangas Mountain.'
'I missed that,' Stiles admitted.
'That could mean these guys wanted to come here. Why?'
'Beats me,' Kerney replied.
