“Your timing is spot-on,” Agent Carson said, gesturing toward a huge silver pickup as it pulled up to us.

She seemed to be getting the fact that when I talked to people face-to-face, I could siphon information she was not privy to. I loved how much she trusted me. Her partner, on the other hand, was not so impressed. A crisp dresser, he kept looking over at Carson as though she were crazy on toasted rye for even talking to me.

She gestured toward the truck. “That’s the son.”

“Oh, perfect. I’ll let you know if he’s guilty in a few.”

She smiled. “Appreciate it.”

But it didn’t even take that long. The minute he stepped out of his truck, I felt grief combined with a strange sense of outrage pouring out of him. He was angry at whoever did this, whoever dumped these unfortunate women on his land, buried them in his dirt.

“Never mind,” I said to her as she and Uncle Bob followed me over. “He’s as innocent as my great-aunt Lillian.”

“Figured as much.”

She was a smart one.

“Mr. Knight,” Agent Carson said as we approached him.

Slightly bowlegged from years atop an animal of one sort or another, Knight walked with a straight back and a stiff gait, but he was strong, still in his prime. Probably in his late thirties, he had a tall, thin frame and a tan face underneath hair the color of a desert at dusk. But what was even more striking than his handsome features were his startlingly green eyes.

“This is Detective Davidson,” she continued, “from the Albuquerque Police Department and his consultant Charley.”

“It’s just Kenny, Detective,” he said, holding out his hand. Uncle Bob took it. “Charley,” he said in turn.

I scrutinized him as we shook. Kenny Knight. I’d heard of him. A champion bull rider who’d competed all over the world.

“Kenny,” I said, and figuring there was no time like the present, I charged forward with, “any idea how these women ended up on your land?”

A defensive reflex bucked inside him, but he calmed himself instantly. Scanned the area. Worked his jaw in annoyance. “No, ma’am.”

“What about this oil?”

“What oil?” he asked, examining the killer’s dump site.

Agent Carson explained. “There’s oil in the ground here, but it’s not a derivative of this area. In other words, it’s not the kind that will make you rich. Do you know anything about that?”

“What the hell?” He shook his head, baffled. “Why would there be oil here?”

“That’s what we would like to know.”

As they questioned Kenny on the oil thing, I walked to the overlook. Underneath was a sheer cliff about twenty feet high, the sparse beauty that was New Mexico stretched as far as the eye could see. I took in its vastness and waited for the departed woman who’d been hanging around since I got there to talk.

“Thought I’d never get him out here.”

I looked to my right. She stood beside me dressed in a hospital gown and wearing a head wrap, the kind that cancer patients wore. And she had been beautiful. Even painfully thin with her cheeks sunken and her eyes dulled from illness, she had a glow that radiated strength and elegance. I glanced around and gestured for Uncle Bob. He walked over, his brows raised in curiosity. I raised an index finger, then nodded to my side. He nodded in understanding. I could talk to her in front of him and make it look like he and I were having a conversation.

“So, this was your idea?” I asked her.

“It was. I always wanted a house out here, but it seemed like Kenny didn’t have it in him to settle down long enough to build one.” She looked out over the landscape. “He didn’t want this ranch. Didn’t want anything to do with running it. His spirit’s wild. Always has been. I thought kids would quiet the rider in him, but they just weren’t in the cards for us.” She laced her fingers together, her eyes brimming with sadness. “He’s still young. He can still have kids if he’ll give it another go.”

“I’m sorry,” I said to her, “about the kids.” For me, the thought of having kids caused hives and a slight wheezing sound to emit from my chest. But I understood that most women wanted them. “You said you were trying to get Kenny out here?”

She nodded. “Someone had to find these women.”

Surprised, I asked, “You knew about them? You knew they had been buried out here?”

Uncle Bob perked up, but kept quiet, waiting for information from a one-sided conversation from his point of view.

“Not like you think,” she said, shaking her head. “I heard them one day when Kenny brought me out here. I wanted to see this place one more time. I guess I was so close to death, I could hear them.”

My chest tightened at the image. “What did you hear?”

“Their crying. Their wails of agony. I didn’t tell Kenny. I thought I was going crazy, so I didn’t mention it. Then it was too late.” She breathed deep, then leveled a determined stare on me. “I couldn’t cross, knowing these women were out here. I had to get someone to come. To set them free.”

“I don’t understand. How were they trapped here? The departed are incorporeal. They can pretty much pass through anything. And how did they get set free?”

“I’m not certain. The minute the construction crew started clearing the land —” She stopped and thought back. “No. No, the man running the bulldozer thought he saw something. He jumped out and lifted a hand out of the dirt. And that did it. That set them free.”