It’s a highly prized commodity that enjoys environmental protection. Famous observatories cap the mountains around the city, and the discoveries of the world-class astronomers who flock to them add luster to the city’s reputation and grants to its university. In pursuit of these benefits the city minimizes street lights, hoods the illumination it can’t do without, and supports a Dark Sky Association whose function is to remind suburban dwellers that clear desert air, unsullied by artificial light, has a fat bottom line. So at 4 a.m. in mid-November, most of El Encanto Estates was black as the inside of a boot. Sarah Burke found the house on Avenida Santa Teresa easily, by heading toward the light pouring out of all its windows. Big floods were already set up in the yard, too. Yellow crime-scene tape was stretched across the driveway, enclosing a swarm of busy men. Take away a few blue uniforms, Sarah thought, this scene could remind you of an ant farm. She parked her department Impala behind the crime-scene van at the curb.
