The Lost Girls (Lucy Kincaid #11)

“Are you certain you didn’t misplace the card or drop it?” Noah asked.

“Of course I’m certain,” she snapped. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get snippy with you. I know, you can’t prove that deputy came here and stole my SD card. I just know that he did. Or he gave my key to someone else. No one broke in, and the car and trunk were locked.”

“Wasn’t the evidence bag sealed with your belongings?” Lucy asked.

“Yes, but they didn’t have me sign it or anything. They could have put everything back in a new envelope. I just verified nothing was missing.” She glanced at Noah. “I need to go back to the house.”

“Since they let you go so quickly, I suspect they already cleaned out the place.”

“There’ll be something! You can do forensics and stuff, right? Get fingerprints?”

“We’d need a warrant.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not going to be that easy to get,” Noah said.

“But I saw a pregnant woman in that house with her ankle chained to the bed! Locks on the outside of the doors!” Were all cops like this? So rigid about rules? Someone was in trouble. A pregnant woman was in danger. Why didn’t that trump everything else?

“And you illegally entered the house.”

“I saw her in the window and she looked to be under duress.” That was all truth. She’d swear to it on a Bible.

“It might fly, but it’s not going to be a slam dunk.”

Lucy said, “Would it hurt to stop by and see if we can talk our way inside?”

Siobhan looked at Noah. “Please?”

Noah nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it. They all got back into Noah’s car, and Siobhan directed him the three blocks to the house.

“I’d like to see the pictures you took as soon as possible,” Noah said. “We can run the images through the federal database and possibly ID one or more of the individuals involved. If there’s an arrest warrant, that’ll help me get a search warrant.”

“I can download them to my phone or on my laptop. I just need to see if that young woman is okay. She was upset, angry with me, angry—” Siobhan paused.

“Did she say something?” Lucy prompted.

“Her Spanish was street-level, very lowbrow, I guess you’d say. Slang. I didn’t really understand her, and that’s unusual because I know Spanish better than most gringos. I mentioned Marisol and Ana, hoping to forge a connection with her, and that’s when she started shouting. She called me Satan. I thought she said more trouble, but I could be mistaken.”

“She didn’t want your help,” Noah said flatly as he parked directly in front of the house.

“Girls like her are brainwashed. Her family could have been threatened. She was scared—yes, angry, but also very scared. I’ve met girls like her. She needs our help, even if she thinks that being bought and sold like cattle is normal.”

Who was this guy and why had Rick sent him? Siobhan didn’t think she should have to explain this to a federal agent.

Lucy put a hand on Noah’s forearm, and Siobhan could practically see them speaking telepathically. They must have been partners for years to be able to just know each other that well.

Lucy turned to face Siobhan in the backseat. “Stay here.”

“But—”

Lucy repeated, “Stay. We’re going to check it out, but we don’t know what we’re facing, and you don’t want to get out of this car. Understood?”

“Fine.”

Siobhan watched from the rear window. The truck that had been parked in the back was gone. Noah knocked on the door. There was no answer. He and Lucy walked around the house, then returned several minutes later and got back into the car.

“No one’s home.”

“Maybe they’re just not answering.”

“We have no cause to enter. All the doors are locked. There is no vehicle in the driveway.”

“Mrs. Hernandez will know. She’s home. I saw her looking through her blinds. She’s not going to talk to you, you’re cops. She’ll tell me.”

Noah glanced at Lucy. Again, the unspoken communication.

Lucy said, “I’ll go with you. It’s not up for discussion.”

“You sound like Kane,” Siobhan snapped and got out of the car.

Lucy followed her to the house kitty-corner from their location. “Was that an insult or a compliment?” Lucy asked her.

“Both,” Siobhan said. She knocked on Mrs. Hernandez’s door. No one answered. She knocked again. “Dolores, I know you’re in there, I saw you. Please, I need your help. I need to know what happened to the woman across the street.”

It took a long minute, but the door opened. Dolores Hernandez didn’t unlock the screen. “They’re gone.”

“When?”

“Last night. They left.” She eyed Lucy suspiciously.

“What time?”

“Late. Midnight. Maybe a little earlier.”

“Did someone come back for the woman?” Siobhan said. “What about the pregnant woman? Was she okay? Did you see her?”