“He wanted to. Really. He didn’t want to go to Mexico, I think he was feeling a little guilty that he didn’t turn down the job.”
After they picked up the files of the mother and infant who’d disappeared three months ago, and the subsequent arson fire, they turned onto the highway heading to Del Rio, which was nearly three hours northwest.
“This could be a total bust,” Noah said. “I wish I could have sent a local team, but the terrorism alert is on high—ICE caught more than a dozen questionable Middle Eastern detainees attempting to cross in Laredo last month. They have backgrounds to run and heightened security to deal with. I can’t pull them off for this.”
Violent crimes in the FBI took a far back burner to counter-terrorism, counter-intellience, and cybercrime. In fact, Lucy had the distinct feeling that Violent Crimes had moved to the bottom of the list. While on the one hand she understood that the FBI and other law enforcement agencies had stopped terrorist attacks before they occurred—planned attacks that they often didn’t share with the public—violent crime affected so many people. What was happening to these girls in Freer and Laredo was heartbreaking.
Noah muttered, “This is when I wish I owned my own airplane and made enough money to pay for fuel.”
“What, the FBI wouldn’t reimburse you?” Lucy teased.
Noah was on the phone most of the drive talking to nearly every agent on the Violent Crimes Squad seeking updates on cases, as well as giving Dean and Rick updates on their case. Lucy turned her attention to the thin file Zach had sent them on Leo Musgrove.
Born in Austin, Texas, to a science teacher and a nurse, Leo’s parents divorced after he graduated high school and moved to different states; he stayed, went to state college, dropped out after a year, and had taken a variety of odd jobs. He was suspected of dealing drugs, had been arrested multiple times, but charges didn’t stick until the third arrest when he served fourteen months of a two-year stint in minimum security for possession with intent. Good behavior, no problems, and he disappeared when he was released.
Now he was thirty-four with conflicting affiliations—Del Rio local law enforcement put him in a gang, while federal law enforcement marked him as an associate of one of the Juarez-based cartels. But Leo had kept his nose mostly clean, popping up on police radar as a middleman, then disappearing when the heat came down.
There were no recent photos of him, except the pictures Barrow had given them.
Lucy hadn’t liked Eric Barrow, but it appeared that his exposé on the brothel had resulted in its being completely shut down. On the one hand, that was good—most of the women there were forced to work, and many were illegal immigrants who’d been threatened or kidnapped or couldn’t find any way out of the sex trade. They didn’t trust law enforcement and they didn’t trust the system. They were considered property by the people who ran the brothels, brutalized because they didn’t have anyone to turn to for help. On the other hand, what had happened to them? Did the organization close up shop here and open elsewhere? Or was their fate worse?
Maybe that’s why Lucy didn’t like Barrow. He came in, wrote his story, and left. Let the pieces fall where they may, he didn’t care. No help for the girls, just expose a corrupt system and adios. How had he and Siobhan become friends? They were so different. In attitude, values, goals.
As they neared Del Rio, Noah took a call from the local resident agency in Del Rio. “It’s about time he called me back,” Noah muttered before he answered.
By the sounds of it, the conversation didn’t go well. Noah tossed his phone on the seat and slammed his hand on the steering wheel as he turned off the highway into town.
“We’re on our own.”
“Del Rio should have eight to ten agents. They don’t have anyone to assist?”
“Four are on a joint operation with border patrol and the others are spread thin because of it. The SSA never heard of Musgrove, said he’s not on their radar, and they can’t spare anyone.”
“What about the brothel?”
“Confirmed that it was shut down after Barrow ran his story, but said it opened up again—only this time they rotate locations. He’s sending me a list of possibles, but it would take days to investigate and there is no viable lead that the de la Rosa sisters are there.”
“I don’t think they’re here,” Lucy said. “Barrow indicated that the brothel had been shut down so a group of women could be brought in. New girls? Special business arrangement? We don’t know, but they didn’t stay around, according to Barrow’s source. If the source was right and Marisol de la Rosa was one of those special women, she’s not here now.” Not if she just gave birth. “Musgrove will know.”
Noah parked a block away from their target address. “Are you wearing a vest?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”