by D P Lyle
“Where does the exchange take place?”
Now a broad grin appeared. “There’re a bunch of old deserted warehouses not far from here. They meet the buyer there. All done under cover.”
“How do you know you can trust the buyers?”
That caused a hesitation. He glanced at the floor, then back to Cain. “I don’t I guess.”
“My point,” Cain said. “We would have some reservations about selling locally. Too many ways it could come back on you.”
Carlos smiled. “Got that covered. My cousin. Down near Juarez. He’s with the Zetas. He handles everything. Even the transportation.”
Juarez. A place Cain never wanted to see again.
“Including the girl you just told me about?” Cain nodded toward Cindy’s pic. Still up on the screen.
Another quick glance at the floor, buying time, deciding what to say, how to say it, no doubt. “No.” He strung the word out. “That was different.”
“In what way?” Cain asked.
“Dude contacted me. Out of the blue. Said he’d heard about me from some guy in Vegas.” He shrugged. “I do know a few folks out there. Anyway, he told me this guy I know—guy named Luis Orosco—he’s a valet at Caesars—had suggested he contact me about his needs.”
One of the hidden secrets about Vegas is that valets are well connected. You need a night club or restaurant recommendation, they have it. Need drugs? Covered. Need a girl? They can hook you up with that, no problem.
“He vouch for the guy? Your man in Vegas?”
Carlos hesitated a full half minute. “Not really. I didn’t call him and ask or anything like that. The dude simply said he had talked with Luis and Luis’d told him to call me.”
“But you didn’t know the buyer? Beforehand?”
Carlos shook his head.
Cain nodded. “You do see where that could have gone sideways? Right?”
“I suppose. But the money was good. Ten grand a pop. Not bad.”
“No offense, but that’s what my father called chump change.” Cain sipped the tequila. “If we work together, we’ll have to insist that no further local sales take place. Is that a problem?”
“Not if you have a better way.”
“We do.”
“I’m listening,” he said.
“First off, we only sell to foreigners. Those who will take the girl, or girls, to places where they’ll never return. The Middle East and Asia mostly.”
“Oh?”
“Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Indonesia, Hong Kong, even Iran.”
“How do you work that?”
“We have a guy.” Cain smiled.
“What’s your going rate?”
“It varies. Never less than a hundred grand. Most are well north of that.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.”
“So, we’re good here?” Cain asked. “No more local sales?”
Carlos hesitated, glanced at the floor. “For now. Assuming we can work out a deal.”
“We can. Then you’ll do a lot better on any sales.”
Carlos slapped his knee. “Count me in on that.”
You just have to choose the right bait.
CHAPTER 35
Cain left Carlos, saying he had a good feeling about them working together. Carlos, giddy, animated, agreed.
Cain climbed in his car with the feeling that he needed to go home and shower. The thought that Carlos and Adam weren’t much above the Taliban fucks Cain and Harper had dispatched crossed his mind. They seemed to have the same regard, and use, for young women. Merely commodities. Cattle to be moved around at will, used, abused, sold, killed. Disposable items. It was all he could do not to flick a blade into Carlos’ fat neck. Maybe the time would come. Maybe not.
As he drove, he called Bradford. He answered on the second ring. Cain could faintly hear traffic noise in the background.
“We need to talk,” Cain said.
“Okay.” Then to someone there, “I need to take this.”
Cain heard his footsteps. Hard surface. Then Bradford was back.
“About what?” he asked.
“Our guy. He bought Cindy Grant from Carlos Campos.”
“You know this how?”
“I just left his place. He told me.”
“What? How?”
“Let’s meet,” Cain said.
“Okay. I’m in the field. Finishing an interview. Say, twenty minutes? Sally’s Country Kitchen? Haven’t eaten all day and a meat and three sounds good about now.”
“See you there.”
Next Cain called Mama B and brought her up to date, telling her that the website blew away Carlos and Adam. And that he was inside their operation.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, they bit hard.” He then told her about the valet in Vegas. “Stay on them. Adam and Carlos. See what you can dig up on this Luis Orosco.”
“How does God create such creatures?” Mama B asked.
“Not God. This is the work of the fallen angel.”
“I’m on it,” she said.
It was just after five-thirty and a fine drizzle had kicked up as Cain pulled into the lot at Sally’s Country Kitchen. The lot was already filling. He had ten minutes before Bradford would show so he sat in his car and called Laura Cutler.
“Your life is about to get more complicated I fear,” he said.
“Well, you’re just making my day.”
“Our guy. He bought Cindy from Carlos Campos. Local dirt ball and pimp.”
“And he brought her down here?”
“Sure did.”
“Any leads on who that might be?” she asked. “Someone I should go shoot?”
Cain laughed. “Nothing solid.”
“But you’re still convinced he’s down this way?”
“I do.”
“Can’t say I disagree,” Cutler said.
“I’m having a sit down with Lee Bradford. Then I’ll be heading your way.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay. Jimmy and I’ll continue sniffing around.”
“Cautiously,” Cain said. “We don’t know where to look and stirring the water might not be a good choice right now.”
“Lord, you’re just making my day.” She sighed. “Anything you need me to do?”
“Keep your eyes and ears open, but don’t start digging in too aggressively.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
“And that’s the problem,” Cain said. “If he even suspects you’re on to him, he’ll clean up his work place.”
“Where he kept Rose Sanders and Cindy Grant? And worked on them?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. That makes sense to me. Anything else?”
“I want to visit Martin Stenson.”
“Why?”
The wounds Cindy Grant had suffered. To Cain’s eye they had been inflicted by arrows. Nothing else made sense. Not bullets, for sure. If these girls were hunted, why not with a bow? Stenson was an expert. And a hunter. Maybe he was involved. At least he might have an inside track on who to look at.
“I’ll explain when I see you. Keep it low key. Something like, Harper and I are back in town and want to take him up on his invitation to see his place.”
“Okay. When?”
“I need to swing by and see General Kessler on the way down. I should be in Moss Landing by noon. So tomorrow afternoon, or whenever he can.”
“You know this makes me crazy. You not telling me anything.”
“Let’s say it has to do with Cindy’s autopsy,” Cain said.
“That’s it?” Cutler said. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“It’s complicated. Tomorrow you’ll know everything.”
“And I was just starting to like you.”
“That would put you on a short list.”
“I’m beginning to see that. Want me to have Lily Butler hold you and Harper rooms?”
“That’d
be nice. And tell her to whip up some biscuits.”
Cutler laughed. “Will do.”
CHAPTER 36
As he disconnected the call to Laura Cutler, Bradford pulled into the lot. Cain met him as he stepped out. They hurried through the drizzle and pushed through the front door. Sally’s Country Kitchen was half filled. The aroma of home cooking and the clatter of forks and knives filled the air. They found a table in a corner, near the back.
They ordered beers, Cain a Stella, Bradford a Bud Lite. Then food. Cain settled on pot roast, turnip greens, squash, and pintos; Bradford meat loaf, mashed potatoes, corn, and green beans. Their waitress scribbled it down and walked away.
“What do you have?” Bradford asked.
“First, what do you know about Carlos Campos?”
“Before your call I’d’ve said he’s a small player in the prostitution world. Pimping out college girls for the most part. But it sounds like he’s more than that.”
Cain nodded. “No evidence he was selling girls?”
“If I had anything like that he wouldn’t be out breathing free air.” He rubbed his wrist. “Setting up dates is one thing, but trafficking—and that’s what we’re talking here—is another thing altogether.”
“He said he had sold a few girls. Has a cousin in with the Zetas. Sells the occasional girl through him. All down in Mexico.”
“Except for our guy. Right?”
“Right,” Cain said. “Carlos sold Cindy Grant to him.”
“You sure?”
“I just had a sit down with him. He wasn’t bashful about saying so.”
The food arrived. They began to eat, though Cain’s appetite had evaporated. Not so for Bradford. He dug in with relish.
“My favorite place,” he said.
“I can see why.”
He dabbed gravy from the corner of his mouth. “What you’re telling me is Campos sold Cindy to a serial killer?”
“I’m not sure he knows that, but, yes.”
“And you still have no clue who that might be?”
“Not yet. But I’m inside his organization now so hopefully that’ll come out.”
“Want to explain ‘inside’?”
Cain told him of his site and their approach to Adam and Carlos. How he had offered them a business proposal they simply couldn’t resist.
“That’s pretty smart.”
Cain cut off a piece of roast and forked it into his mouth. “I thought so.”
“My instinct is to bring him in, put him in a hot box, twist his tit until he squeals.”
“That might work.”
Bradford tapped his fork against the edge of his plate. “But you have other ideas?”
“Let me work him. From the inside. Our best chance of finding the buyer is to play Carlos.”
“And if he sells him other girls in the meantime?”
“I don’t think he will. I’ve shown him that I have a better program. One that will funnel a lot more money his way. He jumped on that.”
“Greed is a great motivator.”
“Particularly to a miscreant like him.”
“I don’t know.” Bradford sipped from his beer. “Still seems that squeezing him might get quicker results.”
“Except I don’t think he knows the guy he sold her to. Not really. I’d be surprised if our guy used a real name or even looked the same when he made his purchase.”
Bradford sighed. Laid his fork and knife across his plate. Apparently his appetite had diminished, too. “That makes sense. I doubt our killer would be that stupid.”
“All I’m saying is give Harper and me a little time. I’m deep inside his business. He can’t make a move I won’t know about.”
“How’s that?”
“Not sure you want to know. Plausible deniability and all that.”
He leaned forward. “But if I’m going to hang my weenie in the wind on this, I need to know what you’re up to.”
Cain thought about that. Bradford would indeed be at risk if he didn’t act on what he knew. If Cain had read Carlos wrong and he did, indeed, sell other girls to the killer, it could be a career ender. Of course he had a right to know, but was that safe? Would word leak out? Would Campos get wind and be put on alert? Or lose confidence in their new venture? It came down to whether or not Cain could trust Bradford to keep this off the radar. He decided he could. Mostly.
“Let’s say I have an inside track to his cell phone and his computers. Adam Parker’s, too. They can’t make a move without me knowing. In real time.”
“Want to explain?”
“Can’t. It goes deep into the spook world. Sources would be compromised.”
Bradford nodded, let out a long breath, and leaned back in his chair. “I looked into you.”
“I’d be surprised if you hadn’t.”
“Odd thing is, I couldn’t find much. A non-distinguished military career. No offense.”
“None taken.”
Cain didn’t say that it had been planned that way. What he did for the military, and the CIA, and all the other dark world initials, wasn’t for public consumption. He had been invisible for a reason.
“Reading between the lines, your missions to the Mid East, the blanks in your resume, so to speak, seem pretty shadowy.”
“It was. And it’s why I can’t elaborate on any of it.”
“Thus your connection with General Kessler?”
Cain shrugged.
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I am. And I know the risks. But if we spook Campos or Parker, we can lose everything.”
Bradford seemed to consider that, gave a quick nod, then said, “I suppose so.”
“If they get the slightest whiff that you’re on to them, that you even know they exist, they might shut down the entire operation. Dump everything that might incriminate them.”
“And pass that news on to the guy we’re really looking for.”
“Exactly. But if they’re comfortable, fat and happy, they just might lead us to our guy. He might not know him, but he’s connected to him. Done business with him. He might yet lead me to him. And if so, you’ll be there.”
Bradford said nothing for a good minute, digesting what Cain laid out, weighing the good, the bad, and the ugly.
“Okay,” he said. “I see the wisdom in that. We’ll do it your way.”
“Thanks.”
“For now. But if another girl gets taken, sold, whatever, I’ll have to move in another direction.”
“I understand.” Cain took a slug of beer. “Maybe this will help. In the end, I can hand you Carlos’ operation. Even his entire hard drive.”
“You can do that?”
Cain smiled. “I already have.”
“I probably don’t want to know how.”
Cain smiled. “You don’t. Couldn’t tell you anyway.”
Bradford nodded. “What’s your plan?”
“Harper and I are heading back down to Moss Landing tomorrow. Hook up with Laura Cutler. Check out a big bow hunter down there.”
“Bow hunter?”
“I think that’s what happened to Cindy. Probably the school teacher. To me, the evidence suggests they were hunted. Likely with a bow.”
“Based on Cindy’s autopsy?”
“Right. Those wounds didn’t come from a spear or a spike or anything like that. They were made by arrows.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. Hunters like projectile weapons. Particularly if the prey is on the run. Only a bow fits that scenario.”
“Want to give me a name? The bow hunter?”
“Not yet.”
Bradford eyed him. “You think he might be our guy?”
“Don’t know. Only met him briefly. I don’t yet have a feel for him.” Cain wadded a fist, then relaxed it, wiggled his fingers. “At least he’ll know the hunters in the area.”
“Makes sense.”
“Then maybe a trip to Vegas. See the guy who referred the likely kille
r to Carlos.”
“Need the LVPD’s help with that?” Bradford asked. “I know a couple of guys there.”
“Definitely not. We can’t afford any stumbles here. I’ll handle him.”
“He might give Carlos a heads up. If they’re friends.”
“He won’t.”
He stared at Cain.
“I can be very persuasive,” Cain said.
Bradford shook his head. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”
CHAPTER 37
Last night the drizzle had turned into a full-on electrical storm. Cain and Harper had watched it roll through, standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the condo. Lightning strobed their faces and thunder rattled the walls.
“I love this,” Harper said.
“I know you do.”
They both did. As kids, whenever such storms kicked up, they would huddle in a tent, front flap open, wrapped together in a blanket, rain slapping against the canvas, and watch the dark sky, the dancing lightning. That and the cool wind on their faces always pebbled their skin. And freshened the air with ozone. Great memories.
This morning, all was calm and clear. No clouds, a warm breeze, and the promise of another scorcher.
Took just over an hour to fight the Nashville traffic and to reach the Kessler’s estate. They met with the General in his study. He handed Cain a newspaper, folded to page two. Lower right corner. The headline stated: General Kessler’s Granddaughter Dead.
Cain scanned the article. No real details. Nothing about the manner of death or the tattooing. No mention of murder. A not so small blessing. Didn’t want any of that out. Just said that her body had been found in Moss Landing and that the local police were investigating and weren’t sure what the cause of death was.
Cutler had done her job.
“It’s worse when I see it in black and white,” Kessler said.
“I imagine that’s true,” Harper said. “How’s Miriam?”
“As you might expect. She crawled back in bed. Doesn’t want to face the day.” He shook his head. “Me either.”
“You’ll both get over it,” Cain said. “Eventually.”