Sofia nodded.
“What kind of contraband?”
“Cocaine.” Columbia exported their cocaine to the United States via Mexico. “Diego made an example of us, and the rest of the workers already fell in line.”
She fisted her hands. “If they didn’t, he’d punish them too?”
“Sí.” She sighed.
“Know where he lives?” Aggie asked. She wouldn’t mind paying him a visit.
“No, he finds us, not the other way around.”
“How old are your girls? And what do you think he did with Luna and Maria?” Aggie had an inkling, but she wanted to be wrong about this one.
“Luna is four and Maria is eight.” Her voice shook. “We think he might have sold them.”
Dammit.
Aggie was far out of her depth on a human trafficking case. They needed professional help—armed men with resources and district attorneys on speed dial who could expedite warrants and threaten people with hundreds of years in jail.
At a conference she’d attended a year ago, Aggie had heard the staggering stats on the problem. According to the estimates released by the U.S. State Department, at least 600,000 people are trafficked across international borders every single year, and eighty percent are female, and half are children.
Luna and Maria fit both parts of the statistic. Most of them were never recovered.
“Let me try to convince you again, please go to the authorities, they have the firepower to deal with a trafficking case, not me. I’m only one person, and I’m not sure where to even begin.”
Most of what she’d heard about Diego was rumors, whispers really, and Aggie had no idea where to look for him. From what she’d heard, he split his time between Mexico and Houston. She didn’t even have any foreign contacts, so she’d be flying blind.
“No, we can’t, Miss Byrd, please, help us.”
“I can’t…”
Right then, Sofia reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph of two chubby cheeked little girls. They were smiling, eyes bright, wearing matching pink shirts and eating ice cream cones in the summer sunshine.
And they’d just been kidnapped by a man who might’ve sold them for cheap labor, or worse. Those smiles would vanish very soon if someone didn’t intervene.
Her throat ached.
“We need you.” And when Aggie looked into their watery eyes, she couldn’t say no. “Here, we can pay you.” Sofia handed her a wad of crumpled bills, and Aggie’s heart just about broke.
Ah, what the hell?
You only live once, or YOLO as the kids said, had become her new motto since her mother died.
She hated living under a dark cloud, but Aggie didn’t have a choice. After her mother had been diagnosed, they’d spent years worrying about the future. And now Aggie had her own time clock, ticking away in the background, always counting down.
“Keep your money for the moment. Tell you what, I’ll check with my sources and see if I can turn up a lead on Diego in the next thirty-six hours. If I can’t, will you consider involving the police?”
They hesitated.
“I’ll do everythin’ in my power to keep ICE out of it.”
They talked it over while she waited.
“Yes, we’ll consider it,” Sofia said softly.
Aggie pulled out a legal pad and a fountain pen. “First, I need details, lots and lots of them—names, dates, and descriptions. And it’s important you’re completely straight with me because I’m a damn fine detective and I’ll figure it out eventually.”
Sofia sighed in relief. “We’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
As they filled her in, Aggie scribbled away.
***
“You’re a damn fool.”
Polly Martin walked into the room and shook the file folder at Aggie. She’d just gotten done reading it. Aggie had asked her to look the information over and point her in the right direction.
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
Polly was a pudgy woman in her late fifties, with gray hair cut short around her ears. Back in the day, she’d been a Marine, before taking a job as a police officer. After she retired two years ago, she worked for Aggie part-time to sock away some extra cash. Polly and her husband, Coop, had a thing for traveling and they were saving for a European vacation next summer.
Technically Polly was old enough to be a mother figure, but there was something fatherly about her concern. And she wasn’t afraid to call Aggie on her crap, which Aggie appreciated. They were close friends, almost like family. She and Coop didn’t have any children, and Aggie felt like the old couple had semi-adopted her.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed, sugar.” Polly sat across from her and propped her white Nikes up on the desk. Detective work required a lot of running around, so they wore casual clothing to the office.
“Yup, I know that too.”
Aggie reached into her desk and pulled out a bottle of Jose Cuervo.
“Want a drink?”
“No, and you don’t need one either.”
“Yeah, but I want one.” Aggie poured herself a shot of tequila and downed it in one gulp, a blazing fire burned down her throat. She’d been doing a lot of day drinking too because it calmed her nerves.
At least I’m not an alcoholic. Yet.
“Why the hell did you take this case?”
She shrugged. “Because those people need help.”
“I agree they’re up shit creek without a paddle, and I’m sorry about their children, but they should go to the police.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” Aggie shrugged. “I couldn’t help myself. Alejandro isn’t here legally, and we both know after the authorities heard them out, they’d be tryin’ to deport him.”
“How is that your problem?”
“It isn’t, but he’s only tryin’ to feed his family, so I sympathize. And I think the cops would try to turn Sofia into a witness against Diego. Luna and Maria would be an afterthought.”
The risky move would most likely get Sofia killed. Those kinds of thugs always worked in packs, and even if the authorities put Diego away, one of them would catch up to her eventually.
Polly sighed. “I get that somebody needs to help them, but why does it have to be you?”
Because I got nothin’ left to lose.
Polly intuited her answer. “You shouldn’t even be at work yet.”
“Yeah? Where should I be?” Aggie poured another shot of tequila.
She’d been staring at the four walls in her house, slowly going insane, ruminating about the past and worrying about the future. At least she had something else to focus on, a problem to solve, because hers couldn’t be fixed.
“Your mom died twelve days ago, why don’t you take more time off?” Her voice gentled. “You’re grievin’.”
“I took some vacation time. Besides, I need to keep busy.”
“Busy diggin’ an early grave?”
I’ll die young regardless. Why wait?
“You don’t know, I might just pull this one off.”
“I doubt it.”
Aggie sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Look, I can lie to you, or tell you what you need, but don’t want, to hear. You’re not thinkin’ straight.”
“Yes, I am. It’s not as though my mom’s death was a shock, we’d been preparing for it for years. We said our goodbyes a long time ago, and she passed while I was at her bedside.”
She’d held Melinda’s hand when she’d drifted off and never woke up again. At least Aggie didn’t have any regrets about her mother’s last few months. They’d spent them together, and Aggie hadn’t left anything unsaid.
“Yeah, but preparing for somethin’ and the actuality of it, are two different things.” She squeezed Aggie’s hand. “I know you’re still hurtin’.”
Her chest ached. “Yes, but I’m not gonna wallow in it. I’m movin’ the hell on like mom told me to. Besides, I realized someth
ing.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m not scared of dyin’ anymore. When I do, mom will be there waitin’ for me, and I’ll get to see her again.”
“No, I think you’re afraid of livin’.”
It was an uncomfortable truth. And it reminded Aggie of a Grace Hansen quote: Don’t be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.
“No, I’m just gonna live any way I see fit.”
They were brave words, and she almost meant them. Aggie was all alone now, and she told herself work and friendships were enough. I’m enough. But she was so lonely sometimes, it choked her.
And yet, it wasn’t fair to involve someone else. How could she fall in love and make babies, then selfishly abandon them on her way to an early grave?
“See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Polly watched her with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
“Not a damn thing.” Aggie stood and paged through the file. “Let’s work this case, we’ve got two little girls to rescue.”
“Fine, but they ain’t the only people in need of rescue.”
***
“Come on, Sam, help a girl out.”
Aggie sat on a rickety stool at a seedy bar in Canyon City, a town near Hell. Sam Sharp owned the place, and he’d been a contact of hers for years. Rumor had it, a biker gang hung out at the place on weekends, so he was privy to a lot of underworld information.
The trick was, getting him to cough it up.
“I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about, and I don’t wanna.” He gave her another shot of tequila.
Sam was in his late 50s with salt and pepper hair and a kindly face. The bar had once been a hardware store, and the scent of motor oil had soaked into the wooden floorboards and walls somehow. It was a rustic, rough and tumble sort of place.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Have you heard the old sayin’ about curiosity? Well, I don’t want to be a dead cat.”
She tossed back the alcohol. At least he didn’t water down the drinks, even if he was uncooperative. Aggie swayed a bit on the stool. She had a thin build, and Aggie couldn’t recall if she’d ate lunch today or not. Most likely not.
“You’ve heard the name Diego before, don’t even pretend with me. I can see it in your eyes.” She pointed at him.
“And what if I have?” He stepped back from the bar, leaning against the cash register. “What’s it to you?”
“I got a case, and he’s a person of interest.”
He snorted. “Don’t give me that cop doublespeak. You think he did somethin’?”
“Maybe. I only want to ask him some questions.”
“If I were you, I’d leave him alone.” Sam glanced around the room and then leaned over to whisper. “Diego might be a two-bit thug, but he’s got friends in high places.”
“Oh yeah? Like who?” She was more intrigued by the second.
Sam held up a hand. “I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. Although, would you like some free advice?”
“Sure.”
“Lay off the sauce. You’re gonna drink yourself to death.”
Aggie giggled drunkenly. “We wouldn’t want that, huh?”
Sam shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I got other customers to wait on.” He shuffled away from her.
Evidently, he didn’t get the joke.
“Dammit.” She slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar and headed out. This had been a complete waste of her time.
Chapter Two
It was nearly midnight.
Aggie couldn’t sleep, not after the meeting with her new clients. She tried to relax by reading a magazine in bed and then watching a re-run of Bunheads, but it didn’t help matters, so she decided to get some stuff done.
She’d half-listened to a podcast as she did the dishes and laundry, laid out her clothes, and packed her lunch for the next day. Aggie even set the alarm on her phone, so she’d remember to eat the damn thing. Then she went through her mail and discarded all the junk, before paying her bills. Afterward, Aggie researched the price of a flak jacket she’d been meaning to buy, but closed the browser window after a few minutes.
Her mind was still spinning, thinking about Luna and Maria and where they might be. She could never quite rest while working a case. Aggie became enmeshed in the problem, studying it day and night, trying to put all the aspects together. There were always details to sort through, even if the stakes weren’t as high.
Aggie grabbed a broom and swept the kitchen floor. As always, there was a fine layer of dust which seemed to linger on every surface. She glanced around for a counter to wipe down, but everything was more or less clean.
Aggie did her best thinking when her hands were busy.
She lived in a small house at the edge of the city limits on three acres of property she’d inherited from her grandparents. The home had been in her family for a generation, and it wasn’t much, but it suited her needs. She’d inherited all of the furniture, too. The pieces were classic and built for durability, made of oak and sturdy as all get out.
Since nothing else needed to be done, Aggie decided to dance.
Sometimes she took a barre class, courtesy of YouTube. Many of the positions were based on ballet movements. Aggie exercised to clear her mind and sculpt her body.
Tonight, the music from Giselle blared from her Bluetooth speaker in the corner of the room. Aggie loved to pretend she was a prima ballerina with the Kirov Ballet. She’d taken “baby ballet” as a toddler, and she’d been dancing ever since.
Sometimes she wondered what would’ve happened if she’d pursued dance. At one time, she’d considered becoming a professional ballerina, but decided to obtain a degree in criminal justice instead, as a more practical way to pay the bills.
Her movements were small at first, controlled. She floated across the floor, taking her time, inching. Closing her eyes, she gave into the music, letting it take her wherever it would.
Somebody’s watching me.
Aggie felt a prickle on the back of her neck, an unmistakable sign she wasn’t alone.
She turned around to face the window but saw nothing in the shadows outside. It was open, and the wind rippled through the gauzy lace curtains. The night was cool, in the upper sixties, ideal for sleep. All she could hear was the mournful hoot of an owl, the sound of spring peepers, and the soft patter of rain against the glass.
And yet she knew someone was out there, felt the presence of another person. Had Diego sent one of his buddies over to harass her? Did he somehow know about her case? Or was she imagining things?
This is way too horror movie for me.
Aggie switched off the music and grabbed her gun from the nightstand. She took the safety off and kept her finger on the trigger, just in case.
And then a man stepped into the moonlight, nothing more than a dark silhouette.
“What are you doin’ outside my house?”
“Watchin’ you.”
She gasped. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you.”
“It would stain your driveway. The neighbors might get nervous if they caught you hosin’ blood off the blacktop.”
The tone was dry, a touch sarcastic. Apparently, her weapon didn’t scare him in the least, and Aggie was impressed by his brashness, even though she was concerned.
“Excellent point, but my nearest neighbors are nine miles away.”
“I stand corrected. Are you gonna put a hole in me then?” He held out his arms, daring her.
“Not yet, but you’re on notice.” She chuckled, amused despite herself.
“Trust me, blood is difficult to get out. Somebody will put it together, and you’ll end up at the police station answerin’ all kinds of awkward questions.”
“Step into the light, I want to see you better.”
“Curious about me, are you?”
“Nope, just takin’ a m
ental picture for the inevitable line up.”
He did as she asked, moving closer to the window, so his features were illuminated. Although his face was still wreathed in shadows, the man was familiar, even if she couldn’t place where she’d seen him before.
He was handsome too, despite his stalkerish tendencies. Dressed in a snazzy black suit, he stood well over six feet tall with a long, lean build. The man had thick, dark hair and sported a pair of sunglasses, at night. Aggie wondered what color his eyes were.
Since he’d been observing her, he couldn’t be blind, and she wondered if the shades were an affectation. Maybe he used them to hide from the rest of the world. He could see out, but others couldn’t see all of him.
“Who are you? And what do you want?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have an easy answer for you.”
His voice was so familiar. “I know you, don’t I? Have we met before?”
He nodded. “Yes, we ran into one another at the hospital, a while back. We spent a few memorable moments together on the rooftop. You were dancin’ on the ledge. I’m Tennessee Ross, and you are Agatha Byrd, private detective.”
Aggie could feel a flush burning on her cheeks. She’d ran into him right after her mother died and she’d been a little nuts that night. The doctors at the hospital had even kept her for observation.
“I see you’ve done your homework.” She lowered the gun but didn’t put it away just yet.
“I’m very thorough.”
“And are you stalking me, Mr. Ross?”
“I prefer to think of it as checkin’ in on you from time to time, Aggie. May I call you by your first name?”
“Sure. Why not? As for the rest, you say tomato, I say felony, but whatever. What do you want?”
“Like I said earlier, it’s complicated, and please call me Ten.”
“Okay.” She shook her head. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”
“I’ll take your assessment as a compliment.” He laid a hand on his chest. “Most folks think I’m crazy.”
“People have said the same about me.”
Aggie spotted a telltale bulge under his arm. Evidently, he had a gun tucked into a holster. So was he an officer of the law? Or a criminal? Aggie had a nagging suspicion it was that last one.
Draw Blood Page 2