The Lost Girls

by Allison Brennan

  He stepped forward. Lucy had never seen Noah be such a hard-ass. But Leo was buying the tough-cop act. Lucy was buying it.

  “I talk, I’m dead.”

  “Not my concern.”

  He glanced at Lucy, then back at Noah. “I really don’t—”

  Noah shot Lucy a look and a nod. She hoped she read his silent communication right. She said, “Mr. Musgrove, we know that someone is using women, both illegal immigrants and runaways, as breeders. Forcing them to give birth then taking their babies. We have IDs on most of the players, but one. You give us a name, we walk away and no one knows we spoke.” She was bluffing about the ID’s.

  “Everyone will know! Those guys who ran, they’re low-level gangbangers with big fucking mouths.”

  “I want this woman,” Lucy said and showed him the photo of the well-dressed woman that Siobhan had taken on Sunday evening. She was the piece of the picture that didn’t fit, and she hadn’t popped up in any criminal database.

  Leo knew exactly who she was. By his expression he would rather take his chances with Noah than this woman.

  “Okay, look, yeah, I’ve brought a few girls in and out of the country. Legal age. They were never prisoners, always wanting to come to the States. You know how it is. Working girls. It’s not like we grabbed them off the street. They just wanted a better life, you know? Johns who pay better, don’t beat them up. It’s a business, that’s all it is.”

  Lucy didn’t believe a word. Unless Siobhan didn’t know these girls at all, and she didn’t believe that, either.

  “I just move them. Here to there. No questions asked.”

  “Where did you move them eight months ago when they left the brothel?” Noah demanded.

  “I can tell you, but that ain’t going to help you. You think they stay in one place long? Hell no. But I tell you, none of those girls were preggers when I saw them. None. And in my business, you don’t want them popping out kids, that’s why you take care of things before, or after, if you know what I mean.”

  Noah said, “We know that three months ago, they moved from a place in Laredo to a place outside Freer. Where were they before Laredo?”

  It was clear that Leo was surprised they had that intel.

  “Hey, I heard they were all laying low.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Just the word.”

  “Where did you take them after the brothel closed.”

  “That’s not going to help you now.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” Noah said.

  “Fuck.”

  Noah raised his chin.

  “A property southwest of San Antonio. In the middle of bumfuck nowhere, except that there are a bunch of migrants working the trees.”

  “A brothel in the middle of nowhere?” Lucy asked. “I don’t think so.”

  “Just saying, that’s where I took them. Didn’t say it was no brothel.”

  Lucy held up the photo again. “This woman. Name.”

  It was clear Leo had hoped she’d forgotten about the photo. He whined, “I don’t know.”

  “Then you can sit in jail for three days,” Noah said.

  “Fuck that! I did nothing! I don’t know her or the girls.”

  “That’s bullshit, Leo.”

  Leo ran both hands through his dark, greasy hair. “You’ll never get her on anything.”

  “Name!” Noah demanded.

  “Jasmine. Jasmine, okay? That’s all I know.”

  “Last name.”

  “She don’t use a last name. You say Jasmine that’s all, like, you need to know.”

  Noah said, “Where is she now?”

  “Right. Like I would know that. No one knows, except her bodyguard.” He motioned toward Lucy, so Lucy figured the suit next to Jasmine was her bodyguard. “I’m pretty fucking stunned you got her photo at all. She’s the most paranoid bitch on the planet. Why she doesn’t use a fucking last name. She’s not going to be easy to find. She has a fucking fortune, fall guys right and left. Including cops. For all I know, you work for her and I’m going to be gutted for talking.”

  Noah half smiled. “You think I’m on the take?”

  Leo shook his head. “Naw. You don’t have that edge. I mean, you have an edge, but it’s not the I’m for sale edge. Believe me, I’d know.”

  Astute, for a scumbag, Lucy thought.

  Leo continued. “You’ll never get her. You get close, she’ll gut you. Oh God, I’m gonna have to go under. You see what you did to me? Fucking talk to me and you ruin my fucking life.”

  Noah handed Leo his business card. “My cell phone is on the back. You get me good intel, I’ll get you out of Del Rio.”

  Lucy was about to hand Leo her own card out of habit, but an almost imperceptible shake of Noah’s head had her simply adjusting the folder in her hand.

  Leo looked at Noah’s card, then folded it three times and stuffed it way down into his pocket. “You burned me, Armstrong. Give me my gun.”

  Noah took the .22 out of his pocket and field-stripped it in short order, then tossed it at Leo’s feet. “The knife isn’t legal.”

  “Of course it’s legal!”

  “Not in DC, and those are the only laws I know. I’ll leave it at the local FBI office; you can pick it up whenever you want if, like you say, it’s legal.” Noah walked away but kept Leo in his line of sight until they were almost to the car.

  Noah drove away. “Your name—Kincaid. Jack worked down here, didn’t he? Against the cartels.”

  “He specialized in hostage rescue. And he hasn’t lived here in years.”

  “To be on the safe side, I didn’t think we should give our boy Leo too much information about you. Rick said that after what happened in June when you took down Nicole Rollins, Tobias Hunt, and the rest of their network, a lot of nasty people became very angry.”

  “I didn’t take them down single-handed.”

  “No. You, Jack, Sean, your future brother-in-law Kane.”

  “And the entire San Antonio FBI and DEA offices.”

  “Right now, considering what we’re working on and how it may be connected to human trafficking and possibly the cartels, we need to be cautious.” He got on the phone, but it wasn’t until he started talking that Lucy realized he’d called Rick Stockton directly.

  “Rick, Noah. I’m here with Lucy and going to put you on speaker.” He put the phone down and said, “Jasmine. Know the name?”

  “Yes.”

  “A last name?”

  “No—but if it’s Jasmine in Texas connected to something illegal, I know who you’re talking about.”

  “Have a photo?”

  “She’s never been photographed. We know that she’s in her late forties and the illegitimate daughter of a drug runner—but we don’t know which one. Word is she is friendly with her family south of the border, but does mostly her own thing. DEA would know more, she’s never seriously been on our radar.”

  “The blond woman in the photos I sent you last night—we think she’s Jasmine. I need more. A last name. Last known address. Something to follow up on.”

  “I’ll dig.” He hung up.

  Noah typed into his GPS. “It’s faster to go straight to San Antonio from here. We’ll be back before five. The office will thank me—I’ve been neglecting paperwork for the last two days.”

  Before he could set his GPS to give him directions, his phone rang again.

  “Armstrong.” He listened for several minutes. “We’ll be there in less than two hours.” He hung up and glanced at Lucy. “Dead girl at the morgue in Laredo. She recently gave birth.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The resort where Carson Spade had stayed for two nights was one of the best in the region. Acapulco was a tourist city, and as such security was tight; as long as tourists stayed in town, they were relatively safe. Any tourist area had to worry about pickpockets and thieves, but leaving the city could be extremely dangerous.

  “Nicco is expecting us.”


  “Who?” Sean asked.

  “Head of security. He pulled tapes for us.”

  Sean didn’t always know how Kane did what he did. For example, there was a jeep waiting for them at the small airport where they landed. Two young men were also waiting, and Kane slipped them money to guard the plane. He didn’t want to land at a government-run airport for fear of tripping a security net—the government might search or detain them. Plus, as Kane had warned Sean earlier, having the name Rogan was dangerous in certain areas. The Mexican government had made great strides in stemming police corruption, but it was still a problem and the government itself wasn’t squeaky clean. What government was? There was always someone easily bought. That could benefit Kane—or get him killed. That Sean looked like a younger, taller version of Kane didn’t help. The luxury resort was on the south side of Puerto Marquez Bay, out of the main Acapulco area, but more expensive than most of the resorts in the region.

  “Why didn’t she come with him?” Kane asked as he drove onto the resort grounds.

  “She said she runs an antiques business in LA. Didn’t want to take the time off.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I don’t think she would have let her kid go to Mexico with her husband if she suspected he was up to something.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Which means what?”

  “How’s their relationship?”

  “She said fine.”

  “You didn’t push.”

  “The conversation went from awkward to worse when she showed me Jesse’s photo.” He paused. “I should have pushed.”

  Sean took another look around. The green, lush foliage; the new, well-maintained structures; the discreet security personnel and cameras. They passed an amazing pool, winding paths, and caught glimpses of an ocean view that would be visible from, it appeared, many of the hotel suites. There were private cabins closer to the shore.

  “This place isn’t for fathers and sons,” Kane said. “She’s having marital problems.” Sean had begun to suspect the same … but not in the way Kane thought. Maybe they’d had an argument. Or maybe Carson took Jesse without her permission. She certainly hadn’t wanted Sean and Kane leaving this morning. She either trusted what her husband had told her, or feared for his life. And Jesse’s.

  “Did you run her business?”

  Sean hesitated. “No.”

  Kane glanced at him as he pulled into temporary parking near the lobby. “Get your head in the game, Sean. One mistake, I can overlook. Two? That’s not like you.”

  Kane didn’t say anything else, but Sean sensed the disappointment. He hadn’t thought about researching Madison’s business, or asking why she hadn’t traveled with her husband and son. He’d covered the basics, but hadn’t dug around because he was preoccupied with the fact that he had a son.

  But Kane was right. Sean had to focus as if this were a common search and rescue, even though it was anything but typical.

  Kane didn’t enter through the lobby, but used a side entrance that led directly to the security offices. They were just as luxurious and state-of-the-art as the rest of the resort.

  “Rogan!” a voice called as soon as they stepped over the threshold.

  Kane cracked half a smile at the short, broad-shouldered man who stood in front of them. “Nicco.” They shook hands warmly. “My brother, Sean. Nicco Guiterrez, one of the good guys.”

  “This is Sean? He’s bigger than you.”

  “I can still take him down.”

  Sean would have argued, but Kane may have wanted to demonstrate, and Sean wasn’t sure he could beat his brother. Kane played dirty.

  Nicco chuckled. “Come to my office, I have what you need.”

  Nicco’s office was spacious with multiple security screens that duplicated those in the main room. He motioned for Kane and Sean to sit at the conference table. He typed on a keyboard and the lights dimmed and a wall screen appeared showing a frozen image of Carson Spade in the lobby.

  “Your subject arrived with his minor son late Thursday evening. We have him checking in at eight-oh-two p.m. He registered under his name, Carson Spade, with his minor son, Jesse Spade. He was scheduled to stay for three nights, until Sunday.”

  “When were the reservations made?” Sean asked.

  “Same day. I can get the exact time, if you need that.”

  “Did he make them?”

  “He reserved the suite with the same credit card that he used at check-in.”

  “You’re not booked up?”

  “Normally, yes. But we always keep a few rooms for VIPs. He’s stayed at resorts owned by Diamond Plus LLC many times, and paid a premium for the privilege. He’s what we call a platinum guest.”

  “Were there any other last-minute reservations?”

  Nicco glanced from Sean to Kane. “This is getting into my discomfort zone, but for you, Kane, I can say yes. A suite was reserved also at the last minute by a business, Llave de Oro, which also has a platinum membership. Because of the level, we don’t require individual names on reservations. Privacy is a premium well paid for.”

  “You wouldn’t share this if you didn’t have more on this business,” Kane said.

  Nicco smiled. “I have no names, but I have photos. Two men and a woman stayed in the suite. Based on what housekeeping informed me, the woman was with one of the men; the other man slept alone. Mr. Spade spent much time in the suite; his son did not. His son spent most of his time on the beach or in the arcade room.”

  Kane shot a glance at Sean and almost smiled. Sean wasn’t smiling.

  Nicco slid over a thin folder. “Best shots I have of the men and the woman.” Then he added. “I believe, based on my considerable experience, that the boy was under protection by two members of my hotel security. I can’t verify that without risking you—however, I have the names of the two men. If you would repay this favor by finding out if these two men have other allegiances, or if they were simply taking money from the father under the table, I would consider us even.”

  He slid over a small envelope, which Kane pocketed without comment or looking inside.

  “Consider it done,” Kane said.

  Nicco tapped a few buttons on the computer. “This is the only thing suspicious to me—a helicopter flew in on Saturday morning to our helipad. Didn’t register, didn’t schedule any events. I wasn’t informed until after the fact, which is highly irregular. It’s not that it hasn’t happened, but when it does, it usually means someone who doesn’t want any scrutiny. He left two hours later and, according to my staff, spent that two hours in the business suite, along with Mr. Spade and the other two men. The female left in the helicopter with her boyfriend and the new man, and Mr. Spade and the single gentleman, along with the boy, left shortly thereafter in one of our limos. They were dropped at the airport at three forty-five p.m.”

  “Do you have a photo of the man in the chopper?” Sean asked.

  “Unfortunately, he jammed the few cameras he passed. He definitely didn’t want to be caught on tape. I can tell you he was a fifty- to sixty-year-old white or Hispanic male who spoke clear, cultured Spanish. High Spanish, some call it.”

  “Educated?”

  “That was the impression of my staff.”

  “Did Mrs. Spade come down Sunday looking for her husband?” Kane asked.

  Nicco nodded. “She caused quite a scene. I let her into the suite he vacated—he took everything with him, checked out, there was no reason to think he’d left a note. It had already been cleaned. The management gave her one complimentary night. She left for the airport Monday morning.”

  “What was her state of mind?” Sean asked.

  “Worried. Frantic. She was stunned that he’d checked out early. I spoke with her myself. I do believe she didn’t know.”

  “Did you tell her what you told us?” Sean asked. “Did she ask any of these questions?”

  “No. Only the time her husband and son arrived, and the time they left for the airport. I con
firmed they were dropped off at the airport; however, we have no way of knowing if they got on a plane.”

  Sean did. It would be tricky, but he could get it if he had to. But tracking the phone number that was used to call Madison earlier would be far less risky.

  Sean didn’t know why that relieved him—aside from the fact that he didn’t want to be used by anyone, least of all his ex-girlfriend. At least she’d been honest with him, up until this morning.

  “Do you need a room?” Nicco asked them.

  “A conference room with secure Internet is sufficient,” Kane said. “We need to make a few calls, but we’re leaving within the hour.”

  “Use my office. I have a staff meeting, then will make rounds. I won’t be back until well after the lunch hour.”

  Kane shook Nicco’s hand. “I appreciate it.”

  “Try not to wander, Kane. We have some guests on site who may recognize you.”

  “Understood.”

  Nicco left and Sean shot Kane a look. “Who is that guy?”

  “A friend,” was all Kane said. He opened the folder and stared at the men. “I don’t recognize either of them, though one is familiar.” He flipped to the girlfriend. “Well, shit.”

  Sean looked at the photo. Youngish, very pretty. Familiar. “Who’s that?”

  “Gabriella Romero, the sister of Dante Romero.”

  Sean hadn’t heard the Romero name in years. “The Romeros?”

  Kane nodded. “Those Romeros. Dante is a broker, a middleman, one of the best in the business. Specializes in smuggling, usually money or valuable items, but has been known to arrange drug transportation. He plays many sides. Has given me information only when it suits him. No loyalties. We have an understanding—I stay out of his business, he doesn’t fuck with me. An uneasy truce.” Kane was thinking.

  “But I thought they were friends … at least their dad and our dad.”

  “They were,” Kane said. He glanced at Sean. “How much do you really know about what our brother and sister do in Europe?”

  “More than I want to know.” Liam and Eden were five years older than Sean. They’d been attending university in Europe when their parents were killed. For a time, they worked closely with RCK, but a grave disagreement six years ago, when Sean was just starting to work with RCK, saw them severing ties, and Kane couldn’t speak of his brother without scowling. Sean had no idea what exactly had happened, and he didn’t ask. It was a sore subject with everyone, and only Kane seemed to know the whole truth.