Nate didn’t say anything for a long time. So long, she wondered what he really thought of the situation. Then he said, “Eight years ago Cook had a case with another agent—I don’t know his name, he transferred before I got here—investigating a serial killer. Sounds cliché, but it was rather a standard serial killer. Teenage girls, kidnapped, raped, murdered. There was a profile, I don’t know the details. Cook had two daughters, was going through a divorce, and she personalized the case. Almost had a nervous breakdown. Our office didn’t catch the guy—he was arrested in Arizona. But Cook blames herself because she missed something, and three more girls died after that mistake.”
“Did she miss something?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here, I heard this from Leo Proctor over drinks one night when I first got here.”
“Why didn’t she leave?”
“I think Juan sympathized with her. Thought if he gave her some desk time, it would get better. But he never sent her back into the field, over and above basic background checks and paperwork. She’s essentially an analyst.”
“We have the smallest squad in the office and the highest active caseload.” While Lucy had some sympathy for Cook, for eight years the other seven agents had been picking up her slack. “She could have done a lateral move over to analyst, or changed squads. Juan could have made that happen.”
“She has friends in high places. I think her daughter is best friends with the SAC’s daughter. College roommates or something. So Armstrong walked into the hornets’ nest when he didn’t follow Juan’s directives.” He paused. “Sean said you and Armstrong have been friends since DC, that he trained you or something.”
“Yes,” she said, thinking. “You know, this explains a lot.”
“About?”
“Juan. And me. And everything. Juan is a good boss. He wants his team to be happy, to be healthy, to do the job. Crossing t’s and dotting i’s. He doesn’t understand people like me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t see you as dangerous.”
“He does. And that’s one of the reasons he’s not coming back. Not because of me alone, but because he realized he can’t run this squad and coddle anyone—like Cook. We have a mandate, Nate—we have minimal staff, minimal resources, and a maximum caseload. We have to work hard and work smart. And one of the things I learned from Barry—find a way to turn it off when we go home.”
“Is that why you’re upset?”
“I’m not upset.”
“You don’t have to lie about it, just tell me you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.”
They drove the last fifteen minutes to Laredo in silence, and Lucy took that time to get her head back into this case. She called Siobhan when they hit the city limits. She was antsy, but promised to wait at the hotel for them.
“Siobhan is jumpy. I don’t blame her—she’s been looking for Marisol and Ana for two years. She thinks we’re close—this midwife, Cora Smith, had seen both the girls at the house in Freer, the one that’s now empty. To be this close, I’d be eager as well.”
“You don’t sound confident we’ll find them.”
“I’m not confident they’ll be the same girls Siobhan remembers.” Lucy had been been kidnapped and held captive for two days … it had been hell, a time she wished she could forget forever. And while she could put it out of her mind for days—and sometimes weeks—at a time, it was always there, waiting for moments of weakness to creep up on her. To challenge her, taunt her.
But two years? Could she have been so strong that she’d be able to endure two years of being prostituted? Humiliated? Used? Forced to deliver babies only to be forced to give them away?
What had these girls endured?
Why hadn’t Macey’s baby been taken?
“What?”
She glanced at Nate. “What what?”
“You thought of something. Your body leaned forward.”
Nate was perceptive. “According to Siobhan’s contact, the people holding the girls wanted to make sure the babies were safe, even at the expense of the mothers. Yet there were no babies in the house, no sign of babies having been there—just a delivery room. Ms. Smith helped deliver Macey’s baby—the runaway from Kansas City—yet a week later she was carrying the baby out of the house. Why? Why hadn’t the baby been taken from her? They didn’t care about her life … why would they care now?”
Lucy was running through the facts and guesses. “Let’s say that Baby Elizabeth was in fact Marisol’s baby, and she managed to escape the house and leave the baby at the church. The locket was either because she knew that Siobhan was looking for her, or so that the baby would have something of her heritage.” Probably the latter. “But she was found … or more likely went back.”
“Why would she return?”
“Because her sister was there, pregnant with twins. There would be no other reason for her to return, but she wanted to make sure her baby wasn’t taken or sold.”
“She didn’t go to the authorities.”
“She doesn’t trust them. Look at what happened to Siobhan on Sunday night.”
“She was breaking and entering.”
“The cop touched her breasts, made lewd comments, very possibly to elicit the reaction she had—assault. The cop didn’t believe her story, or if he did, he didn’t follow up on it. Her SD card was stolen, and the only way they could have done that without damaging the rental car was if they had the keys. So someone in that department is dirty.”
“After what happened over the last six months, that wouldn’t surprise me.”
“So why was Macey still at the house with her baby?”
“Could be they didn’t have a buyer until then,” Nate said. The acid churned in Lucy’s stomach. She drank half a water bottle to settle it down. He was very likely right. Macey delivered, they had a healthy nine-pound baby boy. Seeking a buyer. Or the exchange fell through. Maybe the buyer was out of the country.
“Babies go for ten to twenty-five thousand dollars in illegal adoptions,” Lucy said. “But possibly more … if the buyer is looking for something specific.”
“Or if the buyer can’t legally adopt.”
“Or if they want the babies for…” She couldn’t say it. She hated that she could think of the cruel things people could do to the most innocent on earth.
Nate pulled up to the hotel and Siobhan immediately came out and climbed into the backseat. “You made good time, but I’m worried. The midwife gave us everything, but I don’t know that she wouldn’t warn her friend. I hope not—I asked her not to—but what if she did?”
“I’m glad you waited for us,” Lucy said. “I don’t think it would be as easy to bail you out of jail again.” She was trying to make light of the situation, but the humor fell flat.
“I need to find them,” Siobhan said. “I went to the hospital to sit with Baby Elizabeth after talking to Noah. I had to do something—how could these people steal a woman’s baby? Why? And why didn’t Mari call me?”
“We’ll find out when we find her,” Lucy said.
Nate glanced at her. She knew what he was thinking. She wasn’t normally optimistic—she faced reality head-on. Maybe she just wanted to believe Marisol was alive. But the chances were, if she had gone back for her sister, Marisol was now dead. That’s how these people operated—any disobedience had to be punished to set an example to others.
Loretta lived outside Laredo in a small town with easy access to the highway. They climbed out of the car, and Siobhan frowned at Nate and Lucy.
“You guys are going to scare her off,” Siobhan said. “Please, let me talk to her first.”
“You’re not going in there alone,” Nate said.
Lucy agreed. “Siobhan—this is an active federal investigation. You’re not interviewing this witness. We’re letting you come because you have information and you know these girls. But this is our investigation.”
Na
te said, “Lucy, you got this, I’ll keep an eye out here. Watch the house, make sure this Loretta doesn’t bolt.”
Thank you, she mouthed and walked up the short walkway to Loretta’s front door. They knocked and waited. Knocked again.
“What if she’s not home?” Siobhan said.
“She’s home.” Lucy had already seen her car through the single garage window. She also heard a television inside. She listened carefully and heard movement inside.
It still took Loretta Martinez a full two minutes before she opened the door. She was in no condition to run. Her right arm was in a sling and the side of her face was bruised. By the coloring, Lucy suspected the injuries were five to seven days old. Someone had beaten up this old woman. She was in her sixties, plump, but had a sallow look of someone who didn’t feel well. She panicked when she saw them, her eyes darting back and forth, though confusion crossed her expression.
“What happened?” Siobhan said, instantly concerned. “Ms. Martinez, did someone hurt you?”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m Siobhan Walsh. I volunteer with the Sisters of Mercy.”
“Who?”
“They’re a religious order of missionaries in Mexico and Central America. Two young women I know were kidnapped two years ago and I think you’ve seen them. I need your help.”
“You’re not a nun,” she said with a scowl. “You’re lying to me.” She looked at Lucy. “You look like a cop.”
“FBI Special Agent Lucy Kincaid.” She showed her identification.
Siobhan said, “I’m not a nun, but I’m not lying. I really am a volunteer for the Sisters of Mercy. Marisol and Ana. I need to find them.”
“I can’t help you.” She started to close the door.
Lucy put her foot in the opening. “Ms. Martinez, you want to help us.”
“You’re a cop, you can’t come in here. That’s breaking and entering, I mean, illegal search and seizure.” She frowned, as if she couldn’t quite think of the words she wanted. “What do you really want?”
Lucy said, “You need to talk to us before anyone else dies.”
“Dies? What?”
“The girl with preeclampsia is dead—”
“Eloise,” Siobhan interrupted. “Her name was Eloise.”
Loretta definitely recognized the name. Lucy continued, “You had access to Eloise and had the medical experience necessary to perform an emergency C-section.”
“Oh God—”
Siobhan said, “Someone killed her after taking her baby.”
“I—I—” She looked faint and Lucy stepped in and put her arm around her. The woman, though plump, felt soft and weak. She tried to pull away from Lucy but had no strength.
“Have you seen a doctor?” Lucy asked.
“I’m a nurse,” Loretta snapped.
Siobhan entered and closed the door behind them. The house smelled of antiseptics and medicine and illness. It was also much too hot.
Lucy helped Loretta to a couch in the living room. She covered her with an afghan. Water bottles and pain pills overflowed on the coffee table. The woman took a pill, her hands shaking so badly that she could barely bring the bottle of water to her lips. Lucy suspected she’d diagnosed herself. “You’re far worse off than you want to believe.” She assessed her. “This happened about a week ago, didn’t it?”
“I fell.”
“That’s what abused women say.”
“I’m not an abused woman!”
“I think whoever you work for beat you.” Lucy mentally did the math. It was an educated guess—but she was certain she was right. “One of the girls escaped with her baby, and you were punished for it.”
Loretta couldn’t hide her shock that Lucy knew.
“Go away. Just go away.”
Loretta had limited use of her right arm. She was sore and had shuffled when she walked back to the couch, as if each step pained her. Her right eye had at one point been swollen shut and was now only partly open. The bruises were healing—the ones Lucy could see. But the way she shifted, Lucy wondered if she didn’t have a broken rib.
There was no way in her condition that Loretta could have performed an emergency C-section.
“You need a doctor,” Lucy said. “A real doctor.” She sat next to her and tried to check her vitals.
“Don’t touch me! I’ll be fine. Just leave me alone.”
Lucy dropped her hand. She couldn’t force Loretta to get medical help—but there was no way she was leaving without calling the paramedics. She got up and sent Nate a text message.
Siobhan squatted next to Loretta and showed her the photo of Marisol and Ana. “These girls—I know you were with them. Where are they?”
Loretta didn’t speak, but it was clear she recognized the girls.
“Cora talked. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her. You don’t understand. They’re going to kill us.”
Siobhan said, “No one else is going to die. Eloise had preeclampsia. She delivered her baby after suffering a seizure. Her body was left in a Dumpster. You have to help us find these people before anyone else dies. For Eloise. For all of them.”
“They’re all gone.” Shaking, Loretta drank more water. It dribbled down her chin and she didn’t seem to notice.
“When did you last see Marisol and Ana?” Lucy asked.
She didn’t say anything.
“Please, Loretta,” Siobhan pleaded, “I’ve been looking for Mari and Ana for two years. Their family needs them. They have a younger brother and a grandmother who are worried about them. Their mother was my best friend, I have to find them!”
Siobhan was appealing to emotion, but Loretta wasn’t biting. She was too old, too jaded, too guilty to say anything.
Lucy cleared her throat. She motioned for Siobhan to move. Siobhan didn’t want to, but Loretta understood only one thing—survival—and Lucy was going to push.
Siobhan stood and walked several feet away. Lucy stood over the beaten woman and said, “Loretta, let me explain what is going to happen from this moment forward. You are at best a material witness to a felony and at worst a co-conspirator. We have a witness who places you in the same house as a woman we later found dead in a Dumpster, her infant ripped out of her womb. We have a witness who identified Eloise at a house on El Gato Street in Freer Sunday night; early Tuesday morning, Eloise was found murdered. Not in Freer, but here, in Laredo. A person with medical training—such as yourself—cut Eloise’s baby boy out of her womb, then shot Eloise in the back of the head. They left her body in a trash can.”
Lucy used the most blunt, clear language that she could. Every sentence caused Loretta to shrink back, as if slapped. Though recounting the facts sickened Lucy, she put enough venom in her voice to make sure that Loretta Martinez knew that she was deadly serious about this case and that Loretta was not getting a pass on her complicity to kidnapping and murder.
“Three days—they have three days on us. We will find them. We have already identified three of the key players—Jasmine, her bodyguard Lance Dobleman, and the man responsible for keeping these pregnant women locked up, Raoul. We have identified four of the women who were held against their will. We will identify the others. And you have two choices. You can either help us and beg the court for leniency, or hinder us and spend the rest of your life in prison. Those are your choices.”
Siobhan stared at Lucy. “Lucy, we agreed—”
“No, Siobhan, you thought, big difference. You care, I get it. But we’re beyond coddling accessories to murder. If we don’t find Mari and Ana soon, we won’t find them. These people know how to move their victims in and out of the county, the state, the country. The longer we play these games, the more time they have to disappear.”
The pain pill had kicked in; Loretta’s eyes were becoming glassy. Lucy frowned. This woman was seriously ill. She pulled down the afghan and Loretta hit her hand. Lucy ignored her and pulled up her nightgown. Her stomach was dark purple. Lucy was stunned that Lore
tta was still alive.
“Loretta—you have internal bleeding. You need immediate medical attention.”
“Go away,” Loretta said.
Siobhan was on the phone and Lucy shook her head.
“We have to call an ambulance!” Siobhan said.
“Agent Dunning already called,” Lucy said. “I knew she was gravely injured when she opened the door.”
Lucy put the blanket back on Loretta. “You’re dying, Loretta. Please, if you want to help those girls—if you want to punish the men who beat you—help us. Now.”
Loretta was close to talking. Lucy sat on the floor and took her shaking hand. “We know Marisol disappeared with her baby. Did she come back? Where is she? Where is Ana?”
“I didn’t know she left it … we didn’t know. She never came back. I didn’t think she’d leave her sister.”
She didn’t leave her by choice. She must have had a plan … it was the only thing that Lucy could think of. But maybe she didn’t expect their captors to move the girls so quickly. Maybe she was getting help … just not from the authorities.
Or maybe they found her and killed her.
“Why would she leave Ana?” Siobhan asked.
“Ana … they were all safe while they were pregnant,” Loretta said.
Marisol must have thought she had time, at least enough time to save Ana.
“Raoul was so angry.”
“Where would Marisol go?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You must have an idea.”
“She talked about an Angelo. Always, Angelo. I don’t know who he is, I don’t know anything about him, but she thought he would save her.”
The Lost Girls Page 25
