Midnight Crossing (20 page)

Marta hung up looking worn out. “If there was any doubt about this being a truly humanitarian effort, the phone call just put that idea to rest. Each one of those women’s families paid twelve thousand dollars for the trip to Albuquerque. That amount included the travel cost, food and lodging, and a finder’s fee for getting the women high-paying jobs in the hotel services industry, as well as their room and board until they were hired.”

“Lodging? Seven people shared a motel room each night.” Josie choked out a laugh. “Twelve thousand dollars times five women is sixty thousand dollars for what probably amounted to a couple weeks’ work. Ryan said he got two thousand for helping. Josh may have gotten five thousand, which probably included gas and expenses for the trip.”

“That means Caroline clears about fifty thousand dollars on this delivery,” Otto said.

“And our Border Patrol contact, Jimmy Dixon, claims she’ll get an additional payment from the so-called hotel services industry when the women are delivered somewhere in Texas.” Josie shook her head at the amount of money that was being made. “When Ryan explained how Caroline involved him, I couldn’t imagine why she would risk getting caught over something like this. But what if this isn’t her first delivery? She could be bringing in a couple hundred thousand a year.” She let the thought hang.

“Here’s something else,” Marta said. “Isabella’s mom said she found out about the deal from a Web site. I have it written down.”

Josie and Otto stood behind Marta as she pulled up the Web site.

“She says a variety of transporters have Web sites to basically broker deals with families,” Marta said.

“Sounds like the traffickers are taking a cue from the Internet call girl industry,” Otto said.

The title at the top of the Web page read Jobs Without Borders. Underneath the title was a rotating banner of glitzy photographs of young women dressed in stylish clothes smiling and laughing, dancing, eating in fancy restaurants, holding the hands of well-dressed men. Underneath the photos was a paragraph that started with, “The United States is more than the land of opportunity. It is the land of wealth and happiness. It is the land of hope and the land of unlimited prospects. The hotel services industry in the United States is a booming industry in need of young women from across the globe looking for excitement and a new life!”

Marta mumbled something under her breath and clicked on the menu tab “Contact.” There were no phone numbers or addresses, just a form to fill out with a promise that someone would respond within forty-eight hours.

Josie went over to her desk and started her own computer. “I’ll call DPS and see if we can work with their cybercrimes unit. Maybe they can track down the domain address to a city.”

“There aren’t enough typos or grammatical errors for me to think that was written by someone in Guatemala,” Otto said. “It sounds like it was written by an English major.”

Josie talked with one of the cybercrimes techs at the Computer Information Technology and Electronic Crimes Unit, referred to as CITEC. A technician named Josh pulled up the Web site. He offered to do some digging, and within thirty minutes he called back and said he had some “unofficial” information.

“Let’s have it,” Josie said.

“This won’t be admissible in court. We need to go through proper channels,” the tech said.

“Absolutely. Just get me started and then I’ll file the paperwork.”

“The domain is registered by a U.S.-owned Web hosting company. A John Davis registered the company four years ago as a private company. The name is not associated publicly with the Web site, and it’s probably a fake name. However, file the paperwork to get the records for payment. If you find out how John Davis paid to register the domain name, you might find out who owns the site.”

“I got it. I’ll file with the judge.”

*   *   *

Josie hung up the phone, summarized the call, and stared across the conference table at Otto and Marta.

“What the hell are we going to do?” she said.

“Take it to the prosecutor,” Otto said.

“I think I owe the mayor a conversation about this first.”

Otto frowned. “I don’t think that’s wise. He may be involved, for all we know.”

“Come on, Otto. His wife is a political barracuda. She comes from money and power, and she’s hungry for it. She wants her husband in the senate. But the mayor? I don’t like the man, but I don’t see him in this. Not at all.”

“Okay. Let’s just assume she does rake in two hundred thousand dollars a year, or even fifty thousand. You think she could be making that much money and he doesn’t know about it? Even if she only did it once, she can’t just hide that kind of cash.” His tone was incredulous and he was looking at her with a smile, as if he couldn’t believe her explanation.

“Of course she could hide that kind of cash! Spouses have bank accounts their partners don’t know about. You aren’t that naïve.”

“You sound like you’re taking up for him.”

“Otto, he’s my boss. It has nothing to do with taking up for him. I just think I owe him the professional courtesy of telling him what we’re going to the prosecutor about. I’d do the same for you.”

He laughed and looked at Marta, who shrugged in response, like she wasn’t getting involved.

“What happens if you tell him and he does something stupid? What if he tells her and she takes off? We lose the person who’s behind all of this.”

“Come on. You know she’s not a flight risk. She’s too public, too proud. She’d fight to defend her name before she ever ran.”

Otto finally threw his hands up to concede the fight. “I think you’re making a mistake, but I’ve said my piece. You do what you have to do.”

The meeting broke up and Josie filed the paperwork with the judge to subpoena the phone records and to get a warrant to access the Web site payment information for John Davis. When she was finally alone in the office that evening she pondered Otto’s comments for some time, and tried to put herself in the mayor’s position. As much as she disliked him, she thought he deserved to hear this from someone other than the Marfa public radio station.

*   *   *

When Josie arrived home that night it was almost eleven o’clock and Nick was lying on the couch watching a rerun of some show about living in the Alaskan outback. He sat up when she walked in and patted the seat next to him.

“You look whipped,” he said.

“It was one hell of a day,” she said.

“Want to talk about it?”

She thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

He nodded. “I figured as much. Why don’t you go put on something comfortable. I have something to show you.”

Josie kissed him on the cheek and got up, thinking how nice it was to come home to someone who understood she didn’t want to talk through a nightmare most nights. Occasionally, talking helped. Other times, it made a bad day worse.

After she put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she walked through the living room, then the kitchen, and finally found Nick bent over a dozen candles he was lighting on the back porch. She walked outside and he handed her a tumbler of bourbon.

“Woodford Reserve,” he said.

“Wow. No Old Crow?”

“Only the best for you, baby.”

They clinked glasses and she took several long drinks, enjoying the burn.

They sat on the porch swing and Josie swung her leg over his thigh.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“You are.”

She smiled and realized it was probably the first time she’d smiled all day.

“Why am I an occasion?”

“You’ve had a tough few days. When I didn’t hear anything from you today I figured things got crazy.”

“Without going into the whole mess, I’ll just tell you that the mayor’s wife is who’s behind the trafficking ring.”

He leaned his head against the back of the swing. “Son of a bitch. The mayor?”

“He doesn’t know yet. We just found this out.”

“Think he’s in on it?”

She shrugged off the question. “We’ll know more tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly. “So, speaking of tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” She looked over at him. She could see his tentative grin in the candlelight. She wondered suddenly if there was more to the candles than her bad day.

“Your mom called me today.”

“Called you?”

“When she didn’t hear from you this evening, she called Lou and got my number.”

Josie frowned. “Lou shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t get mad at her. It was your mom she was talking to.”

“What did she want?”

“I think she just wanted some reassurance that things were okay. I checked in with Lou and called her back. It was all good.”

“Thanks for doing that,” she said, feeling guilty that she’d not done it herself.

“She also mentioned that you were really busy. And that she was getting stir-crazy sitting at the motel.”

“Ah. And she wants you to entertain her.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think entertain is quite it. But I told her I’d drive her over to Marfa tomorrow and we’d eat at the Food Shark for lunch. I’ll show her some sights.”

Josie found herself nodding, not sure what to say.

“You okay with that?”

“Sure. Yeah. Thanks for offering to do that.”

“If something breaks and you have a minute to get away—”

Josie dipped her head and said, “Come on. In the middle of a murder investigation?”

He drained the rest of his bourbon and didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry. I’m not being very grateful. I do appreciate you offering to take her out. It’s really nice of you.”

“But?”

“I just never know what’s going to come out of her mouth. And I won’t be there to intervene or explain.” She paused and finished her thought. “Or hear what kind of BS she’s feeding you.” She tipped her own glass back and let the burn slip down her throat.

“Josie. I’ve heard enough stories about your mom to take it all in stride.” He stood from the swing and put a hand out for her, taking her glass and placing it on the table before turning back to her. “I love you. I want to make your life better, not more stressful. If you don’t want me to take her, I’ll make up an excuse.”

She put her fingertips on his lips. “I want you to do what you planned. You’re a good man, and I’m glad you’re here with me. Right now I just want you to blow those candles out and take me to bed.”

*   *   *

Josie started the morning at the office following up on phone calls and media requests for information regarding the murder and the displaced women. Otto had two domestic calls he had to respond to, and Marta wasn’t scheduled in until three that afternoon.

At eleven o’clock, Josie received warrant approval from the judge and called a customer service specialist employed by the Web hosting company, Host Post & Go. Josie spoke with a woman who introduced herself as Linda Spellman. Josie briefly explained the purpose for the warrant.

“I specialize in liability and law enforcement issues,” Linda said. “While we make it clear to our clients that their information is protected and secure, we also state clearly that we’re bound by law enforcement and government regulations. And we state that illegal content will be removed immediately under the penalty of law.”

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Josie said.

“Absolutely. We don’t want criminals on our books any more than you do. Let me put you on hold while I take a look at your paperwork.”

Josie listened to recorded music for over ten minutes and was then greeted again by Linda.

“I’ve confirmed your warrant for information and have the requested documents ready to email at this time. I’ll email as confidential documents, accessible with the encryption code I’ll provide you at this time.”

Josie wrapped up the conversation thoroughly impressed with the woman’s professionalism, and a little surprised at how smooth the transaction had gone. Fortunately, Josie had found that criminals tended to believe the Internet was more anonymous than it actually was.

Thirty minutes later, Josie opened the encrypted email to reveal the payment history for the Internet Web site owned by John Davis. Her pulse quickened as she reviewed the information. She called Otto.

“You have a minute?” she asked.

“I’m in my car, headed back to the department. What’s up?”

Josie explained her conversation with Linda Spellman. “Get this. The initial payment to set up the Web site four years ago was charged to a Visa credit card owned by Caroline Moss.”

“Why would she do that?” he said.

“That was four years ago. Maybe back then she was still trying to convince herself this was a humanitarian effort. The renewal payment a year later was an automatic withdraw from a bank account in Guatemala. That’s probably when she got worried and decided to cover her tracks.”

“Little late for that,” he said. “Any idea who John Davis is?”

“The woman I spoke to said it was probably just a fake name to set up the Web site. She said the person registering the Web site, and the person paying for the account, don’t have to be the same.”

“Good enough. I’ll see you in ten.”

The new information sealed the case for Josie. It was no longer one kid’s word against a well-respected woman. Josie forced herself to step away from her desk. She headed next door to the Artemis City Office to visit Mayor Moss. She was ready to talk to Holder, and contrary to Otto’s beliefs she felt strongly that she owed Moss an explanation before going to the prosecutor about his wife. She would expect the same professional courtesy if the situation were reversed.

*   *   *

The mayor’s secretary, Helen, was a stout woman in her fifties who guarded the mayor’s office like a sentinel. She was pleasant until crossed, or more specifically until the mayor was crossed, whereby she defended him like an overprotective mother.

Josie opened the door and a bell announced her presence. Helen looked up from paperwork and smiled broadly.

“Chief Gray! It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Josie smiled, thinking that her next visit would most likely not be met with the same enthusiasm.

“What can I do for you?” Helen asked.

“I’d like to see Mayor Moss, if he has a minute.” Josie hoped Helen would say,
No, sorry, he’s out of town for the week
.