Jase felt a rush like a tip coming in on a skip he was hunting. “All right, Holly!”
“Not pickups or minivans, Jase. They’re driving the women around in big diesel trucks. That has to be a lot easier for us to track down.”
“The only place you can hide an eighteen-wheeler is in plain sight. They’re taking the women to places the drivers hang out.”
“Like truck stops and rest areas. That’s where they find their clientele.”
“Yeah. Could also be places where a lot of deliveries are made.”
“Like the port.”
Jase nodded. “Port of Houston has trucks in and out all hours of the day and night.”
“So how do we find out which trucks are hauling women?”
His mind replayed the conversation he’d had with Tony Castillo. “They found the homeless woman’s body off I-10. Lot of truck stops along the interstate. We’re going to have to do some basic detective work.”
“Ask questions, you mean.”
“That’s right. If we get a lead, we’ll stake the place out, see what turns up.”
Kate grinned. “Just like in the movies.”
Not quite, Jase thought. A stakeout was about as much fun as watching a mushroom grow. But he didn’t say that. Maybe he could risk leaving Kate in the apartment. Might be the safest bet.
But what if it wasn’t?
He’d cross that bridge later. In the meantime, they would keep digging.
It was full dark when they arrived at the Flying J truck stop out I-10 near Brookshire, the closest fuel stop to where the homeless woman’s body had been found. The diesel pumps were all full, the yard lined with eighteen-wheelers of every year, make and color.
Like all travel facilities on the interstate, trucks arrived and departed round the clock. Long-haul truckers often slept in the back of their rigs. Facilities were provided for the drivers: bathrooms, showers, and a place to purchase food. Kate figured the men, often far from home, were the perfect candidates for female companionship.
“I’ll go in and wander around,” she said. “If I buy something, it’ll give me an excuse to ask a few questions.”
“Keep it on the down low. We don’t want word getting back to Los Besos.”
Kate nodded. “What about you?”
“I’m a guy. I’m going to see if anyone in there can help me get laid.”
Kate grinned. The way Jason looked—six foot four inches of solid male muscle, shadow of beard along his jaw, gorgeous blue eyes—half the female staff would likely volunteer.
They went inside separately. The main structure was a big stucco building with bathrooms for travelers in the back, and row after row of items up front to temp the unwary: packaged junk food, soft drinks and beer, coffee, hot dogs, even hot meals. Tourists, truckers and locals all wandered the aisles.
Kate meandered from row to row, finally stopped next to a clerk she spotted refilling shelves. “Is this place always this busy?”
The woman glanced up, older, dark brown hair, a little overweight. “It never stops. The people who own it must make a fortune.”
Kate chuckled. She looked through the items on the shelves as if she might be interested, picked up a souvenir stuffed Texas Ranger bear. “With this many people around, I imagine the place could be dangerous at night. I heard a woman’s body was found not far from here.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. Pretty uncommon for something like that to happen. Sheriff’s department does a good job of keeping an eye on things around here.”
Kate picked up the bear. “This is cute. I think I’ll take it.” Satisfied with the information she’d gotten, she went to pay for the bear, then headed back out to the Yukon. A few minutes later, Jase opened the door and slid in behind the wheel.
“Place looks legit. I don’t think Los Besos is working out of here.”
“I don’t, either. The clerk mentioned a strong police presence. She said the woman who was killed was something out of the ordinary.”
