“I may hand him over to the Feds. I’m currently keeping my options open.”
“What would be the downside of turning him over? He’s at a low enough level that he probably won’t be able to hire a shark to get him off.”
“He’s a low-life scum,” he said flatly. “He kidnapped girls and forced them into prostitution.”
“So capital punishment?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think he should be tossed in prison for a decade or so, then tossed back out to … what? Follow the straight and narrow? You, of all people, can’t believe the myth that prison is for rehabilitation.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my frustration rising. “I know one man I want dead, and I feel no remorse over it, but the others…” I drew in a breath. “We’re playing God, James. Deciding who lives and dies. What gives us that right?” But I also couldn’t deny that last night I wanted him dead too.
He held my gaze. “Years ago, I had to draw a line in the sand to figure out how I could make that decision. You need your own line. I suspect it won’t be the same as mine, which is fine by me.”
He was right, yet I wasn’t sure where that line was for me. What boxes had to be checked to justify murder? What number on the scale of evil tipped me over to pulling a trigger?
“As for the shipment tonight,” he said, “I say we work under the assumption that it will still take place. It’s likely it will get postponed or moved, but we need to be prepared. So the real question is where the transfer is taking place. I have Carter doing a deep dive into properties Knox might own in the commercial district.”
“Knox might not own it,” I said. “If Harlan Properties isn’t owned by Knox, then he rents the house Emily was kept in. He might rent the warehouses too.”
He gave a nod. “Good point. If you can get Harlan’s files, and if we can open them, we might find the address of the warehouse.” He shifted on the bed. “But it’s possible the transfer will take place somewhere out in the open. Likely an area without cameras.”
I mulled over the fact that they were transferring people. “It sounds like Little Rock is a hub.”
“It makes sense,” he said. “Two major highways intersect here. They could come up from Texas, then head east on I-40 and maybe keep some goin’ on I-30.”
I nodded. “Have you been in contact with your handler? Have you told him about the shipment?”
He hesitated. “Not yet.”
“Why? Because we don’t have enough hard evidence to tie it to Knox?”
“That and I don’t know if the delivery’s still happenin’. If I tell them it’s happening or possibly happening, and it doesn’t … let’s just say it won’t be received well.”
He had a point. “If they move the drop-off to another location, do you think it will be somewhere else in Little Rock or another city?”
He looked grim. “I got the impression it would be another city, but Buddy hasn’t exactly been kept in the loop about that part.”
“This is bigger than Knox.”
He held my gaze. “This is bigger than Knox,” he confirmed. “But he’s a key piece. He’s doin’ plenty of damage on his own.”
“Is your assignment to bring him down or stop the whole damn thing?”
“If I bring Homeland Security the right information, then they’ll be able to take down the whole damn thing themselves,” he said.
I nodded. “Which is why we still need to find his accountant. Knox is either taking payments or receiving them—maybe both—and they should be in his books. Even if they aren’t flat out labeled, ‘human trafficking bill of sale.’”
“Exactly.”
“So, if the shipment still happens tonight and we intervene, we might save fifty people. But if we wait and get his financial records, and they have a connection to more people involved on a higher level, we’ll save hundreds. Possibly thousands.”
“Yeah.”
I closed my eyes. “This is hard.”
“I know. But maybe we’ll luck out and find a bread crumb to the accountant in Harlan’s files.”
I huffed a laugh. “That seems like a Hail Mary.”
