I didn’t hold anything back. I explained our whole theory about the missing girls and whether there might be a connection to what had happened to Elizabeth Nunez last night.
The director said, “Lizzie didn’t say anything about that to me. She just mentioned that she didn’t feel safe on the street.” The director paused for a moment, then added, “I have to say I’m gratified to see a detective looking into human trafficking. I see stories on the news and in press releases from some of the federal agencies, but I’ve never had someone actually come here to our shelter and show any interest in the problem.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m learning about it on the fly. I evenhave a man from Interpol coming over from France to give me some guidance.”
“Why Interpol? Why not the FBI?”
It was a fair question but not one I had expected. “To tell you the truth, I started with the FBI, but they directed me to Interpol. Interpol seems to be on the leading edge of missing persons and human trafficking. They assist a lot of law-enforcement agencies that then do the footwork in their own jurisdictions and ultimately make the arrests. The Interpol investigator who’s coming over here is just stopping by here on his way from a conference in Seattle. Everyone’s got a tight budget, so we have to improvise.”
The director laughed. “Don’t tell me about tight budgets. We operate on a grant from the city and charitable donations. The only thing more risky than a grant from the government is charitable donations. We go week to week with our expenses. Most of the food we use comes from a food pantry for the homeless. We get to pick through the stuff left over from the morning disbursement.”
The director’s words put my police budget woes into perspective. Suddenly, having to write up reports didn’t seem like that big of a deal.
She led me down the narrow hallway, deeper into the shelter. As we passed open doors, several different women looked up. I could tell they were evaluating me closely. A couple of them turned away. No cop liked to have that effect. But people have different interactions and interpretations. I just went with it.
The director noticed it too and said, “I’m sorry. It’s not you. Some of these women have faced terrible trauma. Many of them feel that the justice system has let them down. But I appreciate what you’re trying to do and the sensitivity you’re using.”
She gave me a smile and I felt better.
As we turned a corner, the director said, “I saw Lizzie in the computer room earlier. She said she was putting together a résumé.”
As we approached another open door, a teenager in a pink sweater rushed out of the room. She looked at us and hurried in the other direction. Something about her made my antenna go up, and I took the last few steps quickly.
When I entered the computer room, I saw that the window was open, and looking out it, I caught a girl with long black hair running away fast. She already had a head start.
I yelled out the window, “We just want to talk to you, Lizzie!”
The girl didn’t even turn around. She just raised her right hand and shot me a bird as she continued to put distance between her and the shelter.
Now I had one more witness to try to find. This case was getting weirder and weirder.
CHAPTER53
A PRETTY GOODidea had occurred to Yuki Castellano after she talked to the young patrolman in the waiting area. Now she had to see if her idea would work. The recess the judge had given her to talk to the skittish witness had morphed into a long lunch break. She had time to think this plan through.
Yuki went back to the waiting area and found the patrolman who was still waiting to be called on another case. She also rounded up three other cops, who all fit the same general mold: big, muscular, young guys. Plus a friend of hers who worked robbery and wasn’t in uniform. But even at forty years old and dressed in a nice suit, Chuck Heuer was still formidable looking. He was a good six feet tall and looked like he hadn’t missed a day in the gym in the last decade. A bullet to the face during his first year as a cop had left him with a menacing scar and a left eye that seemed to move on its own. This was perfect for her plan.
Yuki pulled Carlos Cotara aside just before court was called into session. She couldn’t help running her fingers across the cowlick in his hair.
“It doesn’t ever stay flat. My mama tried to put it down every day,” he assured her.
Yuki said, “Carlos, look around the room and tell me what you see.”
Carlos glanced around the courtroom and said, “Nothing. Just the same people who were here this morning. And in a few minutes they’ll bring in Elio and his crew.”
Yuki nodded toward the back of the courtroom. “I brought my own crew.”
Carlos looked toward the rear of the courtroom, then noticed the four police officers sitting together. They took up an entire bench.
Yuki smiled when Carlos nodded his head. “They are here for me?”
“No, Carlos, they’re here for Elio. They’re here because they’re tired of men like him ruining families and destroying whole neighborhoods. They’re here to make sure he realizes he can’t do that anymore. And you’re one of the main reasons he won’t be able to do it anymore.”
Yuki was a petite woman, and Carlos was almost the same height, but she felt him stand up a little straighter and push his shoulders back. She had him take a seat in the gallery, just behind the prosecution’s table. One of the cops from the back bench showed some initiative. He walked to the front of the courtroom, then slid in right next to Carlos. It was the perfect move. Yuki thought Carlos might turn and throw his arms around the muscle-bound cop.
Even better than that were the looks on the faces of the defendants as they were led back into the courtroom. Especially Elio Huerta, a thirty-five-year-old who looked older. He’d thought the case hadbeen ruined. Now he realized maybe he wasn’t so powerful. At least that’s how Yuki saw it. And it was remarkably satisfying.
This time, when Carlos got on the stand, he didn’t falter. He was sworn in, stated his name, then listened attentively as Yuki led him through the initial questions. When the time came, he pointed directly at Elio Huerta and ID’d him as the man who’d shot a grocer for daring to tell him not to sell drugs in front of his store.
