Chapter One
Hell, Texas
“What can I do for you?”
Agatha Byrd leaned back in the desk chair, awaiting an answer.
The couple seated across from her, Alejandro and Sofia Fernandez, were in their late 30s, and their faces and hands were weathered from the sun. Calluses marred the man’s hands, and there were similar marks on Sofia’s palms. He had jet black hair, with warm brown eyes and Aggie would place his height at just below six feet. His wife had the same coloring, but she was very petite, scarcely over five feet.
They glanced at one another and then back to her, evidently at a loss for words. Both of them had dark circles under their eyes as if they hadn’t even gotten a wink of sleep the night before. Both of them had welts and bruises on their faces and arms, too. Whatever they’d come here for, it must be awful. She’d found them outside her door when she arrived, so the problem must be urgent.
“It’s okay, take your time,” Aggie said gently.
Clients often told her their deepest, darkest secrets within a few moments of meeting her, and they had to collect their thoughts before they spoke. She’d cultivated patience over the past eight years. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d taken on a case, and Lord knows, she needed the distraction.
They spoke softly to one another in Spanish, and she didn’t understand a word of it.
In the meantime, Aggie took a gander around the office and made a mental note to bring some cleaning supplies in with her tomorrow. Aggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d given the place a decent scrub, and she spied streaks on the glass and spider webs in the corners.
Aggie couldn’t afford a cleaning service and the past few months had been difficult, so chores had gone by the wayside. The office wasn’t much to look at, but the rent was affordable, so she made do. The room was beige with brown accents and hadn’t been painted since she’d moved in. The linoleum floor was cracked and stained from years of use. Her office was in the back corner of an old building just off the highway, which had been built in the seventies, and the chunky architecture reflected it.
Aggie probably would’ve built up a bigger client base if she’d moved to a larger city, but she liked Hell. All the businesses in town had a hellacious theme, because they were owned by a local biker gang, the Four Horsemen MC.
Maybe I’d get more business if I changed the name. What the Hell, Detective Services? Nah.
“We’re ready,” Sofia said after a few minutes, in lightly accented English.
“Great. How can I help?”
“Our daughters have been taken.” Tears dribbled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Aggie gasped.
Alejandro broke down as well. Seeing a grown man cry was devastating and tears blurred her own vision. Although Aggie cried so easily these days, even a sad commercial set the waterworks in motion. Grief had a way of heightening feelings, so the underlying sorrow was ready to push its way to the surface at any moment.
She sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry, but you should be speakin’ with the FBI, not me.” This case was way above her pay grade. She’d never handled a kidnapping and didn’t want to.
The majority of her business was run-of-the-mill detective work. Every once in a while she did employment background checks for corporate clients. Most of the time, Aggie tracked down unfaithful husbands in no-tell motels and took compromising photographs for their divorce cases.
Watching a wife’s distraught expression as she thumbed through pictures of her husband screwing some secretary was hard to watch. It was enough to turn even the most die-hard debutante off of marriage, although Aggie had no desire to marry. She couldn’t even begin to imagine telling parents their children would never be coming home.
“We can’t go to them.”
“Why not?”
They exchanged another fleeting look and Sofia said something to her husband in Spanish. He must not understand English. Afterward, the couple fell awkwardly silent.
So she made an intuitive leap. “Are you undocumented?”
“My children and I have papers, but my husband doesn’t.” The woman laid a hand on Alejandro’s arm. “It’s been harder to get work visas.”
Aggie wasn’t surprised. “And you’re afraid if you contact the FBI, they’ll call immigration?”
Sofia relayed the information to Alejandro, and they both nodded.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement, better known as ICE, had been rounding up and deporting a lot of folks in Texas lately. They often partnered with local police departments and the feds, so Aggie understood the couple’s misgivings. Facing a deportation hearing would only add to their troubles.
Immigration cases were often complicated because some family members were citizens or had green cards, while others were here illegally. It left people stranded on either side of the border. It was a messy, thorny situation, but these people’s legal status in the country wasn’t Aggie’s business. She only cared about finding their children.
“Yes ma’am, so we need your help.”
“Why me?” She ran a hand down her face.
“Mateo Martinez mentioned you,” Sofia said. “Teo told us you found his son.”
“Yes, but Pablo ran away, he wasn’t abducted, which is a very different situation.”
Martinez ran a local farmer’s stand and his sixteen-year-old son, Pablo, had taken off for Arizona last year. The boy’s girlfriend had recently moved there with her family, and he’d followed her. Aggie had pinpointed his location using cell phone records, just outside of Sedona. It had only taken her forty-eight hours to locate and return Pablo.
Aggie hadn’t even heard the particulars yet, but she already knew this case would be much more difficult.
“Sí, but you brought him back home.”
“I did, but Mateo followed all of the protocols, including contacting the police and filing a missing person’s report.”
“Please just listen to us, and then you can decide what to do.” Sofia gripped the edge of the desk. “Please?”
Aggie sighed.
Contacting the local FBI office would be the smart thing to do. She could hand the phone to Sofia and guide the couple through the process.
Who knows? Maybe she could sweet-talk the agent in charge into bypassing ICE altogether, but Aggie knew they’d bolt if she did, which ultimately left their children in danger.
And that I can’t abide.
Her conscience got the better of her. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
“Last night, two men came for our girls, Luna and Maria.”
“Did you recognize them?”
She shook her head. “They were armed and wore masks. The men took them from their beds, and the girls were screaming and crying.” Her lower lip trembled. “When we tried to stop them, they beat us.” Sofia touched a black and blue goose egg on her forehead.
Alejandro held out a hand, and his wife squeezed it. They were both shaky with exhaustion and anxiety.
Aggie felt for them. They’d been painted into a corner. Criminals sometimes preyed on illegal immigrants, because they were vulnerable. Many of them didn’t know the language, and wouldn’t contact the police for fear of discovery.
“Do you have any enemies? People who’d want to hurt you?”
After Sofia’s translation, they once again traded uneasy glances. Alejandro nodded almost imperceptibly, as though encouraging Sofia.
“Yes, his name’s Diego Ruiz. His men might’ve taken our chicas.”
She’d heard of him before, and he was bad news. Diego was a local thug, and from what Aggie had gleaned, he had connections to drug cartels, prostitution rings, and bank robberies. Evidently, he was diversifying his criminal portfolio.
“Why would he abduct them?”
“We refused to work for Diego three days ago.” She bit her lip. “And he told us we’d regret turning him down.”
Everything was coming into focus.
“Let me guess, he wanted you to smuggle something?”
Agriculture in Texas depended on Mexican farm workers. Large groups of them came to this country for jobs with temporary work visas, so if they were carrying contraband, it wouldn’t be as noticeable.
Sofia interpreted Aggie’s question.
“We cross over mucho.” Alejandro made a fence with one hand and used two fingers on his other hand to hop over it. His English was broken but understandable.
“And Diego wanted you to smuggle something the next time you crossed the border from Mexico to the States?”
Sofia nodded.
“What kind of contraband?”
“Cocaine.” Columbia exported their cocaine to the United States via Mexico. “Diego made an example of us, and the rest of the workers already fell in line.”
She fisted her hands. “If they didn’t, he’d punish them too?”
“Sí.” She sighed.
“Know where he lives?” Aggie asked. She wouldn’t mind paying him a visit.
“No, he finds us, not the other way around.”
“How old are your girls? And what do you think he did with Luna and Maria?” Aggie had an inkling, but she wanted to be wrong about this one.
“Luna is four and Maria is eight.” Her voice shook. “We think he might have sold them.”
Dammit.
Aggie was far out of her depth on a human trafficking case. They needed professional help—armed men with resources and district attorneys on speed dial who could expedite warrants and threaten people with hundreds of years in jail.
At a conference she’d attended a year ago, Aggie had heard the staggering stats on the problem. According to the estimates released by the U.S. State Department, at least 600,000 people are trafficked across international borders every single year, and eighty percent are female, and half are children.
Luna and Maria fit both parts of the statistic. Most of them were never recovered.
“Let me try to convince you again, please go to the authorities, they have the firepower to deal with a trafficking case, not me. I’m only one person, and I’m not sure where to even begin.”
Most of what she’d heard about Diego was rumors, whispers really, and Aggie had no idea where to look for him. From what she’d heard, he split his time between Mexico and Houston. She didn’t even have any foreign contacts, so she’d be flying blind.
“No, we can’t, Miss Byrd, please, help us.”
“I can’t…”
Right then, Sofia reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph of two chubby cheeked little girls. They were smiling, eyes bright, wearing matching pink shirts and eating ice cream cones in the summer sunshine.
And they’d just been kidnapped by a man who might’ve sold them for cheap labor, or worse. Those smiles would vanish very soon if someone didn’t intervene.
Her throat ached.
“We need you.” And when Aggie looked into their watery eyes, she couldn’t say no. “Here, we can pay you.” Sofia handed her a wad of crumpled bills, and Aggie’s heart just about broke.
Ah, what the hell?
You only live once, or YOLO as the kids said, had become her new motto since her mother died.
She hated living under a dark cloud, but Aggie didn’t have a choice. After her mother had been diagnosed, they’d spent years worrying about the future. And now Aggie had her own time clock, ticking away in the background, always counting down.
“Keep your money for the moment. Tell you what, I’ll check with my sources and see if I can turn up a lead on Diego in the next thirty-six hours. If I can’t, will you consider involving the police?”
They hesitated.
“I’ll do everythin’ in my power to keep ICE out of it.”
They talked it over while she waited.
“Yes, we’ll consider it,” Sofia said softly.
Aggie pulled out a legal pad and a fountain pen. “First, I need details, lots and lots of them—names, dates, and descriptions. And it’s important you’re completely straight with me because I’m a damn fine detective and I’ll figure it out eventually.”
Sofia sighed in relief. “We’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
As they filled her in, Aggie scribbled away.
***
“You’re a damn fool.”
Polly Martin walked into the room and shook the file folder at Aggie. She’d just gotten done reading it. Aggie had asked her to look the information over and point her in the right direction.
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
Polly was a pudgy woman in her late fifties, with gray hair cut short around her ears. Back in the day, she’d been a Marine, before taking a job as a police officer. After she retired two years ago, she worked for Aggie part-time to sock away some extra cash. Polly and her husband, Coop, had a thing for traveling and they were saving for a European vacation next summer.
Technically Polly was old enough to be a mother figure, but there was something fatherly about her concern. And she wasn’t afraid to call Aggie on her crap, which Aggie appreciated. They were close friends, almost like family. She and Coop didn’t have any children, and Aggie felt like the old couple had semi-adopted her.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed, sugar.” Polly sat across from her and propped her white Nikes up on the desk. Detective work required a lot of running around, so they wore casual clothing to the office.
“Yup, I know that too.”
Aggie reached into her desk and pulled out a bottle of Jose Cuervo.
“Want a drink?”
“No, and you don’t need one either.”
“Yeah, but I want one.” Aggie poured herself a shot of tequila and downed it in one gulp, a blazing fire burned down her throat. She’d been doing a lot of day drinking too because it calmed her nerves.
At least I’m not an alcoholic. Yet.
“Why the hell did you take this case?”
She shrugged. “Because those people need help.”
“I agree they’re up shit creek without a paddle, and I’m sorry about their children, but they should go to the police.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” Aggie shrugged. “I couldn’t help myself. Alejandro isn’t here legally, and we both know after the authorities heard them out, they’d be tryin’ to deport him.”
“How is that your problem?”
“It isn’t, but he’s only tryin’ to feed his family, so I sympathize. And I think the cops would try to turn Sofia into a witness against Diego. Luna and Maria would be an afterthought.”
The risky move would most likely get Sofia killed. Those kinds of thugs always worked in packs, and even if the authorities put Diego away, one of them would catch up to her eventually.
Polly sighed. “I get that somebody needs to help them, but why does it have to be you?”
Because I got nothin’ left to lose.
Polly intuited her answer. “You shouldn’t even be at work yet.”
“Yeah? Where should I be?” Aggie poured another shot of tequila.
She’d been staring at the four walls in her house, slowly going insane, ruminating about the past and worrying about the future. At least she had something else to focus on, a problem to solve, because hers couldn’t be fixed.
“Your mom died twelve days ago, why don’t you take more time off?” Her voice gentled. “You’re grievin’.”
“I took some vacation time. Besides, I need to keep busy.”
“Busy diggin’ an early grave?”
I’ll die young regardless. Why wait?
“You don’t know, I might just pull this one off.”
“I doubt it.”
Aggie sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Look, I can lie to you, or tell you what you need, but don’t want, to hear. You’re not thinkin’ straight.”
“Yes, I am. It’s not as though my mom’s death was a shock, we’d been preparing for it for years. We said our goodbyes a long time ago, and she passed while I was at her bedside.”
She’d held Melinda’s hand when she’d drifted off and never woke up again. At least Aggie didn’t have any regrets about her mother’s last few months. They’d spent them together, and Aggie hadn’t left anything unsaid.
“Yeah, but preparing for somethin’ and the actuality of it, are two different things.” She squeezed Aggie’s hand. “I know you’re still hurtin’.”
Her chest ached. “Yes, but I’m not gonna wallow in it. I’m movin’ the hell on like mom told me to. Besides, I realized something.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m not scared of dyin’ anymore. When I do, mom will be there waitin’ for me, and I’ll get to see her again.”
“No, I think you’re afraid of livin’.”
It was an uncomfortable truth. And it reminded Aggie of a Grace Hansen quote: Don’t be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.
“No, I’m just gonna live any way I see fit.”
They were brave words, and she almost meant them. Aggie was all alone now, and she told herself work and friendships were enough. I’m enough. But she was so lonely sometimes, it choked her.
And yet, it wasn’t fair to involve someone else. How could she fall in love and make babies, then selfishly abandon them on her way to an early grave?
“See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Polly watched her with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
“Not a damn thing.” Aggie stood and paged through the file. “Let’s work this case, we’ve got two little girls to rescue.”
“Fine, but they ain’t the only people in need of rescue.”
***
“Come on, Sam, help a girl out.”
Aggie sat on a rickety stool at a seedy bar in Canyon City, a town near Hell. Sam Sharp owned the place, and he’d been a contact of hers for years. Rumor had it, a biker gang hung out at the place on weekends, so he was privy to a lot of underworld information.
The trick was, getting him to cough it up.
“I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about, and I don’t wanna.” He gave her another shot of tequila.
Sam was in his late 50s with salt and pepper hair and a kindly face. The bar had once been a hardware store, and the scent of motor oil had soaked into the wooden floorboards and walls somehow. It was a rustic, rough and tumble sort of place.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Have you heard the old sayin’ about curiosity? Well, I don’t want to be a dead cat.”
She tossed back the alcohol. At least he didn’t water down the drinks, even if he was uncooperative. Aggie swayed a bit on the stool. She had a thin build, and Aggie couldn’t recall if she’d ate lunch today or not. Most likely not.
“You’ve heard the name Diego before, don’t even pretend with me. I can see it in your eyes.” She pointed at him.
“And what if I have?” He stepped back from the bar, leaning against the cash register. “What’s it to you?”
“I got a case, and he’s a person of interest.”
He snorted. “Don’t give me that cop doublespeak. You think he did somethin’?”
“Maybe. I only want to ask him some questions.”
“If I were you, I’d leave him alone.” Sam glanced around the room and then leaned over to whisper. “Diego might be a two-bit thug, but he’s got friends in high places.”
“Oh yeah? Like who?” She was more intrigued by the second.
Sam held up a hand. “I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. Although, would you like some free advice?”
“Sure.”
“Lay off the sauce. You’re gonna drink yourself to death.”
Aggie giggled drunkenly. “We wouldn’t want that, huh?”
Sam shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I got other customers to wait on.” He shuffled away from her.
Evidently, he didn’t get the joke.
“Dammit.” She slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar and headed out. This had been a complete waste of her time.