Hot on the Trail by Vicki Tharp

Author:Vicki Tharp [Tharp, Vicki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-04-04T14:58:55+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

All the seats at the breakfast table the next morning were full, even though Alby and Santos had left early that morning to check out a cattle auction near Laramie.

The conversation limited itself to the important things like “pass the salt.” There were a bunch of chores to do, and Pepita to ship off to school, so everyone was too busy eating to talk.

In the near-silence, they heard a truck pull up, and Dale leaned back from the table and peeked around the curtain. “Sheriff’s here.”

Catherine pushed her plate away. “I hope he’s found something. Would he be here this early if he hadn’t?”

Lottie got up and met St. John with a cup of coffee as he let himself into the kitchen with a perfunctory knock.

He accepted the mug with a nod of thanks. “Morning,” he said to everyone.

“Morning,” everyone chorused.

Pepita grinned. “That sounded like school when the teacher comes in.”

“I’ve got news.” The sheriff scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s not good.”

“El Verdugo?” Pepita asked, her tone so flat and lifeless the buzzards might start circling.

Sidney stood. “Come on, sweetheart, why don’t I drive you to school.”

“I want to hear.”

“You go to school.” Boomer reached into his wallet, pulled out a twenty, and gave it to her. “We’ll tell you about it later.”

She took the money. The kid wasn’t stupid. “What’s this for?”

“The cuss jar. By the look on the sheriff’s face, I think I’ll owe you.”

Pepita hugged him around the neck. “Promise you’ll tell me?”

“No.” Boomer glanced at his wife and added, “But I promise to tell you what I can.”

“Okay,” she said, finally.

After they’d left, the sheriff leaned against the kitchen bar and set his coffee down without taking a sip. “The ME’s report was on my desk this morning. The official cause of death was ruled a heroin overdose, the manner labeled ‘undetermined’.”

“What does that mean?” Catherine asked.

“It means that the ME couldn’t tell whether it was suicide, homicide, or accidental.”

“Where do we go from here?” Hank asked. He glanced over at Mac, who was pushing her food around on her plate, and frowned.

“We’re continuing the investigation. But it means we can release the body for cremation.”

“Oh Lord, thank you,” Catherine said.

Lottie patted Catherine’s hand. “That sounds like good news.”

“What’s the bad?” Quinn asked.

The sheriff took a careful sip of his coffee. “I sent a few deputies to the AA and NA meetings in the area. Asked a couple of neighboring jurisdictions to do the same. Bottom line, there could be ten or more women missing, and that’s only in a few counties. Difficult to extrapolate real numbers on that, though. Many of those women have been marginalized. They could show up today, tomorrow, or—”

“Never,” Jenna said.

“Or never,” St. John agreed.

Dale blew out a breath. “Jesus.”

“Hard to believe we have to worry about human trafficking in the middle of the goddamn United States,” Hank said.

“It’s more widespread than you’d think.” St. John took another sip. “Big business at the larger conventions, sporting events. Draws pimps and traffickers from all over the world.

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