Midnight Crossing (Josie Gray Mysteries #5)(66)

“You get what you needed?” he asked.

“I did. I seriously appreciate this.”

Roy waved it off. “Nail that woman and we’re even.”

“Deal.” Josie started off and turned back. “Also. Josh would like a private cell, since he’s been such a good prisoner.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s my top priority.”

*

Josie was glad to see the parking lot as empty as when she’d arrived. As she pulled out of the lot she called Dell. “What do you think about driving to Albuquerque in the morning? Leave about five o’clock?”

“You bet. You driving that little pickup?”

She smiled. Dell was cheap about everything except his truck. “How about you drive and we take your limo?”

“Deal. I’ll pick you up at five sharp.”

*

Josie stopped in front of Manny’s Motel and saw the light on in the room where her mom was staying. She felt a wave of guilt at the lack of time she’d spent with her since she’d arrived. Josie knocked on the door, and her mom opened it wearing a bathrobe, reading glasses perched halfway down her nose and a paperback book in hand.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!”

“Are you headed for bed?” Josie asked.

“Already there. But I can still visit. Come on in.”

Josie shut the door behind her and sat in a wicker chair beside the bed. The covers were rumpled up on the side next to the lamp where her mom had been reading. The homey sight made her ache for something more than they had.

She wanted to call her mom when she had a lousy day, and feel better when she hung up. She wanted her mom to be able to call when something good happened in her life. And she wanted her mom to know that she loved her, but she had no idea how.

“I’ve been listening to the radio. Sounds like you got a heap of trouble,” she said.

Josie sighed. “It’s a mess.”

“What’s it all about?”

“The mayor thinks I accused someone of something that isn’t true.”

“Isn’t that what police do? You arrest people. Then you let the judge and jury decide if they’re innocent or guilty?”

Josie made a face. “Sort of. But you can’t arrest someone without probable cause. You need solid evidence that’ll convince the prosecutor that the person committed a crime.”

“Did you have solid evidence?”

Her mom had settled back down under the quilt and was leaning against the headboard, seeming keenly interested. Josie could imagine her mom having a similar conversation with her dad when he was a young cop, still imagining he could make a difference in the world.

“I think it’s solid. But some of the information is coming from pretty sketchy people. That’s the problem. And I’m accusing someone who is considered to be an upstanding community member.”

Her mom hummed. “That’s a tough one. A reliable witness thing.”

Josie smiled. “Exactly.”

“You just need more evidence.”

“That’s partly why I’m here. I’m going out of town tomorrow. I’m trying to track down some evidence that might clear this mess up.”

“So you’re telling me you won’t be around tomorrow,” she said.

“That’s pretty much it,” Josie said.

“You know, I was a cop’s wife. I get all this. I remember what it was like when your dad missed suppers and birthdays. It wasn’t like he wanted to. It’s just what had to be done.”

“I appreciate that,” Josie said.

Her mom held up her book, suddenly looking uncomfortable with the personal nature of the conversation. “Anyway, I got a good book to finish tomorrow.”

Josie stood, briefly contemplated giving her mom a hug, but just as quickly decided it would be too awkward and walked to the door. “I’ll be on the road about sixteen hours tomorrow, up and back. I’ll call you along the way.”

Her mom waved her book in the air. “Good enough. Go catch those bad guys.”

*

Because the police department was off-limits, Josie drove home and set up shop with her laptop at the kitchen table, where she searched the Internet and found phone numbers for the Albuquerque Police Department. She finally connected with an officer in the Criminal Investigations Bureau, who then put her in touch with an officer named Townie Davison, who was very interested in the information she had to share. He said that he’d been investigating the Maid’s Quarters for several months and would gladly trade information.

“Based on our intel, it’s a growing organization. Most of the trafficking crimes in Albuquerque are small-scale. Some guy who decides he can make more money selling his girlfriend than he can selling drugs and guns.”

“Jeez,” she said, resting her forehead in her hand.

“No joke. They feed on the most vulnerable. They get girls, and some guys too, down on their luck, needing help, and they exploit them.”

“The sex trade?” she said.

“Sure. Some sleezy guy connects with a runaway girl. He gets her hooked on cheap heroin. After that, she’ll work for dope, food, and a place to sleep.”

Josie imagined Isabella and the other three women, and wondered if that might have been their fate.