When I finally flew to Reno to check on her, I found out the restaurant didn't exist. The phone number was disconnected. And no one not her roommates, not her friends, not the university knew where she'd gone." Alex's jaw tightened. "I filed a missing persons report. Detective Raymond Pierce took the case. He seemed competent, seemed to care. Then three months later, they found Sofia's body in a drainage ditch."
Sarah made notes, watching his face. "The official ruling was accidental death?"
"Drug overdose. But Sofia didn't do drugs. Never touched anything stronger than coffee." He pulled out a worn photograph a young woman with Alex's dark eyes and a brilliant smile. "The ME found puncture marks on her arms consistent with IV drug use. But there were also marks on her wrists, bruising that suggested restraints. And synthetic fibers under her fingernails that were never identified."
"Did Detective Pierce follow up on those inconsistencies?"
"For about two weeks. Then he told me Sofia had been living a double life, that sometimes good kids get into bad situations, that I should accept the closure and move on." Alex's voice went flat. "Three days later, Pierce took early retirement and moved to Florida. The case was closed. I was escorted out of the police station by security when I tried to push for more investigation."
Sarah studied the photograph, seeing not just a victim but a young woman who'd trusted the wrong people. "That's when you became a PI?"
"That's when I stopped trusting the system to care about people like Sofia. People without money or connections or citizenship papers." Alex put the photo away carefully. "I've spent five years tracking similar cases. Young women, promising futures, responding to employment ads that lead nowhere. Most of them just disappear. But some like Sofia, like Maria Martinez they get killed and displayed. And I want to know why."
"Why the difference? Why do some disappear while others end up dead?"
"That's the question." Alex finally opened his folders, laying out photographs and documents with practiced efficiency. "I think there are two tracks. Most of the women disappear into a trafficking network labor, sex work, domestic servitude, who knows. But some don't cooperate, or they see something they shouldn't, or they become liabilities. Those are the ones who get killed."
He arranged seven photographs in a row. Young Latina women, ages eighteen to twenty-five, all with the same desperate hope in their eyes.
"Carmen Delgado, disappeared three weeks ago. Ana Flores, two months. Rosa Gutierrez, three months. Isabella Santos, four months. Maria Lopez, five months. Valentina Cruz, six months. And Teresa Mendoza, seven months ago." Alex tapped each photo. "All responded to employment ads from Sunshine Employment Services or its subsidiaries. All made one phone call saying they'd found work. All vanished."
Sarah studied the faces, memorizing names and features. "You said seven women. That's only"
"Sofia makes seven. Even though it was five years ago, the pattern matches too perfectly to be coincidence." He pulled out another set of photos crime scenes that made Sarah's stomach clench. "Maria Martinez, found two weeks ago. Julia Reyes, found four months ago in Riverside County. Both posed identically, both with roses, both with the same bruising patterns on their wrists."
"And both potentially killed because they became problems," Sarah finished, seeing the pattern. "The network is primarily about trafficking, but they're willing to kill when necessary."
"And they're willing to display the bodies as warnings. To who, I don't know. Other victims? Potential whistleblowers? Competitors?"
Sarah pulled out her enhanced photograph of Maria's wrist, the partial tattoo she'd discovered. "I found something last night. Maria had markings on her wrist looked like someone tried to burn off a tattoo. But you can still see partial letters: INA seven."
Alex leaned forward, studying the image intently. "INA. Could be part of a name. Marina, Carolina, Cristina"
"Or it could be a designation. A catalog number." Sarah felt sick saying it, reducing a human being to inventory. "If this is an organized trafficking operation, they might mark their victims. Property identification."
"Jesus." Alex looked at the other crime scene photos. "Can you check if Julia Reyes had similar marks?"
"Already requested the file. Should have it by" Sarah's phone buzzed, interrupting her. She glanced at the screen and felt her pulse spike.
Captain Marcus Webb. Calling at 5:23 AM.
"I need to take this," she said, standing and moving toward the back exit. She stepped into the alley behind the diner, cold morning air biting through her jacket, and answered. "Morrison."
"Where are you?" Webb's voice was clipped, tense in a way that made Sarah's instincts scream warning. "I've been trying to reach you for twenty minutes."
"Following up on the Martinez case. What's wrong, sir?"
"What's wrong is that at 0437 hours, someone used your access credentials to enter the evidence locker. Maria Martinez's evidence clothing, personal effects, autopsy photos all checked out under your name. Except the security footage shows it wasn't you."
Sarah's mind raced. Someone had her access codes. Someone had framed her for evidence tampering. "Captain, I'm nowhere near the station. I've been"
"I know where you are, Morrison." Webb's voice went quiet, almost gentle, which scared her more than anger would have. "I pulled your GPS. You're at the Fifth Street Diner, and you've been there for thirty minutes. Which means someone's setting you up, and they're doing it professionally."
Sarah leaned against the brick wall, trying to process. "Why would someone frame me for evidence tampering?"
"Because you're getting too close to something. Because they want you off the case. Or because they want an excuse to suspend you pending investigation." Webb paused. "Internal Affairs is already asking questions, Sarah. I've bought you maybe six hours before this becomes official. So tell me what have you found that's worth stealing evidence over?"
This was it. The moment of decision. Sarah could play it safe, minimize her findings, protect herself. Or she could trust her captain the man who'd mentored her, promoted her, backed her through three officer-involved shootings and two IA investigations.
But she couldn't forget that photograph. Webb shaking hands with Dr. Robert Chen at a Meridian Holdings gala.
"I think the Martinez murder connects to a larger trafficking operation," Sarah said carefully. "Multiple missing women, similar circumstances, possible organized network with significant resources."
"How significant?"
"Significant enough to have surveillance on me. Significant enough to frame me for evidence tampering when I got too close." Sarah took a breath. "Captain, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be straight with me. Do you know Dr. Robert Chen?"
Silence on the other end. Long enough that Sarah's hand moved closer to her weapon, even though Webb was miles away.
"I've met him," Webb finally said, voice carefully neutral. "He's donated to the department, sponsored community programs. Why?"
"Because he's on the board of Meridian Holdings, and Meridian owns the shell companies that placed the employment ads these women responded to." Sarah waited for his reaction, trying to read his silence. "If Chen is involved, if there's high-level protection for this operation, then going through normal channels might get me killed."