talk with the sheriff. Want to see if he has any information on Paco Molinero and those kids.”
“They came through with visas. I don’t think Paco could give us much on the human trafficking.”
A good point, but Ryder wanted Grace Cordero packed up and gone, and the quickest way to achieve that was to close the Molinero case as expediently as possible by finding Esperanza’s family for her.
Then Grace would go back to where she’d come from and his team would have free rein over her ranch. He didn’t like the idea of her out there alone, with criminal activity going on around her. She’d be unsafe and underfoot, a double negative.
He reached the next intersection and took the turn toward her ranch on impulse. But he found the driveway empty when he reached the house. His knock on the door went unanswered.
She’d better not be out there riding around the fields. He would have to warn her about that when he caught up with her. She needed to stay off the land until they figured out what was going on and found the damned tunnel.
He considered looking for her, but then he glanced at his watch and got back into his car. If he wanted to catch the sheriff at the office, he had to get going.
An hour later, he caught the man at his desk.
“So you’re not with CBP?” Sheriff Denholtz ran his thumb over his considerable mustache. His large belly fairly stretched his uniform. His cowboy hat sat on the desk in front of him. He was in his mid-thirties, pretty young to make sheriff. But he acted as if he’d had the job for decades.
“I’m affiliated with CBP.” Ryder gave his cover. Since his team had no idea who they could trust around here, the rule of thumb was to trust no one. “I’m working on a special project.”
“I thought the U.S. Customs and Borders Special Response Team handled those.”
“You’re right about that.” People liked to hear that they were right. When you were trying to build rapport, it didn’t hurt to say it. “This is different,” he added. “My team is here to survey the border situation and make recommendations for policy makers.”
“Strangers coming in, telling our local boys how to do their business.” Denholtz pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and started chewing on it.
“I just need to have a list of Mexican nationals that ran into any kind of trouble here over the past two months.”
The man drew his spine straight. “We don’t have a smuggling problem in Hullett. I run a tight ship.”
“No doubt, Sheriff. Still, if I could get that list.”
The man sucked on the toothpick. “I’ll tell one of my boys to get right on it. I’ll have it faxed to CBP when it’s ready.”
“If you could fax it straight to me, it would be very helpful.” He scribbled the office’s fax number on the back of his fake card and slid it across the desk.
From the look the sheriff was giving him, he wouldn’t hold his breath.
He resisted the urge to take a tougher tone. He needed to gain the local law’s cooperation. If he pushed too hard, the sheriff might wonder if he had a special agenda, and his special agenda was top secret.
A deputy stuck his head in the door. “Gracie Cordero is here to see you, Sheriff.”
Surprise flashed across the man’s face, then a smile spread his mustache. He spit the toothpick into the garbage can and pushed to his feet.
Ryder gritted his teeth as the man passed by him without a word of apology for the interruption.
“Gracie, sweetheart. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” The words filtered through the door the sheriff had left open behind him.
“Good to see you, Shane. How is Mattie?”
“She’s fine. Kids are so big you wouldn’t recognize them. I heard about Tommy. I’m awful sorry about that. He was a real stand-up guy, your brother.”
“He was.” Grace’s voice turned somber.
Ryder couldn’t see her from where he was sitting, but he would recognize her voice anywhere. She had a melodious tone, not silky and seductive, yet still somehow sexy and feminine, except when she got herself all worked up and her voice turned hard and clipped.
“You back for good, then? Mattie would love that.”
“For a week or two, at least. I’ll stop in to see her and the kids.”
“Anything I can help you with, sweetheart?”
Ryder rolled his eyes. Quite a bit different reception from the one he’d gotten.
“I’m looking for a guy by the name of Paco Molinero. He might have come to town with his two small kids, Miguel and Rosita.”
“You hired someone for the ranch?”
“I know his wife in a roundabout way. He’s gone missing.”
“She ought to report that. I can send a deputy out to her house.”
“She’s on the other side of the border.”
A moment of pause came. “You can file a missing person report, I suppose. You got the details?”
“Most of them. I also have a picture.”
Ryder’s ears perked up at that.
“Joey,” the sheriff called out. “I want you to run this man through the system right now. Let’s see if we get a hit.”
“Yessir.”
“How about a cup of coffee while we wait?” the sheriff offered next. “There might even be a couple of cookies left.”
“Mattie’s?” she asked in a kid’s Christmas-morning voice.
Ryder stood and strode out, but all he could see was their disappearing backs as they walked down the hallway, chitchatting like two old friends. He decided to avoid the indignity of chasing after them.
She laughed and put her hand on the sheriff’s shoulder as he said something amusing. Which annoyed Ryder more than it should have.
He wanted to go after them and demand the information he needed, but he had a feeling the sheriff would resist anyone who challenged his authority here, in his own little kingdom. So he strode out of the station, calling Shep, one of his teammates back at the office, for an update.
The news was less than encouraging. They couldn’t find the tunnel.
“Any luck in Hullett?” Shep wanted to know.
“I’ll get what I came for.”
“Locals proving too difficult for you?”
“The usual small-town stuff.”
“Maybe
