“Gar said the app on Dexter’s phone would stop sending a signal if Dexter turned his cell phone off, or if the battery died.”
“So what do we do? Drive around, hoping we spot him?”
“That’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Dexter turned down an unmarked road north of the Sherwood Forest RV park, and stayed there for forty-five minutes. Let’s see if we can find where he was.”
“You think it’s his hideout?”
“Could be. We won’t know until we look.”
“He might still be there. Just because his phone died, doesn’t mean he left.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” he said.
Reaching Alternate US 19, Daniels turned right and crawled down the highway, allowing Lancaster to visually inspect each turn and gravel path wide enough to accommodate a car. A quarter mile later, he spotted a dirt road with a blue sign that said RICHJO LANE. The road was privately owned, which was why it hadn’t shown up on Google Maps. Daniels made the turn, as did her team’s SUV.
The road was filled with potholes that made for a rocky drive. Lining the sides were cinder block structures best described as shacks. Residents had dumped sofas and rusted barbecues in their front yards, as if expecting some invisible force to cart them away. It gave the place an air of desperation and lost hope.
At the road’s end was a single-story building with a thatched roof and a gravel parking area. It had been a business once, either a bar or snack shop. The grounds were overgrown and filled with junk.
Daniels hit her brakes. “What do you think?”
“I think it warrants a closer look.”
She parked in the lot, as did the SUV. Her team got out with weapons drawn and did a sweep of the property. Lancaster hopped out of the car, drew his SIG, and took a quick look around. There were picnic tables and a garbage can overflowing with beer bottles. On the side of the building hung a faded sign that said EARL’S BBQ.
He went to a window and stuck his face to the glass. The interior was clean and filled with Formica-topped tables and chairs. Running along a wall was a bar with stools and a TV set mounted to the ceiling. Movement caught his eye, and he spied a cigarette butt in an ashtray on a table, a curl of smoke rising off its tip. Next to it was the stub of a cigar, also still lit. He’d just missed Dexter, and he silently cursed.
He twisted the knob to the front door. It was locked, and he contemplated kicking it in, and having a look around. That would draw Beth’s wrath, and he returned to the lot, where he found her inspecting fresh tire tracks.
“We just missed them,” she said. “You think this is his hideout?”
“I think it’s more of a hangout. There are tables and chairs inside, and they look pretty clean. I’m guessing the Outlaws use this place as a gathering spot. It’s off the beaten path, and I don’t think the neighbors are going to call 911 when they get too rowdy. We need to find out who owns the place.”
“Want me to do a records search?”
“That would be a good start.”
The team reappeared and announced the grounds were clear. It was early afternoon, and Daniels wondered aloud if Dexter had gone to get something to eat. If that was the case, he would be returning soon. She told the team to park on the other side of Alternate 19, and to call her if they saw a vehicle pull down the road. Her team got into the SUV and left.
While they sat in her vehicle, Daniels did a search on her laptop of Earl’s BBQ in Palm Harbor. She found an old listing on Yelp with reviews that raved about the great baby back ribs and homemade potato salad. The reviews were several years old, and a note on the page said that Earl’s was no longer in business.
“That didn’t get me anywhere,” she said.
“Try Manta.com. It’s a business site for companies,” he suggested. “Maybe the corporate name is something different.”
She gave it a shot and used her credit card to pull up the information. “Good call. The site says Earl’s BBQ was owned by a limited liability corporation called Down Home Cooking in Safety Harbor. Is that near here?”
“It’s right around the corner.”
She did a search of Down Home Cooking and discovered that it was owned by a man named Earl Casselberry, that the company’s annual revenues were $250,000, and that it had four employees.
“This is a dead end,” she said.
“Go back to Yelp, and see if there’s an address listed for Earl’s BBQ,” he said.
“What good is that going to do?”
“I think Earl Casselberry sold his restaurant to the Outlaws, and they use it for meetings that they don’t want to have at their clubhouse.”
“You think the Outlaws own this place?”
He nodded. “I think Dexter has a key to the front door. People that have keys are usually owners.”
“Your reasoning is a little weak.”
“If you’ve got any better ideas, fire away.”
She found the restaurant’s address on Yelp and typed it into Google, and a listing came up on Zillow that showed the property’s history and estimated value. Earl’s BBQ had been sold two years ago. The current owner was listed as One Percent Solutions.
“You’re right. The Outlaws own this place,” she said.
“You sound surprised.”
“Call it professional jealousy. You said that the Outlaws are holding secret meetings here. Why would they do that?”
“We know they sell speed to truckers, and are involved in human trafficking,” he said. “My guess is, they come here to pay off their people. They don’t want to engage in that activity at their clubhouse, because too many cars parked in the street would draw suspicion. This is a much better meeting place.”
“That makes sense. Dexter and his boys have done their job, and now they want to be compensated.”
As a cop, he had busted pimps and pushers, and learned the business side of drug dealing and prostitution. In those operations, the criminals got their money as the services were rendered. He’d never heard of criminals being paid up front.
“Traffickers get paid in advance? How does that work?” he asked.
“It’s similar to adoptions. A couple wants a baby, so they hire an adoption attorney. The attorney acts like a broker, and gets his money up front before he delivers the child. People involved in human trafficking work the same way. Brokers advertise on the dark web, and negotiate deals to secure slaves for wealthy buyers. The buyer specifies the type of slave they want, and the broker contacts his sources, and asks for bids. Once the broker has a bid, he contacts the buyer, and a deal is worked out. The buyer is required to put the money up front, just like an adoption.”
“How does the broker know the trafficker won’t take the money and disappear?”
“The trafficker has to submit proof to the broker that he has the slave. This is usually done with a videotape, or a live conference call. Brokers that deal in volume often send reps to check out the slaves before the money is handed over.”
“Check out how?”
“The reps give the slaves medical exams to make sure they’re in good health. They also make sure the slaves haven’t been physically harmed.”
“Do you think there’s a rep involved here?”
“Based upon my experience, I’d say yes. There are now fourteen victims when you add in Rachel Baye, which is a big number. The broker probably sent a rep to inspect the merchandise.”
He thought back to the cigarette and cigar stubs in the ashtray. Had Dexter met the rep in the restaurant, and taken him to inspect the merchandise? If that was the case, there would soon be a large amount of cash changing hands, and fourteen innocent women would be whisked away, never to be seen again.
Daniels took a call on her cell phone. Hanging up, she said, “That was my team. A delivery truck just turned down RichJo Lane, and is heading our way.”