Lucy concurred. “If Loretta is telling the truth-and I’m inclined to believe her, considering she was on so many painkillers I don’t think she could have consciously lied-then Marisol went to her old boss for help. Jasmine and her people probably didn’t know what Marisol was going to do, so they shut down the house and moved the girls as soon as they could.”
“Except Eloise.”
“She was sick. Maybe she’d already had a seizure. Maybe they planned on going back for her after Macey and her baby were gone. We don’t know, but they might have been short on space if the girls had to be moved quickly.”
“And then the FBI comes in and starts asking questions.”
“Loretta didn’t deliver Eloise’s son. She couldn’t have, not in her condition. But whoever did it had some medical training. A nurse, possibly. Maybe a doctor, one in a different field who knows the basics but without specialized training.”
Siobhan walked over to them. “I just spoke with Antonio Zapelli. He said Angelo left work on Thursday at the regular time, but didn’t come in on Friday. He didn’t leave a note, just told his mother that he had to help a friend and wouldn’t be home for a few days. He’s not answering his cell phone.”
“But he has one?” Lucy asked.
“His dad said he did. I’ll call him-”
“No, not yet. I’m going to check in with Noah. We might be able to trace it.”
“But what if he’s helping Marisol-maybe he’s with her, he can let me talk to her!”
“We don’t know, Siobhan, and right now this whole thing seems fishy to me. Just wait a minute, okay?”
Siobhan didn’t want to wait, but she pocketed her phone.
Lucy glanced at Nate, and he nodded. Good. He was on the same page as she was. For some reason, she was beginning to doubt her instincts-and her compassion. She’d known almost immediately that Loretta was in bad shape, yet she interrogated her when she could have administered aid. Though, to be honest, there wasn’t much she could have done for the woman other than make sure she didn’t move around until the paramedics arrived.
Lucy dialed Noah. She wanted to search Loretta’s house now because there could be vital information in finding Marisol and the others. Noah could trace Angelo’s phone, find out when he’d come into the States, maybe even where he was staying.
This was their first real break at finding Marisol, Ana, and the others… and learning what happened to all those babies.
Seventy-two. Seventy-two babies taken from their mothers and sold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Noah answered on the fourth ring. “Yes?”
He sounded rushed, so Lucy got to the point. “We have information from a nurse who delivered dozens of babies for Jasmine and a man named Raoul. Marisol disappeared after giving birth and hasn’t returned. She contacted a friend in Monterrey-the son of her employer-who disappeared last Friday, according to his father. That would be the day after Marisol left her baby at the church. We have his cell phone number, but I’m skeptical about giving him a heads-up that we’re looking for Marisol.”
“Why? He may know where she is.”
“Because she may run from the authorities. She’s scared, Noah. And after what happened to Siobhan on Sunday, I understand why. And honestly… why would he drop everything and come here to help her after more than two years? Without telling his father that he heard from her? Or calling Siobhan, who has made it her mission to find the girls? It’s just… I don’t know, my gut is telling me to tread carefully here. Loretta admitted to helping these people deliver seventy-two babies. Where are they? How many girls were used as breeders? What happened to them after they delivered? Were they killed or sent back into the sex trade? How many of these… these… breeder houses are around here? Marisol may have the answers.” She stopped herself. Her emotions were getting the better of her, and she had to get them under tight control or she would lose it. She felt that churning, deep down, that she was on edge.
She cleared her throat and continued matter-of-factly. “Loretta Martinez was assaulted last week after Marisol left. She couldn’t have performed the C-section on our Jane Doe in the morgue.” Eloise. “She’s on the way to the hospital. I don’t think she’s going to survive-she has extensive internal injuries and was self-medicating. But I want permission to put a guard on her door and, if she survives, to place her under arrest.”
“Talk to Villines, do what needs to be done. You’re on the right path. Villines called me a couple of hours ago, said it wasn’t urgent but wanted to talk. He might have information, but I’m sitting here waiting to talk to a judge and get an expanded warrant for that damn property management company. Hooper is on his way from Sacramento, and he’s already been a huge help with this legal bullshit.”
“Do I have probable cause to search Loretta’s house?”
“Yes, but we do this by the book. Jasmine is a lawyer. If we find anything on her and she thinks we obtained the information under duress or without a warrant, she’ll make our lives hell. I don’t want to blow this because we went the easy route.” He paused. “Did she let you into the house?”
“Yes.” Sort of. She hadn’t said no when Lucy came in.
Go away.
That wasn’t an explicit no. It was a gray area, and Lucy wouldn’t lie on the stand, but Loretta was self-medicating and very sick. “I think Loretta knows exactly where Ana de la Rosa is, or has a good idea. I want to question her as soon as the doctor clears her.” Or before, if Lucy could get away with it.
“Because she let you into the house, if you see anything in the open, go for it. But don’t tear the place apart. I’ll contact Lopez in the local RA and ask them to work on a warrant. You call Villines, get a guard on Martinez, see what information he has for us. Call Zach and have him run this Angelo Zapelli, as well as the father. He may be able to get a procedural warrant to trace his GPS. Then send me a nuts and bolts report. I gotta go, the AUSA needs me.” He hung up.
Lucy conveyed the information to Nate and sent an email to Zach about Zapelli. They left Siobhan outside and walked through the house, both of them wearing gloves. They looked carefully, but didn’t open drawers or toss any furniture.
This was an older woman. If she kept a record, where would she keep it? A journal? An address book? Lucy looked around for a desk. There was a small stationary desk in the dining room. She itched to go through the drawer, but she didn’t. Still, the desk was cluttered, and there were slots at the top of the desk, like an old-fashioned post office. Everything in the slots was in the open. She looked at the mail-bills, some paid, some unpaid, sorted in different slots. An address book-with names and addresses. She flipped through it, but nothing jumped out at her.
There was a book that appeared to be tax records, but when Lucy opened it, she saw that it was a list of dates with notations.
August 2 ~ 5:15 p.m. Boy 6 lbs 6 oz 20 in ~ Cristina
October 4 ~ 3:30 a.m. Girl 5 lbs 14 oz 19 in ~ Joy
December 24 ~ 2:10 p.m. Boy 7 lbs 12 oz 20 in ~ Marisol
There were other notations in each entry, as to the health of the baby and the mother. But Lucy couldn’t see anything. She had to get out of here. Clutching the book, she ran outside, into the humid air. But it was better than the house. Better than the death that surrounded it. Better than knowing what had been going on for more than two years.
Marisol. Elizabeth wasn’t Marisol’s first baby.
It could have been a different Marisol, except that Siobhan had been looking for the sisters for two years. Loretta had been delivering babies for two years. Twenty-five months, according to this book.