“That’s a lot of miles,” Lucy said. She flipped through the receipts. There was a coffee receipt from a coffee shop across from the motel, gas in Laredo and Del Rio. “He was in Del Rio,” she said almost to herself. “He filled up Tuesday afternoon there. Only hours after Noah and I talked to Musgrove.” She took the receipts and made a story from them. He may have tossed a few, but there were enough receipts here that she could create a time line. What did he plan on doing, getting reimbursed from someone?
“He arrived in town early Friday afternoon. Checked into the motel, had lunch across the street.” She moved a few pieces around. “He had dinner in Freer that night. That would be the closest town to Our Lady of Sorrows.” There was nothing for Saturday, nothing to indicate whether he had returned to the motel; they would have to check with motel security-if there was any. “He ate with three other people on Friday,” she said, pointing to the items on the receipt. “He paid. Marisol had already left the house, they didn’t know where she was. She was traveling across open land until she stumbled into the Honeycutt barn.”
Nate slid over a receipt from five o’clock Monday morning. “This is a gas receipt near San Antonio.”
She had never heard of the small town, but she believed Nate. “So he comes to Laredo, goes to Freer because that’s where Marisol disappeared. Possibly back to Laredo, then to San Antonio at some point, probably Sunday.”
Nate moved another receipt. “He wouldn’t need to fill up his gas tank just driving from San Antonio to Del Rio, but he was nearly on empty when he filled up in Del Rio on Tuesday morning.”
“That’s a lot of driving around.”
“And the tank was nearly empty when he filled it up this afternoon before turning it in at the airport.”
“Del Rio to Laredo, halfway to Freer, back again?”
“Possibly. Maybe with another fifty or sixty miles in there somewhere.”
“If we assume he is the one who met Marisol after she called him on Tuesday night, he must have taken her someplace in a fifty-mile radius. The house outside Freer is empty, but we don’t yet have the files from the property management company.”
Lucy considered their options. “Noah and I only spoke to one person in Del Rio. Leo Musgrove. He was angry, thought we’d exposed him. Slimy bastard. But he’d originally moved the girls to the brothel. What if he works for Zapelli? Or Zapelli knew he was a loose end?” She sent Noah a message that Musgrove might have slipped town or that Zapelli may have talked to him on Tuesday. She moved the papers around. “He was back in Laredo at two p.m.-stopped at the Starbucks off I-35, I remember passing that on our way to Del Rio. Tried to convince Noah to stop, but he said I’d already had too much caffeine.” She almost smiled. Then she froze. “What’s this?”
She picked up two strands of long black hair that had been entwined in the buckle of the laptop case.
Nate pulled out an evidence bag, and she slipped the hairs inside. “If we can put Marisol with Zapelli, that gives us an edge,” Nate said.
“Let’s pretend we already did,” she said.
As they’d agreed, Nate took the lead. If Zapelli was who they thought he was, he would be more responsive to a male authority figure.
“Mr. Zapelli,” Nate said. “I’m Special Agent Dunning and this is Special Agent Kincaid. We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and we have a few questions for you.” He sat down and took out a pen and small notepad. Lucy sat next to him and focused on watching Zapelli for the small psychological cues that might help them steer the conversation.
Zapelli smiled at her a moment too long, then turned back to Nate. “Agent Dunning, I have been very reasonable with your authorities after I was detained in security. I have no idea why, my luggage had no paraphernalia, as I’m certain you uncovered when you searched it.”
“What was the reason for your visit to the States?”
“Just needed some time away from family and work obligations.”
“You told your mother that a friend called and needed your help.”
It was immediately clear that Zapelli had not expected that they would have spoken to his family. He covered quickly and said, “My mother is elderly. I couldn’t very well tell her I needed a break from her and her constant errands. I am an only son. I’m responsible for many things at my father’s business and at home. I gave her an excuse that allowed me to remain a good son.”
Nate nodded, made a note. “What did you do while you were in Texas?”
He shrugged. “The usual.”
“If you can please be more specific.”
Zapelli was suspicious and trying not to act it, Lucy noted. “Is there a reason why you’re asking me these questions?”
“Yes,” Nate said, and nothing more.
“And?” Zapelli pushed.
“And we’d like to know.”
Zapelli leaned back. “I don’t like the direction of this conversation.”
Lucy’s phone vibrated. She glanced down. Villines had sent her the Honeycutts’ phone records. Someone had called Zapelli Tuesday at ten-thirty a.m. and spoke to him for six minutes.
Nate gave Lucy a nod, and she said, “We have a record that Marisol de la Rosa called you yesterday morning. You spoke to her for six minutes. Ms. de la Rosa is now missing, and she told witnesses that she was meeting you at seven o’clock last night.”
Zapelli may be an arrogant and overly confident criminal, but he couldn’t hide his surprise that they had not only that information, but Marisol’s name as well. He glared at her, then covered, just not quickly enough.
“Marisol-the girl who worked for my dad? That was ages ago.”
“Yet you spoke to her yesterday.”
He didn’t say anything.
“If you didn’t speak to her, who did you talk to for those six minutes?” Lucy asked.
Zapelli turned to Nate. “Yes, I spoke to Marisol. She called me, said she was in trouble. I of course wanted to help. I offered to pick her up-my father has been greatly worried about her and her sister. They left, no notice, nothing. We assumed they went back to their village, but girls like them, they look for the easy way, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Lucy.
Through sheer willpower, she kept her poker face. Nate said, “When did you see her?”
“I didn’t. She never arrived. I waited for nearly an hour.”
“Where?” Lucy demanded. She bit her tongue. She was coming off too strong.
“At a four-way stop on Highway Fifty-Nine.”
“Don’t you think that was odd?” Nate asked.
“I did, but figured she was on foot. When she didn’t come, I assumed she’d gone back to whatever sugar daddy she came to the States with. Like I said, those kind of girls are predictable.”
“Why were you in Del Rio yesterday morning?” Nate asked, completely changing the subject to throw Zapelli off-guard.
It did, just for a minute. “Visiting a friend.”
“Name?”
Zapelli shook his head. “I don’t know what you hope to find, but I think we’re done. I need to get home, my father needs me to help run his business.”
“You’re not leaving,” Nate said.
“You can’t detain me.”
“You’re a material witness in an ongoing investigation.”
“I told you, I didn’t see Marisol.”
“We found strands of long black hair on your laptop case. We’re testing it now,” Lucy said, “and my guess, it belongs to Ms. de la Rosa.”
He stopped talking. Right then and there. “Either arrest me or let me go.”
“Very well,” Nate said. “You are under arrest.”
“Why?”
“We don’t need to give you a reason right now. We can hold you for up to seventy-two hours just because you’re an asshole.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“I was just getting to that point.” Nate read him his rights.
Zapelli grew increasingly frustrated. “This is bullshit,” he said.