FBI and Texas law enforcement were able to triangulate the phone call from Rosa’s phone to a moving vehicle. When it switched towers to a road passing through a thinly populated area, a spotter in an aircraft was able to make an identification of a black Suburban.

The Warlock probably wasn’t expecting us to identify his victim before the crime. He sure as hell wasn’t thinking we’d be able to pinpoint his location while he was still planning things.

A roadblock has been set up fifteen miles away from us. By the time we arrive, Highway Patrol and Hidalgo County sheriffs already have the vehicle surrounded. I count at least fourteen police cruisers and a Highway Patrol helicopter hovering next to ours.

Our take-down unit of eight agents dressed in armored flak jackets and black helmets is giving the driver instructions to throw his keys out the window and put his hands on the wheel. There’s a moment of hesitation, then he throws something shiny on the ground. He holds his hands up and our guys pull him out of his vehicle and cuff him at gunpoint.

From where we are, he looks to be an average-sized man. An agent tosses his hat and sunglasses aside and I see thin, dark brown hair. He looks to be in his early forties.

Nothing about him stands out. Put him in a suit and he’d look like a banker. A construction hat and he’d look like a foreman. Nothing about his mannerisms suggests anything suspicious. He’s acting like a man surprised by all the fuss.

Knoll is on the phone with the attorneys at the Justice Department trying to make certain we have a clear case for his apprehension. They assure us that suspicion of using electronic deception to talk to a minor is good enough cause to arrest him and search his vehicle. Rosa’s claim that he was going to send a friend for her gives us a case for intent to kidnap.

What we really want is evidence that connects him to the murders and the Michigan workshop. That may take longer, but if we can prove he was talking to Rosa on the phone, then we can hold him long enough to make the tightest case we can.

After they have him secured, lying facedown on the highway with his arms cuffed behind his back, our pilot lands us behind the roadblock. Knoll and I get out to watch our forensic team search the vehicle. One of our agents videotapes everything so we can show a clear chain of custody for any evidence we find.

An electronics forensic tech examines the cell phone found in the console. He removes and plugs the SIM card into a computer in the back of an SUV. I’m looking at the face of the man on the ground, trying to figure out if I’ve ever seen him before. Nothing strikes me. Damian was correct; this man is as bland as you can imagine.