“Fine. Just make sure you bring them back. They’ve got a job to do.”

“I’ll take good care of them.”

While Freddie questioned people in nearby rooms about whether they’d heard anything coming from room sixteen, Sam accompanied the two trembling young women downstairs and helped them into the back of her car.

“I don’t understand why you’re taking us,” the first girl said, her chin quivering as she fought back tears.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. I promise you’ll be perfectly safe.” To the second girl, she said, “What’s your name?”

“Amber.”

“Is that your real name?”

Amber looked at Ginger.

“My real name is Sam Holland. I’m a lieutenant in the Metro Police Department. I want to help you.”

“You can’t help us,” Ginger said, her tone flat and full of despair. “No one can help us.”

After thirteen years on the job, Sam had learned to trust her instincts and all of them were on full alert. “This might be your lucky day, because if anyone can help you, I can, but you have to trust me, okay?”

Amber reached for Ginger’s hand and held on tight.

“Okay,” Ginger said.

Amber nodded in agreement.

“Sit tight,” Sam said. “I’ll be right back.” She shut the car door and gestured for Officer Beckett to join her. “Stay here and don’t let anyone get near them, you hear me?”

“You got it, LT.”

“If anyone tries to get them out of my car, shoot to maim.”

The young patrol officer’s eyes widened with surprise at her orders. “Yes, ma’am.”

Confident the girls were in good hands for the next few minutes, she went to help Cruz complete the canvas while Lindsey’s team photographed the scene and removed Lind’s body from the room.

“See you back at the house,” Lindsey said to Sam as she headed downstairs.

Sam and Freddie knocked on every door in the seedy motel but didn’t find anyone who’d heard a thing from room sixteen. They did, however, find a number of very young girls entertaining much older men.

“I need a shower,” Freddie muttered as they took the stairs to the parking lot.

“No kidding,” Sam said. She withdrew her cell phone from her pocket and placed a call to Malone. “The victim is Rick Lind,” she said when he came on the line.

He released a low whistle. “No shit. Wow.”

“We need Vice at the place where he was killed.” She gave him the address of the motel. “Someone’s running an underage prostitution racket here. I’ve got two of the younger girls in my car on the pretense of giving statements in the Vasquez case. I’m playing it cool for the moment, but we need to act fast before they bolt.”

“I’ll call it in right now. Good work, Lieutenant.”