The two dead dogs were not the only evidence of a struggle. Tera’s flashlight had also shone on a discarded snub-nosed revolver and splashes of blood in the dirt. Luke’s blood? Ramón’s? At what point had Johan arrived, knowing exactly where to go? Tera had proceeded to the house with her Beretta drawn. The front door was wide open, indicating that the property had been vacated in a hurry.

She’d moved cautiously through the darkened rooms, her gun at the ready, and soon arrived at the metal-plated door that led to the basement. It, too, was open, and judging by its adornment of heavy-duty bolts, this wasn’t usually the case. This was where the picture in Tera’s mind went from an outline to something with depth.

It was not a basement downstairs, so much as a prison—a filthy, roach-infested hole, with a moldering sofa and dripping pipes. Thin mattresses covered the floor in a small sleeping area, strewn with stained sheets and women’s clothing. There were piles of dirty plates and drifts of trash. The stench was overpowering, most of it coming from a diseased space that might once have been a bathroom.

Tera covered her mouth and groaned. She populated her picture with half a dozen subjugated women. Perhaps as many as nine.

That wasn’t all. There was a precision scale on a table, its stainless-steel platter dusted with a residue of yellow powder. She found a greater amount—an ounce, easily—in a Tupperware container on the floor. Tera had handed in her shield at around the time canary was starting to make waves in Hollywood, but she knew what it was, and what it looked like.

Was this the information Johan had been keeping from her? Were he and Ramón partners in crime—canary kingpins? Tera nodded. There were still pieces missing, but this felt right. Johan had the high-rolling connections, after all.

The link between Ramón and Luke was less complicated, but infinitely more distressing.

“Tera?”

“I’m here,” she said to Kraemer, walking from the hallway to the kitchen. She had placed two items on the table, procured during a cursory scan of the property. “I’m in Clark County, Nevada. That’s Metro’s jurisdiction, right?”

“The whole damn county,” Kraemer confirmed.

“Who do we know here?”

“There’s always somebody.” The hint of apprehension was still in Kraemer’s voice. “Why? What do you need?”

“What don’t I need?” Tera sighed, one hand flat on her brow. “This is big, Adrian. I’m going to need forensics, evidence collection trucks, vice and missing persons units. I’ve got an active drug lab here, as well as signs of false imprisonment and kidnap. We’re talking multiple vics, probably female. I’m not ruling out human trafficking.”