New York to Dallas

little crumb—something said, something seen. An impression. An opinion.
    She wished fleetingly for more salt as she ate her fries. A lot more salt. She should just carry some in her pocket for fry emergencies.
    An addiction, she admitted, like the coffee. Just something she craved and Roarke provided. That made him sort of her pusher, didn’t it?
    “Why does she fall in love with him?”
    “Sorry?”
    She shook her head at Bree. “He’s in prison. She goes for the money, the work—gotta live, gotta get what she needs. She’s experienced, she’s hard, she’s self-absorbed. All addicts are. But she falls for him.”
    She paced again, studying the two shots of the female, the picture of McQueen.
    “Sure he’s attractive. Maybe even her type. He’s hard, too. He’s been around, knows the score. But he likes little girls. Those small, supple bodies just budding. She’s too old for his needs, too experienced sexually. However well she’s kept her body, it’s never going to be in first bud again. She has to know that.”
    “He’s charming,” Bree put in. “When he raped me the first time, he was charming. I don’t mean—”
    “I know. You weren’t charmed, but he put it on for you.”
    “He flattered me. How pretty I was, how soft my skin was. It didn’t matter that I was screaming. He kept saying things like that. He had candles lit, and music playing. Like it was romantic.”
    Bree shook her head. “You know all this. I told you all this before, when you talked to me in the hospital.”
    “Doesn’t hurt to be reminded. He charms her, flatters her. But that’s not enough. Somehow she’s convinced she’s different than the others, that she has something with him. How do you train someone to do what you want, to follow complex instructions over a long period of time? To form the sort of attachment to you that would have them do whatever you wanted, even when you aren’t there to make them. It’s a con, just like any other. He can’t control her with fear, so it has to be pleasure.”
    “He gives her what she needs, promises more,” Annalyn said.
    “The illegals. He provides.” Eve started to reach for her communicator. For Peabody. Two detectives in the room, she reminded herself. She needed to use what she’d been provided.
    “I need names of inmates on his block. Look for an illegals connection and a release. Start with six months before his first contact with the female. Go back a year if you don’t get any hits.”
    “I’m on it,” Annalyn told her.
    “Not all those contacts with Stibble’s ’link were to her, I bet my ass and yours. Had to make arrangements to give his dog her bones. He’s got someone on the outside who’d take care of that. Someone who either owes him a big favor, or who he has on his payroll.
    “Too many people.” She nodded, felt the buzz. “Just too many people. She’s got a source in Dallas, too. Find the source, find her. Find her, find McQueen.”
    “Jayson—Detective Price’s brother—works in Illegals,” Bree began. “He’s the one who interrupted you during the briefing. He and Melinda just started seeing each other a couple months ago, so—”
    “Don’t care. Have him tap his brother. Really Fat Vik said boosters, but it’s going to be more. She needs something to level out, keep it smooth. Can’t just bounce on the high with all this going on. She needs to tune out, relax.”
    “She’d think she’s competing with girls, sexually, wouldn’t she?” Annalyn commented. “I’d add sex drugs. Erotica at a minimum to that.”
    “Good point. Make it happen, Jones.” She considered Annalyn. “You look good.”
    “Thanks. I work with what I’ve got.”
    “And you’re single. You’re out in the mix. You do the salon thing? The hair and all that?”
    “Tough on a cop’s salary, but once a month or so, yeah. I see where you’re going. She’s got to look good for him. I bet she’s had some body work since he hooked her. Lift the girls up some, laser off the lines, like that.”
    “Recent, after she stopped counseling, before his escape. In Dallas, or close. She’s thinking about seeing him, him seeing her, being with him, she might’ve gone for the works at some salon, and in the last few days.”
    “Feels right.”
    “Look, I’ll take the inmate search. You and Jones know the city. Put together a list of most-likely salons, body work locations. Show both her ID shots. Let’s get lucky again.”
    “Are you