What Price Humanity Chapter 10 – Little Girl Lost

o/ "See the little girl lost:

walking through this world alone

She ain't looking for a lover,

she's just looking for a home

"See the little girl lost,

pleading silently for help

Knowing no one understands her,

she don't understand herself" o/

----- "Little Girl Lost" performed by Kris Kristofferson

Interstate 35 headed toward Dallas – early evening

"I don't know what was so damned important that the Captain had to recall us to Dallas," Auguston muttered through gritted teeth as he dodged around a flatbed loaded down with wood planking which was traveling well below the speed limit. The jerking of the steering wheel tossed Trivette against the side of the car and locked his seatbelt.

Startled from a doze, Trivette grunted and sat up glaring at the impetuous young Ranger. "Hey, man, take it easy with my car! This is a fine tuned machine, not a tractor. It's regulations, David. We gotta report back and then the Captain will set up a cooperative effort with New Mexico law enforcement. Otherwise, our badges aren't going to be good for much."

"The hell with regulations!" Auguston snarled. The speedometer edged up to eighty-five and he swerved around another slow moving vehicle, nearly cutting it off. "I just wanna get this over with so we can go find Walker."

"Slow it down NOW! You are gonna get us both killed!" Trivette bellowed. He rarely raised his voice or lost his temper but when he did, people listened. Auguston's boot eased off the accelerator until the speedometer reflected a more reasonable speed. "Look, I can guess how you must feel about Walker," he continued in a more reasonable tone of voice after giving the young man a moment to settle the raw emotions playing across his face. "We all --- Alex, CD, myself --- feel that way about him. He's my partner. You don't think I feel helpless knowing he's out there somewhere in trouble and I don't have his back?"

"You should feel bad!" Auguston blurted out. He swiped a hand across his eyes and hoped Trivette wouldn't see the tears. "How could any of you call yourselves his friend and then let him go off into a dangerous situation like this?"

"This isn't really about Walker, is it?" Trivette asked quietly. "Pull into the rest stop up here and we'll talk. I need something to drink anyway." When Auguston had parked the car, Trivette strode over to the soda machine, put in some change, and handed a can to the younger Ranger. "Time to get personal for a moment," he said. "I'd bet someone didn't have your back and left you in a dangerous situation."

Auguston sipped his soda and took a deep breath. "My first field assignment as a Texas Ranger," he admitted. "It's some sort of hazing tradition over in Company E to let the new guy handle the first situation which comes up without any back-up. Oh, they didn't leave me completely on my own," he amended, forestalling Trivette's outraged protest, "but they hung back and left me to assess the situation without benefit of a more seasoned Ranger. It ought to have been a simple bust."

"But things got out of hand or something went wrong," Trivette guessed.

"The kid who drew on me couldn't have been more than fourteen years old," Auguston whispered. "It was the first time I'd actually had to draw my sidearm in self defense. I hesitated, tried to talk the kid into dropping the gun. Next thing I know, my partner has broken ranks and he's yelling at the other Rangers to get off their rumps and cover me. A slug caught Boyd in the chest and he was DOA when the paramedics got to him. I took down the kid without killing him but I can't forget the fact that if I'd acted on instinct and fired like I was supposed to, Boyd would still be here."

"No," said Trivette, putting a firm hand on the younger man's shoulder to draw his attention back from the tragic incident. "You can't think like that. The men in your company were at fault for the stunt they pulled. You ought to have had the benefit of your partner's advice to tell you when the time to stop talking and start shooting had come. Your partner did what he was supposed to do."

"Boyd was one of the best," Auguston agreed. "He had a reputation over there almost as distinguished as Walker's. In fact, he told me he'd been trained by Walker. I guess that's why it's so important we get him back. I owe it to Boyd's memory…and to you."

"We'll find him. In Company B, we work together. If you stick around, you'll learn that. Now, let's get out of here and find out what the Captain wants so we can chase down those leads. Only this time, I'm driving!"

They were about two blocks from headquarters when a call came in over Trivette's radio. "Any unit in the vicinity, we have a report of an injured or abandoned child in the 2000 block of Greenville Avenue at Sears and Prospect."

"That's not far from here," Auguston said. Trivette nodded permission and he picked up the mike. "Dispatch, this is Ranger Auguston with Ranger Trivette. We'll take it, we're almost on scene."

"10-4, Ranger Auguston. Be advised RP will meet you outside a club called the Boar's Nest."

"We're on it. Thanks, 'nita, and tell the Captain we'll be back as soon as we can."

Greenville Avenue nightclub district - evening

Trivette wrenched the car across three lanes of traffic and then executed a hard right turn onto the exit ramp leading to North Henderson. As the streets got narrower, it got more difficult to navigate them. The evening rush had started and the business professionals and tourists were all headed for their favorite dance spots and watering holes.

"Man, look at all these people!" Trivette said, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. They'd been sitting at the same light for the last five minutes. "I've a mind to get out and walk…"

"We'd get there faster," Auguston agreed. "Why don't you just put out the bubble and turn on the siren or call for a unit to clear things out?"

"Are you crazy, is that your problem? If we did that, it would cause a panic. No, we'll get there. If it were urgent, dispatch would have already been on the horn telling us to get it in gear. Ah-ah!" Trivette swerved across the street and came to rest in the only empty parking slot Auguston could see for miles. "Am I good or what?" He put on his hat and got out of the car. "C'mon, let's go. It's only another block away. And lock the doors!"

The two Rangers knew they had reached the location when they noticed a small crowd of college students gathered outside a bar. They were being interviewed by a DPD officer. One of the young women held a child who appeared to be sleeping in her arms.

"….and that's when we noticed her wandering around," one of the young men was telling the police officer as the two Rangers walked up. "It's awful late for someone that small to be out up here. We didn't think it would be smart for one of the guys to approach so my date went up to the kid and tried to find out where her parents were. She didn't answer; it's like she didn't understand us or something."

"Trivette and Auguston, Texas Rangers," he introduced himself and produced his badge.

"Good to see you, Rangers. I'm going to finish this," he said, gesturing to the young man to whom he'd been talking, "so why don't you talk to the gal holding the kid?"

"Here, I'll take her from you," Auguston said after they'd introduced themselves to the witnesses. He smiled disarmingly at the young woman as she handed over the limp bundle. "I've got a younger brother and sister so I'm good with kids."

"Did you see anything --- a vehicle, a person --- which might help us find out where she belongs?" Trivette asked her.

The woman tugged nervously on a strand of blond hair which had fallen from her pony tail and exhaled softly as she thought about it. "No, I don't recall seeing anyone around her. The poor thing was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking lost and confused. I watched a few minutes to see if anyone would come for her and when no one did, my date --- that's him over there---" she said, pointing to the young man the DPD officer was still interviewing, "suggested I talk to her. She didn't say anything I could understand and then she just sorta…keeled over."

"I might have noticed something," spoke up a petite redhead in the rear of the group. "I came out about five minutes ahead of the rest of my group. There was a car --- I think it was a black Firebird --- idling in the alley. A guy got out and asked the bouncer about this area, whether or not it was relatively safe at night."

Auguston had carried the little girl a short distance away from the crowd toward the patrol car. Her lips had a bluish tinge to them and she shivered as though cold. He took off his jacket, wrapped it around her, and held her close to warm her up. The child opened her eyes and murmured, "I want my mommy." She plucked at his badge clumsily and asked in a slurred voice, "Are you another bad man?"

"No, sweetie, I'm a Texas Ranger," he replied, keeping his voice low and soothing. "We'll help you find your mommy. Do you know where your mommy lives?"

"Mommy sent me wi' m' sisther," the girl replied. Her eyes unfocused and she frowned as though trying to remember. "I don't 'member where m' sisther is!" she cried. "The bad man who keeps me took her an' I can't 'member where we were!"

"That's all right," Auguston soothed. "Do you remember where your mommy is, sweetie?"

"New Me'co," she mumbled sleepily. "Mommy's in New Me'co." Her eyes closed and her head lolled against the young Ranger's shoulder.

"Trivette, get over here!" he called.

Trivette closed his notebook and handed each of the women a card. "Thank you for your time. My number's on that card; call me any time if you remember anything else. If you'll excuse me? Evening, ladies." He tipped his hat and walked back to Auguston. "What's the problem?"

"I think the kid's been drugged with something," he told Trivette. "Her breathing's weird and she couldn't talk clearly. She told me she didn't remember what happened to her."

"All right, let's stop standing here talking about it and get her to a hospital. Do me a favor," he called to the DPD officer, "make sure you talk to the bouncer. One of the girls says a man approached him and asked some odd questions about the night life. Call us if you get anything we need to know."

Methodist Hospital – late evening

The two Rangers had taken the little girl directly to the emergency room where a medical team had converged on her, taken what little information the Rangers had, and then whisked her away to be examined. They had been sitting in the waiting room ever since. At some point, Trivette had called headquarters to update their status and to check in with the Captain. He'd told them they wouldn't have their interstate warrants and authorizations before morning anyway and had asked they remain on watch. Trivette had also called Alex, who had insisted on coming to the hospital to keep them company.

"Any news on her condition yet?" Alex asked as she slid into a seat beside Trivette.

"They're still working on her," he said.

"Well, I took the liberty of notifying FPS. They'll be sending a caseworker out to talk to her if she's able to speak and the caseworker will probably want to speak to you two as well."

"What happens to the little girl then?" Auguston asked, pausing in his pacing.

Alex smothered a yawn and told the young Ranger, "Since the Rangers brought her in and it's a case of suspected abuse or neglect, either the district attorney's office or one of you can give consent for immediate treatment to stabilize her if needed. She then becomes a ward of the state until and unless parents or relatives can be located. If that happens, I'll see to it that she's placed in a good foster home."

"That's not much better than the streets," Auguston responded with unexpected belligerence. "I don't think much of foster homes, Ms. Cahill, and I'm gonna be checking in on her. If she's not well taken care of ---"

"David." Trivette stood up and put a hand on the man's shoulder. Auguston's muscles remained rigid, his jaw clenched and high spots of anger rising into his cheeks. This man is battling some serious inner demons.

Finally he shrugged off Trivette's hand and jerked away from him. "Leave me alone, Trivette. You wouldn't understand and I don't feel like explaining it. I mean it this time. It won't do any good to pump me for information."

"Try me," Trivette snapped, irritated, "because the way you're acting, you're not going to be much good to me in the field. Alex is just trying to help. You don't need to go off on her like that."

Auguston shoved the older Ranger backwards. "I said…I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS."

"Jimmy!" Alex gasped and took a hesitant step toward Trivette. Oh, brother. The last thing I need is two Rangers squaring off in a hospital waiting room where the public can see them arguing like this.

"I'm all right, Alex," he told her, "stay where you are." He turned his attention back to Auguston. "You don't want to go there, man," Trivette continued, his voice deadly quiet and his mouth set in a grim line.

"You don't know what I want," Auguston hissed, advancing on him. "You don't know anything about me!"

"I know you don't want to throw away your career," Trivette persisted. "This isn't going to help that little girl or Walker. David, stand down now." The young man tensed, fists clenched, with hurt, confusion, and anger playing rapidly across his face. Trivette put an arm around Auguston's shoulder. "C'mon, man," he said softly, "let it go."

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the tableau. "Ahem. Are you the two Rangers who brought the child in?"

Both turned around, embarrassed that someone had witnessed their altercation. They saw a worn-looking woman in her mid-fifties with iron grey hair wearing a utilitarian navy blue business suit and sensible shoes. "Trivette, Auguston, meet Melina. Gonzales," Alex introduced them. "She's the FPS social worker assigned to cases like this in Tarrant County. I'm sure you'll help her all you can." The edge in Alex's voice, which Trivette had known her long enough to be able to read elaborated, You'd damned well better cut the attitude and do your job, boys. She'd used that tone of voice on Walker a few times but Trivette had never had it directed at him and he was stunned.

Auguston recovered first, settling his face into a professional mask. Only the reddened tips of his ears indicated chagrin. He quickly removed his hat and offered his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gonzales."

"I wish it could be under better circumstances," sighed the stout woman. She put on the glasses which had been hanging from a chain around her neck and drew a folder out of her briefcase. "I wanted to discuss the details of the case and get the pertinent information from you boys. Is there somewhere more private we could talk?"

After checking with hospital staff, the four of them adjourned to an empty conference room down the hall and seated themselves around the oval table. "What have you got for us, Mrs. Gonzales?" Trivette asked.

"Not much," she admitted. "Alex contacted me shortly after you brought the child in and I came straight down here. The physicians have finished stabilizing her and have moved her to the pediatric ward. That was a good call, Ranger Auguston," Mrs. Gonzales said, smiling approvingly at him. She consulted the medical folder she had been holding. "The child's blood tests came back positive for Ruhypnol."

"Ruhypnol?" Alex echoed, puzzled. "Isn't that ----"

"Yes," the social worker confirmed, "but the doctors found no sign that she had been violated. In fact, the child is in remarkably good condition. Whoever dosed her knew what he was doing; the dose was high enough to disorient her and call attention to her condition but not high enough to kill her. There are some signs that malnutrition was a factor in the past, but she's basically a healthy child. There is one other thing I think may be of interest to the Rangers and might help us track down her family. She has what appears to be some sort of tribal brand or tattoo permanently affixed into her hair and on the outside forearm. Take a look…." She passed a set of photographs to Trivette.

Trivette studied them for a moment. "Never seen anything like it. What about you, David?"

He took the photos from Trivette's hands and studied them. The frown on his face deepened to a scowl of disgust. "Yeah," he admitted slowly, "I've seen something similar before …. On a horse's a… --- excuse me, ladies." Auguston blushed to the roots of his carrot red hair. "It bears a resemblance to certain freeze brands the government uses to mark its wild horses." He set the photos down carefully, as if they might explode. "I think we're looking at something more serious than an abandoned child here. This" and he tapped the photos for emphasis "smacks of human trafficking."

"Would you be able to gain any further information from the brands, if that's what they are?" asked Alex.

"I'd need time and a computer. If it is a freeze brand based on the government mustang brands, it should be a matter of comparing markings and deciphering the information. It would possibly give us a birth date and maybe a state or country of origin. The initial character on the brand isn't one indicating government registration. I'd have to compare it against various company and corporate logos, assuming they were stupid enough to use something recognizable."

"The laptop's in the car. Get on it as soon as we're finished here. We can't do anything else about our other situation until the Captain clears the interstate warrants," Trivette said. Auguston nodded and Trivette could tell by the unfocused expression on the younger man's face that he was already running possibilities. He turned his attention back to the social worker. "Mrs. Gonzales, we'd like to be kept informed regarding the little girl's case. If David is right about his hunch, it will quickly become a matter for the Texas Rangers."

Mrs. Gonzales nodded and inclined her head toward Alex. "The DA's office has already made the same request. I'll make sure you get copies of the reports."

"Were you able to talk to her at all?" Auguston inquired.

"She's not very coherent yet," the social worker answered, "and there seems to be a language handicap. When the girl is more alert, we'll see if we can identify her native language. It isn't Spanish. I'd bet it's one of the tribal tongues."

"Walker would know," Alex said without thinking. She clapped her hand over her mouth when the two Rangers stared at her in surprise. I can't believe I just said that. We've all gotten too used to relying on him. Walker, where are you?

"Ranger Walker isn't available right now," Trivette said smoothly, covering the embarrassing silence which followed and allowing Alex to regain her composure, "but you may be correct about the language identification. That would give us a better idea about where to look for any relatives."

"Navajo," Auguston said, coming out of his reverie, "or one of the Pueblo tribes. She mentioned her mother living in New Mexico."

Mrs. Gonzales wrote that down in her case notes. "I hadn't known that. Did the little girl say anything else to you, Ranger Auguston?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, reviewing the events, and then said, "She mentioned being with a sister but couldn't remember where they had been before she ended up on Greenville Avenue. I got the impression the sister might be somewhere in Dallas."

"She may remember more when the Ruhypnol clears her system," Mrs. Gonzales said. "I'll be in touch, either through your office or through Miss Cahill." She gathered her paperwork, leaving behind a copy of the photographs of the strange markings for the Rangers, and left.

"You've been awful quiet," Alex observed, "what are you thinking, Jimmy?" The stillness of his mobile face told her that he was trying to trace down some information which seemed to be eluding him.

"Maybe nothing," he responded, "but I am wondering if this case might not be connected to Walker's disappearance somehow. It seems like too much of a coincidence that his last known location was in New Mexico, near the Navajo lands, and now we have a little Navajo girl showing up here in Dallas. I don't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do I," said Auguston. "C'mon, let's get back to the office so that I can get to work on those branding patterns."

"You'll spend an hour on it and then you'll both go home and get some sleep," Alex admonished them. "If the Captain has the warrants in order, you'll need to move out first thing in the morning." She smiled at both the Rangers. "I'll see you there and I'll even make the coffee."

Ranger Headquarters, Company B Dallas, Texas – late evening

"I think I've got something for you, Trivette!" Auguston hollered. As soon as they had gotten back to the office, he'd buried his nose in the computer terminal and begun searching for a means of deciphering the brands or at least confirming that was, in fact, what the marks on the little girl were. It had been harder than he expected to locate any information at all regarding freeze branding in general and, as far as he could tell, no other law enforcement department had reported its use on human beings. Finally, however, he'd come across a brief mention in an online encyclopedia article and an image of the coding system used by the US government on the horse brands. He laced his fingers behind his head, tipped his chair back, and closed his eyes while waiting for the information to print. So very tired, he thought, but I doubt I'll be sleeping much after what's happened tonight. He wasn't looking forward to whatever fresh hell his wired brain might have in store for him when he got home. Besides, there's nothing to go home to except that stray out in the alley and even the cat has other places to be.

Alex came up behind the tired young man, gently touched his shoulder to get his attention, and then pressed a fresh cup of coffee into his hand. "It'll help," she said, smiling at him. "We can't have you falling asleep on the drive home."

"Thanks." Auguston, though a bachelor, did know how to cook but brewing coffee correctly was something he'd never quite mastered. The assistant district attorney made excellent coffee, dark and richly flavored without being bitter and acidic. I could learn a lot from this coffee, he thought whimsically as he sipped it.

"What did you find?" asked Trivette.

Auguston tapped the computer screen, calling their attention to what looked like an eight sided star with hash marks inside it. "This is the angle code used by the Bureau of Land Management to mark mustangs with their age and registration marks. The first character indicates the registering organization. I haven't been able to isolate that symbol yet; I'm still searching corporate logos, assuming the perps were stupid enough to use something recognizable. The next string of characters tells date of birth and gives a registration number which indicates from which state the animal was gathered.

"These are placed on an animal using a process called freeze marking or freeze branding. According to the data, this is accomplished by shaving the area to be branded and then freezing the irons in either liquid nitrogen or alcohol which has been cooled to a certain temperature by dry ice. The brand is pressed into the skin and permanently damages pigmentation of any hair which re-grows, leaving a distinct pattern in white. On a human being where little or no hair is present, it leaves a frostbite-like scar." He read something else on the screen and frowned. "Some of the information indicates that such burns are prone to formation of cancer later in life, between seven and ten years after exposure."

"Poor darling!" Alex exclaimed. "What a horrible thing to do to a person, especially a small child."

"I don't think the people who do this kind of thing care much about the brutality of their methods," Trivette said grimly, "and if Walker is mixed up with these people, he's going to be in a lot of trouble. Were you able to decipher any of the brand marks, David?"

"I just finished printing out that information. The marks differ; the one on her head is likely a birth date and registration number. The second also contains a birth date but the string of numbers differs. It bears some resemblance to the tattoo marks placed on concentration camp survivors so it may be an origin code or the date she was processed.

"The only information I can confirm for certain is the birth date." He pointed to two characters, present in both photographs just after the corporate logo. "In the angle code, that number indicates birth year: 85. She's either just turned ten years old or will be ten years old sometime this year. If the perps continued to use the angle code, the registration number ought to indicate from which state she was taken. That number does coincide with New Mexico. I'm running a program now which will compare those numbers against known zip codes to see if we can get a more precise match. If it also indicates how many people are being processed, we have a serious multi-state problem on or hands. The federal agencies ought to be notified once we confirm that."

"You're certain of the New Mexico designation?" Auguston nodded and Trivette grabbed up the information which had been printed out. "I'm going to send this over the wire to Walker's New Mexico contact as a heads-up. It's likely he'll also be our liaison for operations there. What was his name?"

"Captain Hendricks," Alex supplied after looking at her notes. "He's the one who initiated the search for Walker and his prisoner. Have you heard back from him yet?"

"Yeah," said Trivette, taking a long pull at his coffee cup. "The weather is still hindering search efforts. The storm is blowing itself out but it's still snowing and they can't get a chopper in the air until it stops. Hendricks did get a posse out on horseback as well as a search and rescue team borrowed from Los Alamos but they've got a lot of area to cover. I know it's useless to tell you not to worry, Alex," he said as he put a hand on her arm, "but I can promise you we're doing all we can to find out what happened. Walker will turn up; he's been in tough spots before and he always comes through."

"Oh, Jimmy," sighed Alex, leaning against him, "I hope you're right." She glanced at the clock on the wall and straightened. "It's really late, guys. Why don't we all go home and get a fresh start on this in the morning?"

Auguston nodded. "Probably a good idea. The program I implemented doesn't need anyone to monitor it and we won't have any further information until it comes up with a match."

"All right," Trivette agreed, "let's pack it in. I'll see you here at the office tomorrow morning at nine." The three of them gathered their things and got ready to leave but they didn't get far because Auguston's desk phone rang. Don't answer that," Trivette groaned, "we're not here!"

"I think I'd better," he said slowly and picked up the receiver. "Auguston here." Trivette and Alex waited, burning with curiosity, while the younger Ranger listened to whoever had called. "I see," he said. "Is there anything we can do on our end? All right, then, we'll get on it."

"What was that about?" Trivette asked.

"You'd better wake the Captain up," Auguston advised. "It's going to be a long night. Someone gunned down most of the night shift up in the Potter County sheriff's office we visited earlier. One survivor, not critically injured, but they're keeping her in protective custody until we get up there and talk to her. Amarillo isn't technically our jurisdiction but the case is being handed to us because they think it's related to our earlier inquiry."

"Why would they think that?" Alex asked.

"Something the surviving victim said," Auguston explained. "So, who gets to disturb the Captain's sleep with this unwelcome news?"

"Under the circumstances, since Jimmy isn't exactly his favorite person right now and just about everyone in the building heard you butting heads with him earlier, I'd better make that call," Alex volunteered, a small smile quirking her lips. "You two keep working on that brand information."

Within the hour, Trivette and Auguston had the warrants.