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.She had a nearly encyclopedic recall of cases she tried, though, so she recognized Ross’s name.A clerk caught him trying to buy booze with a stolen credit card at a liquor store almost five years ago and called the police.The first officer on the scene suspected Ross had a weapon, so he patted him down and found eight fake IDs for eight young women of various ethnicities as well as a revolver in his pockets.The IDs appeared genuine and even had many of the same security features a real, state-issued ID would have.None of the young women on them could be found in the system, though.Thinking Ross made them for illegal immigrants, detectives secured a search warrant for his home and found printmaking equipment and stacks of fraudulent birth certificates and Social Security cards.Despite being offered a generous plea deal, Ross never cooperated and he never identified the eight young women he had made documents for.If he had made those IDs for human traffickers, Ash understood his silence.He thanked Susan for the information before going back to the warden’s office, catching the tail end of a conversation about a problematic inmate in one of the blocks.Addison and the major quieted almost as soon as Ash came in.“Did you get what you needed?” asked the warden.“Mostly,” said Ash.“Ross was arrested for making fake IDs for young women, and he’s trying to get in touch with a man who traffics in young women.I need to talk to him.”“Rita Morehouse,” said the major, shaking his head.“Never should have hired her.”“You’ve made your opinion known, Terrance,” said the warden.“She’s not going to be working here anymore if it makes you feel better.”Terrance held up his hands defensively.“Didn’t mean any offense.I know you don’t make the policy.”“I appreciate that,” said the warden.“Find Mr.Ross and bring him here.” He looked at Ash.“Thank you for bringing this to our attention.We will work with the Madison County prosecutor’s office and your own office to ensure that Mr.Ross and Ms.Morehouse are punished appropriately.”“Does Ross have a cellmate?”“We’re at over a hundred percent capacity right now.Everybody’s got a cellmate.”“Then get him, too,” said Ash.“I’ve got an idea.”The warden looked at Terrance again.“Do it.”He left without saying another word.Ash excused himself as well and went to the prison chapel for afternoon prayers.Even just a few minutes away from the case cleared his head and made the world a little easier to take.Ross may not have been as bad as Palmer or Spencer, but he played a pivotal role in the trafficker’s organization.Even the thought of being in the same room as him caused an almost primal, instinctual anger to form in Ash’s gut.By the time he got back to the assistant warden’s office, Terrance had returned with sweat beading on his brow and dark patches on his uniform.Ross and his cellmate had been in the exercise yard outside, so it took several guards to find them amid the other prisoners.With that many bodies on that much concrete, the temperature must have been off the charts.Ash didn’t plan to use anything the cellmate said, so he almost felt guilty for asking the guards to bring him.On the other hand, Terrance’s comments about women had proven him to be an asshole, and Ash didn’t have a lot of sympathy for assholes.He asked the guards to put both men in separate interview rooms but he didn’t go immediately to either one.Instead, he let them stew and wait alone for about twenty minutes.When he went into the room with the cellmate, the guy had his head on the table and looked to be asleep.Like a lot of prisoners, he had several visible tattoos, one of which was a crude drawing of a red bird sitting atop a baseball bat; the lines were blotchy and the ink looked faded, but Ash recognized the logo.Ross’s cellmate liked the St.Louis Cardinals.Ash gently woke him up and introduced himself.He didn’t have to say much to get the prisoner talking.As soon as Ash asked if the prisoner had seen the Cardinals and Astros game, he opened his mouth and only stopped talking to take a breath
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