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Torres has watched this territory since the Merrick conviction and the Thornton infrastructure collapse. Somebody inherited those routes. Somebody is using them for cargo that isn't cattle. Sandy Canutson is the case that proves the disappearances are connected to the rodeo calendar rather than coincidental.

The man who introduced Sandy to Clint is the person I came to find. Slade Carrick. Steer wrestler. Mid-thirties. Pleaded to involuntary manslaughter after killing a man with a single punch in a Cheyenne bar fight at twenty-two. One punch, fatal. A fact worth remembering before approaching him alone.

After his release he returned to competition and posted top-five finishes across multiple seasons. Current parole violation warrant issued after he failed to report and crossed state lines without authorization. Last confirmed sighting: the circuit finals in Prescott, Arizona, where he left his competition saddle with a friend and stopped appearing at events.

Torres has been looking for Carrick since the warrant dropped. My unit has been looking for him longer, because the Lubbock photograph puts him at the point of contact between Sandy and Clint on the night she disappeared.

The cold question doesn't soften with repetition. Did Slade Carrick deliver Sandy Canutson to the people who killed her?

His file says maybe. The photo says he was there. The fact that he ran says he's carrying something heavy enough to abandon his livelihood over. Whether he's a witness or a participant is the distinction the entire investigation turns on.

APRA's compliance division is set up in a portable building near the intake area, and that's where I find Steve Hendricks. The initials match those of the person who has been signing off on the changes, but Steve was cleared when his brother, Burl, was arrested.

He's stepping out as I walk up, mid-fifties, pressed Western shirt, reading glasses pushed on his forehead, a tablet tucked under his arm.

Steve is the Director of Livestock Transport and Compliance. His team certifies which commercial haulers are approved for the circuit, sets documentation standards, and controls arrival and departure windows. They also manage contractor credentials, oversee access to loading areas, and handle compliance investigations.

He is also Burl Hendricks's brother. The investigation examined the connection and found it survivable. Steve and Burl claim estrangement. No dirty money flows into Steve's personal accounts. His subordinates processed the individual manifests, and Steve has publicly condemned his brother's criminal activities and cooperated with investigators.

He presents himself as the official trying to repair institutional damage, and the presentation is polished enough that the agents who examined him moved on.

No unexplained money. No unauthorized system access, though his position would never require it. His title already gives him every permission required to approve a carrier, authorize a route exception, and open a loading gate. The investigators call that cleared. I call it an absence of evidence and keep him on the board.

"Mr. Hendricks," I say, lifting my clipboard. "Morgan Engel, Western Range Mutual. Do you have a few minutes for some questions about transport documentation?"

He extends his hand with a smooth, practiced grip. "Happy to help. We've been cooperating fully with every inquiry since the situation with my brother came to light. Transparency is the only way forward."

He says it without stiffness, rehearsed into something that sounds like belief. Whether he means it or has simply practiced until the difference stopped mattering is a question I file for later.

I ask about approval records, documentation timelines, the certification process for new contractors. His answers are detailed and comfortable. He walks me through the pipeline without consulting his tablet, explaining which forms get filed, which inspections his people conduct, how long the certification window runs before renewal.

He volunteers information before I ask for it, which is either genuine helpfulness or a strategy for controlling disclosure.

"My brother's situation has been difficult for this department," Steve says, unprompted. "We're rebuilding trust with every contractor on the schedule. If you need documentation for your claims work, my staff will have it to you within forty-eight hours."

"I appreciate that."

His signature will appear on every transport manifest I'm requesting through my cover, because every approved contractor passes through his authority.

His position also gives him access to every system the trafficking network exploits: approved routes, manifests, loading windows, credentials. I keep that fact filed under unproven and active.

Near the intake gate at the east end of the grounds, an older woman in a worn Carhartt vest leans against the fence rail with a spiral-bound notebook and decades of head-counting written into her posture.

"New boots," she says, without looking up.

I glance down. My boots have been broken in long enough to stop looking new to most people. This woman has been watching boots longer than I've been wearing them.

"Brenda Foster," she says, pencil still moving. "Stock census. You're the insurance girl."

"Morgan Engel."

"Mmhm." Brenda flips a page and makes a mark. "You remind me of someone who used to ask this many questions. Journalist. Pretty girl, dark eyes. She ended up with the bull rider."

Kenna Corbin. Colt Holloway. The reference lands and I let it pass without comment.

"I'm reviewing some older claims involving competitors who left the circuit without settling their equipment accounts," I say. "Anyone drop out unexpectedly in the past year or so?"

"People come and go," Brenda says. "Most take their saddles with them." Her pencil stops. "Carrick didn't." She looks up. "Big man, quiet. Stayed in the top ten on the Southwest Circuit season after season, then dropped off the face of the earth. Left his saddle with a friend at Prescott after the finals. You don't leave your saddle unless you're done, and he wasn't done. A man who walks away from his rig before his body quits is a man who's running from something heavier than a losing streak."