Somewhere by the roadside, the scary guy who's looking for Eva Guerra meets the border patrol officer who let Steven Linder back into the country two nights ago. He hands the guy Linder's DMV one-sheet, recalling how he said he went to Juarez for the senoritas. He points out the home address on the document and says he didn't have any reason not to believe him. "We're good, right?" he asks nervously, offering a handshake, but the man just drives off without ever having said a word. But he also didn't kill the border patrol officer, who should probably count himself lucky on that score.
Frye and Mendez are at an outdoor taco stand, and even if he's a reluctant mentor, he's acting all encouraging about her big scoop, offering her a belt from his flask and everything. Wonder what he's up to. He apologizes for being such a dick and she asks him why he is. "Born that way," he shrugs, apparently blaming his poor social skills on a congenital condition, which is ironic considering who his new favorite El Paso homicide detective is. He happens to notice Cooper sitting in his car across the street, and although he doesn't recognize him from the police station, he and Mendez seem to agree that his cowboy hat and mustache mark him pretty clearly as a cop. Either that or someone who's trying to get a walk-on in Anchorman 2. Then Frye's cell phone rings, the caller ID showing the number as 000-000-0000. "This is Frye," he answers curiously. The familiar disguised voice asks if he's listening, and Frye demands a pen from Mendez so he can write down what the voice says. It's just a string of numbers that ends up going all the way across the paper taco plate Frye just finished polishing off, and as soon as it's done, the caller hangs up. Mendez takes a look at it and recognizes it as GPS coordinates, conveniently being a surveyor's kid. She punches it into his phone, and a spot "east of town down by the border" comes up. So did the actor record that message three years ago for Frye too? Or, more likely, was it the killer speaking live through the same voice distortion device? Actually, my favorite theory is that Ruiz and Cross had the actor call for them, just to fuck with Frye, but unfortunately I can't think of a reason they would do that, even if they were clever enough to think of it. I just wish Frye would call (000) 000-000 to find out.
Our intrepid Mexican freelance investigator stomps down the hallway of a run-down apartment building and pounds on a door that presumably belongs to Steven Linder. The trailer must be his weekend house. When there's no answer after an eternity of three seconds, the searcher gets right to work trying to jimmy the lock, only to be busted by a tough-looking female neighbor with a phone in her hand. He gives her a smile that he probably thinks is charming, but since he only looks like he's deciding which part of her face to eat first, she's still dialing the cops. In light of this, he decides to go in another direction: grabbing her and forcing her back into her apartment, and kicking the door shut behind them. He asks where Steven Linder is. She doesn't know, so he loops that thong around her neck and pulls it tight. And in case you're still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, he wipes a tear from her face with his fingertip and tastes it. Not creepy at all, that. "He took something from me," the man says. "I want it back." He squeezes tighter, but this chick is such a bad-ass that she still manages to wheeze, "God have mercy on you." And then she lets out a battle cry and jumps at him, toppling him onto his back and pinning him underneath her so that he actually has to make some effort to kill her. He lies there for a moment, catching his breath until he's able to get up and go in search of a refreshing glass of tears.