Cross is looking at the map and a handwritten notebook documenting the suspect's many "missions" to Mexico, so they both seem satisfied. Myself, not so much. I mean, obviously Jack Childress is dangerous, but I'm not convinced he's the guy they're looking for. Some stuff fits but other stuff doesn't. Ruiz wants to bring in the task force, but Cross says it just needs to be Wade, who is already on his way. She points out that the killer was listening last time they broadcast something. "We'll pull back and wait for him to come," she says. Unlike Graciela Rivera.
In Juarez, Steven Linder -- who has surprisingly not been killed by Fausto Galvan, but is still bloody-eyed after his encounter with Calaca -- is meeting in a diner with a well-dressed, middle-aged Mexican woman who expresses surprise that he was willing to meet her in daylight. Yes, because a guy who walks around looking like Steven Linder is all about operating under the radar. Linder tells her that everything is changing. "The shell of the egg is breaking." Whoa, heavy. That also explains why he's wearing a pink cowboy shirt with horseshoes all over it.
He asks if she's got another job for him, which I suppose makes her his agent in this freelance semi-kidnapping, Mexican hottie-smuggling thing he's got going on the side. She hands him a photo of a young woman, and this one is even more of a knockout than Eva Guerra was. Linder gazes at the picture like he's already imagining her kissing him on one of those yak-pelts he wears on the side of his face. "Her name is Sarah Bega," the woman says. "She is my daughter. She dropped out of school, she lost her way." Linder is a little stunned, asking, "You want me to take her? Take her to Bob? Against her will?" She says she just wants him to talk to her. "I'm not a messenger. I'm a conduit," he protests. Not to mention creepy and off-putting. But Linder agrees to do it when the woman breaks down. This should go well.
Fausto Galvan is undergoing the fitting of a suit in a dance studio, although there's nobody in there except a couple of his goons, the tailor taking the measurements, and -- get this -- Sarah Bega. She's dancing in front of a fan, calling compliments over her shoulder about how Galvan looks in his suit, even before the sleeves have been attached. Apparently she's his girlfriend, which must be how she's able to recognize him without his trademark black baseball cap. The tailor unwisely makes a remark about Galvan having gained a few pounds, to which Galvan takes sufficient offense to put his cigar out on the top of the tailor's bald head. The man crawls away weeping in pain as Galvan tells him to watch himself. Man, never be rude to your tailor. You never know what they can put in your pants.