Mendez rushes into the El Paso station, finds Wade (whom she knows on sight), and tells him Frye is missing. "He's an addict, right?" Wade remarks, not that that's such an astounding feat of memory. Mendez tells him what happened after the meeting, and says she doesn't think it was Frye driving. "Then who was it?" Wade asks automatically, but Mendez gets his full attention when she says that Frye helped cover up the accident that killed Tate's family. "He told me that's why he's been targeted all this time." And he'll be thrilled that you told the cops, too.

Ruiz and Cross are back at the abandoned Tate-mobile and rifling the contents of the glove compartment when Ruiz finds a parking ticket from the night Tate dumped the bodies. "Not part of the plan," Cross figures. It does, however, raise the question of why nobody found a record of the parking ticket at their end. Ruiz sees that the address is different from that of Tate's apartment, so they get going, planning to call it in on the way. I wonder what Tate's reason was for leaving that in the glove compartment? Part of the plan or no, it's not like him to be that sloppy. I wouldn't be surprised if it's an exploding parking ticket.

A quick digression: at the Science Museum of Minnesota in St. Paul, the dinosaur exhibit includes a large, cylindrical, plastic fermentation tank with the ends removed so the kids can crawl through it and get a sense of how big a brontosaurus's stomach was. My eight-year-old has probably spent more time inside that tank than inside the tree house we built him a few years ago. I only mention this because Gus returns to consciousness inside exactly this kind of tank. Except he's not having as much fun, because his wrists, ankles, and mouth are duct-taped, the only light comes from a green glow-stick at his feet, and both ends of this tank appear to be intact. So that's all bad enough. Worse, water has begun dribbling through the top of the tank and seems likely to eventually fill it to the top. Well, the good news is that I didn't see any evidence of recently installed plumbing back at the cemetery. Through the duct tape over Gus's mouth, we can just make him out yelling, "Help me! Is there anybody out there?" This time, it's without subtitles. Wow, this show really is improving my Spanish. Okay, I learned "Ayudame" from Dora the Explorer, but still.

The address on the parking ticket leads Cross and Ruiz to an establishment that has the cruelly ironic name of Forever Young Nursing Home. And people accuse us of mocking people. The attendant at the front desk instantly recognizes David Tate from the photo they show her, because it turns out he's a regular visitor of a patient named Mr. Chambers. When the detectives find that elderly gentleman in the parlor at a jigsaw puzzle, he tells them that Tate is nice, warm, and kind. I remember when we thought that. Ruiz asks if he knows who the man in the photo is. "Of course," Mr. Chambers says. "He's my father." Well, that is almost certainly not the case, so this looks like another dead end. But Cross returns to the front desk, where the file provides a home address for Mr. Chambers. Ruiz recalls that Tate once mentioned an uncle with Alzheimer's, so it looks like they just met him. Even better, Cross says the record shows a visit from David Tate on the day of the body disposal on the bridge. Or possibly from Kenneth Hasting. She doesn't specify, and it probably doesn't matter.

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