Frye has dragged his young colleague Adriana Mendez with him to Juarez, in order to follow up the lead Wade gave him. Which will turn out to be the old couple who were traveling with Cassandra and the other migrants. He's clearly not happy about being here, although he's been to Juarez before. "The fun parts," he tells Mendez. "The clubs and the farmacias here...Before it became War-ez." Witty. He pauses to scrape something off the bottom of his shoe and they bicker a bit about his having to share this assignment with her, apparently because their editor wants Mendez to keep Frye honest. That could be a full-time job in itself. Eventually they arrive at a rundown house behind a cinder-block fence, and Frye instructs Mendez, "Say some shit in Spanish."
While she does so, confirming that the old couple in the yard are indeed the ones who tried to cross the border the day before (and yet here they are, as though they didn't go anywhere but grocery shopping yesterday), Frye gets a call on his cell phone. "I have her," the electronically disguised voice says. "You have who?" Frye stalls. Somewhere in the desert, a hooded figure -- whose voice is somehow disguised even in person -- offers, "I'll let her go. For a price." Frye asks how much, and the voice demands a million dollars, split four ways. Scribbling in his notebook, Frye asks who to split it between. "Samuel Halstead, Brady Moss, Buzz Larson, Karl Millwright." Those just happen to be the richest men in El Paso. Well, one of them was.
"What's your point?" Frye asks. "Dialectics," is the only answer. After a pause, Frye asks, "Can you elaborate?" He probably considered and decided against making a lame L. Ron Hubbard joke there, unlike myself. "Who cares about one poor Mexican?" the voice asks. "Not the wealthy, the white. But if they have to see it, feel it, be responsible for letting her…slip away? Will they care then?" Frye asks the caller to come talk to him face to face so he can make his point, but the line's gone dead. The caller, who has been pacing along a dirt track in the desert, all but vanishes into the landscape as though he's in an episode of Without a Trace.
At the El Paso PD, Wade is heading up a briefing of a bunch of FBI types on what they've found so far. Or actually, what the El Paso press corps found out for them. Apparently the missing woman's name is not Cassandra after all, which would have been pretty on the nose even for this show. No, it's Maria, and she's from San Juanito. "This guy wants the ransom paid by four particular patrons," Wade explains, and Cross says they already reached out to them. "Who authorized you to do that?" an FBI agent demands, as rudely as Cross ever asked anything. She says they didn't need authorization, and the agent snottily corrects that it's a joint task force. "Sonya's on my team," Wade says. "And kidnapping is our territory," the agent says. "From now on we run that."