The disreputable white van, dirty and dented, cruised up and down the rows of cars parked in Temple’s municipal lot. Two burly men, driver and passenger, scanned the lot eagerly. The screech of tires caught their attention as a pale blue BMW sped into the lot. The BMW made a sharp right one row away from the van and zipped into the first available spot. Its driver, an exceptionally pretty, black-haired woman in her early twenties, flung the car door open and stepped out into the bright March sun. The men in the dirty van straightened as she revealed herself. They hadn’t come there to admire her beauty or the stylish lines of her BMW. They had come for her.