Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,135

Lucy knew Cesar wasn’t going to talk. He was too seasoned to cave. He would take his chances with the system, might not even care if he went to prison. He worked for a lawyer, might figure the lawyer would get him off.

After a good twenty minutes, Hank and Nate came out. “We’re not letting him go. His lawyer is a slimeball coming up from the city, will make a play, but it’s after five, he’s not going to be arraigned until Monday, and hopefully by then we’ll have a solid case and be able to deny him bail. The fact that his cousin wiped his digital record—still don’t know how he did it, but I’ll find out—should help us, but I have to get his records directly from the prison and the files from archives on his previous arrests, both here and in Bexar County.”

“Anything you need from us, let us know,” Nate said.

“We’re relieved that Detective Douglas is going to be okay,” Lucy added.

“He sends his apologies. Though I don’t know that he needs to, you two came in here like a bull in a china shop.”

“We apologize for that,” Lucy said when it was clear Nate wanted to argue. “We met with resistance from Detective Chavez and then saw the incomplete files, so by the time we finally talked to Detective Douglas we were frustrated.”

“I can see that. I have all my men and women out there looking for Carl, but I don’t think he’s still here. We’ve checked every place he could be—his house, his friends, every cop, his sister, his ex-wife, a couple places he might hang out unnoticed. But every cop in the area is looking for him.”

Lucy and Nate looked at their phones simultaneously.

“Frank Pollero was apprehended in New York City trying to board a flight to London,” Lucy said. Then, to make peace with the sheriff, she said, “How about if we get on a Skype call and talk to him together?”

* * *

Thirty minutes later they were in the main conference room at the sheriff’s office and the New York FBI office at JFK, which had detained Frank Pollero, set up the video call.

Frank looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He clearly didn’t expect to be caught, and he didn’t look like he had a Plan B.

“Hello, Mr. Pollero, remember me?” Lucy said.

“Agent Kincaid.”

“I’m here with Sheriff Hank Marston and Agent Nate Dunning. I’m going to get right to the chase. We know the photo you gave the FBI of Denise Albright was actually of Kitty Fitzpatrick, a woman known to you. We know that Denise Albright didn’t sign the authorization papers, because our handwriting expert confirmed that it was a forgery. We know that you conspired with an unknown party to steal three million dollars from the Kiefer accounts and frame Mrs. Albright.”

“No, no, I didn’t. That’s wrong.”

“Then you tell me what happened. You have one opportunity to tell me the truth, or this interview is over and you’ll be extradited back to Texas to face felony embezzlement and accessory to murder charges. You’ll be in prison for a minimum of twenty years and if you’re lucky you might see your granddaughter graduate from college.”

Frank couldn’t talk fast enough. “I was given that authorization form. I really thought that Mrs. Albright had signed it, I swear to God, but she didn’t come in. Simon Mills, who is also a longtime customer, brought it in. He said that Mrs. Albright was leaving town and that she wanted to process the forms that morning. I wasn’t going to do it, but Mr. Mills—well, I made a little bet with his club and lost, and then another little bet, and lost, and he was kind enough to let me pay in small installments. But I owed quite a bit, and he offered to forgive my loan. When the FBI came in the next week, I didn’t know what to think, but then another man, Carl Chavez, a detective, came in and said—oh, God—that he would kill my daughter if I changed my story. He said that! And when the FBI wanted surveillance photos, I panicked, so I went through everything we had and Kitty and Mrs. Albright look a lot alike, especially on those fuzzy tapes, and then everything was done. And no one came back and it was over. I felt awful that Mrs. Albright stole the money from Mr. Kiefer, and I knew it was in some way my