Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,22
said.
“We’re taking another stab with the cadaver dogs tomorrow, going wider, but … dammit, Lucy, where is he? Where did they bury him? Why wasn’t he with his family?”
Ash sounded forlorn and depressed.
“We’re doing what we can, Ash. So are you.”
“What are the chances that he’s still alive?”
Lucy didn’t want to put odds on that. “I don’t think he’s alive, Ash. Because all I can think about is, where has he been for the last three years?”
“Maybe he was kidnapped. He was nine, Lucy. I don’t have to tell you that there are some truly evil people in the world.”
“I’ll follow up with your report to NCMEC. I have a couple friends there. We also learned he had a friend in Austin, so if he was scared he might have contacted him. Nate and I have a long list of people to talk to tomorrow, not to mention following up with Denise Albright’s clients. If she embezzled from the construction company she worked for, perhaps she embezzled from her other clients. But it’s going to take some time. If you learn anything forensically, let us know.”
“I will. And—um—can you just let me know how it’s going?”
“Of course.”
She ended the call. “Why do I think that the sheriff’s office up here is incompetent?”
“Incompetent?” Nate repeated.
“There was no PI report in the files they gave me. I would have noticed it.”
“I think they dropped the ball, Lucy. They decided they knew exactly what happened—Denise took the money and ran—and anything that didn’t fit into that story was dismissed.” He paused. “Let’s say they did go to Mexico—were robbed, their car stolen. They were an average, white, middle-class family. They were in trouble. Maybe they called a friend and came back.”
“That would explain a lot. And then were killed because?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
“Three-million-dollar question,” Lucy muttered.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the caller ID and smiled. “It’s Sean,” she said to Nate as she answered. She was looking forward to a shower, dinner, and sleep. It had been a long day. “Hello,” she said. “We’re heading back now, should be home by seven thirty.”
“I just wanted to give you the heads-up that we’ll have company for dinner.”
Her plans for a shower and sleep dissipated, but at least there would be food. “You didn’t have to hold dinner for me.”
“It’s Max.”
“Maxine Revere?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Remember I told you I was helping her with a local case? A friend of the family was murdered, she wanted me to keep tabs on the investigation.”
“The killer confessed, right?”
“This morning he recanted his confession, his attorney quit, and Max hopped on a plane.”
“Is she staying with us?” She hoped she didn’t sound pissy at the prospect that Max would be at the house for a few days. She wasn’t a fan of houseguests in general, unless they were family, but with Max, Lucy would have to be constantly on her toes. The reporter was smart, shrewd, and far too inquisitive. She would pick up on subtleties if Lucy let her guard down for one minute, and frankly, it was exhausting. Home was the one place Lucy could relax.
“No, she’s staying at the Sun Towers. Has a penthouse suite, but I didn’t offer. I like Max, but I wouldn’t want her living here for a week.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s just been a long day.”
“I can cancel, meet her in the morning for an early breakfast.”
“No, I’m fine. Really. If I wasn’t, I’d tell you.”
Lucy said good-bye and hung up.
“The reporter,” Nate said flatly.
“She’s not like other reporters. I like her. Maybe not as much as Sean and Dillon do, but she’s really sharp.”
He grunted, sounding like her brother Jack.
As Nate turned onto the freeway, Lucy glanced down the street. A dark sedan, no front plate, did a U-turn right behind them. She couldn’t read the rear plate as it sped off.
“What?” Nate asked.
“We were being followed. I knew it.”
“Want me to turn around?” But as soon as he said it he shook his head. “They’ll be gone by the time I turn around. Did you get plates?”
“Dark American sedan, no front plates, I couldn’t read the rear plates. Tinted windows. I only saw one person in the car. My sense was ‘male,’ but I didn’t get a good look before he did a one-eighty.”
“Someone is keeping tabs on our investigation,” Nate said. “My money? The detectives.”