Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,45

with Simon.

She would find out what it was.

Chapter Eleven

Lucy and Nate arrived at King Investigations shortly before their ten a.m. meeting. The business was run out of a corner suite in an office building on the edge of the River Walk.

A young receptionist with a nameplate that read Charlotte King smiled as they entered, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “May I help you?”

They showed their badges. “Agents Kincaid and Dunning to see Miranda King. She’s expecting us.”

Charlotte inspected both their badges and their photos before she said, “One moment.”

The young woman stood and left the small lobby, went down a hall and out of their sight. To the right, open doors showed a conference room with a table for six, a couch and two chairs, and bookshelves packed with legal tomes.

Charlotte returned a moment later and said formally, “Please wait in our conference room. Mrs. King will be with you shortly.”

Lucy and Nate entered, and left the door open. “Sean knows these people?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, he’s worked with them.”

“Maybe if you called yourself Lucy Rogan we’d get a warmer reception.”

Lucy didn’t concern herself with Charlotte’s distance—everyone had a story, and she respected the bubble people put around themselves. She had one, too, though over time she’d let more people get close.

Miranda King strode in a moment later carrying a file. She was in her fifties, fit and clearly muscular, as if she’d worked on a farm most of her life, dressed in jeans, a blazer, a simple button-down shirt, and well-worn cowboy boots. “Hello, Agents. And Lucy, I feel like I know you! Sean texted me earlier and said you were coming by, and that you and Nate weren’t dick agents.”

Lucy didn’t know what to say to that, but Nate laughed.

Miranda closed the door and motioned for them to sit. “Don’t be mad at him, he knows I had a douchebag of a federal agent on my heels after my husband died, long story. You said you wanted to talk about the Albrights, and I cleared with the family that I can talk to you about the case. You found their bodies. I’m not surprised.”

“All but the youngest child,” Lucy said. “They were killed within two weeks of their initial disappearance, and Nate and I are beginning to think they never left the country, or came back almost immediately.”

“I don’t think they left, but the cops up in Kerr jerked my chain one time too many. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about what happened. They saw the picture of their Escalade crossing the border, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Jerks. I eventually had to put the case aside, though any time a John or Jane Doe was discovered in Texas or Mexico I had a look-see, to determine whether they were one of the Albright family. I saw the news report last night, read more this morning—it was your people who confirmed the bones uncovered were the Albrights, correct?”

“They were verified through DNA evidence. Glen, Denise, Tori, and Becky, but Ricky hasn’t been found yet. We would greatly appreciate if you could share with us what you learned.”

“Happy to, as long as you’re not going to drop the ball.”

“No, ma’am,” Lucy said. “This case is a priority for our office.”

“Hmm.”

Did she not believe it? Lucy was more curious now about what happened to turn Miranda King against the FBI. But she didn’t ask, and Miranda continued.

“First, Rico—my son—found the Escalade registered to Denise Albright in a chop shop in Matamoros. Already dismantled. He bribed the owner to let him confirm the VIN number. We gave that information to the police.”

“They could have sold the car or traded it,” Lucy said. “To avoid being detected.”

Miranda nodded. “Could have, didn’t. With some prompting, the owner admitted to Rico that he found the vehicle by the side of the road. Had some luggage in it, but the suitcases were mostly empty. He gave those to his sister to sell, which Rico confirmed. Though she didn’t have much of anything left—we tracked the car two weeks after their disappearance, which is when we were first hired—he believed her when she gave him a list of the items. A few shirts and toiletries, but no money, no supplies, no food, no water. A brand-new tent that couldn’t have fit five people. If I were going to disappear into Mexico for any length of time, you can be damn sure I’d have a car packed with necessary supplies to trade, sell, or