Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,6
houses are remote.”
Lucy was skimming the reports as Chavez spoke. Most of it she’d seen before, in the copy sent to the FBI. She didn’t see how they made a leap from seeing the Albrights were not home to checking the border and was about to ask, but Chavez continued.
“We went to Mrs. Albright’s employer next,” he said. “They were very concerned because she was supposed to be in a meeting Monday and hadn’t called in. So we put a BOLO out for the Escalade and the family—we initially thought they’d been in an accident, maybe went away for the weekend and got into trouble. Something like that. Talked to Mr. Albright’s sister in Dallas, she was worried because she’d tried to call on Sunday and he didn’t answer or return her call, which according to her was unlike him. She said she’d call around to friends and other family members. But it wasn’t until Wednesday—maybe Thursday—when Mrs. Albright’s employer came to us and accused her of stealing over three million dollars from a trust: money for a federal project.”
“And you then notified the FBI.”
“Not right away. First we searched their house—they hadn’t been seen in five or six days, we had cause. Saw evidence that they’d left in a hurry. Worked with the DA, he contacted the US Attorney, and I guess it was then that someone in the FBI got involved; I wasn’t really involved since Garrett was the lead detective. At that point, once we got the surveillance photos from Border Control, we figured they’d left the country with the money.” He shrugged. “Like I said, it wasn’t really our case anymore.”
“Where’s the report from Border Control?” Nate asked.
“In there.”
It took Lucy several minutes to find it because the file wasn’t well organized. She stared at it, then handed it to Nate. It was clearly the Albrights’ vehicle—the license plate was scanned and printed on the photo—but there was no clear shot of the driver or passenger. There appeared to be four people in the car, but they were indistinct. “In hindsight,” she asked, “what do you think happened?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Obviously they came back to the States. Maybe ran out of money or had a guilty conscience, don’t know.”
Don’t care, either, do you, Detective?
“You can’t tell if the driver is Glen Albright,” Nate said, slapping the photo back down on the table. “This is a copy, not the original.”
Chavez finally took note of Nate’s thinly controlled anger and straightened his chair—and his spine. “That’s what they sent us.”
“They didn’t send you a digital copy?”
“I don’t know, this is the image in the file.”
“But Detective Douglas would know,” Nate snapped.
“Yes, he would.”
It was really frustrating not to have Douglas here, when Chavez clearly didn’t have much information about the case and didn’t seem inclined to help.
Lucy spoke before Nate said something that would get them kicked out of the headquarters. “Would you please ask Detective Douglas to email me all the digital files and photos? We can have our crime lab enhance them.” If there was enough data to enhance.
“Not a problem. If that’s it?”
“One more thing—you interviewed the Young family. Why?”
“The youngest Albright kid was friends with the Young kid. When we started looking for the family, before we knew they’d fled the country, we learned that Ricky Albright went home on Friday with Joe Young and his sister. We thought the family might know where they were going, if Ricky said anything to them about a camping trip or vacation or whatever. He didn’t.”
Lucy tapped the report. “He left the Young house at about six o’clock Friday night, according to Mrs. Young. How far is it from the Albrights’?”
“He left on his bike. Probably ten, fifteen minutes.”
“But the Border Control time stamp is nine thirteen p.m.,” Nate said. “Even driving like a bat out of hell, you can’t get to Brownsville in three hours.”
Chavez shrugged, which irritated Lucy, and Nate was on the verge of losing all semblance of diplomacy. “He could have left earlier,” Chavez said. “If he left closer to five thirty, for example, and the family was waiting for him, they could easily get there. Like I said, they left in a hurry.”
Maybe, Lucy thought. Maybe. But it seemed off. She made a note to talk to the Youngs.
“Where are the photos of the house?” Lucy asked.
“They should be in there.”
“They’re not.”
“You sure?”
Lucy didn’t respond to the question. “Have Detective Douglas send me all crime scene photos from