“What are you really doing here, Maxine?” Simon said. “Dad said you were coming into town to help us, why are you helping him?” He stared at her, anger vibrating under his skin. “He’s caused my family nothing but heartache and pain and now he’s playing this ridiculous game.”
“You believe he killed Victoria.”
“Who else? He confessed, Maxine. He stole money from their company and killed her when she called him on it. I thought he’d changed, but I was wrong.”
“So you knew he had a gambling problem.”
“It wasn’t a big secret. After college he lost his family home, his savings, his job—he lost everything because he thought he could make a fortune on luck. Hit rock bottom. We all gave him a second chance because he swore that he had changed. We’ve been friends since college, and I treated him like a brother.”
She had a lot more questions for Simon, but they didn’t have much privacy here in the middle of the courthouse. “I’ll be out to talk to your father tonight. I’d like you there.”
“Don’t bother coming if you’re trying to get Stan off.”
She bristled. “If he’s guilty and recanting his statement is a legal ploy, I’ll prove it. If he’s innocent and was blackmailed into confessing, I’ll prove that.”
“Blackmailed? What? That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”
His tone grated on her, but she gave grieving families a little more leeway than most people. “If it is, it will be easy enough to prove. What do you know about his sister, Marie Richards?”
That question seemed to surprise him. “She’s a sweetheart. Has two little boys. Elementary school teacher. Stan worshipped her. She divorced a couple years ago but is still close to her ex—I think it had to do with his job, but I don’t know the details. That Stan would do this to her and her family—it was hard enough on her when he confessed, and now I’m sure the media circus will be ten times worse.”
“There were only two other reporters in the courtroom,” Max said. “A print reporter and someone with a local crime blog. They don’t seem to be chomping at the bit to find out what’s going on.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Max also didn’t understand why the press wasn’t all over this, either, though she’d watch the reports tonight and in the coming days. Friday might be a more interesting day in court, when the judge made his decision about allowing the confession.
“Simon, I have questions. I’m also going to talk to Mitch and—”
“Mitch is going through his own hell right now. He loved Victoria, even after they divorced. They were friends, they ran their business together. He wanted to come here, but I didn’t trust him not to get thrown out for saying something in court.”
“Why did you visit Stan in prison last week?”
Simon was clearly surprised that she knew. “I wanted answers.”
“Did he tell you that he was going to change his plea?”
“No. Why does it sound like you’re accusing me of something?”
“I’m asking questions, Simon. I want to know who killed Victoria and why. The embezzlement motive is weak.”
“I don’t know what you’re smoking, Maxine, but Stan confessed. He wouldn’t have confessed if he didn’t do it. My mother has aged a decade in the last two months. She rarely leaves the house. The only time I ever saw her cry was when her dad died. Until now. I will never forgive him. I always knew you were a hard-ass, Maxine, but this is beyond the pale. I hope you don’t treat my parents like this.”
He turned and walked down the stairs.
Max watched him leave. His reaction was over-the-top, and there was no reason for it. She checked her email. Grover Mills had confirmed he would be home to meet with her this evening, at his house in Fredericksburg. It was more than an hour drive, but she wanted to go to him, to a place where he and his wife would feel most comfortable talking to her.
Something was off 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.”