“After last year? When they were forced to clean house because of a couple corrupt cops? The FBI is the one that cleaned their clock.”
“I hadn’t really thought about that. Tia and I are still friends.”
“I have friends over there, too, but the atmosphere is definitely colder.” He paused. “I’m glad you filled Laura in on the situation, though. Now that she knows what we’re looking for, she’s better positioned to find it. Also, did you get my email last night?”
“Read it this morning. No security video of Denise Albright going into the bank the day she disappeared.”
“Just a screen shot from a video. And it could be anyone, the quality was awful. As is all the video and photo evidence that Kerr County sent to us three years ago.”
“The manager said he spoke to her.”
“Maybe,” Nate said. “The manager doesn’t have a record, but that’s all we know about him. I asked Zach to run him, everything we can get without a warrant.”
“Is that excessive before we even talk to him?” Lucy said.
“All we have is his word that Denise Albright went into the bank with a signed authorization from Kiefer to make her the sole signatory on the escrow account. He went on about how it was just to move the funds from the escrow account to the payroll account because Kiefer was leaving town, and because he knew her he didn’t think twice about it.”
“Yet it’s suspicious. Laura didn’t think it was three years ago.”
“She said it made sense at the time because they believed that Albright embezzled three million dollars and left the country. On the surface, that’s what she did—photos, evidence of packing, the whole nine yards. Which is also suspicious, because why? She had three kids, a husband, a good job—why would she take the money and leave? And if you listen to Max, it was because she didn’t want to turn in her best friend so she decided to commit a major felony and put her kids on the run for the rest of their lives?”
Nate had a good point.
Lucy thought about Stanley Grant embezzling the money from MCG. “The methodology is very similar to Stanley Grant embezzling money after Victoria Mills was killed. Sean and Max think that whoever threatened Grant embezzled the money—essentially hacked into the MCG accounts—to give Grant a viable motive to have killed her. What if Denise never stole the funds? What if someone else did and framed Denise so that the police would have a clear motive for her skipping town?”
“And she was killed for a completely different reason.”
“Exactly.”
Lucy’s cell phone rang. It was JJ Young. She put him on speaker.
“Why do you want to talk to my kids again? They’re in school.”
To the point.
“We have reason to believe that Ricky is alive and has been hiding out in Mexico, and we have a general region—the greater Tamaulipas area. In the process of reviewing all the evidence found at the Albright house, we have reason to believe that Ricky arrived there safely after he left your house, then left at some point that night or in the morning on his bike. His bike has never been found. It wasn’t at the house—we double-checked photos and the inventory list. His backpack was also missing—but his schoolbooks were in his bedroom.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Yes, but we still need to find him.”
“What do my kids have to do with it?”
This is where things got dicey, and Lucy had to be careful because JJ was protective of his children. But she also believed that he would encourage them to do the right thing.
“Denise’s parents hired a private investigator. The investigator interviewed Mrs. Durango, who saw Ricky on Friday night riding toward your house. She wasn’t certain it was Friday, but she’s almost positive, and Nate and I don’t think that a nine-year-old would have been allowed out at night on that road.”
“No, he wouldn’t have. He had to be home by dark, just like my kids.”
“We looked at a map and realized that she lives on the far end of your street. Ricky would have had to have taken his bike through the fields, not the roads, for her to see him.”
“It’s a shortcut,” JJ said. “The kids always go that way. They have dirt bikes.”
“The point is, if it was that night, Ricky was going to the one place he felt safe—your house.”
“I told you he didn’t come back. I asked Joe flat out and he said no.”
“Did you ask Ginny?”
“Of course, and—” He stopped, and Lucy continued, “Ginny had some odd questions about the detectives who came to your house. I didn’t think about it much at the time because kids process information different than we do, but in hindsight I think she was saying, in her own way, that she didn’t trust them. Why would she not trust cops? Have you had a run-in with law enforcement? I’m not saying it wasn’t justified, just that in general kids who have a parent or relative in trouble with the law often have a negative view about law enforcement.”
“Neither Jill nor I have been in any sort of legal trouble, nothing that would necessitate police involvement. I served my country for nine years, my kids respect people in uniform—the military and law enforcement.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. Young, we’re just trying to figure out what Ginny was thinking. And with her being a girl, I don’t think the detectives asked her specifically if she saw Ricky after his family disappeared. I think they questioned Joe, assuming that Joe was Ricky’s friend.”
Young didn’t say anything.
“I’m not saying that Ginny lied,” Lucy quickly added. “I’m suggesting that she was never asked, and I want to ask her directly. Firmly, but I’ll be kind.”
“I’ll pick them up at school at lunch. We’ll be at the house at twelve fifteen.”
A little later than Lucy wanted, but she wasn’t going to push it.
“Thank you.”
She ended the call and let out a long sigh. “I thought he was going to block us.”
“So did I, at least at first. So the bank now?”
“Yes. According to Laura, the manager is the same as three years ago. Frank Pollero.”
“And if we’re right, he’s part of whatever conspiracy killed that family. And if he is, I want him on accessory to murder.”
So did Lucy.
* * *
Lucy and Nate walked into the quaint bank in Kerrville. It was a small chain, with fourteen branches throughout central and southern Texas, and it specialized in small-town service. The corporate bank had an excellent reputation, but each branch was run separately.
Frank Pollero had been the branch manager for fifteen years. He was in his early fifties with a receding hairline, cherub face, and kind smile that reminded Lucy of a younger Clarence from the classic film It’s a Wonderful Life.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” Lucy said.
“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Pollero said as he led them to his office. It had a glass wall that looked out into the bank, which was designed in a way that clearly distinguished it from modern banks. Paintings of cattle ranches and a famous Alamo scene decorated the pale green walls; two separate sitting areas provided comfortable couches and neatly arranged finance magazines; a coffeepot and water cooler for customers; and the tellers were behind a high counter without bars or plastic shielding. It was a warm, homey environment with the stately colors and cleanliness that said, You can trust us with your money.