She finished her wine. She had some research to do.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Lucy went back to FBI headquarters to write up a report for her boss and figure out how she wanted to handle the information about Chavez. She couldn’t let a corrupt cop remain on the street, but she had no solid evidence that he was corrupt. And considering that Detective Douglas read her the riot act for keeping him out of the loop on the Pollero warrant, she didn’t know if he would keep the information to himself if she read him in. The last thing she wanted was for Chavez to slip away like Pollero.
This decision was well above her pay grade.
It was after five when Rachel walked by her desk. “I’m heading home since I have a really early day tomorrow. Anything I need to know before I walk out?”
“I was writing it up now,” Lucy said, though that was partly a fib. She was trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. “It’s complicated.”
“Simplify it.”
“We found Ricky Albright alive and well.”
“Where is he? What’s complicated?”
“Finding him wasn’t complicated. He’ll be here tomorrow early afternoon,” she said. “Nate showed Ricky the photos of several cops—none in uniform, we didn’t want to taint his ID—and he picked out Detective Carl Chavez as one of the men who was in his house the night his parents disappeared. He said he acted like he was in charge, ordered three other men to search the house and shred papers, and took something from Denise Albright’s office that Ricky believed was a deed. I don’t have Ricky’s official statement and I recognize that a court is going to be hesitant about accepting the testimony of a child who is relying on an old memory, but I believe him. So does Nate.”
Rachel pulled over a chair and sat down. “A cop. And it wasn’t a welfare check or something?”
“No. It was the Friday they disappeared. It happened about the same time they allegedly crossed the border, days before the sheriff’s office was called about a welfare check, and we now believe they were already dead. The men had keys to the house and came in without knocking. Ricky hid.” Lucy told Rachel everything that Ricky told Nate.
Rachel said, “I’ll call Abigail tonight and see how she wants to proceed.”
Lucy was actually relieved she didn’t have to make this call. “Nate and I were skeptical of the initial police investigation into the Albrights’ disappearance and how both Detectives Chavez and Douglas reacted during our conversations with them. Chavez wouldn’t say much, told us that it was Douglas’s case, that Douglas was the senior agent, but he was part of every interview. We didn’t trust either of them—not because we thought they were corrupt, but because we thought they were incompetent. And now I can’t say for certain that Douglas is not involved. They’ve both been in the department for years, they’re friends. And,” Lucy continued, “Douglas was furious that I didn’t call him when we served the warrant on the bank.”
“He has a point there—it’s common courtesy—but I see why you held back. We can’t tell him until we know more. But Abigail is going to want to talk to the sheriff directly so he can decide how to handle an investigation. Write up everything you know—facts, not conjecture—and send it to me. Then when Ricky Albright arrives, he’s going to have to make a formal statement. I’ll work on that—Abigail will know exactly how to proceed, but likely Ricky can give his testimony directly to a judge, who can then decide on a warrant for Chavez and possibly Douglas.”
“I’ll get it to you within the hour—I’ve been working on it.”
“Again, facts. Leave out the part that Nate was in Mexico, I’ll tell Abigail myself. He’ll get his hand slapped, but nothing more.”
Lucy was relieved. “Thank you.”
“Good work.”
* * *
It was six thirty when Lucy left headquarters. Sean already said he’d gone home to feed Bandit and let him out, but he was going out again and wouldn’t be home until late. He didn’t tell her what he was doing, and right now Lucy almost didn’t want to know, especially if it was going to tread into SAPD territory. Jesse was staying at St. Catherine’s and Lucy was tired. She could already picture herself in bed.
She was nearly home when an unfamiliar number rang her cell phone.
“Kincaid,” she answered.
“Agent Kincaid, this is Detective Jennifer Reed with SAPD.”
It’s about time, Lucy thought, but instead said, “Thank you for returning my call.”
“Three messages, I thought it might be important. You said it’s about the Victoria Mills homicide.”
“Yes. Do you have time to meet?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Unless you’re off duty and want to meet now. My treat, Duncan’s?”
Duncan’s was a blue bar near SAPD headquarters. Beer, appetizers, music on the weekends, darts, and shuffleboard. Mostly, a place for cops to hang out with other cops.
“You want to ruin my reputation, hanging out with a fed?” She laughed. “Sure, Duncan’s. Fifteen minutes.”
Lucy ended the call and got off at the next exit, then headed back downtown.
She’d been to the cop bar a few times, usually with Tia Mancini, the sex crimes detective she’d befriended when they worked a case together. SAPD and the FBI had had some ups and downs over the years, especially after the FBI exposed a corrupt cop who had been working for one of the drug cartels. Fortunately, most people in SAPD didn’t know Lucy and those who did mostly liked her.
The place was full but not overcrowded. Because it was a cop bar, there were lots of tables around the edges of the establishment and the bar was in the middle, providing good vantage points from nearly everywhere. Lucy found a table to the side. She didn’t know what Reed looked like, but it didn’t matter—Reed walked in and after saying hello to people she knew walked right over to Lucy. She was in her early forties, black, tall, and skinny, and wore her badge with confidence. By the reception from her fellow cops, she was well liked.
“You’re younger than I thought,” Reed said. “What are you drinking?”
“Wine. Red.”
Reed waved over to the bartender. “Drake, light draft and a red. On the fed here.”
“Thanks,” Lucy muttered.
“You’re clearly FBI. But the cops I asked said you’re not a dick, so that’s a plus.”
“Good to know,” she said, because what did you say to something like that?
“You worked that hostage deal over the summer, at the coffeehouse downtown.”
“I did.”
The bartender brought over the drinks and a basket of pretzels. “Tab?” he asked.
“Yes,” Reed said.
Lucy gave him her credit card and he walked away.
Reed drank a third of the beer in one gulp. “Mills, go.”
To the point. “First thing you should know is that I’m only looking into this case because it may be connected to one of my cases and I’m hoping we can share information.”
“My suspect is dead. You think Grant killed someone else?”