Lucy and Nate stopped at a small cafe in Bandera for a late lunch. While waiting to be served, Lucy called Zach Charles, the analyst for the Violent Crimes Squad, and asked if they had a list of Denise Albright’s other clients. “Laura Williams with White Collar might have that information,” she told him, “but it wasn’t in the file that Rachel gave us.”
Zach promised to have something by the end of the day.
As they ate, Lucy said, “While I think everyone is capable of killing under the right circumstances, I don’t see Kiefer hurting this family.”
“I agree,” Nate said. “Whoever killed this family is uniquely cold. Brutal. Absolutely no regrets—he killed three kids.”
Two, Lucy thought—two because they hadn’t found Ricky Albright’s remains. She still leaned toward the idea that he was dead, but until they found his body there was a chance, however slim, that the boy was still alive.
But if he’s alive, where has he been for the last three years?
She sent Zach a message and copied in Laura Williams, in case she already had the information, and asked if there was any evidence of Albright—husband or wife—having a gambling or drug problem, or any other addiction or debt that might explain the theft. Or a family member who had an addiction. It didn’t quite feel right, but it was something—a reason for her taking the money in the first place.
How does someone go from law-abiding to criminal overnight?
Denise Albright had no criminal record … but Lucy also knew that might not mean anything. Maybe she wasn’t as squeaky clean as she seemed to be. Yet … she had a family, roots, friends, a career. How did someone with so much to lose end up embezzling so much money?
She didn’t see drugs—on the little they knew about the family, she didn’t think one of them would have such a serious problem that it would cost millions to cover up. Gambling? That was possible. Gambling could incur huge losses that Albright may have been desperate to pay off. For her or her husband.
Or she could have been blackmailed—maybe having an affair, or she or her husband had done something illegal. She didn’t know the family well enough to know whether they were the type who might hit and run or gamble away someone else’s money. Albright was an accountant—maybe she did accounting for the wrong people.
And that was the crux of the problem. She didn’t know the family, not well enough to profile. All she knew was on the surface—three kids, two-income household, living an hour outside of San Antonio possibly for the quiet lifestyle, possibly because it was cheaper. House on a couple of acres. She had to look into the kids as well. Grades, disciplinary actions. If there was a sudden dip in grades it could signal something wrong in the house.
Until she knew who the Albrights were before they died, there was no way she could effectively work this case.
“What are you thinking?” Nate asked.
“We don’t know them,” she said. “We don’t know Denise or Glen or their kids. If we don’t know them, we can’t understand why she took the money—or who killed her.”
“We can assume that the three million dollars is the motive.”
“It appears to be … but that would mean she took the money for someone else.”
“Blackmail?”
“Maybe. But if blackmail, why kill her if she paid?”
Nate thought on that. “Let’s assume they left the country as everyone thought. Instead of paying the blackmailer, they decided to run. The killer tracked them down.”
“Then why not kill them in Mexico where their bodies wouldn’t be found?”
“Maybe the killer kept the kid as insurance, sent the family back to the US to get the funds.”
“But the money was all transferred electronically. It’s not as if they had cash buried.”
“Unless she converted the funds to something tangible—like gold or bonds.”
“Is that easy to trace?”
“Depends. Laura would have a better handle on that.”
“Still doesn’t explained why they were murdered.”
“Maybe she took money from other clients,” Nate suggested. “Maybe Kiefer wasn’t the only victim.”
“And then what? She worked for someone who would rather kill than file charges?”
“Especially if that someone wasn’t running a legal business.”
It was a possibility but seemed a stretch. This was why Lucy didn’t work in White Collar. Her husband, Sean, understood how financial crimes worked—and didn’t work—but she would much rather solve an old-fashioned homicide than figure out how money was laundered.
Lucy said, “We need to talk to friends, family, neighbors. The Young family that were the last known to have seen Ricky Albright. He was last seen hours after the girls and the parents. That in and of itself seems odd.”
“Because if they were planning to leave the country, they would have told Ricky to come straight home after school.”
“Exactly. Or picked him up at school, or at the Youngs’. He didn’t leave until six o’clock. I want to confirm everything they told the detectives three years ago, and ask the kids if there was anything Ricky said that made them concerned. Something out of character.”
“They would have told the original investigators.”
“If they asked the right questions. At the time, the kids were nine, going on ten. Fourth grade. Maybe the detectives didn’t even talk to the kids.”
“They might not remember three years later.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But when your best friend disappears, you tend to remember everything that happened the last day you saw them.”
That she knew from experience.
Lucy and Nate drove directly to the Youngs’ house from Bandera. It was exactly 1.3 miles from the Albright house using surface streets, but the neighborhoods were filled with ranch homes on large, unfenced properties. It would be easy to cut through open space or use dirt trails that zigzagged through the area. The trek would be closer to half a mile as the crow flies.
They knocked on the door and a very pregnant woman answered. “Hello?”
“Jill Young?”
“Yes?”
Lucy and Nate identified themselves and showed their badges. “Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. What’s this about?”
“The Albright family.”
Her face fell and she opened the door for them to enter.
She waddled over to a chair and sat down. “Sorry, my feet are swollen and I can’t wait to pop. This little gal was a surprise and trust me—it’s a lot harder to be pregnant at forty than it was when I was in my twenties.”
“When are you due?” Lucy asked.
“Christmas Day, but my doctor is thinking about inducing two weeks early. We’ll make the decision at my next appointment provided the baby is on track.”
Lucy didn’t want to distress a pregnant woman, but she couldn’t lie about the situation, either.
“Family has been notified, and it’ll be released to the media tonight, so I regret to inform you that the Albright family has been found dead. They died within weeks of their disappearance.”
“Dear Lord, I’m so sorry,” she said. “That’s awful—I just knew something bad had happened to them. People don’t just disappear like that.”
“You spoke to the police shortly after they went missing and said that Ricky had left your house at six that Friday evening. It’s very possible that you and your children were the last to see him alive. However—and this hasn’t been released, other than to the family—his is the only body we haven’t found.”
Jill put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. “How am I going to tell the kids?”
Lucy didn’t envy her.
“What happened?” Jill continued. “Did they have an accident? The police said they left the country. I have family in Mexico. Sure, parts are dangerous, but Glen and Denise wouldn’t go to those areas.”
“Their bodies were found locally. About ten miles from their home as the crow flies.”
“I don’t understand. What happened?” she repeated.
“They were murdered.”
She closed her eyes again, took a deep breath. Opened them. “How can I help?”
“Did Ricky say anything to you that day? Anything you remember that sounded strange at the time, or in hindsight?”
“It was three years ago, I don’t remember anything specific. If I had, I would have told the police when they first came to talk to us.”
“I’m sure you would have, and we have their notes, but anything you can tell us about Ricky and his family would help us.”
Jill said, “I want to help, but I don’t know what to say, really. Ricky was here all the time. He, Joe, and Ginny were inseparable, and he was a good kid. Very polite, smart. Joe—my son—he would much prefer to play than do homework. Ricky was a good student, he more than anyone could get Joe to focus for thirty minutes to finish whatever project they were doing, then they would play. The three of them—they’d been friends since first grade, when we moved here. They rode their bikes to school together, and he was here almost every afternoon. If Ricky had a fault, it was being late. Time was more a suggestion to him.” She smiled sadly at the memory. “Half the time his mom or dad would be calling over here for him because he forgot a dentist appointment or it was past dinner. All I really remember about that day was that it was six and I called out to the tree house that it was six and did Ricky want to stay for dinner. He ran in, said he couldn’t, that he was late getting home. I told him to go ahead and I’d call his parents and tell them he was on the way.”
“Who did you speak to?”
“No one. I called the house phone, no one answered, and I left a message on their answering machine.”
“And you’re certain it was six in the evening.”
“Yes—a few minutes after six, in fact. JJ, my husband, owns an auto repair shop in town and he’d opened a second storefront in Boerne, which is thirty minutes from here. Thursdays and Fridays—at least back then—he worked extra hours to get the new place off the ground. He would always call me when he was leaving so I’d know when to expect him, and I looked at the clock. It was after six on the microwave. I saw Ricky’s backpack on the kitchen table and realized he was still here. Called him, he rushed in, grabbed his backpack, and ran off. Not more than five minutes after I called him out of the tree house.”
That was consistent with the report from three years ago, so Chavez’s theory that the timing was fluid and they didn’t remember exactly when Ricky left was not correct. While it had been three years, the family had been interviewed shortly after the Albrights went missing, so likely they remembered the details.
“Did you know the family well?” Lucy said.
“I talked to Denise often, but always about the kids. Sleepovers and that sort of thing. I’ve of course met Glen and Ricky’s older sisters, and Becky babysat on occasion—she was the younger girl, but much more responsible, in my opinion. I never thought twice about leaving the kids with her.”
“Did you socialize outside of the kids?”
She shook her head. “Other than Ricky, we didn’t have a lot in common. I’m a stay-at-home mom but do a lot of volunteer work, mostly through our church or the VA. I wanted a large family, but we had trouble conceiving, and the pregnancy with the twins was very difficult. I didn’t think I would be able to have more kids, and so when this girl came along I was surprised. A happy surprise.” She rubbed her stomach.
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Lucy said.
“We didn’t have a lot in common,” she repeated. “Nothing. I always had the feeling Denise looked down on me for not going to college and choosing to stay home. Early in our marriage we moved a lot—JJ was in the Army, so we lived on base wherever he was stationed. The twins were born at Fort Buchanan, in Puerto Rico. That was the fourth base we lived on. When they were three, we moved to Fort Hood. He was deployed for eighteen months, and then shortly after chose not to reenlist, and we moved here. He’d given the Army twelve years and felt it was time for a new chapter.
“I take classes here and there when I’m interested in something, but I never felt I needed to spend the money on an advanced education when all I really wanted was to make a nice home for my family and help people through my church. I don’t think Denise respected my choices. So no, we didn’t socialize.”
“We were hoping that we could talk to Joe and Ginny. Ricky might have said something to them about what was going on with his family.”
“The police told us that Denise embezzled money from one of her clients and left the country. Are you saying that didn’t happen?”
“No, but no one has seen the family since that Friday, so we need to look at the investigation with fresh eyes and confirm all the facts.”
Jill frowned, her hands rubbing her large stomach. “Joe and Ginny are going to be so upset when they find out that Ricky is … is dead.”
Lucy glanced at Nate, then said, “We don’t know what happened to Ricky. We found the remains of his parents and sisters, but not him. That’s why it’s so important that we talk to Joe and Ginny and find out if he said anything to them, even if they didn’t think much about it at the time.”
“They’re at school,” she said.
“We can come back.”
“I need to talk to my husband first. We need to decide how we want to tell the kids about Ricky and his family.”
“We understand. We can come back about five thirty?” Lucy suggested.
“Okay, but I can’t make any promises.”
“We’re going to be in town for the rest of the day, so we’ll stop by on our way back to San Antonio.”
They got up, and Lucy motioned for Jill to continue sitting. “We’ll let ourselves out. Thank you, Mrs. Young.”
They walked to the car and Nate said, “He was probably grabbed when he got home.”
“Probably,” Lucy said.
“You don’t sound like you believe that.”
“I don’t know what to believe at this point. Ash didn’t find his body. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I want that kid to be alive.”
“So do I, Luce,” he said.
She pulled out her cell phone and called Sean. He answered on the second ring. “Hey, I’m going to be late tonight,” she said.
“How late?”
“Nate and I are still in Kerrville, and we have an interview scheduled for five thirty tonight. So I don’t see me getting home before seven thirty, maybe eight.”
“Jess and I will find something to keep us occupied.”
“Save me food.”
“Well, that’s asking quite a bit, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re so funny,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Be careful out there. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” She smiled and ended the call. “We have a couple hours, I’d like to talk to Glen Albright’s principal, if she’s still there. Check on Ash at the Albright house.”
“Becky Albright’s best friend was originally interviewed, we should talk to her as well.”
As Nate drove off, Lucy had the odd feeling that she was being watched. She looked at the Young house but didn’t see anyone standing at a window. She looked over her shoulder and didn’t see anyone on the street.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked.
“Nothing.”
“It’s something. You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“Concern.”
Lucy didn’t like talking about her odd sixth sense about being watched. It had started years ago, and while she controlled the panic that used to come with the sensation, it still made her feel off-center.
“Someone was watching us. I had a feeling as we left the house, and it just got stronger.”
“Maybe you’re psychic.”
“I’m not psychic,” she snapped.
“I was joking, Lucy. But I trust your gut, and if you say someone was watching us, someone was watching us.”
“A neighbor most likely.”
Lucy looked back several times, getting the sense that they were being followed, but no one followed them out of the Youngs’ neighborhood.
She wanted to believe that she was being paranoid … but that sixth sense, whatever she called it, had saved her butt more than once, so she wasn’t going to discount it.
Even if no one was around.