Cut and Run

by Allison Brennan

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  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  To my friend Steve Dupre who has saved my butt many times … fictionally, of course. Thank you for playing the “what if” game with me when I get stuck.

  Acknowledgments

  There’s an old saying: “Write what you know.” If I did that, my books would be super boring. I’m a mom of five who quit my job 15 years ago to write full-time. My personal motto is, “write what you can know.” Research is crucial for all my books. I go on ride-alongs with the police, I have viewed autopsies at the morgue, I participate in SWAT training drills as a role-player, and I interview everyone I can get my hands on who’s willing to talk to me! I also read widely with more than 50 research books on my shelf, everything from hand-to-hand combat to forensics to special forces to criminal profiling. But even with all that research, sometimes I need a little help from my friends.

  * * *

  A special thanks to prosecutor Mark Pryor who helped me with some of the details about Texas laws especially related to trials and plea agreements. Jennifer Maxson, a friend in Texas, who did some research for me about local gun laws when I couldn’t find what I was looking for. The group CrimeSceneWriters who always have the experts I need to answer even the most esoteric questions, especially Dr. Judy Melinek’s information about bones and decomp. And especially Steve Dupre, retired FBI agent and all-around smart guy, who always helps make sure my fictional crimes are plausible. My character Ryan Maguire may have quoted Steve … they’re both smart guys.

  * * *

  No book is published in a vacuum. My agent Dan Conaway and his super-assistant Lauren Carsley keep the business end of my world neat and tidy. My editor Kelley Ragland and her super-assistant Madeline Houpt keep the creative end of my world in order. And they all have great people behind them at Writer’s House and St. Martin’s Press. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

  Prologue

  TWO MONTHS AGO

  Ash Dominguez had worked in the crime lab for thirteen years, quickly moving through the ranks from lab tech to senior analyst to assistant director. He looked a lot younger than thirty-five, but he figured that would help when he hit middle age. He loved his job, even though he got into the field for all the wrong reasons.

  Yep, he fell in love with forensics because of a television show.

  But right now, as he stared into the grave that held the skeletal remains of four people, he froze.

  He hadn’t expected this reaction. He’d investigated countless crime scenes; he’d processed evidence from thousands of homicides and accidents. He could usually joke around because dark humor soothed the soul.

  But this tangled mess … he was surprisingly depressed.

  Ash wasn’t a forensic anthropologist, but he knew enough from his training to recognize one male and three female skeletons in the solitary grave. They’d been buried together, one on top of the other, the bones a tangled mess as first decomposition did its job, then the storm had disturbed their resting place.

  Ten days ago, when he’d been called out to rural Kendall County to investigate a rancher’s claim that he’d found six possibly human bones, Ash had been excited. They were indeed human, and they had been washed downstream in a seasonal creek that had flooded in the late summer storm. Dozens of rivers and creeks had overflowed their banks, but there were two primary breaches where erosion, animal burrows, and the torrential downpour had created flash floods, including one that was nearly half a mile wide.

  The bones that had traveled in the floodwaters were small and light, and Ash brought in a team from the university to help track the path they took. He’d been so excited to create a computer model of the likely burial spots, finding additional bones along the path with the assistance of the university’s anthropology department, and then when a team called in that they found the gravesite, right on the edge of his boundary, he nearly jumped for joy.

  He wasn’t joyful now.

  “What do we do?” Melanie Lee was a grad student with degrees in biology and anthropology and working toward a PhD in forensic anthropology. She was leading the university search team, and Ash knew he wouldn’t have been able to do this without her.

  Like him, Melanie had been driven into this business because of a television show. They’d joked about it, but now it was no laughing matter as he squatted on the edge of the grave and stared.

  Four bodies. The grave was deep, but it had been breached from the side, as the waters cut into the soil. The trapped air or disturbed soil or some other factor he would need a geologist to figure out had made the soil looser than that which was nearby, and the water flowed through the grave, taking bones and evidence with it. Now that the water was gone, the bones were partly buried again, as the silt and twigs and debris settled into the earth.

  If there was any forensic evidence left by the killer, it was likely gone or contaminated. But these people deserved better. He didn’t know who they were, saints or sinners, but no one deserved to be buried in a mass, unmarked grave. And even though he didn’t yet know how they died, it was clear someone had intentionally buried them here, in the middle of nowhere.

  “Ash?” Mel asked quietly. “You okay?”

  He nodded, though he wasn’t. “This is a crime scene—I don’t know if they were killed here or dumped here.”

  “So we call the sheriff, right?”

  They were just over the Kerr County border, which created multiple jurisdictions—where the first bones were found and where the bodies were buried. It was a Kerr County case, but because it was a small county of less than fifty thousand residents, they used the San Antonio crime lab as needed. Ash didn’t know most of the law enforcement officials here. He wanted to call in the big guns from the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office.

  He also wanted to call in the FBI. He might need their resources to identify these bodies. To give these people justice.

  “This is our crime scene,” he said, his voice stronger than he felt. “Create a one-hundred-foot perimeter and no one comes in without my say-so.” Kerr County didn’t have a medical examiner, so that would give him better control of the forensics and investigation. “I’m calling the ME and asking him to send in Julie Peters to help extract the bones. And I’ll need your help with this.”

  “With what?”

  “You may not have your PhD yet, but you have more experience than anyone in my division in forensic anthropology. We need to preserve as much evidence as possible and put together each skeleton, catalog every bone and what is still missing. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find a cause of death.”

  “Ash.”

  He glanced at Mel, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking into the grave. He followed her gaze. She was staring at the skull closest to them. Visual inspection told him it was from a male.

  It took him a second, then he saw what she saw. The distinctive hole in the back of the skull. He wouldn’t be able to confirm cause of death yet, not without an autopsy.

  But he knew what
happened to these people. They were executed.

  Chapter One

  MONDAY

  FBI Agent Lucy Kincaid signed the file on a multi-jurisdictional case she’d just finished and routed it to the US Attorney who would be handling the prosecution. Done. While Lucy loved being in the field, she relished completing an investigation and handing a solid case over to the courts. She certainly had no complaints about the mundane paperwork involved. After back-to-back complex and dangerous investigations, she was happy to be home before seven every night and had settled into a comfortable routine with her husband and stepson, Jesse. She’d even taken a three-day weekend to fly to Colorado with Sean to celebrate their one-year wedding anniversary. Their friend, and Lucy’s colleague, Nate Dunning had stayed with Jesse so Sean and Lucy could have some alone time.

  Now, if only she could get her family to confirm who was coming over Thanksgiving, she’d be able to relax. Months ago, she’d asked if everyone would come to San Antonio for Thanksgiving to avoid traveling with Jesse. He’d been through so much this last year that she wanted a relaxing family meal at home. But no one wanted to commit. Carina and Nick she understood—her sister was pregnant and traveling with a toddler would be difficult and exhausting, but at least they said they would think about it. If Carina was feeling up to it, she wanted to come. But they would be deciding last minute. No one else had a good excuse.

  She tried not to be down about it, but she missed her brothers and sisters. She sent one last email out to her clan and said she wanted answers by the weekend. Harsh, maybe, but necessary when Thanksgiving was only ten days away. Almost as soon as she hit send, her cell phone rang.

  “Patrick!” she exclaimed. She hadn’t talked to her brother—the youngest of the clan until she came along ten years after him—in weeks and hadn’t seen him since she went through a hostage rescue training program in DC back in May.

  “You sound good,” he said.

  “I am. Sean and I were able to get away for our anniversary.”

  “So I heard. Terrific. And Jesse’s doing well?”

  “Adjusting better than I could have hoped.”

  “Well, he’s Sean’s kid, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “You got my email and you’re coming for Thanksgiving. You and Elle, of course.” She winced that she’d almost forgotten to mention Patrick’s longtime girlfriend. They’d been living together for nearly two years, but Lucy and Elle butted heads when they were in the same room. Maybe because they didn’t always agree on criminal justice issues, and maybe because Patrick was her brother and she didn’t think that Elle was quite good enough. Sean had pointed out more than once that Patrick hadn’t liked the idea of Sean—his business partner and friend—getting involved with his sister and yet Patrick had come around.

  Lucy tried to explain that this was different, but she knew that it wasn’t. Patrick loved Elle, and Lucy had to find a way to like her. They’d both tried when Lucy was in DC in May, even going out for coffee a few times. It had been awkward, but she didn’t want anything to come between her and her brother.

  “Actually…,” Patrick said.

  And she knew.

  “Elle’s in the middle of a big case,” he continued, “and we don’t know if she’ll be done before Thanksgiving. She can’t just walk out in the middle of it. There are three kids at stake. Their dad is nowhere to be found, their drug addict mother is in jail for possession with intent, and CPS split them up because the oldest has been in trouble. We’re going to try, Luce, I promise, but I can’t guarantee.”

  “I understand,” she said, but she really didn’t. Yes, she understood why Elle couldn’t leave. The one thing she admired about Patrick’s girlfriend was that the lawyer fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. But couldn’t Patrick come out for one night? Would it kill them to be apart for a day?

  “Luce, you don’t sound like you understand.”

  “Let me know. I won’t force you to give me an answer, okay? I just want to see you. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too, Sis. I promise, we’ll really try. How’s work? Sean told me about the flooding and the prison escape.”

  “All good,” she said, though knew this was just small talk. Sean and Patrick worked together remotely on many projects, and Patrick talked to Sean more than he talked to her.

  Lucy heard her name and looked up to see her boss, Rachel Vaughn, motioning for her to come to her office.

  “I have to go, my boss just called me in for a meeting.”

  “I mean what I said, Lucy. I will do everything possible to come out.”

  “I know you will. Love you.” She hung up.

  Maybe Rachel had a meaty case for her that would keep her mind off her family this week.

  Rachel had called in Nate as well, and he closed the door behind them. Rachel said, “We have a break in the flood case.”

  Lucy had been assisting the Bexar and Kerr County Sheriff’s Offices over the last two months in the case of four unidentified skeletons unearthed during the flash flooding over Labor Day weekend.

  “IDs?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes. It’s more complicated than we thought, which is why I want you to partner with Nate. We’re taking lead, the sheriff here is fine with it. I just got off the phone with his office, but Kerr might have some issues.”

  Until now, Lucy’s role in the investigation had been more logistical, as the Bexar County crime lab was working closely with the FBI lab at Quantico. All they knew at this point was that the victims were four Caucasians, a male in his forties, a female in her forties, and two teenage females. The San Antonio ME brought in a forensic anthropologist from the university who said they’d been dead slightly over three years. All four had been shot twice in the back of the head and evidence indicated they’d been killed where they were found, but with the contamination of the burial site, they couldn’t confirm.

  “And?” Lucy pressed. “A family, right?” That had been the logical assumption, but DNA testing couldn’t be done overnight.

  Rachel nodded. “The Albrights. They disappeared just over three years ago, last seen on Friday, September 21. Denise Albright was an accountant suspected of embezzling three million dollars from a construction company, which had just landed a federal contract for a major public works project. Because federal funds were missing, the AUSA opened an investigation, but it was put on hold when they believed she fled to avoid being questioned. While the theft wasn’t discovered until after she disappeared, the owner of the company had scheduled an independent audit the day she was last seen. It isn’t a stretch to believe that she thought she would be caught.”

  “No one knew she’d been killed?”

  “Her vehicle was tagged crossing the border in Brownsville the night they disappeared. She and her husband both withdrew the maximum they could from their ATMs that afternoon, used his credit card to fill up with gas in Brownsville and buy supplies at a camping-goods store.”

  “So this wasn’t planned—they were running on the fly,” Nate said.

  Rachel nodded. “So it appears.”

  “Were they suspicious of her?” Lucy asked. “Is that why the owner wanted the audit?”

  “I don’t know. His contact information is in the file, so you can reach out.”

  Rachel shifted through papers and handed Lucy a business card. “AUSA Shelley Adair handled the case from the beginning, hopefully she has more info about the particulars of the crime. All I know from our database is that it was on hold pending locating Denise Albright. However, we have another issue to deal with—the Albrights also had a son, and his remains weren’t found with his family.”

  “How old?” Nate asked.

  “He was nine at the time his family disappeared. He would be twelve if he’s still alive, but it’s likely that he was buried elsewhere.”

  “Could his remains have been washed away in the flood?” Nate asked.

  Lucy shook her head. “Not based on the photos I’ve seen
. The four bodies recovered were in the same grave, and even if his smaller skeleton was removed, some of the bones would have remained.”

  Rachel said, “Ash Dominguez at the crime lab said basically the same thing. He received the same email I did Friday afternoon from the lab at Quantico and we discussed it then. He called in cadaver dogs to search the area because the most likely reason is that the boy was buried somewhere nearby. Or maybe the family left the kid in Mexico for some reason when they returned.”

  “They came back with their teenage daughters and not their young son?” Lucy said. “That seems unlikely.”

  “We don’t know what they were thinking. But someone murdered this family within weeks of their initial disappearance.” Rachel handed Lucy a thin file. “That’s the report from the lab, I’ll also forward you the email so you have the technicians’ contact information if you have questions. They can’t give us TOD down to the day, but they narrowed the window and put TOD mid-September to end of October, three years ago. The Albrights were seen crossing the border on Friday, September 21. That’s the last sighting of their vehicle. They haven’t attempted to access their bank accounts since that Friday, which have been monitored as part of the investigation into the embezzlement. If you need help with the white collar crime angle, you can tap Laura Williams, who’s been assisting the AUSA, but this week she’s wrapped up in a major trial. Keep her in the loop, but she might not respond immediately.”

  Rachel looked from Nate to Lucy, her expression stern.

  “Find out who killed this family and if Denise Albright was responsible for the missing money. If she’s guilty, she had a partner—someone who is capable of killing children. But mostly, find out what happened to Ricky Albright and if there is any chance that he’s still alive.”

  * * *