“Get out,” Crutcher said. “You’re off this task force.”
“That’s enough, Agent Crutcher,” Rachel said.
“Me? Dunning is a loose cannon, he’s the one who should be reprimanded for the fuckup yesterday.”
“Clear the room,” Rachel said. “Everyone except Dunning, Kincaid, and Crutcher.” When no one moved, she said, “Now.”
Everyone left. Lucy was frozen in place. She shouldn’t have challenged Crutcher. She’d known that Nate was on edge from the beginning of the meeting when Crutcher accused them of screwing up the transport, she should have just let him continue without comment.
Leo was the last one out and he closed the door.
Crutcher said, “I don’t have time for this. I have an interview scheduled.”
“That can wait. This is your operation, Mike, but you asked for my squad’s assistance, and they gave it and went above and beyond. I cannot allow you to disparage their service and sacrifice in this office. If you have a problem with how they conducted the prison transport, write it up and we’ll fully investigate the situation. But you will not criticize or insult them in front of their colleagues. We’re all cops here. We all know that split-second decisions are made when lives are on the line. Agents Dunning and Kincaid provided their reports last night, and they are being reviewed by ASAC Durant’s staff. You were also sent a copy. I’d suggest you read it closely, file any complaint after that, and then we’ll go from there. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Crutcher said. He didn’t look either Nate or Lucy in the eye, but he was furious. Lucy didn’t care. She was both relieved and surprised that Rachel had stood up for them. Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised—Rachel had proven to be a more than competent boss, and after a few rough months at the beginning, Lucy had learned to respect her and believed that she had earned her respect in return.
“You can go,” Rachel said.
Crutcher left without further comment. Rachel turned to Nate. “Don’t bait him, Dunning. I found no fault with what happened yesterday, but this is Mike’s investigation, and we’re just assisting. He has seniority and the respect of his supervisor. Granted, he was an ass today, but he wasn’t there, he has no idea what he’s talking about, and I’ll make sure his supervisor knows that. But you need to stay out of it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nate said. He was still angry, but Rachel had taken the edge off his anger.
“Lucy, I was interested in what you had to say about the family dynamics. If you feel comfortable writing up a basic profile beyond what you provided in the report last night, it would help.”
“I will. I think the single most important thing to remember here is that this is planned to be the last heist. They want to quit—at least Sam does. So it’s going to be big, and I don’t see any of these jewelry stores—unless they have a high-value object—being the targets.”
“But they’re open, and the Trembly gang has never hit a closed business or bank. They use threats and intimidation to control the hostages, and they use the chaos as part of their escape.”
Rachel was right, but Lucy thought they didn’t have enough information.
“However,” Rachel continued, “the analysts are still working on this. The jewelry stores popped because they most closely match the M.O., but we can’t discount that there may be a completely different plan in the works. They’re looking at the previous crimes in new ways—and your husband is instrumental in helping them, though that fact I may withhold from Mike until he gets his head on straight. Sean understands security systems as well as or better than anyone here. We already knew that the banks and jewelry stores had a similar type of security system—not the same monitoring company, but the same programming. So we’re going through our most likely targets and looking for systems with that same programming in order to narrow the field. Sean says it’s a top-of-the-line system but flawed—each individual company that uses it is fixing the flaw, but it has to be done on-site and not every system has been updated. It’s a lead, and they’re running with it.”
“Thank you, Rachel. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bait Agent Crutcher.”
“You speak up when you have something to say, and I appreciate that. He was out of line. I know what happened yesterday, and based on what we know and the statement we received from Officer Riley and the Brady PD this morning—that’s another reason why I was late—there was nothing else you could have done. But for now, stay away from Mike. Nate—you should take the day off.”
“Is that an order?”
“No. You’re still technically on call this weekend. But you can be on call at home.”
“I’ll stay.”
She stared at him.
“I’ll avoid Crutcher.”
“Thank you.”
She left and Lucy turned to Nate. Nate said, “That guy’s an asshole.”
“No argument, but let it go.” She put her hand on his forearm. “Are you really okay?”
He stared at her, showing more emotion in his expression than she’d ever seen. “I thought I’d lost you yesterday in the floodwaters. And all I could think about was how I couldn’t face Sean and tell him I let you die.”
Her heart twisted. How could she make Nate understand? “Nate, that wasn’t your fault. None of it was. You can’t take the burden for everyone’s safety on your shoulders. We did everything we could do, and we’re both alive, and that’s what matters.”
He sat back down at the conference table; Lucy sat next to him. Nate said, “I was never close to my sister. Jenny’s so much older than me. Smart, a scientist, and I guess because of age and interests, we don’t really have anything in common. And my parents were in their forties when they adopted me. I loved them, they were good people, but I never felt like we were all that close. Like I had a family or anything, until the Army. For ten years, my unit was my family, and now you and Sean are the closest thing to family I have. I just wanted you to know that.”
She squeezed his hands. He was still tense. “I know that,” she said.
“Good. I’m going to talk to Leo about some stuff.” He left quickly, and Lucy suspected that he had become more emotional than he wanted to.
Lucy went to her desk and read the file on the Tremblys again. Before yesterday’s escape, they didn’t have much to go on. They’d identified Samuel Trembly because of prints, and they suspected Kirk Hansen was involved because he had a record and no one knew where he was. But that was hardly enough to get a warrant—until yesterday when they had collected quite a bit of evidence from the Thomsen house. The gang hadn’t worn gloves.
But there was nothing on Sam’s sisters, his brother, or mother. It wasn’t until the escape yesterday that any of them had been put in the file. The only reference was that the attempt to locate them after Sam had been ID’d had failed—the family had long since moved from Austin and didn’t have a known address.
She reviewed the first series of robberies from Dallas. Four suspects, none identified. Sam, Reggie, and who? Lucy would guess Amanda and Jacob. They were smart, calm, not violent. And none of the Dallas robberies had resulted in more than minor injuries. It wasn’t until the last five locally that things got out of hand. They were also bigger, bolder, and had a larger score. But still nothing to retire on.
Whatever they had planned, it was big. It would need to be cash or something easily convertible, not jewelry. Crutcher may not put weight on the statement of an eight-year-old, but Lucy did. She’d met Bobby, talked to him. He had been hiding in the house and heard much of the Tremblys’ conversation. He might not have understood the context, but Lucy had interviewed enough children to know how they processed information and how to determine whether they were interpreting or quoting. Retire was the key word. That implied one final act in order to have enough funds to get out of the business. To retire, they’d need millions for six people. They also had to have a place to regroup, a fortress or home where they were going to lay low after the heist.
She made notes about that—it probably wouldn’t be in any of their names, but they could look at relatives and family names. They’d rented the trailer with cash; the apartment they’d either borrowed from friends or without permission; they no longer owned the property in Austin, but according to the real-estate records, they’d netted over three hundred thousand dollars from the sale and there was no corresponding purchase in the state of Texas. The property had been owned by Samuel Sr. and Monica Trembly.
But if they bought out of the state, eventually the FBI would track them down. Might take a few months and a lot of manpower, but they’d find the property and this family was smart enough to know that. Lucy put her bet on either property owned by a relative—likely a distant relative—or property they purchased with a false identity. Much harder to track. But she’d also double down on her bet that the money from the sale of their Austin property was used for the new purchase.
Crutcher was good with financial records, and those were as complete as possible. No one on the list had more than a few thousand dollars in any bank. The amounts and goods stolen were itemized—he was right, no score was over twenty thousand dollars. There was no set time in the day when they hit, but each business had been open.
The M.O. was consistent. They all wore masks. One person stayed in the car, in the rear of the building. Based on the visuals of those inside, Lucy guessed that Jacob was the driver. Five entered through the front. One person jammed the cameras—which was possible because of a security flaw coupled with technology that the robbers had access to and the ability to use. That had to be Amanda, with the computer science degree. There was nothing else about her in the files, but she hadn’t been a suspect until yesterday.
Two in the gang manned the door and watched the hostages. Two grabbed the cash or jewels. They were fast and knew exactly where to go and what to do. No robbery took more than five minutes from breech to escape—except for the last one, where Reggie Hansen was killed. Sam went to his friend to try to extract or save him, but he was already dead or dying. There was only a brief period of time that their images were caught before the jammer went into effect, but Lucy could tell from their build that Kirk and SueAnn were the lookouts, and Sam and Reggie grabbed the goods.
But the final robbery showed that even in his grief, Sam was thinking. He ordered his gang to leave without him. Everyone exited through the back except Sam, who brazenly went out the front. The gang went north; he went south. One lone security camera picked him up at the corner; he turned east and disappeared. Police arrived at the bank ninety seconds later.
Were these robberies a rehearsal? To get enough money for tools and equipment for their big payday? A diversion? All of the above? Lucy didn’t know. What she did know was that without Reggie, Sam might not be in complete control. He had exhibited some power over his family yesterday—Kirk and SueAnn would be happy to kill someone. Without Sam and Reggie, they both would have ended up in prison long ago—Lucy was certain of it. They didn’t have much self-control.
Likewise, without Sam and Reggie, Amanda and Jacob probably wouldn’t have started down a life of crime or wouldn’t have done anything violent. They might have been predisposed to be criminals—what about their father? Lucy suddenly wondered. Where did he fit into the picture, if at all?
There was nothing on him in the paperwork. SueAnn was at least ten years younger than her brothers and sisters—did they share a dad? Lucy was ten years younger than her next-youngest brother, but truthfully, that big of a break was rare with the same parents.
She turned and did a records search, dug around for a good thirty minutes before she found out that Samuel Trembly Sr. had been killed in a construction accident in San Antonio when Jacob—the youngest at the time—was five. Clearly, Sam Jr. had grown into the father figure. Monica Trembly had never remarried—or, if she did, she didn’t take her husband’s name. SueAnn was born five years later, which put her at twenty-two. She was named Trembly. Odd.
Lucy learned that there was no insurance payment on Trembly’s death because he had been found to be intoxicated while working. The company was a major employer in the state of Texas and worked on several of the largest civil projects, many related to flood management. They often worked alongside the Army Corps of Engineers.
Monica had taken a couple jobs over the years, had kept her family afloat, and Sam Jr. had started working when he was sixteen. If they hadn’t gone into a life of crime, Lucy would have had a lot of respect for them picking up after their world fell apart.
Amanda Trembly had gone to college on a full-ride scholarship. She had the highest SAT score in her high school and graduated with top honors. How did she get sucked into her family’s criminal lifestyle? She had a ticket out—a college education, a good degree, and at one point had a job with a computer company that paid well.
Family. It was complicated, Lucy knew, and she felt for the girl Amanda used to be—until she decided to follow her brother.
The Hansens and the Tremblys had grown up together. They lived on adjoining properties. The Hansen family was split—parents divorced. Wife remarried and moved to California.
Lucy made a list of all the names she could find in both families—Monica Trembly’s maiden name was Bane. Hansen’s maiden name was Lorenzo. Lucy logged into an ancestry database and spent far too much time digging around. But she did learn that Monica’s two grandmothers’ maiden names were named Donovan and Shane; her dead husband’s mother’s maiden name was Richardson. She couldn’t find anything else on the Hansens—no one in their family had taken the time to input the data. But this was a start.
Family was the core of their actions, the good and bad. That meant the mother was integral to their plans. Would they just leave her in prison?
Except . . . there was no evidence that Monica Trembly had committed any crimes other than helping to break her sons out of jail. She had no record. She was in her fifties. A halfway decent attorney would get her off whether she cooperated or not. Likely, she would say she didn’t know anything about it, and all they would have was Lucy and Nate’s word that she was in the thick of things yesterday. She could argue she didn’t know what her kids had planned. And Bobby Thomsen could testify, but Lucy didn’t know how much weight the court would put on the testimony of a scared eight-year-old.
No way was Mike Crutcher going to get anything out of the woman. The way she interacted with her kids, how she dealt with Lucy . . . that woman was cold and calculating.
Jacob didn’t want to turn on his family, but he might—because he had a conscience. He cared about his siblings, worried about them in a sense . . . what had he said? “Sam isn’t a violent man, I swear to the Lord, and neither am I. But the rest of our family?” Did that mean SueAnn and Amanda were? His mother? Did it mean he would do whatever it took to protect his brother? Or that maybe it wasn’t his idea?
Lucy didn’t realize that more than two hours had passed since she sat down, and she jumped when Sean and Nate came up to her desk. “Sorry, princess,” Sean said, and kissed her. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Just doing some background work and writing a profile.”
Nate said, “I just heard from Laura that they got nothing out of Monica Trembly.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow and tapped her screen. “Yep, that was my educated guess.”
“Not only that, she started crying and begged them not to hurt her kids.”
“And her excuse for holding a shotgun on us?”
“She claimed she would never have fired, that she didn’t realize until the last minute that her kids were planning the breakout. She helped because she didn’t know what else to do.”
“I wish I could have talked to her. She would have done the same thing with me, but I might have been able to make her mad enough to let something slip—especially since I was there and she likely blames you and me for her capture. But she won’t talk now. Jacob Trembly will be hard, but I think it’s possible. Or it was, before Cr
utcher played hardball. He won’t trust any of us if we go to him with an offer now.”
“So far, no one’s been hit.”
Lucy turned to Sean. “Rachel said you were reviewing all the security systems, that there was a common security program?”
“Yeah, the same program, and it’s a serious flaw. They know about it and have been working to fix it for months.”
“What company?”
“Thursgood Security. They’re pretty good for on-site systems, but this was a major software glitch. They’ve fixed about half the systems and are on track for fixing the remaining by the end of the year.”
“Hmm.” Lucy shot off an email to national headquarters to find out where Amanda Trembly had worked after college. “Amanda Trembly was a computer science major, maybe she had inside information.” Or maybe she had been responsible for the “glitch” in the first place. But that meant that these robberies were planned long ago. “Did the Dallas hits have the same security flaw?”
“No,” Sean said. “Completely different systems. And Trembly worked those old-school. Destroy the equipment, masks and gloves, grab the goods, disappear. Nothing as elaborate as the San Antonio jobs.”
“And they had fewer people working those heists. Dallas FBI believes there were three, maybe four. Two and a wheelman, but they also suspected a possible ringer inside.”
Nate said, “They’re going through all the old security tapes to see if they have any of the other suspects as ringers in the Dallas robberies.”
“I think it’s Amanda or Jacob,” Lucy said. “Likely in a decent disguise.”
Sean asked, “Do you want me to call Thursgood? I know the owner. Did some work for them a while back.”
Lucy almost said no but realized that the company could share any information it chose to share.
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