“Mitch Corta just turned himself in to our office with boxes of documents that he says will show how and where Harrison Monroe and Simon Mills laundered their illegal gaming money. He has a lawyer, says he wants to work on a plea arrangement. Adam and his team are more than a little excited by what he’s brought us.”

“Did he say why he didn’t come in yesterday? Sean thought for sure he would.”

“He said he needed to go to three different banks to collect the evidence and he was paranoid that someone would follow him, so it took all day. He drove back from Dallas this morning.”

“Great news,” Lucy said, then filled her in on what had happened at the Monroe house.

When she finally got off the phone, Ash Dominguez came over to her. “We finally know the truth,” he said. “We can put that family to rest.”

“You’re going to get another commendation in your file,” Lucy said. “You went above and beyond.”

“Thank you, but anyone would have done the same.”

“No, not anyone, Ash. Not everyone is like us.” She smiled. “Do you want to come over for Thanksgiving? Bring Melanie. I like her.”

“I love your parties, but Melanie is taking me to meet her parents. They live in Houston. I’m nervous.”

“They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“They will.”

“I need to stay to process the scene,” he said, “but because I’m working all weekend, I get two extra days off for Thanksgiving, which is unheard of. I’m usually stuck working holidays because I don’t have a family.”

“Take advantage of it,” Lucy said, thinking about Patrick and Elle and wishing she could do something … anything … to get them to San Antonio for Thanksgiving.

“I am.”

She watched Ash suit up and direct his team to process both where Carl Chavez had been shooting at them, and the foyer where Faith Parker Monroe still lay dead. One team member had already photographed the scene and had covered her body.

Ricky Albright would see his grandparents for the first time in three years. He would need counseling and support, but he was finally going to have peace. Lucy found Nate talking to SAPD. “You need to clean up,” he said.

“I do. And while I do that, go to Saint Catherine’s and tell Ricky what happened. Tell him he’s safe.”

Nate nodded, squeezed her arm, and said, “We did good, Kincaid.”

“Yes, we did.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

THANKSGIVING DAY