Cut and Run (Criminal Profiler 2)

t ask. “Margaret, what do you know about my adoption? Mom and Dad never talked about it, and I just thought since you knew them then that you might know.”

Margaret’s face softened. “I remember when your mother called and told me a baby had been found for them. She was so thrilled. I made a point to be there when your parents met you for the first time at the law offices. The look of pure joy on your mother’s face still could make me cry.”

“Did Peter ever tell you about my birth mother?”

“She was young. Unmarried. Wanted a better life for her baby.”

“Did you ever hear the name Josie Jones?”

Margaret frowned. “No. Do you think that is her name?”

“PJ found her name in my father’s datebook. They met several times in the year before I was born.”

Margaret’s brow wrinkled as she slowly shook her head. “Honey, I don’t know the name. Why do you think it’s her?”

“I don’t know anything for sure.” What she did know about Josie was now part of an active crime investigation, and she couldn’t discuss it.

Margaret took Faith’s hand in hers and gently squeezed it. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really.” She leaned in and kissed Margaret’s cheek.

“I will dig around in Peter’s papers. I’ve only just found myself able to look at his things. But I will keep a lookout for anything related to your adoption.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll talk very soon,” Margaret said.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Margaret kissed her. “Now I’m off to the hospital administrator’s office. I have a fundraiser to plan.”

She made her way down the hallway and nodded to the uniformed officer. He wasn’t the officer on duty yesterday and, like the other one, looked incredibly young. Faith introduced herself.

“I’m going to need to see identification,” he said.

She fished credentials out of her wallet and handed them to him. He checked the card against the very short list of people allowed to visit Macy and then stepped aside. “Thank you, Dr. McIntyre.”

Macy’s room was dark, with only the beep of the monitors to break the silence. Macy remained unconscious, lying so still that Faith had to look closely to prove to herself she was breathing. Under the bruises, Faith could see Macy’s face was slightly more drawn.

There was a rumpled picture of Macy propped up on the shelf by the bed. The image must have been taken when Macy was one or two. She had a big toothless grin and was reaching for Jack Crow’s beard. He was laughing.

“Hi, Macy. It’s Faith. We met yesterday.” She reached for the edge of the blanket and pulled it up a fraction before she sat. “This picture of you and Jack is remarkable. You looked so much like I did as a baby. When you get well, I want to compare more pictures. I ran track in high school, ran my first marathon last year, and finished in three hours and thirty-three minutes. Not a gold medal win but respectable.”

A slight moan mumbled in Macy’s chest. Faith replaced the picture and sat beside her, glancing at the monitors. Macy’s blood pressure was low but not dangerously so.

She laid her hand over Macy’s fingers, which were cold and didn’t respond to her touch. “You’re holding steady, Macy. That’s good. You just need to keep hanging in there. You’ll get better every day.

“I received your email, Macy. And I’ve been to the place you mentioned. The Texas Rangers are involved now. I’m involved now.”

The heart rate monitor seemed to speed up, and Faith could have sworn Macy understood the wagons had circled around her and she wasn’t alone.

“We went to the farm and saw the stones. You were right to be concerned. The Texas Rangers swept the land with radar.” She drew in a breath, not wanting the news to upset Macy, but also realizing that if this gal was a top investigator at the FBI, not knowing what was in that ground would bother her more. “We found three bodies,” she said. “We’ve only partly removed the first, but it appears to be a female.”

The heart rate monitor picked up again by several beats.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” Faith said as she studied the monitor. “Can you squeeze my hand?” Several seconds passed with nothing. “Macy, if you can hear me, move your fingers.” More moments and then Macy’s fingers jolted. It could have been involuntary and was hardly conclusive, but it was a good start.

“You do hear me.” Faith was rewarded with more movement in her fingers. “That’s good, Macy. I’m assuming you can hear me and you’re listening. I’m going to talk to you like a medical examiner would to an FBI agent, okay?”

The fingers twitched.

“Good. I’ve always done better with facts rather than feelings, and I’m betting you’re a facts-based girl, too.”

The heart rate monitor stayed slightly elevated.

“So the graves are being processed. It’s going to take a couple of days to excavate thoroughly. And when it’s time, I’ll be part of the team that examines the remains. Hopefully, we’ll be able to determine manner of death. We also found a room in the basement of the ranch. Macy, these crimes may have spanned months or even years.”

She detailed the discovery of the dresser. “I have a lead on JJ. She’s a woman named Josie Jones. She vanished about the time we were born, and my father represented her in court.” She didn’t trust her voice to tell Macy about the journal written in the margins of the magazines. “Who knows? Maybe she’s important to us and the case.”

She sat for several minutes. “I’ve already spent too much time thinking about Josie and comparing her face, our faces. There are precious few details on her, but my imagination keeps filling in the gaps. It’s not a particularly smart approach, and I know I’m setting myself up for disappointment.”

She paused, catching her own breath, and then added, “But enough about me. You concentrate on getting better. That is your only job. I’ll be back soon to check on you. Promise.”

Faith rose, patted Macy’s hand, and left the room, feeling like she was abandoning her.

Macy could hear the soft, steady voice and found herself transported back to an afternoon when she and her mother were living in the small Dallas apartment.

Her father had called that day, and when her mother had spoken to him, she’d dropped her voice to a hushed tone. When she had finally handed the phone to Macy, she’d looked worried but made an effort to smile. Jack had been upbeat and said he’d decided on a change of plans. They weren’t going into Austin but east to Galveston during their summer vacation together. “Sun, surf, and sand, kiddo. Gonna be great.”

After the call she had pressed her mother, wanting to know what Brenda and Jack weren’t telling her. When her mother hadn’t answered, Macy had argued, because that’s what she’d done since the moment she could talk. Those days she had picked fights whenever she could. She hadn’t known why she was always mad and in moments of clarity had wondered why she couldn’t just shake it and be happy.

She’d always known her mother wasn’t her birth mother. Most of the time it hadn’t bothered her, but lately it had been driving her nuts. She didn’t look like the stocky, olive-skinned parents who she knew loved her. She had felt like an outsider.

One afternoon when she’d questioned if her mother was real, Brenda had looked her squarely in her eyes. “I’m as real as it gets,” her mother had said.

“You didn’t give birth to me. What was my real mother’s name? I want to see her!”

Her mother had been quiet for a moment and then, shaking her head, had said, “She’s dead, kid. Buried in the cold ground when you were a baby. All you got is me.”

The news had hit Macy like a slap to the face. She had stumbled back and run, her mother’s apology chasing after her.

Later there’d been tears and an oath from her mother that she didn’t really know what had happened to her birth mother. There’d also been hugs and a truce that had lasted until her mother’s death.

>

The stones. The graves. And a young girl logically unconnected to the girls missing for decades who was still missing and ready to have her baby.

Faith had found the stones. The graves. JJ. She was getting closer. She was walking Macy’s own path.

Words of caution rumbled just out of her reach. She had a warning for Faith. He was still out there. And she knew his face.

Hayden pulled up in front of the hospital, turned in his seat, and faced Faith. Sunlight caught her hair and highlighted her expressive eyes and the full lips he wanted to kiss. “Let me know if you need anything today.”

She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but the words stuck in his throat. “I’ve asked Detective Lana Franklin to pull old missing persons cases that fit around the year 1987. I also want a list of pregnant girls that might have gone missing. There might be some answers there.”

Her brow furrowed. “I hope so.”

Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her. “We’ll figure this out.”

She squeezed his hand and kissed him back. “Thank you.”

When she got out of the car, he waited and watched her vanish into the hospital before driving to the middle-class neighborhood in northern Travis County that was home to Paige Sheldon’s mother and stepfather. The front lawn was neatly cut, the bushes trimmed, and the house freshly painted. There were two cars in the driveway, both American-made late models.

Now that they had evidence that Paige might be alive, he wanted to talk to her parents and find out more about the girl.

He rang the bell and heard a dog barking and then the beat of steady footsteps. The door opened to a midsize man with gray hair and brown eyes ringed with dark circles. He wore a collared long-sleeve shirt that he’d rolled up to his elbows, and his tie hung loose. He had the look of a man who’d had a long day.

Up came the identification badge. “I’m Ranger Mitchell Hayden with the Texas Rangers. I’m looking for the parents of Paige Sheldon.”

The man’s face grew grim. “Texas Rangers. Do you have news about Paige?” A small cairn terrier stood obediently beside the man’s leg, sizing him up.