Cut and Run (Criminal Profiler 2)

Inside the padded envelope, they’d found the second burner phone, as well as several cassette tapes and pictures taken of a very pregnant Josie, Olivia, and Kathy, all chained in the ranch’s basement room.

On the burner phone had been a video made by Jack Crow for Macy. They all had watched the phone’s video image as it captured Crow’s recliner and then his off-screen cussing as he appeared to wrangle with the phone and turn on the selfie mode.

“Jesus, I never thought I’d be glad to see this ugly mug.” He sniffed and sat straighter in his brown recliner.

“Macy, if you’re watching this and we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you’re about to hear, then it means I’m dead. Either the cancer has gotten me or my past sins have finally caught up to me.” He laughed. “Bet on the past sins.

“My doctor looks like he’s fresh out of middle school, but he seems smart. He told me he had all kinds of things he wanted to try, but I told him to save his voodoo treatments. I’m not dying in a damned hospital, hooked up to machines.” He reached for the bourbon on the end table and took a healthy slug. “You should have found the Coronas in the refrigerator. I don’t know how you drink that shit, but I know you like it. Hopefully, you’ve finished your first beer and are working on your second.”

The first time through this video, Macy had cried. Faith had wrapped her arm around her as Hayden and Brogan stood by silently. There’d been questions for Macy about Crow and his most recent conversation with her. She’d wiped away her tears and answered the questions as the professional she was.

Macy had explained that once she’d joined the FBI, Jack had called her less and less. He loved her, he had said, but it was best each stayed on their side of the fence. She’d always known the salvage business wasn’t his primary occupation. She had known he patched up gunshot wounds, broken bones, and overdoses, but she’d not thought his sins went much beyond that. Sadness, loss, and too many unsaid words had sat with her as she watched the recording.

“And you better not be crying for me, kiddo. Don’t shed one damn tear. I lived large, and I crammed a lot into sixty-plus years.”

In the image, Jack reached for a hand-rolled joint and the lighter Macy’s mother had given him for Christmas twenty-five years earlier and flicked the flint until it sparked. He held the flame to the joint’s tapered tip. He puffed several times, drawing in a deep breath and holding it before releasing it slowly.

“I can almost hear you grousing at me now, Macy. You were right about the butts. They’re what did me in.” He puffed again. “But this,” he said, studying the joint, “this is medicinal. Doctor’s orders.” He laughed and took another hit. “And I’m not turning in any of my sobriety chips.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” Jack said. “Your mother never wanted to tell you, but of course you found out when you were eight.” Another long hit on the joint and a more serious tone.

The next time Faith and Macy had watched the video together, they’d been alone. Macy had then truly let her guard down. Faith had snuck in a couple of Coronas to her hospital room. Neither had seemed to care if one of the nurses caught them as they had pried off the tops and drunk.

Air had whooshed past Macy’s lips as she’d stared at the image of her pop’s face and then had pressed the cold beer to her flushed cheeks. “I’m not sure if I’m pissed or relieved to hear him talk about my adoption.”

“If your mother weren’t dead, I’d probably not have told you. But it doesn’t seem right to let the secret die with an old man.

“You were always a smart kid, and I think on some level you knew. I know you stopped asking your mom about why you were so different. You were sensitive enough to know the questions upset her. As far as we were concerned, you were ours. And I know I’m not Mr. Rogers, but I always wanted to do right by you.

“The details aren’t pretty, kiddo. It has never been my style to confess, but it’s now or never, right?” He drained his bourbon glass. “I had a buddy from the army. Danny Garnet. He was a wily kid that I kind of took pity on and looked out for when we were locked up. We both got out, moved on, I thought, and then one night he called me. He said he had a medical emergency. He needed help.

“I followed the directions he gave me, and when I arrived at this old ranch, I found a woman. She was in labor, screaming like her insides were ripping apart. I had just enough time to wash my hands before I was delivering the baby. It was a girl.

“Garnet wasn’t pleased, and immediately made a call. I couldn’t hear what he was saying because I was too busy. The woman started to bleed out as a second baby was born. That baby was blue and appeared stillborn. I couldn’t save the mother. Garnet had a home for the first baby. And since no one was expecting a second, he said we’d bury it with the mother. He paid me three grand and told me to keep quiet. He left with the first baby and asked me to bury the rest.”

Jack looked off in the distance for a moment, as if he were watching the scene replay all over again. “I should have called the cops, but shit. Your mother and I really needed the money. We were about to lose the yard. That’s a shitty excuse, because I could see this girl had been locked in that room for a while. I hated Garnet for what he’d done.

“I dug a hole out back, and I laid the woman in it. I went back to get the second baby, and the little one twitched. Scared the shit out of me.” He looked up at the camera, his gaze wistful. “Garnet didn’t want the second one. I was already carrying enough sin that night without the weight of a dead kid on my shoulders, so I took the baby. That baby was you, kiddo.”

When Faith had turned off the recording, both had sat in silence for a long moment. They were twins, but both were still getting to know and trust each other. Family ties took time to build.

Faith tore a piece of crust from her sandwich. “Are you going back to the FBI?”

“I have to. I’ve still got the damn dreams, but the headaches are better. More than ever I have to make my work at the bureau count for something.”

“For Josie and the other girls.”

“Yes.”

“Selfishly I’d like you to stay here.”

“I won’t be a stranger.” Macy reached for her sandwich. “So what’s the deal with old Margaret and PJ?”

“The judge set the bail at one million dollars for her after he heard the tape and saw the pictures. He also took her passport.”

“She shouldn’t have gotten any bail.”

“No, but there are many who still don’t quite believe the stories. She and Peter have very deep roots in this community.”

“She could still run. A woman like that who planned so much evil, she must have an exit strategy. She could slip over the border into Mexico without anyone knowing.”

“The ankle bracelet might slow her down,” Faith said.

“You got her on tape,” Macy said. “You got her full confession.”

“PJ is arguing diminished capacity,” Faith said. “He’s saying his mother is confused, and that she doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying.”

“I’ve seen her kind drag out litigation in court for years. And she’s got the money and resources. She’ll fight this so long old age will get her before she sees prison time.”

“I know.”

“Has he accepted his DNA is a match to Kathy Saunders?”

“No. And he’s arguing the DNA sample was unlawfully obtained.”

Faith still grappled with the two faces of Margaret Slater. What perplexed her was that Margaret truly had been kind to her over the years. Margaret believed bringing Faith, Macy, Marissa, and PJ into the world had been just and right. If not for Margaret’s evil act, Faith and Macy would not be here now.