Cut and Run (Criminal Profiler 2)

Faith wasn’t sure how she expected a brother to react to a sister’s grievous injuries. She didn’t have a brother but expected something beyond the nothingness emanating from Dirk Crow.

A nurse entered the room and checked Macy’s monitors. “Everyone, please leave now. You can come back tomorrow, but for now, my patient needs to be kept as quiet as possible.”

When they exited the room, the uniformed officer was posted by it, and Hayden spoke to him briefly before the three moved silently to the waiting room.

Hayden asked for contact information, which Dirk supplied along with the names of the people he’d seen in El Paso.

“Is the cop going to stay outside her door?” Dirk asked. “Whoever did this to her must have been responsible for Jack.”

“The cop is staying,” Hayden confirmed.

“I don’t know shit,” Dirk said, “but it doesn’t take a genius to see when a father is murdered and a daughter is nearly killed, it ain’t just a string of bad luck.”

“That’s not lost on me,” Hayden said. “No one will get in that room without me knowing it, and that includes you.”

“Good,” Dirk said. “Better safe than sorry.”

“You sure you or your father weren’t into something that got your sister hurt so bad?” Hayden asked.

“You sound like Macy,” Dirk said. “Jack and I could never be accused of being choirboys, but we never did anything that would bring this kind of heat down onto the family.”

Hayden studied him for a long moment, and Faith knew with a glance he didn’t believe Dirk. But she’d picked up enough legal nuances growing up in the home of a defense attorney to know that unless there were outstanding warrants, pending charges, or probable cause, there wasn’t much Hayden could do to hold Dirk until he had more evidence.

If the criminal investigations weren’t center stage, she’d have been asking her own questions about Jack Crow, who clearly had known more about the links she and Macy shared.

“As far as the outside world is concerned, Macy Crow died from complications in surgery,” Hayden said.

Dirk’s grim expression mirrored the feelings jabbing at Faith. “To protect her?”

“Yes,” Hayden said.

“No one will hear it from me,” Dirk said. “I’ll see you again soon, Faith.”

“When we get the chance, I want to talk to you about your father.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

When Dirk’s large frame vanished behind the closing elevator doors, she felt as if she’d been blindsided. But she didn’t have the luxury of giving in to her emotions right now. “I need to talk to the nurses. I’m AB negative, and if we’re twins, she will be, too.”

“Good idea,” Hayden said.

The whole point of her relationship with Hayden was that it was casual and neither burdened the other with anything too personal. Now he had a ringside seat at her life turning upside down. “You don’t need to stick around, Hayden. There’s nothing you can do here.”

“I can stay.”

Restless energy swirled around him, and she sensed ghosts of the past were circling. He’d spent a lot of time at hospital bedsides with his late wife. “I’d rather you didn’t. I want you out there finding the sick bastard who did this,” she said.

He lightly touched her arm. “I want you to be very careful, Faith. If I caught your resemblance to Macy in a split second, other people will as well.”

“Fair enough. But how are you going to control what the hospital says about her condition?”

“I can keep it under wraps for a little bit and buy us some time.”

“I also would not recommend releasing Macy’s picture to the media. The last thing this hospital needs is a reporter snooping around.”

“Will do.” His expression softened a bit as he debated how to handle this very personal thing with her. If their relationship had been strictly professional or solely personal, it would have been straightforward. But they were in a gray area. Neither one wanted to overstep or crowd the other. “I know this has been a kick in the gut.”

“It has been exactly that,” she said. “I’m not taking this well.”

“You look like you are.”

“What other rational choice do I have?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s all we can do.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hayden. I’m a survivor.”

Hayden took her hand, squeezed it. A kiss and a hug would have been welcomed, but again they found themselves stuck in that damned muddled middle.

She returned to Macy’s room and walked up to the edge of her bed. She brushed her fingers over Macy’s. A sudden surge of anger burned through her body.

Faith could explain the causes and results of death, but she’d never fully understood it. There were times when it was a blessing and other times a curse. The only constant was that it was always waiting for everyone.

“Macy, you’re going to have to make that son of a bitch Death wait a long time if I have any say in this.”

CHAPTER TEN

Tuesday, June 26, 4:00 p.m.

Hayden stepped into his office and pulled off his jacket. Anger and helplessness were tag teaming his ass, and he was running out of patience. He hated leaving Faith alone outside that damn hospital room, looking so hurt and lost. She was one of the strongest people he knew, but everyone had a breaking point. She’d insisted, however, and he knew she was right. He was of no use to anyone there.

“How did Dr. McIntyre take the news about Agent Crow?” Brogan asked.

“About as well as you could expect.” He shifted his thoughts away from the memory of Faith’s lost and confused look and back to the case. “I saw Macy’s brother, Dirk.”

“Where has he been?”

“In El Paso. I called two of the names he gave me. He was interviewing for construction work.”

“That’s pretty far to go for a job. He must really need the money.”

“He admitted he was putting pressure on Crow to sell the land.” Hayden rolled his head from side to side to release the tension.

“The financial statements for Jack Crow arrived. We also received several surveillance tapes overlooking the area where Randy Kelly’s truck had been parked.”

“Good. I also want to see Dirk Crow’s financial records.”

“Do we have enough probable cause to get a judge to sign that warrant?” Brogan asked.

“I’d say the attempt on Macy’s life gives it to us. If she dies, everything will go to Dirk.”

“That’s motive,” Brogan said.

“Let me see the tape.”

Brogan keyed up the footage, and the black-and-white image that appeared featured a bakery located a few blocks from Comal Pocket Park. The camera caught the rear of Kelly’s truck. At 7:05 p.m., Kelly pulled up and parked and then dashed into a bar around the corner.

Brogan sped up the recording, and over the course of the next couple of hours, several dozens of people passed by the truck. At one point a couple paused by the dented tailgate. The man kissed the woman, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck, he pressed her body against the side of the truck. His hand slid up her skirt, and though others passed, the two were oblivious to having an audience. Minutes later she adjusted her skirt, and they moved on.

It was at ten thirty p.m. when a hooded figure appeared. He kept his head down and hands in his pockets as he walked up to the truck, looked in through the front driver’s side window, and then walked past, disappearing from view. Not long after, he reappeared, and this time with no one around him, he cracked the side window with a glass punch. Glass shattered into the front seat, allowing him to shove a gloved hand inside. He popped the lock.

The thief kept his head down the entire time, as if he knew there were cameras around. He leaned under the steering wheel to hot-wire the ignition and drove off like he owned it. Not once did the camera get a good shot of his face.

“This guy’s good,” Hayden said.

r /> “He’s likely scoped out this area before.”

And why was the million-dollar question. “Pull footage from the last couple of weeks, and go through it. We might catch whoever did this on camera.”

“Will do.”

“Did you find anything in Jack Crow’s bank accounts?”

“Crow had one bank account that he used for the salvage yard. He had one credit card that he rarely used,” Brogan said. “The bank account received odd cash deposits over the course of each month. Nothing more than a few hundred dollars, but that fits with a salvage yard business. He couldn’t have been laundering money through the account. The amounts are just too small.”

Brogan shuffled through a stack of credit card statements. “According to the one credit card statement, he bought groceries infrequently, but again, he never spent more than twenty or thirty bucks.”

“Any favorite haunts?”