Cut and Run (Criminal Profiler 2)

“No. I’m really no worse for the wear. But you need to get back into your room and rest. They’re going to have to take you to the maternity ward and check out you and the baby.”

“It’s kicking the crap out of me,” Kat said.

“Good.” Faith helped the girl lower into the wheelchair.

“Where is that Paige girl?” Kat asked.

“She’s in the maternity ward with her baby.”

“Can I see her?” Kat asked.

“Her parents are with her now, but I don’t see why not. If it weren’t for you, we might not have ever found her.”

Kat wiped away several tears. “He said he was going to use me as bait.”

“I know.” Faith laid her hands on Kat’s shoulders. “But it didn’t work. We’re all okay, and he’s dead.”

“The Ranger got him, didn’t he?” Kat asked.

“Yes, he did.”

Kat sniffed. “He’s pretty cool. You should keep him.”

Faith laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What are you doing? Can you come with me to maternity?”

“I’ll visit you as soon as I can. I have a few other things I have to take care of first. Don’t worry; the nurses will take good care of you.”

Kat gripped her fingers. “You promise?”

“I surely do, kid.”

Faith stood and watched as the nurses wheeled Kat away, and when she turned to figure out how the hell she was going to get out of this place, Hayden stepped into view.

He strode toward her, his hat in his hand. Without a word, he gripped her arm in a firm but gentle hold. “You’re like that kid. You don’t listen.”

His touch always made her feel alive. “I always hear you.”

He shook his head as if he were arguing with a teenager. “You just do what you want.”

Without hesitating, she said with pride, “I do what is right.”

He settled her on the gurney, pulled off her flip-flops, and covered her feet with a white cotton blanket. He kissed her on the forehead, his fingers gently brushing the butterfly bandage.

“I thought you were at the crime scene.”

“I was. I received a call from the forensic lab. The DNA results are in.”

He handed her the printouts and sat silently as she read them.

She looked up. “Our theory was right. Marissa and PJ share the same father as Macy and I.”

“Yes, you do. Look at the DNA results of Kathy Saunders compared to PJ.”

She flipped the page and read and then reread the results. “It’s a match.”

“Yeah.”

“I need to see PJ now.”

“You’re hardly in shape to do much.”

“I’m fine. And I need to know who would hurt those girls. I need to know what he might know or what Margaret might know.”

“Faith, you can’t.”

She shook her head. “Like you said, I don’t listen. So one way or another, Captain, I am going to the Slater house tonight, with or without a change of clothes.”

Hayden drove Faith to the gates of the Slater home. He was not happy about this scenario or the fact that she had insisted on going inside alone. “I’m giving you twenty minutes, and if you’re not out, I’m coming in.”

She touched the small wire that ran up her shirt to a tiny microphone. “I can handle PJ and Margaret. As far as we know, they both might not know the entire truth.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with. That’s why I’m here.” He kissed her on the lips, got out of the car, and moved to Brogan’s SUV, which was parked behind them.

She slid to the driver’s side, pulled up in front of the tall brick house next to the circular driveway, and put the car in park. The light from the dashboard illuminated the sharp angles on Hayden’s face.

“You’re sure about this?” he said.

“Very.” She straightened her sweater and smoothed her hands over her jeans, clothes Nancy had brought from her locker at the medical examiner’s office. She got out of the car, climbed the front steps, and rang the bell. Even though Hayden didn’t want her taking this chance, she had to. There was too much at stake now for her to simply sit on the sidelines.

She heard heels inside the house clicking against the floor she knew was white marble. The door opened to a petite blonde dressed in Chanel, who smiled the instant she saw Faith.

“Faith, how are you?” Margaret’s smile faded when she saw the bandage on her head. “Is everything all right?”

“I need to see PJ, Margaret. I have some questions for both of you.”

“Sure, of course. Come inside. PJ is in his study. I just opened a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?”

“No, thank you.”

The older woman frowned. “You’re scaring me, Faith.”

Faith didn’t have the energy to allay her worries as they walked along the tiled foyer with glistening chandeliers overhead.

“You know where the study is, Faith. I can’t let you visit without coffee or something. I’ll be right back.”

Faith was almost glad to have Margaret out of the room while she had this conversation with PJ. She made her way to the study and past the portrait of Margaret holding PJ when he was less than a year old.

This house had belonged to Margaret and Peter, and PJ had moved out almost a decade ago. But after Peter’s death on the first of April, PJ had moved back home to be close to his mother, who he knew was having a hard time being alone.

Faith had always loved this house. It had been a second home to her growing up and most especially after her own mother died. When Peter had died, she’d also returned to the house for almost a week so that she could help Margaret.

She knocked on PJ’s office door. He glanced up from a

stack of papers and rose immediately. “Faith, what brings you here on a Friday evening? Mom and I have had dinner, but we can certainly have the cook warm you up something.”

She hugged him, savoring the familiar scent of tobacco she remembered on his father. “You’ve found your father’s cigars.”

“Guilty. I inherited his taste for Cubans. Mother is not thrilled, but she turns a blind eye.”

Genetics was a powerful thing. She closed his study door. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

His grin faded. “Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

He offered her a seat on the leather settee, and when she sat, he took the chair adjacent to it. “What is going on?”

She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Did you hear about that FBI agent who was killed?”

“Was she killed? Mother heard at the hospital that she might have survived.”

Hayden had said keeping a lid on Macy’s status wouldn’t last forever. Faith moved closer to the edge of the settee. “She’s alive.”

“That’s good to know. What does that have to do with us?”

She reached for her cell and found the picture Macy had emailed her. “A picture is worth a thousand words.”

He studied the image and then looked back at her. “This is you.”

“No. It’s Macy Crow,” Faith said softly.

“Faith, this is you.”

“DNA just confirmed we are identical twins,” she said.

“There are two of you?” PJ pressed his fingers to his temple, rubbing them as his father had done when faced with a dilemma.

“I’m as blown away as you are.” She watched him closely, searching for any tells that would hint to lies. He was so much like his father, and she knew behind the easy smiles was a cunning, keen mind. “Have you found anything regarding my adoption?”

“Nothing more than the entries in your father’s datebook. What did you say the FBI agent’s name was?”

“Macy Crow.”

“Crow?”