Cut and Run

by Allison Brennan

  “It tested positive for blood,” Jennifer added. “Under the hilt. Very hard to clean no matter how many times you wash it.”

  “Out of my house,” Faith said.

  “I’ll give you a receipt.”

  Jennifer walked to the kitchen and gave the knife back to Ash. Faith was hot on her heels. “Please give Mrs. Monroe a receipt for the knife that we’re taking.”

  “Of course,” Ash said nervously, signing a slip and holding it out to Parker. She didn’t take it. He put it on the counter and left with the evidence, followed by the remaining officers. Jennifer and Lucy trailed behind.

  In the entry, Jennifer said to Faith, “Remember what I said. No travel.”

  “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Lucy felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She knew that feeling.

  Someone was watching them.

  As the sensation washed over her, a loud report echoed at the same time as Faith staggered back into the house. Blood spread across her chest.

  “Down!” Jennifer screamed as she and Lucy took cover inside the house. She reported on her radio that shots were fired.

  “It’s a sniper,” Lucy said. She shut the door.

  Harrison ran to the foyer. He stared at his wife, who was struggling to breathe. Lucy started to administer first aid.

  But it was too late.

  * * *

  Jennifer was talking in her radio. “Find him!”

  To Lucy she said, “There’s a sniper in a tree. Someone said it’s Carl Chavez.”

  Harrison stared at her. He didn’t say anything, but it was clear from his expression that he knew who Carl Chavez was and he was shocked that the man had just shot and killed his wife.

  A bullet came through the front window, then another and another.

  “Get down!” Lucy shouted at Harrison.

  He stared at her again, as if frozen.

  Lucy rushed Harrison and tackled him to the floor. “Stay here!” she ordered. She went back and checked Faith’s pulse. Nothing.

  Lucy shook her head to Jennifer to indicate that Faith was gone, then she had her gun around and positioned herself next to Jennifer.

  “What about our people outside?” Lucy said.

  Jennifer put her finger up. She was listening to her earpiece.

  “Everyone has cover, though it’s tight. They’re working on a plan now.”

  “Did she really kill Victoria?”

  Lucy turned to where Harrison was on the floor, his back against a wall, in the hall off the foyer. He was staring at Faith’s body, expressionless.

  “Yes, Harrison, she really did,” Lucy said.

  “She couldn’t hold a candle to Victoria,” he said. “Fuck you, Faith,” he said, his voice soft. “I hope you’re burning in hell.”

  Jennifer looked at Lucy, her eyebrows raised. “I have no problem with that,” she said. She put her finger to her ear again, then said to Lucy, “We confirmed Chavez. They’re going to flush him out, stay put.”

  Lucy wasn’t moving, but this was the best time to get some answers from Harrison.

  “Harrison, did you order the hit on the Albright family?”

  He slowly looked at her. “What?”

  “They were executed. Their bodies were found. Certainly you’ve been following the news.”

  He nodded but looked confused. “Why would I kill them? She left the country. She wasn’t supposed to come back. We gave her three million dollars to stay away.”

  “Three million that you embezzled from Kiefer.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. He looked back at Faith’s body. The blood didn’t bother him. Because he was a killer or because he hated his wife?

  A moment later, Jennifer said, “They have him in custody.” She nodded to Harrison. “Do you want to do the honors, or shall I?”

  “Go right ahead, I want to talk to Chavez before he lawyers up.”

  Jennifer approached Harrison and read him his rights. He didn’t resist or say another word.

  Lucy went out to the yard, where two officers had already cuffed Carl Chavez and were standing sentry while he sat on the ground next to a squad car.

  Chavez glared at Lucy. “Fucking bitch.”

  At first, Lucy thought he was talking to her, but he was looking behind her. She could see Faith Parker’s dead body in the foyer.

  Chavez continued, “That woman ruined my fucking life, and I’m glad she’s dead.”

  “Tell me one thing,” Lucy said. “Did Faith Parker or Simon Mills order the assassination of the Albright family?”

  “Mills? That fucking wimp?” He laughed, which bordered on hysterical. “Parker. She said the bitch would be back within the week spilling her guts if we didn’t take care of her then. And then she turns on me? She sets me up? After I fucking did everything for her? Hell no, I’m nobody’s fool.”

  Jennifer came up behind Lucy, leading Harrison Monroe from the house.

  “You certainly aren’t,” Jennifer said, looked at Lucy, and winked.

  Lucy’s phone vibrated and she pulled it from her pocket. She needed a hot shower as soon as possible—she had Faith’s blood all over her.

  The call was from her boss, Rachel.

  “Kincaid.”

  “I owe your husband a beer.”

  “He’ll be happy to hear that. Why?”

  “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

  Max hadn’t wanted to go home for Thanksgiving, because traveling wa
sn’t fun on crutches, even in first class. But her grandmother Eleanor hadn’t been well these last few months, and Max feared her health was worse than just not getting over a cold quickly. Eleanor Sterling Revere was a proud, strong woman who both infuriated Max and presented an amazing role model. And though they’d had their differences over the years—many, many differences—Max loved her.

  Max didn’t need the blessing of her family for anything—not what she did or who she loved. She’d already caught heat from the family trust board of directors about Eve—as Martha’s daughter, Eve was entitled to a trust fund. Max was willing to fight all the way to court if she had to, not because Eve wanted the money—the concept of having a trust fund when she’d been raised so frugally seemed to terrify the teenager—but because it was the right thing to do. It was her legacy, and damn if Max was going to let the family turn their back on Eve. Max had been shunned—mostly by her mother’s brother Brooks—because she was the illegitimate child of the wild Martha Revere and no one knew who her father was. But Max didn’t care (she had, as a child; today she enjoyed tormenting her uncle). Her grandparents accepted her fully, and Max wasn’t surprised that Eleanor fully accepted Eve.

  It wasn’t Eleanor who had demanded the DNA test; it was Brooks.

  Of course Eve passed; Max didn’t need the proof that she was her sister, but it was nice to have it in her back pocket.

  The reason why Max was nervous was because she was bringing Ryan into the family circle. She never brought any of her boyfriends home to meet her family—not since she was a teenager and living at home. But deep down she wanted Eleanor to meet Ryan. Deep down, in a place she didn’t like to explore, she wanted Eleanor’s blessing.

  Because Ryan was important to her. In a million different ways.

  Maybe part of it was because she wanted Ryan to understand her. He said he did, but she had her doubts. She’d been raised wholly different than he had been. She was judgmental and independent and headstrong. She had no intention of changing, and Ryan said he didn’t want to change her, which seemed odd. Every man she’d ever dated had found her flawed and tried to mold her into what they wanted.

  Ryan was the first man who was happy with Max exactly how she was.

  She still marveled at it. Expected it to end. Anticipated him finding a flaw he couldn’t live with.

  Eve came into the kitchen where Max was sitting at the table slicing apples for a pie. They were eating at Brooks’s house for Thanksgiving; Max was not happy about it, but she wasn’t going to force the point when Eleanor was in no shape to entertain.

  “Where’s Ryan?”

  “Making Grandma laugh.”

  Eve called Eleanor Grandma. It was cute, endearing, and foreign to Max, who had always called her Grandmother or Eleanor.

  Eve ate an apple slice as she sat next to Max. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Eve snorted. “What happened to your pledge never to lie to me?”

  “You’ve become a brat.”

  “Did you actually think Grandma wouldn’t like Ryan? Everyone loves Ryan.”

  “That’s true.” She slid the apples into a clear bowl and tossed in sugar, nutmeg, and cinnamon. “I suppose I thought all this would be overwhelming for Ryan.”

  “Hardly. He’s happy eating hamburgers in a diner or a five-course meal at a fancy hotel. He fits in everywhere.”

  “You’re a brat and smart.”

  “Grandma said I’m just like you were without attitude or sarcasm.”

  “We can thank Gabriel for your upbringing then.” She shouldn’t have said that. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t. It’s okay. I miss him a lot. But I’m okay.” She put her hand on Max’s arm. “Really, I’m okay.”

  Ryan walked in, all smiles. “Eleanor is a hoot.”

  “A hoot,” Max said, then burst out laughing. Never in a million years would a normal person call her regal grandmother a hoot.

  “I see why you admire her so much. She’s smart, savvy, with exquisite taste in art.”

  “That is true.”

  “And a wicked sense of humor.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You do.” Ryan kissed her.

  Max poured the apple mixture into the two piecrusts she’d prepared earlier, then instructed Eve to put the pies in the preheated oven. “Forty minutes, then it’s off to the morgue.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My uncle Brooks. And trust me, he’s nothing like my grandmother.”

  Ryan handed Max her crutches and helped her up. “Eve, I’m taking your sister outside for a minute.”

  “I’ll see if Grandma needs any help getting ready.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  They stepped out into the rose garden, where the rosebushes had been trimmed and gone dormant for the winter. Still, the calendulas and pansies were thriving in the mild, moist Northern California weather. Eleanor loved her rose garden, but she wanted flowers year round and paid well for a gardener to tend to them. Max sat on the bench that her grandmother had imported from France. It fit here, among the roses.

  “You’ve been apprehensive about this trip,” Ryan said, taking her crutches and sitting next to her. “Why? You’re not embarrassed to show me off to your family? Tell them we’re living together?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then?”

  “Maybe I’m embarrassed by my family. I have a sister-in-law in a mental institution when she should be in prison for murder; I have an uncle who cheated on his wife and then married his lover and cheated on her. Though I haven’t told anyone yet. And then his son who can’t keep it in his pants and oh, there’s also—”

  “Shhh.”

  She looked at him.

  “There’s also me. I was raised like this. I’m judgmental, and I’m usually right. I’m not going to change.”

  “And I’ve told you a hundred times I don’t want you to change. And I’m going to prove it.”

  She smiled at him. “I don’t think sex in the rose garden would be acceptable … though maybe tonight when everyone is asleep.”

  “You’re on,” he said, and kissed her. Every time he kissed her, she melted. She felt like … she didn’t quite know. Like she wanted to sit in a car and make out with him. Like she wanted to spend more time with him. “And while I will have sex with you whenever and wherever you want, that’s not how I’m going to prove I love you.”

  “You don’t have to prove it. I know you do. I love you. I don’t know how it happened, but I love you. And that sounds so crazy to me, because I’m selfish and self-absorbed.”

  “That’s the first time you’ve told me you love me without saying, ‘I love you, too.’”

  He kissed her again, and she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to go to her uncle’s house, she didn’t want to leave at all. She wanted Ryan, Eve, and Eleanor tonight, the four of them, talking about her grandfather and remembering his stories. Talking about the good things growing up here, about the past, about long before Max was born. She wanted peace, quiet, and the man she loved.

  Her family, small and wonderful.

  He took her hand and kissed it.

  “You’re getting sappy on me, Maguire.”

  He kissed her hand again, and again. Her heart beat rapidly and flutters she rarely felt went up and down her spine.

  “I love it when I freak you out,” he said, “because you’re very hard to freak.”

  “I don’t freak.”

  He put his fingers on her pulse. “Really.” He kissed her neck, behind her ear, her jawline, her lips.

  She melted into him. She hadn’t felt this comfortable, this loved, this wanted, in … ever.

  He leaned back and looked at her. His eyes were sparkling, and for a second she thought they were tears. And maybe they were.

  “I was going to wait until New Year’s Eve, your birthday, but thought that’s kind of predictable. Then
I thought maybe I should wait a year, as that always seems to be standard for couples. But I’m not very good at keeping secrets, and when I know I want something I can’t just sit back and not at least try to get it. So I asked your grandmother if she would object, and she doesn’t. In fact, I think she’s rather thrilled. Must be my charm and good looks.” He reached into his pocket and came out with a small box.

  “You are one of a kind, Maxine Revere, and I want to marry you.”

  She stared at him.

  He opened the box.

  A small, perfect diamond in an exquisite antique setting was nestled in its pocket.

  She couldn’t speak. Maxine Revere, a woman who was never without words, was silent. What had become of her?

  He took the ring and slid it on her finger. It fit just right. “I borrowed one of your rings to have this sized.”

  She stared.

  Marry me.

  She hadn’t expected it. She didn’t know if she even wanted it. She’d never thought much about marriage. She never thought much about her future. Everything was about living today and living in the past. Solving cold cases, looking at what was and what is, not what could be.

  She’d never thought she’d get married because she’d never found a man to accept her and she had too much respect for herself to change who she was for anyone.

  Yes.

  She still couldn’t speak.

  Ryan tilted her chin up. “Max?”

  She kissed him because words failed her. She held his face and kissed him, then she didn’t let go. She held him tight, just held him.

  “You’re shaking. Max.”

  “I—” She couldn’t talk. Damn, she was going to cry. She never cried.

  “Max?” He separated them and looked at her. “Oh, babe, I love you so much.”

  “Yes,” she said, and kissed him. “Yes, you do, and yes, I will marry you.”

  * * *

  Family was the most important thing to Lucy, which was why she’d so desperately wanted everyone to visit for Thanksgiving. While she loved San Antonio and had made a wonderful home with Sean and now Jesse, she missed her family. Two brothers on the East Coast, the rest of her family on the West Coast, split between San Diego and Sacramento. She’d thought living in Texas—centrally located—would give her the go-to house for traveling, but it didn’t work out that way.