by Mary Burton
“Smart lady.” He pointed the gun at Paige.
She moved forward, quickly placing herself in front of the gun. “You don’t have to kill her. Just leave her be. She’s suffered enough.”
“And she’s seen me.”
Faith had no doubt he would kill that girl and never lose a moment’s sleep. She had to give him some kind of distraction or the girls would die. She raised her chin. “Macy Crow is alive.”
He stood straighter. “Is she?”
“She’s awake, and I talked to her,” she said quickly, knowing she had his interest. “She knows where the package is.”
“Does she?” His eyes sharpened with interest.
“If you kill them, I won’t tell you.”
He looked amused. “I can be persuasive.”
“Apparently not enough. You didn’t get Jack Crow to talk.” Faith was doing her best to unsettle him.
“I’ve learned a few new tricks since then.”
“You and I leave now, I’ll tell you where the package is.”
“Fair enough. Bring the baby. Like I said, I’ve learned some new tricks.” They stepped out of the room, and Faith, holding the baby tight, followed. He closed the door behind her, locking it, and then motioned for her to climb the stairs.
Faith’s mind was spinning. Hayden was close. All she had to do was buy a little time.
As she reached the kitchen, she started toward the front door.
“No. Back door.”
She pictured Hayden rolling up in the cul-de-sac, seeing her car, and being distracted long enough for this man to get away with her and the baby. And if she died, he would surely double back and kill the girls. The baby began to fuss. “Aren’t you worried about the neighbors?”
“Keep it quiet, or I’ll kill it right here.”
She put her pinky in the baby’s mouth, and it suckled. Blood from the afterbirth had stained her shirt and was now dripping on the floor. “The baby needs to see a doctor.”
The wail of police sirens echoed in the distance, and he glanced over his shoulder. For the first time, he looked worried.
“Leave the girls,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you leave them.”
The sirens grew louder.
“We don’t have much time,” she said.
His jaw tensed. “They can identify me.”
“Does it matter? You get the package and you’ll get paid, right? Then you can vanish.”
Hayden’s lights were flashing as he and Brogan raced to the location. He saw Faith’s car parked in the cul-de-sac and moved in behind her. “Damn it. She doesn’t wait for anyone.”
Out of his car, he drew his weapon and hurried toward Faith’s car. The front door was ajar, and her purse and keys were on the passenger seat. He’d seen so much violence working for the Rangers, but he’d never thought about it touching Faith. He couldn’t entertain the thought of losing her, or he wouldn’t be able to function.
“She’s got to be inside. Call in marked units. I want this area surrounded.”
“Consider it done,” Brogan said.
The Rangers raced to the front door and heard the distant screaming and pounding from the basement. They hurried into the kitchen, and as Brogan moved cautiously down the stairs with his weapon drawn, Hayden glanced toward the back door and saw the small droplets of blood. “I’m heading to the backyard,” he said.
“Roger that,” Brogan said.
Hayden went out the back door and saw the trail of blood running down a narrow sidewalk leading to a back exit in the tall privacy fence that banded around the yard. He heard a car door close and ran, kicking through the privacy fence door. More blood droplets led to the side street that backed up to the house. He had only a split second to assess the situation. Blue four-door. Blood, woman in the passenger seat, and a man in the driver’s seat. The car wheels started to roll.
He leveled his weapon and fired, hitting the back right tire. As the car gained speed, he trained his weapon onto the left rear tire and fired. As much as he wanted to fire at the driver, he couldn’t risk hitting Faith.
But when the man in the front seat raised a weapon toward the passenger, a clear and calculated rage overtook him. Hayden drew in a breath as he lined up the sights on his weapon with the driver’s head. Don’t move, Faith. Don’t move. The car gained more speed even with the blown-out tires deflating quickly. He squeezed the trigger. His bullet blew out the back window and slammed into the jaw of the driver. The car swerved, careening left into a tree. He didn’t allow satisfaction as he raced ahead, desperate to see Faith alive and well.
When he reached the car, he kept his weapon drawn, his finger beside the trigger, ready to shoot again. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his focus zeroed in on his target.
When he saw the man slumped over the wheel, Hayden yanked open the door and hauled the man out of the car. He heard a baby cry, saw a flicker of movement in his side vision, but kept his focus on the man.
The events that came next felt like they happened in slow motion, each critical action and reaction weighted with life and death.
Hayden threw the man face-first onto the grass and drove a knee into the small of his back as he kept his weapon trained on him with one hand and reached for his cuffs with the other. He snapped one cuff around one wrist and then, hauling the second wrist toward the first, clamped the cuff around it.
The baby’s cry grew louder, echoing its fear and panic as Hayden rolled the man on his back and pressed his fingertips to his carotid artery. There was no pulse. He recognized the guy. He’d tried to make a play for Faith the night of the fundraiser.
He then shifted his focus to the passenger seat. Faith was slumped over in the front seat, her body folded over the baby. Holstering his weapon, he raced to the passenger side and yanked open the door.
His heart sank as he thought about Faith dead and lost to him forever. He could not bear it. He could not.
Gently, he took her by the shoulders and carefully leaned her back, freeing the baby underneath. He could see a gash across her forehead and her lip was bloodied, but there seemed to be no other injuries. The baby cried. Faith blinked and moaned. She wasn’t unconscious, but badly stunned.
“Faith!” Sirens wailed around him.
Slowly she nodded her head. “I’m here.”
Jesus. A tangle of emotions clogged his throat, and it was all he could do to keep his voice even. “Faith, I don’t want you to move. The paramedics are here.”
“Kat and Paige are in the house,” she said. “They’re alive.”
“Brogan’s inside. He’s got it under control.” Hayden tried to take the baby from her.
Her grip tightened around the small bundle. “I have her.”
“You’re unsteady. Let me have her.”
She pushed back the towel and stared at the squalling infant and then handed the little girl to him. He cradled her like a football.
She looked over at the man lying on the ground. “His name is Kevin. I’ve met him before. He didn’t want Kat, Paige, or the baby, but used them to lure me to him. He was going to use me to get to Macy and whatever he thought Jack Crow had left her.”
“What would Crow leave Macy?” Hayden asked.
“She thinks her father had evidence against Garnet and he mailed it to Macy.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s awake. She told me.” A sob caught in her throat. “Jesus, Hayden, who would hire a monster like that?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll find out.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’m just so damn glad you’re okay. I wouldn’t have made it if I lost you.”
Instead of answering, she kissed him softly on the lips as the first of the paramedics stepped in to administer first aid.
Kathy Saunders, 1989
Josie and Olivia are dead. I know it. He says they are not. He says they’ve gone on to better lives. But he lies. He always lies. And I will be dead soon, too.
>
Things I like. Country music. High-waist, stonewashed jeans. My teddy bear, Boo. Starry nights.
Things I hate. This room. Not seeing my sister, Diane, again. This pen running out of ink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Friday, June 29, 9:00 p.m.
Faith had spent several hours in the emergency room with Kat, Paige, and the baby. Doctors had also done an MRI and determined Faith did not have a concussion. The gash in her forehead hadn’t required stitches, just a couple of butterfly bandages.
Once Hayden had heard from the doctors she was going to be fine, she had insisted he return to the crime scene. It had taken her several tries to convince him to go, and finally, he had left.
She’d been able to wash the blood from her hands and face, but her blouse had been a total loss, so the staff had lent her a pair of scrubs and flip-flops.
Now as she sat in the exam cubicle, she pushed back her hair and straightened her shoulders. All she could do was mull over the unanswered questions that still lingered. Hayden had discovered that Kevin was Mark Canada and had done jail time for assault. It was assumed Canada had been hired, but the question was, By whom? What was in the package that he was so willing to torture and kill for?
“Where’s Faith McIntyre?” Kat’s loud, unsteady voice cut through the buzz of the emergency exam cubicles.
Faith pushed off the gurney and drew back the curtain. Kat was standing in the center of the room, dressed in a hospital gown, her pregnant belly protruding, and pulling her IV pole with her.
“Kat. You should be in your exam room.”
The girl’s face crumpled, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she rushed toward Faith, still pulling her IV. “No one would tell me where you were.”
Faith smoothed back the girl’s hair and smiled. “I’m right here. We’re all fine.”
She sobbed. “When I got here, my head was spiraling and I couldn’t think. But when I shook off those drugs, all I could remember was that man taking you away.”
“I’m fine.” She glanced past the girl to see several nurses moving toward her. One was pushing a wheelchair.
Kat gently touched the bandages on Faith’s forehead. “You’re hurt.”
“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?”
