Cut and Run(29)

Faith stepped closer. Her mouth was dry and her body stiff as she leaned over the bed. In the autopsy suite, she’d witnessed human carnage, but this woman’s injuries made her stomach roil. “My God.”

Tubes fed into Macy’s mouth and nose. Faith reached a trembling hand out and touched the woman’s right wrist, which seemed to be the only spot uninjured.

Faith cleared her throat. “Macy. My name is Faith. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I left you a voicemail yesterday about your father, Jack. And as it turns out, we might have something in common.”

The beep, beep of the monitor picked up.

Hayden’s presence behind her was calming, and she was glad he’d been the one to deliver the news. No drama. Just facts.

“Macy, I’m here with Captain Hayden of the Texas Rangers. He’s working your case. He’s going to figure out what happened to you and Jack. He’s a pretty crackerjack crime fighter.” The attempt at levity fell flat. “Concentrate on getting well, and leave the rest to him, okay?” Her voice cracked on the last word, but a deep breath settled the rising panic.

Faith studied the agent’s hands. Like Faith’s, Macy’s fingers were long, the deep nail beds unpolished and short.

A knock on the door had her turning toward a man dressed in a white lab coat. The guy was young, and his head was covered in a shadow of dark stubble. “I’m Dr. Bramley.”

Hayden removed his identification from his breast pocket. “Mitchell Hayden, Texas Rangers. This is Dr. Faith McIntyre. How is Special Agent Crow doing?”

Dr. Bramley rubbed his eyes and then moved toward the bed, automatically glancing at vitals on a monitor and then the drip from an IV. “She made it through surgery, and that is very encouraging.”

“There is head trauma.” Aware that Macy could be taking all this in on some level, Faith kept her tone clinical and tightened her mental grip on her trademark control.

“There is, but the good news is that we got her into surgery quickly and were able to relieve the cranial pressure. Once the swelling abates, we’ll reevaluate. But as I said, she made it through the night, and that’s a real testament to her strength.”

Faith looked at the unconscious woman and had so many questions for her. The thought of her not making it was almost unbearable. “What are her other injuries?”

“Fractured femur and arm. Cracked ribs. When Ms. Crow came into the ER last night, I didn’t think she’d make it through the hour. But as I’ve already said, she’s hung in there. She’s tough.”

“Did she say anything in the ER?” Hayden asked.

“She was unconscious when she got to us,” Dr. Bramley said.

“I’ve called city police,” Hayden said. “A uniformed officer will be arriving soon to watch her room. No one gets in or out without clearing it past the officer or me.”

“Her brother just arrived,” the doctor said. “He’s in the waiting room. We weren’t able to let him see his sister because we were examining her, but I’ve agreed for him to visit for a minute or two.”

“That’s Dirk Crow?” Hayden asked.

“Correct,” Dr. Bramley said.

“I’d like to meet him,” Faith said.

“So would I,” Hayden said. “I’ve been trying to reach him since Sunday.”

“The waiting room is down the hall and on the right.”

Faith reluctantly released Macy’s hand. Drawing in a breath, she left the room with Hayden at her side, and they made their way to the waiting room.

There were several men in the room, but her gaze was instantly drawn to the large man cradling a crushed coffee cup in tattooed fingers. There was no missing the square jaw, thick brow, and muscled arms that so resembled Jack Crow.

When the man looked up, he stared at her with narrowed eyes glinting with wariness. “Macy, what the hell?” He tossed the cup in the trash and grabbed his cap as he stood.

“I’m not Macy. I’m Faith McIntyre,” Faith said.

He didn’t look convinced as he approached her, working his big fingers over the bill of a sweat-stained ball cap. “If you’re not Macy, you look just like her.”

“I know.”

“How is it you look so much alike?”

“I’m not sure yet.” The more people who noticed her resemblance to Macy, the more unsettling it was. “You’re Jack Crow’s son?” she asked.

“That’s right. Dirk Crow,” he said.

He barely glanced at Hayden as he stepped toward her. He smelled of motor oil, the hot sun, and Texas dust. “Jack kept up with Macy over the years but wasn’t keen on me hanging out with her. I saw her for the first time yesterday at Jack’s trailer.”

“I’ve been trying to reach you since Sunday,” Hayden said. “I had news about your father.”

“Yeah, Ledbetter caught up to me,” Dirk said. “He told me. That’s why I went to the trailer. The place looked like holy hell. Did the cops do that?”

“We left the black fingerprint powder, but the rest was as we found it. Any idea who might have killed Jack?”

“Like I told Macy, not a clue. I’ve been in El Paso for over a week.”

“Did you know there were two of us?” Faith asked.