Cut and Run(57)

She sat for several minutes. “I’ve already spent too much time thinking about Josie and comparing her face, our faces. There are precious few details on her, but my imagination keeps filling in the gaps. It’s not a particularly smart approach, and I know I’m setting myself up for disappointment.”

She paused, catching her own breath, and then added, “But enough about me. You concentrate on getting better. That is your only job. I’ll be back soon to check on you. Promise.”

Faith rose, patted Macy’s hand, and left the room, feeling like she was abandoning her.



Macy could hear the soft, steady voice and found herself transported back to an afternoon when she and her mother were living in the small Dallas apartment.

Her father had called that day, and when her mother had spoken to him, she’d dropped her voice to a hushed tone. When she had finally handed the phone to Macy, she’d looked worried but made an effort to smile. Jack had been upbeat and said he’d decided on a change of plans. They weren’t going into Austin but east to Galveston during their summer vacation together. “Sun, surf, and sand, kiddo. Gonna be great.”

After the call she had pressed her mother, wanting to know what Brenda and Jack weren’t telling her. When her mother hadn’t answered, Macy had argued, because that’s what she’d done since the moment she could talk. Those days she had picked fights whenever she could. She hadn’t known why she was always mad and in moments of clarity had wondered why she couldn’t just shake it and be happy.

She’d always known her mother wasn’t her birth mother. Most of the time it hadn’t bothered her, but lately it had been driving her nuts. She didn’t look like the stocky, olive-skinned parents who she knew loved her. She had felt like an outsider.

One afternoon when she’d questioned if her mother was real, Brenda had looked her squarely in her eyes. “I’m as real as it gets,” her mother had said.

“You didn’t give birth to me. What was my real mother’s name? I want to see her!”

Her mother had been quiet for a moment and then, shaking her head, had said, “She’s dead, kid. Buried in the cold ground when you were a baby. All you got is me.”

The news had hit Macy like a slap to the face. She had stumbled back and run, her mother’s apology chasing after her.

Later there’d been tears and an oath from her mother that she didn’t really know what had happened to her birth mother. There’d also been hugs and a truce that had lasted until her mother’s death.

The stones. The graves. And a young girl logically unconnected to the girls missing for decades who was still missing and ready to have her baby.

Faith had found the stones. The graves. JJ. She was getting closer. She was walking Macy’s own path.

Words of caution rumbled just out of her reach. She had a warning for Faith. He was still out there. And she knew his face.



Hayden pulled up in front of the hospital, turned in his seat, and faced Faith. Sunlight caught her hair and highlighted her expressive eyes and the full lips he wanted to kiss. “Let me know if you need anything today.”

She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but the words stuck in his throat. “I’ve asked Detective Lana Franklin to pull old missing persons cases that fit around the year 1987. I also want a list of pregnant girls that might have gone missing. There might be some answers there.”

Her brow furrowed. “I hope so.”

Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her. “We’ll figure this out.”

She squeezed his hand and kissed him back. “Thank you.”

When she got out of the car, he waited and watched her vanish into the hospital before driving to the middle-class neighborhood in northern Travis County that was home to Paige Sheldon’s mother and stepfather. The front lawn was neatly cut, the bushes trimmed, and the house freshly painted. There were two cars in the driveway, both American-made late models.

Now that they had evidence that Paige might be alive, he wanted to talk to her parents and find out more about the girl.

He rang the bell and heard a dog barking and then the beat of steady footsteps. The door opened to a midsize man with gray hair and brown eyes ringed with dark circles. He wore a collared long-sleeve shirt that he’d rolled up to his elbows, and his tie hung loose. He had the look of a man who’d had a long day.

Up came the identification badge. “I’m Ranger Mitchell Hayden with the Texas Rangers. I’m looking for the parents of Paige Sheldon.”

The man’s face grew grim. “Texas Rangers. Do you have news about Paige?” A small cairn terrier stood obediently beside the man’s leg, sizing him up.

“And you are?”

“Fred Owen. Paige’s stepfather.”

“May I come inside?”

“Sure. Of course.” He stepped aside. “What do you know about Paige?”

“Fred, who is it?” A woman wearing jeans and a sweatshirt stained with blue paint rounded the corner. “What’s going on?”

“Texas Rangers, here about Paige.” The man hugged his wife close. “This is my wife, Vivian. Please tell us what you know, Ranger Hayden.”

Inside, Hayden was greeted with the scents of pine cleaner and baking bread. “You a cook, Mrs. Owen?”