Cut and Run(61)

“Whoever killed Crow and hit Macy is sounding more like a professional. The playing card with Crow suggests a type of signature. None was found with Macy because he didn’t have time. Perhaps that attack wasn’t planned.”

“Maybe he didn’t know Crow had kids,” Brogan offered.

“Melissa, what about the cameras around Second Chances?”

“Based on Macy Crow’s ATM receipt, I did locate her three blocks from Second Chances five minutes before she was hit. The dark truck that was identified as stolen passes behind her. I’ve taken a freeze-frame of the driver. It’s only a partial and it’s fuzzy, but I’m trying to enhance it as much as I can. That’s going to take some time.”

“Anything else?” Hayden asked.

“Still piecing it all together,” she said.

“Keep me posted.”

“Count on it.”

Hayden hung up. “Brogan, see what you can pull up on Josie Jones.”

“Will do.” As Hayden drove, Brogan accessed the database for arrest records. “Not much in her file. She was arrested a day after her eighteenth birthday, and there is a note from the arresting officer, who noted that the judge of record was Ryder Templeton.”

“I know Templeton. He was a buddy of my father’s.” At eighty-five, Judge Templeton was still active in Austin politics, never missed a UT football game, and met his buddies at his favorite bar every Thursday for a beer.

Hayden checked the time and, taking a chance, dialed Judge Templeton’s number. The phone rang twice, and then he heard his father’s friend say, “Well, as I live and breathe, Mitchell Hayden. How are you doing?”

“Doing very well.”

“Glad to hear it. Let me say again how sorry Leticia and I were to hear about Sierra.”

He didn’t remember the judge and his wife of forty years at the funeral, but he didn’t remember much of that day. “I appreciate that.”

“So, boy, seeing as you’re not one to call and just chat, what can I do for you?”

“I’m working on a case and came across the name of a Josie Jones. She was arrested for stealing in 1987, and her arrest records tell me she appeared in your court.”

“I have a good memory, but you’re going back thirty-plus years. I presided over thousands of cases.”

“I remember you used to keep a personal log on your cases and sometimes made notes. I thought you might have a note or two about this woman.”

“Leticia has been after me for years to throw out all those logbooks. They’re taking up too much attic space, she says. Though what the hell else she wants to put in the attic is beyond me.”

“Tell me you saved them.”

“Of course I did. I can’t throw out my logs.”

Dogs barked in the background, and Hayden pictured two basset hounds, which had always been the judge’s preferred breed. No doubt the judge was sitting on his back porch overlooking Lake Travis and sipping a whiskey. “Let me poke around. Might take me a day or two. And it would be nice to prove to Leticia that those old logbooks still have a use.”

“Any help you can offer would be much appreciated,” Hayden said.

“Mind telling me why you care about a case from the eighties?”

“We came across several graves on a Hill Country ranch. I think Josie Jones might be one of the bodies. Her name could very well be a dead end, but I’ve got to at least try.”

“Understood.” His chair squeaked as if he had leaned forward. “I hear you and Dr. McIntyre were friendly at the fundraiser the other night.”

Austin was a big small town. “She and I are on the board of the shelter together.”

“You two make a handsome couple.”

A quick glance to his right caught Brogan now looking toward him with a renewed interest. He could have backed away from the comment and denied it, but he didn’t. “I guess we shall see.”

“Well, you’re a fool not to chase that gal. Smart as a whip. If I were forty years younger, you’d have some real competition.”

The comment wasn’t lost on him. Faith might be his shot at a new life. “I’ll keep all that in mind, sir.”

“Okay. Now I’ll get back to minding my own business and will call with an update soon.”

“Appreciate it, Judge. I’ll owe you one.”

Two hours later, Hayden and Brogan arrived at the Texas State Penitentiary in Huntsville. Built in 1849, it was the oldest Texas state prison. It held the State of Texas execution chamber—the most active chamber in the United States.

“The warden knows we’re coming and will have Delany up and ready to talk,” Brogan said.

As Hayden stopped at the guard station and stated their purpose, each Ranger showed his identification badge before they were waved through the gates. Moonlight bathed the prison’s red brick walls. They removed their hats and made their way through security, where they checked their weapons, and into the building.

The warden, Buddy Westchester, a short man with a round belly and dark-brown hair, met them just inside. They all shook hands. “Well, I can tell you Mr. Delany was not happy having his beauty sleep interrupted.”

“That’s a shame,” Hayden said. “I know he’s got to be worried about fine lines and wrinkles at his age.”