McAllister Justice Series Box Set Volume Two

by Reily Garrett

  After a nod to his brother, Matt paced her with the easy grace of a stalking panther. His confidence with each obstacle matched her obstinance. The only time she’d faltered was when viewing the dead body, which had come natural and not unexpected.

  Superimposing her own face on the girl’s body stole her breath and weakened her motivation. She wondered what course her boss had set and his choice of end goal. Was he killer or protector?

  If he orchestrated the events, she was too deeply embroiled to back out. He knew who she was, hence could locate her without difficulty. She knew nothing except increasing confusion with each day.

  The sooner she got home, the sooner she could check her phone’s camera and identify the victim.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sandman smiled.

  Timing was everything. The fact destiny guided his hand to avoid detection when depositing the body secured his faith in the greater good.

  His research would open up a new medical era where scientific intervention took death off the table for an extended period. Breaking a few eggs to get there equaled an acceptable circumstance as long as his activities remained in the shadows.

  The hike back to his car circled the scenic valley below used for event parking. Advanced scouting had ensured the rugged northern terrain inappropriate for incorporation in the race but convenient when lugging a packaged body.

  He’d enjoyed Wendy’s last breath, rasped as he folded her into his backpack. No scent of death had clung to her skin and he hoped Remie appreciated the lengths he’d taken to ensure discovery at the onset of rigor mortis. By the time he’d positioned the corpse, stiffening of the eyelids, neck, and jaw signaled depletion of glycogen and the inability to produce ATP.

  Uncapping his water bottle to sip while waiting for the AC to kick in, he reviewed the next step of his plan. It seemed Billy McAllister had not withdrawn from Remie’s side, something that should’ve been expected. In addition, he’d involved his brothers, an unfortunate circumstance. Only force could counter force. It also meant more work to provide misdirection. Once again, fate offered the avenue.

  Fortune kissed those strong enough to grab life by the balls. When he’d discovered Remie’s shadow, it had proven well worth the effort to have a friend install malware on the little investigator’s phone. The younger generation loves to send texts, which he intercepted on a daily basis.

  Before pulling away, he used field glasses to assure himself all proceeded as planned. The sight of the eldest McAllister escorting the investigator to her battered clunker created another minor obstacle. It seemed his road was full of them.

  Regardless, it was time to talk to an old professor, one who’d kept a valuable secret locked within her body for years. He wondered if the under-the-table surgery had led to unexpected circumstances. A few samples of tissue would provide a world of information.

  When faced with the ultimatum of death, most victims gave up whatever information might spare them. He looked forward to the coming conversation as much as the aftermath.

  The hustle and bustle of the ER echoed Billy’s mental chaos where the appearance of disorder confounded his ability to sort information. Two days since finding the sophomore’s body in the woods, he was no closer to a substantial lead than on Saturday. “Hi, ladies. Someone called?”

  “Hi, Detective McAllister.” A pert little blonde deposited her chart on the standing rack at the station then stepped around the nurses’ counter to face him. “We received orders from administration to contact you with any violent acts concerning the kids or staff at the college.”

  “Another student?” They haven’t even completed Wendy’s autopsy. He recognized the nurse as one of Caden’s temporary flavors before Kaylee turned his world upside down. Like Remie’s doing to me.

  “No. This is a biology professor. They’re prepping her for OR now. We’ve got her stable for the time being, but she’s unconscious. We’re waiting for the docs to read the CT scans.”

  “Type of injuries?”

  “Multiple stab wounds to her chest and belly, probable head injury. She’s in trauma room four.”

  Every room in the ER had held a McAllister at one time or another through their teenage antics or work with the police department. Trauma four brought back memories of Ethan nursing a gunshot wound to the leg.

  A half-glass wall fronted each room to allow the staff visible access to their patients. Suction outlets dotted the wall under shelves lined with gauze, catheters, and other trauma paraphernalia behind each bed.

  One of the nurses wheeled out a bright red crash cart and positioned it beside the door, an indication she might need it again. A defibrillator sat on top of the cabinet with torn AED packaging which she threw away. He wondered how many times they’d shocked her heart to revive her.

  Quiet respirations and the gentle rise and fall of the older woman’s chest belied the struggle both behind and ahead. Her breath came with each gentle sigh of the ventilator.

  Two IV pumps fed various fluids and medications, their lights and soft beeps indicators of the specific program running and that nothing occluded the lines. From the lower bedside, large flexible tubing snaked its way under the covers from a rigid plastic box attached to the bed frame. Chest tubes. Bloody drainage in the collection chamber indicated a recent hemothorax. Unlike Matt’s struggle with blood accumulated in the pleural cavity after an injury, the professor wasn’t cognizant of the catheter’s insertion.

  A younger woman with an aquiline nose and sharp cheekbones sat in a chair beside the bed. Silent tears fell while she held the patient’s hand. As if feeling the weight of his sympathy, she wiped her cheeks on his approach.

  “Hi. I’m Detective McAllister.” He’d witnessed the same scene with various catalysts; each time wondering what form of malice drove the aggressor. Greed, jealousy, and romantic triangles remained top contenders.

  “H-hi. I’m Connie, the professor’s assistant.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?” He strode to the bedside to get a closer look at the victim. She was likely someone’s grandmother, mentor to young minds, and a wife—indicated by her wedding ring.

  “I went in to tell her she was late for class and found her lying on the floor. Blood was everywhere.” Erratic hand gestures conveyed helpless anxiety.

  “Was she conscious? Did she speak?”

  The assistant frowned. “She whispered something, one word. I’m not absolutely sure—”

  “What did she say?”

  “Bioprinter, which makes no sense at all. There’s no printer in her office. I went to check the laser jet in the office, but there wasn’t anything in the queue.”

  “Bioprinter?” The sluggish flow of thoughts slogging through his brain loitered on a flashback of ClickChip’s basement. The last thing he saw before leaving was a bioprinter, though he hadn’t identified it as such at the time.

  I demolished ClickChip after we destroyed the microchips, serum, and data. Skills as a demolitionist came in handy on a rare basis. That night, they’d saved thousands of lives. His last glimpse of that basement had stuck in his mind like the pages of Ethan’s magazines as a teenager. Ugh.

  With the help of a trusted federal agent, the McAllister brothers had thwarted a conspiracy destined to change the world. Before reaching out to that agent again, he’d confer with his brothers. If the psychotic killer emerged as an undiscovered offshoot of ClickChip, life as they knew it could change.

  The assistant nodded. “I called her husband. He’s at a conference in D.C. He’s on the next flight home.”

  “Do you know of any reason someone would want to hurt her?”

  “No. Everybody loves her. She gets along great with staff and students.”

  “Has she been working on any side projects? Perhaps something not funded by the school?”

  “No. She’s involved in a lot of charity organizations and some veteran organizations—her husband was in the army.”

  Billy retrieved a bus
iness card from his wallet and placed it in the woman’s shaking hand. “If you think of anything else, at any time, give me a call. I’m going to head over to her office, but I’ll check back later. The nurses will call me with any changes.”

  The familiar ring on his cell as he exited provided a welcome distraction from morbid thoughts. “Yo, Matt.”

  The pause on the other end signaled the coming conversation unpleasant at best.

  “Billy, the captain’s forming a task force. Among other things, he’s harping on why someone planted your prints on the knife, why you’re a target. The only reason he hasn’t yanked you—it seems you have a guardian angel...”

  “Fed?”

  “Maybe. He won’t say. What ‘cha doing?”

  “Hell, I don’t know any of the kids at the college. I’m at the hospital now. They’re about to wheel a biology professor into the OR. She was attacked in her office about two hours ago.”

  “How much contact did you have with Dr. Tallin before she was attacked in the woods?”

  “None. Never met her before fishing her out of the water. Ethan probably knows her since he works homicide.”

  “Damn. I can’t make any connections here.”

  “I did. When the professor’s assistant found her on the floor, barely conscious, she got one word. Bioprinter.”

  “Aw, shit.”

  “Welcome back to the world of fucked-up sociopaths.”

  “How far do you trust Royden?”

  “You mean the prick who’s hitting on our sister? If he makes one more reference to my bullheadedness, he’s gonna be minus a brain. That said, I think he’s clean.”

  “All the more reason for him to make nice with you.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m sending him to you now. Watch each other’s back. I’ve got a uniform covering the pathologist during work hours.”

  “Gee, thanks, Matt.”

  “You’re welcome. Family meeting at Remie’s tonight. Tell her we’ll bring chow.”

  The line disconnected before Billy could argue. Typical.

  Royden answered on the first ring and agreed to meet at the college. To watch his partner interact with some of the kids would add another detail to the younger man’s character and another nail in his coffin if he flirted.

  City streets passed in quick succession with the steering wheel slick under his palm. He’d lost the struggle in hoping to skirt the issue about Abby’s new relationship. The last thing his little sister needed was to mix it up with a cop. She deserved better. If she was seeing Royden, it wouldn’t end well. Regardless of the circumstances, it was time to have a serious discussion with his partner.

  A slight pensiveness bordered yearning in observing the college kids coming and going, some deep in thought, others chatting amicably. Instead of further schooling, he’d opted for military training. Lack of a formal education was his Achilles’ heel.

  Loose gravel crunched under his tires in slotting his car between two compacts in front of the science building, familiar from Abby’s school days. Royden waited, legs crossed at the ankles and leaning against his car. His eyebrows hooked inward as when he wanted to get something off his chest but wasn’t sure how to proceed. The spinning of his keys around his index finger was another tell.

  Proceed with caution if it concerns my sister.

  “Hey, I called the hospital and gave them my information so they’d have another contact in case you’re busy.”

  “’kay.” He’s nervous. “The department head will meet us at the professor’s office. He said his room is near the victim’s, but he didn’t hear anything unusual this morning.” Billy headed toward the brick entrance and didn’t wait for Royden to comment.

  “Good. You want me to talk with him while you scout and knock on doors?”

  “You nervous around college kids?”

  “No. I just don’t want you thinking I’m overly friendly with them. I’m not like that, Billy.”

  “Fine. Let’s check the professor’s colleagues first.” From his pocket, he pulled a small notebook and pen.

  The first floor hallway consisted of three doors spaced evenly apart on either side. Classrooms. Through the glass insets he saw students with various levels of alertness, some attentive, a few doodling on notepads.

  From Abby’s time there, he remembered the musty smell associated with block buildings, not countered by the scent of plugins along the corridor. A sign near the stairwell indicated the second-floor offices. Billy shoved the door open.

  “How’d Remie do during the first part of the race, Saturday?” Royden’s ability to make conversation was boundless.

  “Let’s just say she isn’t as out of shape as she thinks.” Billy took the stairs two at a time while making a mental note to check his partner’s last fitness test scores. A city boy who wore suits and enjoyed bungee jumping equaled a paradox. He didn’t care for either.

  “Ah, the smell of education.” Royden’s murmur drew a smirk from one of three women waiting near the door. He nodded to the uniforms posted as gatekeepers.

  Crime lab techs dusted the professor’s room as the director made introductions with staff members assigned to nearby offices. The lengthy interview process proved fruitless and frustrating.

  Individual questioning yielded no one hearing or seeing anything unusual. No subtle signs of deception accompanied the neutral or positive feelings toward their colleague.

  When finished, Billy headed back to the victim’s office. The rooms were small, each containing a moderate-sized desk, lamp, bookshelves, and two chairs. Professor Ballack enjoyed a view of the campus.

  “Hi, Chauners.” Billy nodded to the tech packing up his box before studying the room in general. “Anything interesting?”

  “Huh. About a thousand prints we’ll never identify. It’ll take a bit to get the results of the blood samples. From the pattern,” he followed the outline with his finger, “I’d say it all belonged to the victim. Little to nothing disturbed.”

  “She knew him, then. The hospital staff said she lacked defensive wounds.”

  “Best guess? Yeah.”

  Royden stepped behind the desk and opened the middle tray door with a gloved hand. “Hmm. I assume photos are all done?”

  “Yeah. We found a card, but I don’t know why it would be here...It’s bagged.” Chauner turned to the other tech. “You get the windowsill, Mike?”

  “Yeah, lots of prints to sort.”

  “Whose card?” Billy waited for the tech to flip the baggie and hold it up for him to read. “Shit, shit, shit.” Remie, what the hell?

  “What?” Royden’s confusion drew the attention of the two techs.

  “Fucking walking nightmare.” Until two months ago, deductive reasoning provided a steadfast base on which Billy built his reputation. Echoes of a past nightmarish investigation approached with the speed and force of a freight train.

  Unable to tolerate the room’s suffocating confines, he turned and walked out to the hallway. Slow deep breaths couldn’t center his thoughts.

  “Hey, Billy. There’s nothing left for us to see here. Let’s go grab a soda and talk.”

  Damn shrink. The vibration of his phone saved him from exploding. The digital display from the next call added weight to his weary shoulders. “McAllister.”

  Bad news frequently arrived in short conversations. This was no different. When he hung up, he knew his life had turned another corner, one he wouldn’t like.

  “What’s up, partner?” Royden tucked his notebook and pen in his jacket pocket.

  “That was the hospital. The professor died on the table.”

  “Well hell. Let’s grab a drink and head to her home. See what we can find.”

  “Might as well. Maybe we’ll find a connection to Gena or Wendy. I was hoping we’d catch a break from vice and one of the prostitutes recognized the college kids.”

  “Damn. The professor was our only living link between the coeds and our pathologist.”
Royden nodded to several students passing but failed to return the girls’ obvious interest.

  “You look nervous, partner. Something you want to tell me?”

  “No—I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea. I’m not a player.”

  “No, you’re the shrink raised by a clan of lawyers.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want to spend my days in courtrooms. I have to admit, though, the psych degree does come in handy on occasion.”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “C’mon. You know you want to tell me what’s bugging you. Your anger over me knowing your sister is just displacement. Why don’t you get it off your chest?”

  “You are not dating my sister!”

  The smirk on his partner’s face was designed for a fist. Billy’s fist. Military experience had taught him patience. There was a time and place for everything. The parking lot of a college campus equaled neither.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Remie didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted by the amount of food the McAllister’s brought. A pride of lions would have leftovers. From what she’d learned, the brothers didn’t let their egos interfere with their work ethic or appetite.

  She knew Matt and Ethan by sight through her job and their recent run. When Ethan’s girlfriend, Lexi, stepped forward and introduced herself, a large husky-shepherd mix followed. Buckeye approved of Hoover’s presence, sniffing ears and butt before deciding on tentative friendship. Holly reigned over all while curled in her bed on the sideboard.

  Genetics declared the next to enter a shorter version of a McAllister. Like Lexi, the miniature dynamo stepped forward and introduced herself as Abby.

  “Remie, I don’t think you’ve met Caden, Kaylee, or Megan.” Matt nodded to each in turn, as he set several takeout bags on her table.

  “I’m the vet who fed Buckeye. Nice fur baby, by the way. Part collie, part—”