McAllister Justice Series Box Set Volume Two

by Reily Garrett

His concern crossed the room before the subtle reproof. “Why didn’t you tell me you got the results, Remie? This isn’t something you should go through alone.”

  Gentle hands turned her stiff frame to enfold in his warmth. Without conscious thought, her arms circled his waist as she buried her face against his chest. “I-I didn’t know how you’d react, or even what to say. Shit keeps piling higher and higher until I can’t see around it.”

  “That’s why you talk to friends.”

  “I don’t want a crutch.”

  “I’m not a crutch, but I can listen and be there for you.”

  Tears she’d held back after her parent’s funeral brimmed her eyes. The overwhelming flood of emotions combined with the latest threat to bathe her cheeks in salty moisture. It didn’t take long to soak his T-shirt. She hadn’t realized how alone she felt until seeing the McAllister family in action. There existed an undefined warmth that sustained them through tough times with no spoken words, not the slightest sign of reaching out. It was just—there.

  “When my mom got breast cancer, they thought they’d gotten it all. But those fucking cells had spread without anyone knowing. When she got sick, dad knew what was coming. He couldn’t go on without her and just gave up soon after.”

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

  “In his will, he left me a letter. He knew he wouldn’t last long and apologized for leaving me alone in the world.”

  “But you’re not alone. Not anymore. Give me a chance, ‘kay?”

  “But you being here is putting you at risk.”

  “Like that’s something new?”

  The steady thrum of his heart beneath her cheek combined with his heat enveloped her in a safe haven she’d never thought to experience and couldn’t deny. Not when his hypnotic murmurs surrounded her with comfort.

  “Talk to me, Remie.”

  How could she resist? Stilted words mumbled against his chest became an unstoppable flood. All the pain of isolation, fear of her stalker, and terror of an unknown future poured out without censure or hesitation. He held her throughout, breathing assurances he’d be there, standing between her and anything that threatened them. They were a unit, designed by nature and brought together by circumstances through which they would prevail, whatever situation fate through their way.

  In the back of her mind, she realized their troubles had just begun. They had no direction in which to search for the killer, no clue why she’d become a target, or what the endgame entailed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Do you think woodpeckers get headaches—you know—from all the head banging?”

  Royden’s chipper early morning attitude warranted a bottle of aspirin or a stiff drink. The drink had more appeal. Billy sipped coffee to withhold his sarcasm. Mr. PhD had picked him up and would chip away at his strangled equanimity until his molars ground to an even level.

  They’d followed Remie to the ME’s office, acknowledging her need for independence. Each mile offered creative ways to dispose of his partner’s body. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not an ornithologist.” The reference to instinctual behavior leading to pain would go somewhere, like to hell, if it continued. Another veiled nod to stubbornness would earn his partner a black eye. No, better make it a bruised rib—won’t leave a mark seen by the public.

  “Maybe not, but you’re intelligent. Think about it.”

  “It’s not like they can stop. It’s written in their DNA. It’s how they find food, make homes—” The reference induced memories of camping with all his brothers as a kid, the soothing sounds of nature, the smell of spring unfurling, and the beauty of a pristine lake.

  “And advertise for their mates.”

  If this was Royden’s way of referencing Abby, maybe a one-way trip to Gifford Lake or perhaps a remote backcountry scene was in order. “Which is why they sometimes hammer on a metal pole or the side of your house. They want to make more noise.”

  “Exactly!”

  “You’re making more than I can stand right now.” Talking in code seemed to be an adaptation that entertained the younger detective. For Billy, it provided a way to deliver a warning.

  “If not headaches, what about spinal injuries. If a human beat his head continually like that, say, like a boxer would incur, they’d have displaced discs in their spine, among other injuries.” Royden wasn’t going to let it go.

  “You mean concussions or herniated discs.” A longer walk or jog to work held merit if it didn’t include his partner’s yammering.

  “Yes. But they don’t suffer from either. You know why?”

  “If I answer, will you shut up?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. I’ll spill.” Billy sighed before continuing. “They don’t suffer those injuries after pecking eighteen to twenty-two times a second and as much as twelve thousand times a day during mating season because their heads have thick muscles, spongy bones, and a third inner eyelid, all of which combine with their cerebrospinal fluid to absorb the impact. Also, they can wrap their long tongues around their heads and pinch their jugular veins, which increases blood volume in the skull and creates a protective cushion.”

  “Shit. You really are a walking encyclopedia. Abby said you were well-read.”

  “You promised to shut up.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t say when.”

  Billy rolled his eyes and groaned. The day was going to hell before he got to the hospital. Dispatch advised of a female victim who’d escaped her attacker and progressed from a semi-catatonic state to incoherent babbling. They didn’t want to sedate her until learning the extent of her injuries. “Why the references to birds?” Calling his partner out and forcing him to speak directly would end their feud, either by consensual agreement or unconsciousness.

  “You know why.”

  “I will never approve of you dating my sister. You can hammer away all you want, but I won’t change my mind.”

  “Because I’m not good enough, not smart enough, or too southern?”

  “Because you might go to work one morning and not make it home. She deserves better than wearing the mantle of fear.”

  “Is that why you resist long-term entanglements?” Royden parked the car and cut the engine.

  “Fuck you.” Billy unbuckled his seatbelt, wanting to beat his partner out of the car, then beat his partner to hell and back.

  “No thanks. I have an incredible female partner.”

  Royden was out of the car before Billy could snatch him back by the collar. The smartass shit pocketed his keys while nodding to one of the ER nurses taking a smoke beside the entrance.

  Slow deep breaths of fresh spring air couldn’t erase the mental image of Royden and his sister knocking boots in Abby’s cottage, on the floor, couch, and everywhere Billy imagined taking Remie. Jesus.

  Once the sliding automatic door glided out of his way, he breathed in the controlled chaos of the morning. Various beeps, buzzing, and muffled alarms dimmed when the loud speaker announced a Code Blue on the third floor. One of the nurses grabbed an Ambu bag and rushed for the stairwell.

  A glance down the open hall revealed all rooms full. Each containing a case of misery and pain waiting for relief.

  “Hi, Tomlin. You guys called about an assault victim?” Billy nodded to his partner, wanting to witness the reaction to the beautiful redhead. “This is Detective Patterson.”

  Huh. Nothing.

  “Hi. Mind if we talk to her for a few minutes?” Royden’s perfunctory smile included nothing but professionalism.

  “Unfortunately, she’s in no shape to hold a decent conversation.” After a cliff-notes version covering the victim’s known injuries and babbled nonsense, she added, “Our psychiatrist is tied up at the moment, the counselors, too. It’s gonna be a while, so, if you’d like to leave your number, I can call when she’s more coherent.”

  “How about letting me say a few words to her? I won’t pepper her with questions.” Royden tilted his head, frowning as he studied the tee
nage girl in room three.

  Waist-to-ceiling glass framed the girl huddled on her side, back to the nurses’ station. A slight rocking motion, her hands wrapped around her knees while she lay in fetal position attested to her state of mind.

  “You have medical training in dealing with victims?” The nurses’ slight condescension declared Royden’s chances of success nil.

  “I have a psych degree, but more importantly,” a pointed stare at Billy conveyed a world of meaning, “I have experience in dealing with victims of this nature.” Without expounding, Royden strode toward the closed door of the trauma room.

  “Good luck with that one,” the nurse murmured under her breath. “What’s his deal?” Tomlin asked.

  “He does have a PhD. Other than that, I don’t know. If he pushes too much, I’ll pull him back.” Billy watched Royden enter the room. To follow might overwhelm the victim, so he stood outside and observed body language.

  Royden sat back in the chair facing the patient. The concern written on his face was genuine, which didn’t mean his presence wouldn’t escalate the girl’s fear.

  Minutes slid into an hour while his partner talked. Subtle movements from the victim attested to her consciousness, then an occasional nod.

  It was a side of his partner he hadn’t suspected, despite years of honing observation skills. He didn’t want to soften in his belief Abby deserved better, but damn, his partner had a talent with victims, confirmed when the girl moved to lay on her back and raised the head of her bed.

  Bruises marred her face, despite the tangle of brown hair shading her eyes. Jerky movements and occasional shudders racking her frame interrupted spurts of speech and wild hand gestures.

  His partner had opened the floodgates and sat listening quietly as the victim blurted out whatever came to mind. Another thirty minutes slid by. The charge nurse stopped to observe for a moment, then nodded her approval before moving on.

  Matt’s call ate up several minutes and provided useful information to chew on, if in fact it was correct. Time would tell.

  When Royden opened the door, his expression adopted a weariness in the set of his shoulders and downcast eyes. Holding up a finger to stall conversation, he pulled out a notebook. “I need to get the details down first.”

  Furious scribbling ensued. He shook his head several times, underlining something he’d written. When finished, he slid the notebook back in his inside pocket and sighed. “Her attacker is not the creep we’re looking for.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Too short, and it was her ex who has a history of abuse.”

  “She finally gets away from him—to end up in the ER.”

  “I told her a little bit about what she’d have to go through. She says she’s ready to file charges, and I believe she’s strong enough to endure.”

  The ER nurse flagged them down. “Hey, you got her to talk. Thank you.”

  “Yeah. We’ll have another officer take her official statement, but I’ll pass along the notes to spare her some pain.” Royden acknowledged the nurse’s respect with a nod.

  “Well, all right, then. I won’t doubt you next time.”

  They all knew there would be a next time, and a time after that, and again ad nauseam, with man’s capacity for evil respecting no boundaries.

  She turned to leave, then hesitated. “Patterson, right?”

  Grudging respect replaced earlier condescension.

  “Yep, that’s me.” He didn’t acknowledge the flicker of interest nor watch the gentle sway of hips as the nurse left.

  “Good work. But don’t think this changes my opinion of you dating my sister.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Woody.”

  “Okay, you’ve earned a small reprieve. No more PhD jokes if you quit nodding to bullheadedness.”

  “Sounds like a deal, McAllister.”

  He’d addressed the bird references and reminders of the penchant for head banging. The rest could come later. They had a killer to catch, one sighting Remie in the crosshairs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The problem with offering an olive branch came with the risk of it snapping under the weight of its burden. The tentative truce doomed each party to tread on eggshells, not a comfortable place to exist. “I got a call from my brother. He said the tissue scrapings from the professor’s nails belong to Ari’s partner, Dr. Farabee.” Watching his partner deal with the victim in the ER had revealed another layer of his partner, but failed to further the investigation. He was anxious to leave the hospital behind.

  “Let me guess, another round of bullshit to decipher. Why was he even in the system?” Royden paused with his hand on the car’s doorframe.

  “Uh, he wasn’t in the national DNA database.”

  “I don’t understand. How’d they come up with a match?”

  “Lexi happened. Matt might have mentioned they didn’t get a hit from the official standpoint in front of Lexi.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, it seems at one time, Ari’s partner, Dr. Farabee, wanted to trace his ancestral roots.”

  “Which means he sent off a DNA sample. Damn, your family has some serious skills.”

  “We don’t know if it’s real or some bioprinted shit, so we’ll have to solve this bitch the old-fashioned way. Ready to take a run at him? I’d like to see what he and Ari are cooking up in their lab.”

  “Yeah, I’ll make the call. Did your brother find any connection between Ari, Farabee, and the college?”

  “No,” Billy hesitated to say more.

  “But Lexi’s busy hacking every digital inch of his life as we speak...” Royden snickered.

  Billy shrugged a shoulder. “You think maybe Ari and Farabee are each struggling to weed the other out of the business? Remie swears it wasn’t Ari who attacked her. Maybe he and Farabee are gunning for each other covertly.”

  “That’s one possibility. Since you have a better handle on this bioprinting shit, you handle the technical aspects. I’ll watch his behavior and poke around. And before you say it, I’m not patronizing.”

  “I know.” Billy wheeled their unmarked vehicle off the lot and onto the highway. The road’s smooth surface contrasted the potholed dirt road leading from Remie’s farm, yet he preferred the simplicity of the country setting, weeds, bugs, and seclusion. And the animals.

  For the first time since meeting Royden, Billy didn’t mind the small talk. Acceptance of a working relationship didn’t mean inclusion as family, but it did a lot to ease the constant tension.

  “This guy’s not making sense.” Royden paused to collect his thoughts. “He kills Gena; I get that. She stole from him and exposed his secret. I even get why he killed Wendy, to make sure any communication between the girls didn’t surface. I kinda understand why he didn’t kill Remie, if he has a thing for her. What I don’t get is this. Why use bioprinted material we might trace back to a specific lab and a specific bioprinter? They need a clean reputation to obtain grants, both private and government funded. It doesn’t add up.”

  “Neither does greed, jealousy, etc. It all goes to hell when emotions get involved.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Has Lexi found any more info on Ari? And by the way, your brother having a hacker for a girlfriend, damned convenient.”

  “She’s probably helped solve more crimes than we have. She has a good heart and her head’s in the right place. Ethan is a lucky man, same with Caden and Lucas.”

  “Because they’re settling down?”

  “Because I’ve seen how they’ve changed since meeting their girls. They’ve each found a sort of peace.”

  “Yeah, I understand that.” Royden didn’t need to expound.

  They drove through streets where shopping centers gave way to sporadic small businesses with less attention paid to curb appeal. Soon, longer blocks coincided with less concrete and fewer signs of city life.

  “This can’t be right. From which box of cereal did you pull the directions?” Royden pulled onto the road’s
shoulder to get his bearings.

  “The internet, where else. It’s listed on his professional reference, 39506 Cornwall Road.”

  “All right. But if water licks at the tires before we hit the end of your phone’s map, I’ll get directions from now on.”

  Smaller yards gave way to larger, formal settings with well-tended flowerbeds and more elaborate architecture. Resident houses occupied a larger footprint yet remained a short distance from city amenities.

  The building in question stood on the edge of a small open area sowed with early wheat. The rich smell of freshly turned soil equaled a balm to the soul. Distant wooded forest encased the picturesque setting.

  “Either the good doctor suffers from claustrophobia—” Royden surveyed the property as the vehicle made the turn.

  “Or uses a remote location to help conceal his activities. Remie’s met him, says he’s arrogant, self-entitled, and British. I think he snubbed her in a brief meeting.”

  “Got a thing against Brits, Billy?”

  “No, I like the English. I just don’t want them to get a bad rep. Apparently, these two set up shop when she was in school.”

  The sedan glided smoothly along the asphalt lane snaking around tall ornamental trees and emerging flowerbeds tucked along each curve. Neatly trimmed grass denied the possibility of disorder.

  “I know. You don’t have to say it. You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” Royden cut the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt.

  “My parents used to say that repetition is the most effective way to learn.”

  “Yeah, Galen. I get it.”

  “Greek philosopher? I didn’t think you’d credit me with anything resembling wisdom or philosophical in origin.”

  “You’re growing on me, just a little.”

  “Like a wingman?”

  “Like a fungus.” Billy snorted as he exited the vehicle.

  Royden rounded the hood, surveying the yard and perimeter. He never missed much. “To support a place like this, I’d think he’d have to work long hours, yet his secretary says he’s home. How do you suppose he affords to do that?”