A Merciful Fate

TWENTY-SIX

“What the hell is going on?” Mercy muttered as she strode into the Eagle’s Nest Police Department. “First Bree’s attack last night and now Sandy’s today? Is the moon full?”

“Not full,” replied Ben Cooley from where he sat at Lucas’s desk. “I already checked. Trust me—our calls double when it is full. Hospital ERs swear they experience the same thing.” He was completely serious.

Mercy smiled at the older officer, pleased he appeared fine after dealing with the attack on Sandy. “What’s the word from Lucas?” she asked.

His face fell. “No change in Bree’s condition,” he said in a glum tone. “I’ve had twenty phone calls asking about Bree—and now more calls are coming in about Sandy. Those two women are important to this town.”

“They are,” Mercy agreed. “I know a lot of residents have been students of Bree’s over the years and remain friends with her. Ollie says she’s a great teacher.”

“She is. Got awarded teacher of the year for Oregon last year.” His chest puffed as if he’d won the award himself. “She has a gift for working with teenagers. And everyone knows Sandy sits on that secret town council,” he finished with a whisper and a wink, pulling another smile from Mercy. She’d attended a few monthly meetings with the group of women who met to discuss the needs of the people of the town. They were amazingly effective given that they operated without a tax base. They relied on the kindness and generosity of the residents to make a difference.

“Where is Sandy now?” she asked.

“Truman sent her to Ina’s. He told her Ina shouldn’t be alone while her daughter-in-law is in the hospital. Getting to the hospital is too hard of a trip for Ina,” he added in a confidential tone. “But he mainly wanted someone to be with Sandy after her attack.”

And to keep Sandy away from Bree’s hospital room.

Her suggestion to Truman that Sandy could have been involved with Bree’s attack now felt a bit foolish in light of Sandy’s own attack.

“Truman in back?”

“Yep. Go ahead.”

She heard Ben answer a call as she headed toward Truman’s office. “Eagle’s Nest PD.” Pause. “No, I don’t know how Bree Ingram is doing, and no, Lucas isn’t here to answer questions.”

She knocked lightly on Truman’s door and pushed it open at his call. He was eating a big takeout salad that she recognized as being from the pizza parlor. She sniffed the air, smelling oregano. He was eating lunch late.

“Sorry, I already ate the pizza,” he admitted. “Do you want me to order some more?”

“No, I grabbed a sandwich.” She plopped into a chair. “Are you as drained as I am?”

“Hell yes.” He put down his fork and came around his desk, pulling her up out of the chair and into his arms. “I just need to feel you for a bit.”

She closed her eyes. He smelled of pizza and Central Oregon sunshine. Some of her stress from the last twenty-four hours melted away.

Without changing position he reached past her and shoved his office door shut. His lips covered hers and she let all thoughts of robbery, murder, and money escape for a few minutes.

“We’ve had no time alone,” he said against her mouth.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

“We’re supposed to be planning a wedding.”

“Other things have taken priority lately. We still have over six months.”

“According to my sister, we’re already six months behind,” he answered, running his hands over her as if he hadn’t touched her in days.

“The bridal magazines Pearl keeps giving me say the same.” Mercy sighed. “I think things operate a little differently here in Eagle’s Nest. I’m not worried about booking a venue or caterer a year in advance.”

“Nope.”

They spent a few more seconds in each other’s arms, and when he took a deep breath, she knew those stolen moments were over. “Evan Bolton says the county lab didn’t get a hit on the fingerprints from the knife used on Bree yet. According to him, there were a few good ones set in the blood.”

Blood. Their romantic respite was definitely finished.

“Good prints, but not in any major databases.” Every officer’s frustration.

Truman let her go with one final kiss and returned to his seat, focusing on his computer screen. “They’re expanding the search, checking other localized databases.”

One day there will be one central database for all prints.

“What about the search for the truck?”

Truman brightened slightly. “He’s got a solid list of about six trucks from the immediate area. They’re visiting each address in person.”

“Hopefully it’s from around here,” Mercy said. “If it’s from out of town or state, that list is going to grow. Say, I’ve got something for you.” She removed a file from her bag. “Here are the photos we had made up. The aged ones of Whipple and May. I wanted to see if anyone looked familiar to you or your men.”

Truman took the folder. “Shouldn’t you get these to the media?”

“We’re planning for tonight’s newscast.”

He scanned through the pictures. Mercy had found the images fascinating. The computer program had created several different options for Trevor Whipple and Nathan May. Some had glasses, or facial hair, or excess weight, or were bald.

“It’s clear that these aged photos are still these two guys, isn’t it?” Truman said in awe as he flipped between the pages. He stopped on the one of Nathan May with excess weight and facial hair. “This one’s bugging me. I feel like I should recognize him, but I can’t come up with a face or name.”

Mercy took the sheet. The eyes in the photo were the only things familiar to her. She compared it to the original teenage picture. His eyes feel familiar because I’ve stared at his high school photo a million times. “Let’s see what your officers have to say.”

“I’d also like to show them to a few people in town. Nick Walker comes in contact with a lot of local men. Same with Pearl in the coffee shop.”

“Those copies are for you.”

Truman leaned on his forearms, and his desk creaked with the weight. “Talked to Ollie today?”

His voice and tone were deceptively normal. She knew he was ripped up inside about how he’d handled Ollie’s surveillance of Bree.

“I haven’t. You did the right thing, Truman,” she said firmly. “Ollie was out of line.”

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the stubble he hadn’t removed that morning. “I fucked up, Mercy. I should have listened to Ollie’s instincts. And I should have had better protection on Sandy with her vandalism. Her ex could have killed her.”

“You can’t be everyone’s personal bodyguard 24-7. You’re taking blame for things out of your control.” Her voice was harsh. He needed to snap out of this guilt-ridden mind-set.

“Tabitha Huff was murdered, Bree nearly murdered, and Sandy could have been shot. I feel like I have no control.”

“Get over it. You don’t have control of what assholes do.”

Subtle amusement crossed his face, and a familiar heat appeared in his eyes. “That’s why I love you.”

“Someone needs to stop you from thinking you’re Superman.”

“I prefer Iron Man.”

“Me too, but you know what I’m saying.” She pointed at the computer-created images on his desk. “Now. Let’s figure out who attacked Bree.”

Truman picked up an image. “Lionel Kerns has an airtight alibi for last night. He was drinking at the bar right here in town. The bartender remembered him and said he had to kick him out when he closed at eleven.”

“It’s coincidence that both women had graffiti?”

“As much as I hate to say it, it sure looks that way.” Frustration radiated from him. “They were different shades of red, and Sandy’s graffiti felt sloppy and angry, while Bree’s felt deliberate.”

Mercy agreed. “But I haven’t ruled out Sandy as our missing getaway driver.”

“Assuming the driver was female.” He was skeptical. “Your theory is based on a single notation in a tabloid reporter’s notebook.”

“I need to set up a time to talk to Sandy.”

Truman looked at the clock on the wall. “I expect her any minute.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” she said dryly. “Are you going to ask her flat out if she drove for a robbery thirty years ago?”

“No, that’s your case. I want to talk to her about Lionel.”

“Ben said Sandy is at Ina’s.”

“She is, but she sounded ready for a break already when I called her a half hour ago.” A knock on the door immediately followed his statement. “Come in!”

Samuel opened the door. “Sandy’s here to talk to you.” Mercy spotted the tall woman behind Samuel’s bulk, and Truman waved them in.

“Hey, Mercy. I didn’t know you’d be here too,” Sandy said as she took a seat beside Mercy in the tiny office. Samuel leaned against the open door, his arms across his chest in his usual stance.

Truman glanced at the officer but didn’t ask him to leave, and Mercy wondered if Sandy would speak openly with Samuel hovering close by. She was about to suggest he leave when he exchanged an encouraging look with Sandy. Hmmmm. I’ll keep my mouth shut for now.

“Sandy,” Truman began, “you want to press charges against Lionel, correct?”

“Absolutely. Who knows how many other women he’s terrorized over the years.” Her voice was firm, and she had a determined set to her chin. She showed no emotional signs of being a woman who’d been attacked a few hours ago.

But there was no avoiding the physical signs. Several bruises had started to color her face and darken around one eye. She’d have a black eye for certain. A bandage covered her cheek, her lip had black stitches that made Mercy shudder, and her nose was swollen. Her sleeveless top exposed scratched arms, and more bruises were blooming on her legs. She hid nothing.

Admiration swelled in Mercy. This was one tough woman. Tough enough to drive the getaway car for a robbery?

“How are things at your B&B?” Mercy asked.

Sandy rolled her eyes. “Three people checked out, but one couple stayed, claiming it was the most exciting thing that’d happened to them in years.”

“I wanted to ask you about Bree again,” Truman said. “The lab is analyzing the threatening notes you found, and Deschutes County is going to send a team through the home to look for other similar evidence.”

“You mean evidence that she was being threatened?” Sandy asked.

“Or blackmailed,” Mercy added, watching the woman carefully.

Sandy’s eyes widened the smallest bit.

“Has Bree done or said anything that made you wonder what was happening in her life?” Mercy asked. “I know you’re the closest of friends. Did she seem off lately? Maybe upset before the vandalism?”

Sandy fingered the bandage on her cheek. “A few weeks ago I found her in tears. She claimed she was simply having a tough day with one of the horses and feeling emotional.” She raised her shoulders. “I’ve cried over less, so I didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was related to those notes. Who knows when she got them?”

“She having any financial issues?” Mercy asked.

“We didn’t talk about things like that. I’d complain when things were tight at the B&B, but she didn’t ever mention money. I assumed her teaching job was sufficient for her and the horses.” She looked at Mercy. “You think she was being blackmailed for money?”

“I looked into her financial records earlier today,” Mercy said. “I didn’t see anything that indicated that. Everything looked pretty normal for a single person. I’ve also requested her credit information.”

Sandy was puzzled. “Why?”

“Standard.” Not really.

The woman’s eyes grew more thoughtful. “Why are you here, Mercy? Aren’t Truman and Deschutes County handling Bree’s attack? Why would you be looking at her bank accounts?”

Mercy exchanged a glance with Truman. His gaze seemed to say, “You opened this can of worms; you handle it.”

“It’s a bit complicated, Sandy . . .” She made a quick decision to not ask Sandy about her background. Yet.

The woman looked at her expectantly.

“Do you know much about Bree’s past? Before she got married and had Lucas?”

“Can’t say I do . . . I know her husband passed away when Lucas was pretty young.”

“She ever talk about who she dated before her husband? Or what she did for work?”

“I think she’s always been a teacher. You could ask Ina. She might know what Bree did before she became her daughter-in-law.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

“Have you heard of the Gamble-Helmet Heist?” Mercy decided to jump in with both feet.

“Who hasn’t? It’s been in the news a lot since they found that body.” She looked from Mercy to Truman. “What’s that have to do with Bree?”

“We’re following a possible lead,” Mercy stated. “Bree might have known one or more of the men.” Keep it vague.

Sandy’s red brows shot up. She winced and touched a bruise near her hairline. “Wow. She’s never mentioned anything like that to me. Did she live near one of them? Or work with one?”

“We don’t know,” Mercy answered. “We don’t have much information.”

“What is the point of Bree knowing—” Sandy stopped talking and confusion covered her face. “I don’t get it. I assume you’re investigating her attack, but what would that have to do with an ancient robbery?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out . . . We haven’t found a connection.”

“Then why are you looking?” Her annoyed gaze focused on Mercy.

“I can’t disclose much,” said Mercy, putting on her business face. “But I can tell you that the murder of Tabitha Huff led us to this point. She talked to Bree . . . She talked to you too.”

“She did,” agreed Sandy.

“The reporter was doing a follow-up on the old robbery. We’re looking into Bree’s background because the reporter met with her. It’s been hard to find any records for Bree thirty years ago.” Mercy paused, holding Sandy’s gaze. “It’s been hard to find any for you either.”

Sandy didn’t move. No facial change. No shift in her gaze.

“You’re looking at my past because a reporter talked to me,” she said slowly.

“A murdered reporter.”

“You think I murdered her?” Shock weighted her tone.

Samuel unfolded his arms. “Wait a minute—”

“Not now, Samuel,” Truman ordered. The officer snapped his jaw shut, but his eyes burned daggers at Truman.

“That’s not what I said,” Mercy answered Sandy, keeping her tone calm. “I’m asking why you’re so hard to find on paper thirty years ago. I know you were Jada Kerns when you were married and Jada Glover before that.”

Sandy paled, and her mouth opened the slightest bit.

“I can’t find much on Jada Glover at all,” Mercy added.

Anger flashed in Sandy’s eyes.

“I was eighteen when I got married. I didn’t have the name for long.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I grew up poor. We had absolutely nothing. When it was time for me to get my driver’s license, no one could find my birth certificate. I remember being terrified that the government wouldn’t believe I existed. I even wondered if I was who my parents said I was. It took months to straighten out.” She turned haunted eyes on Mercy. “Does that answer your paper problem?”

Samuel stepped forward and set a gentle hand on Sandy’s shoulder. Her hand slipped up to grip it, her gaze never leaving Mercy’s.

“That explains things quite a bit. Thank you,” Mercy answered calmly. “But it doesn’t explain why I’m having the same problem with Bree.”

“I can’t help you with that,” Sandy snapped. “I’ve only known her for about ten years.”

Mercy said nothing.

Sandy did the same, their gazes locked.

Truman cleared his throat. “Thank you, Sandy. You’ve helped a lot.”

Sandy turned to Truman and stood, her legs slightly shaky. “I’ll fill out the paperwork to press charges against Lionel, and then I’m going back to the hospital. I don’t need Ina to babysit me.”

She turned and left without a word to Mercy. Samuel raised a single brow as he looked at both her and Truman, then followed her down the hall.

Mercy blew out a breath. “I don’t know if she’ll speak to me again.” The thought of losing Sandy’s friendship hurt, twisting a knife in a fresh place in her heart.

“She’ll come around,” Truman said evenly.

“No, maybe men can do that, but not women. I broke a level of trust between us that will be near impossible to rebuild. I dug into her history, and she thinks I accused her of murder.” She frowned. “Which isn’t what I meant to do at all.”

“What do you think of her as the possible driver?”

Mercy shifted gears in her brain, shoving the hurt away. “Her reaction felt genuine when I mentioned Bree might know one of the robbers. She didn’t grab that bait at all. If she’s a liar, she’s awfully good.”

“Could Bree’s attacker be the same person as Tabitha’s killer?” Truman asked.

“That’s a question I’ve wondered about since Bree’s attack,” said Mercy. “It’s a possibility, but outside of the two women meeting, I’ve found no other connection. Do you think anyone else is in danger?”

“If we follow Tabitha’s path, that would be everyone in town.” His face darkened. “Including Ollie and Kaylie. And you.”

“Don’t forget yourself.”

Truman shrugged one shoulder. “Where does that leave us with Bree?”

Mercy thought. “Waiting for Bree to wake up and tell us who attacked her. Or waiting for results from the list of red trucks.”

Both were silent for a long moment.

“I’d put my money on the truck,” said Truman, his eyes sad.

“Me too,” Mercy agreed. Bree’s medical condition was up in the air. She could have memory loss from the attack.

Or she might lie and state she didn’t know the person.

“I’ll show these images around town,” Truman said, shuffling the papers back into the folder.

“I’m headed back to the office. I’ll call Evan and see if he needs more manpower to follow up on the list of trucks.”

“Be careful,” he ordered, coming around to kiss her goodbye.

“Right back at you.”