Mercy

CHAPTER 27

Lincoln Cole heard every word. Every single thing Sherri and Julie had just discussed. Julie’s phone calls were not the only thing he could eavesdrop on. The TrueSpy software installed on Julie’s phone converted the microphone into a sound transmitter. Without her knowing, Julie’s conversations were being transmitted to a wireless receiver disguised as a hearing aid in Lincoln’s right ear. He had bought the receiver for three hundred bucks on an online shopping portal specializing in that sort of gear.

Based on what he had heard, Lincoln knew his employer would want a full report. He would prepare it from his van. In a few hours, Julie would be done for the day and would then head for home. TrueSpy also gave Lincoln access to Julie’s calendar. One device used for multiple purposes made Lincoln’s job that much easier.

Lincoln had been loitering in the hallway outside the cafeteria, in full view of the two women he was spying on. He wore street clothes and was not worried Julie might spot him. She had not noticed when he followed her to the Barstow Building for her meeting with Dr. Coffey. He knew Sherri Platt, though. He knew Sherri very well, but she was too flummoxed to make the connection.

Dr. Julie was not Lincoln’s first job for this employer. A few years back, Lincoln Cole had accepted a decent sum to bribe Sherri into making false statements about Brandon Stahl. It did not take much of a bribe, either; not that this was a surprise. As a cop Lincoln had seen plenty of illicit payments offered for dirty deeds done dirt cheap, as the band AC/DC put it. The hard rockers from down under really were on to something there.

Lincoln knew a number of dimwits who thought they were talking to a paid killer, not undercover police. They wanted spouses gone, lovers gone, ex-wives or husbands gone, and offered paltry sums to get the job done. They proposed five thousand, ten, and on rare occasions twenty large. People paid more for decking than they did for murder.

Lincoln kept his employer a secret, but Sherri guessed that he worked for the Colchester family. Of course, Lincoln would neither confirm nor deny her suspicion. Sherri had no idea she was picked for a reason. She had strong religious beliefs, worked on the same floor as the ailing Donald Colchester, and had a shift at the same time Brandon was caught on that recording.

Lincoln had paid a visit to Sherri’s small house in Melrose, where she lived alone, and played her a copy of the recording the judge had disallowed. His instincts had been right. Hearing Brandon’s offer to kill Donald Colchester did inspire her cooperation.

“This isn’t some frame job,” Lincoln had explained. “Brandon is a legitimate killer, and he’s going to get away with murder unless you help us.”

Lincoln described the problem as a technicality in the law. If Sherri wanted to see justice done, they would need her help. Sherri wanted to see justice done, all right. Fifteen thousand dollars helped her along. A cash payment was made promptly, and thanks to her testimony, Brandon Stahl was put away for life.

What Lincoln had just heard in that tense conversation between Sherri and Julie troubled him a great deal. Sherri’s personality had another aspect that might play against them: Catholic guilt. Sherri Platt did what she did for reasons other than a moral and religious imperative, and this left her vulnerable to suggestion. Judging by body language alone, Lincoln did not think it would take much poking for Miss Platt to crack like thin ice.

Back in his van, Lincoln phoned his employer and told him of the conversation he had overheard.

“Can you do surveillance on Sherri Platt?”

“I could bug her apartment,” Lincoln said. “But it’ll detract from the surveillance work on Dr. Julie.”

The silence that followed lasted several seconds.

“No. It’s an issue only if she goes back to Devereux. Keep your eyes and ears open, though.”

“Dr. Julie is not going to stop.”

“How do you know?”

“Gut feeling, I guess. She’s like a dog, that one. Latches on and won’t let go. The conversation with Sherri didn’t help matters any.”

“Does Devereux know Sherri’s lying?”

“Sherri isn’t too good at the conceal game, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What do you suggest?”

“If you want to give me a bump in pay, I can give Dr. Julie a good hard shove. A friend of mine doesn’t appreciate her efforts to free his son’s killer, if you get my meaning.”

Another beat of silence.

“A bump it is. I’ll leave the rest to your discretion.”

“And if Sherri Platt suddenly sprouts a conscience?”

“There’s plenty of money to take care of Miss Platt if it comes to that.”

Yeah, Lincoln thought as he pictured the sun-drenched beach and the oiled-up women lying next to him. And it’ll cost a lot more than fifteen grand, too.

The day after her odd meeting with Sherri Platt, Julie saw Trevor off to school and then drove her Prius down the Jacob’s Ladder Scenic Byway all the way to the town of Russell.

She had the day off, and knew exactly what she was going to do with it seconds after the schedule got posted. When the Westfield River came into view, Julie parked her car in the same scenic pullout where she and Sam had stopped on the day of his accident. It was Thursday, November the tenth, and Julie carried with her a bouquet of flowers. She wanted something to toss into the river to honor Sam’s birthday.

She had spoken by phone with Sam’s parents earlier. It was a pleasant enough conversation, but Julie knew that with time, communication between them would happen less frequently, until it stopped altogether. Death had pulled her out of Sam’s orbit, and the lives connected to him were no longer tethered to her.

On the drive west, Julie could not help noticing all the drivers distracted by their damn cell phones. Some drivers were gabbing with one hand on the wheel and the other on the phone. A few she saw texting, and she swore one was watching a video and laughing. What could be so important? Her mind flashed back to the Civic veering erratically from one side of the road to the other. All it took was a fraction of a second to shatter so many lives.

Julie knew very little about the driver who took away Sam’s mobility and perhaps hastened his death. He was a twentysomething who had escaped grievous injury, but whose bright future would forever be clouded by a shadow of guilt. At least, she hoped he felt guilt.

A harsh wind blew in from the east and sent strands of Julie’s hair whipping against her face. Streaks of sunlight struggled to penetrate a thin layer of clouds stretched across a slate-gray sky. She had on one of Sam’s leather jackets, a pair of jeans, and a warm sweater, but could still feel a chill against her skin. Julie brushed the hair off her face as she climbed over the guardrail separating the pullout from the drop down to the river. It was a bit harrowing descending the steep pitch, but Julie made it to the riverbank without tumbling.

Movement overhead drew Julie’s gaze skyward. She looked just in time to see a flock of birds-sparrows, she thought-circling. The tiny black dots moved as one and they appeared to be engaged in a dance of sorts, swooping and twirling, the shape always changing, but never seeming disorganized. The changes in direction happened startlingly fast and Julie was amazed the birds could hold their formation at such speed. As quick as they appeared, those birds were gone. Julie felt relieved. They were magical to watch, but seemed strangely ominous to her, like a black cloud swirling above her head.

Silly to think of them as omens, Julie thought. Then again, she had been unsettled ever since her odd encounter with Sherri Platt. Julie purged that memory from her mind. Right now this was about Sam. She tossed the bouquet of flowers into the fast-moving water and watched the current carry the bright colors downstream.

Julie made a solemn vow to Sam to find out the truth. Was Dr. Coffey covering up two fatal cases of takotsubo? If so, why? And what about Sherri Platt? Why had she lied to Julie about Brandon Stahl? What could she be hiding? And if Brandon Stahl was innocent, how did that explain the morphine recovered from his apartment? Maybe it was a heart attack that had killed Sam and Brandon, or was something else in play? Julie imagined that swarm of sparrows had taken the shape of a Pegasus.

Julie heaved and puffed as she climbed up the hill back to the scenic pullout where she had parked her car. She chided herself for lack of fitness and made a second vow to devote more time to the gym. Maybe she’d follow Lucy’s example and take up running again. Certainly she would need to find something to fill the void now that Sam was gone.

Julie arrived back at her car a bit breathless and out of sorts. She turned around to face the river when she heard footsteps come up behind her. She whirled in the direction of the noise and froze. A jolt of fear spread up her spine.

Standing there was a man wearing a navy peacoat and a black baseball hat. His sudden presence would have been terrifying enough, but what truly frightened Julie was the mask he wore. It was made of hard plastic and was flesh colored so from a distance it looked like a human face, but up close it was smooth as porcelain. Holes were cut out for eyes, but he wore dark glasses underneath so to Julie it looked like two black moons were staring back at her.

“Turn around and look at the water again.” The man spoke in a raspy voice.

Another ripple of fear swept through her. She was alone out here in this weed-strewn pullout littered with bottles and bits of trash. She noticed a motorcycle parked directly behind her car, but the make, model, and plate were all hidden from her view. Julie did as she was instructed and turned around.

“What do you want?” Her voice trembled.

“I represent someone who doesn’t appreciate your efforts.”

Right away Julie suspected this was about Brandon Stahl. Her visit to the prison must have attracted someone’s attention. Julie contemplated hurdling the guardrail to slide down the hill to the river, but decided against it. What if he has a gun? Her heart pounded hard enough to make her feel light-headed and dizzy.

Behind her, Julie heard the sound of cars zooming along the scenic byway. If anyone driving even noticed, they’d see only a couple watching the rolling river.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“And you need to keep it that way,” the man said, still speaking in a low rasp.

Julie turned her head around enough to see the expressionless plastic face. The man grabbed her wrist and gave it a twist that sent a sharp stab of pain rocketing up Julie’s arm.

“Did I say turn around? Look at the river. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Julie snapped her head back and did her best to keep it together. The alternative could result in her body floating downstream. If he wanted, he could choke her to death inside her car or behind the little shed off to her left.

Don’t run… don’t panic… just listen to what he has to say… maybe he’ll leave me alone.

The man placed a cold hand against the nape of Julie’s neck. She recoiled from his touch, but he latched on. His hands were rough with calluses and fear caused her skin to prickle. Her legs buckled as she sucked down a shallow breath. Her heart beat wildly.

“Your efforts to free a killer are not appreciated.”

Julie stammered. “How do you know about that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Well, I’ve done nothing wrong or illegal.”

“You’re opening old wounds.”

“Brandon deserves justice.” The sudden strength in Julie’s voice surprised her.

“And he got it. Keep out of this business. What’s done is done. My employer doesn’t take kindly to crusaders.”

“Okay-okay. I’ll do what you ask. Just leave me alone.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. I do trust you’ll keep your word and won’t talk to Stahl anymore. But to inspire your cooperation, I slipped a little something into your coat pocket. You can look at it when I’m gone. And don’t try to follow me. I want you to count to one hundred with your back to the road, looking at the river. One hundred. Don’t test me. Start counting now.”

Julie’s body quaked, but she cleared her mind enough to begin the countdown. “One hundred… ninety-nine… ninety-eight…”

Julie felt the man’s presence retreat, then heard a motorcycle engine rumble to life.

“You ever ride one of these things, Julie?” the man shouted over the engine’s din. “You should give it a try sometime. You might like it.”

The man laughed and revved the engine hard before he zoomed away. Julie did not dare turn around. She kept her eyes closed and continued the count, trying to ease the tight band of fear that had wrapped around her chest.

Eighty-five… eighty-four… eighty-three…

Julie stopped the count at fifty. She listened. She heard no sound at all. No cars. No birds. Nothing. In that stretch of quiet, Julie found the courage to turn around. There were no motorcycles in sight, and she felt confident the man was gone. No trick; he just wanted enough time to get away.

Still shaking, Julie climbed back in her car and sat while she tried to catch her breath. When she felt settled enough, Julie reached into her coat pocket for the keys. Her fingers brushed against an envelope that had not been there before. She remembered the man had put something there to “inspire her cooperation.”

She almost tore the contents as she ripped the envelope open. She could not quiet the tremor of her hands. Julie’s breath caught when she removed a photograph. She recognized the image right away. It was a picture of Julie and Trevor taken at Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester sometime last summer. Trevor had posted it on his Facebook page. Hopefully the police would view it the same way that Julie did: as a threat.