Merciless

16

Special Agent Gunderson?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Officer Orson. From the tribal police. Remember me? We-”

“Yes, I remember you. What’s up?” Why was he calling me on a Sunday?

About fifteen seconds of silence filled my ear. Then he said, “You asked me to let you know if anything weird happened that might be related to the case.”

“And it has?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe. About an hour ago two people came in and reported a missing person. To be honest, that happens all the damn time; then the missing person rolls back home after a couple of days being on a bender.”

“Is the missing person female?”

“That’s the thing. Yes, she’s female, but she doesn’t fit the pattern of the other two victims. First, she’s older.”

I paced. “Like how much older?”

“Old enough to be the other girls’ grandmother. And the other thing? You know her.”

I froze. “Who is it?”

“Penny Pretty Horses.”

“She’s missing? Who filled out the report?”

“Her mother. Sophie Red Leaf? Who, I understand, used to work for you. And her son. John-John Pretty Horses? Who, I understand, you used to work for at Clementine’s?”

“Yes. How long since anyone last saw her?”

“According to the report, they waited twenty-four hours.” Officer Orson sighed. “Look. I’m not supposed to do this, but do you have a fax number where I can send this report? I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the Shooting Star and Dupris cases because…”

Rollie Rondeaux was in jail. Even Officer Orson believed Rollie was guilty.

“You can send them to my home fax, and then if I think the FBI needs to get involved, I’ll talk to Agent Turnbull.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want to overstep my bounds, but I also didn’t want the feds to accuse us of dropping the ball again.”

“So noted.” I gave him the fax number.

I’d forgotten Hope was in the office working on the books. She glanced up expectantly as I came in. “A fax is coming through for me.”

She returned to her calculator.

A minute later the fax machine beeped and spit out paper. I skimmed the part about name, age, etc., and skipped to the last-known whereabouts section.

Evidently, Penny had gone for her noon walk and hadn’t returned. Sophie hadn’t immediately panicked because Penny had a tendency to go where the road took her. Sophie claimed she hadn’t kept too close tabs on her daughter because Penny was easily upset if she was treated like a child.

When Penny hadn’t returned by noon the following day, Sophie contacted John-John. They called her friends and checked the hospital, but no one had seen her.

“Mercy?” Hope asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you talked to Sophie recently?”

She looked at the papers in my hand and then back at me. “Not since she picked up her final paycheck. Why?”

“This can’t go any further than us, but I just got word Sophie and John-John reported Penny missing a couple hours ago.”

Hope’s face paled. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we oughta just call Sophie and ask.” Hope picked up the phone.

“Don’t. I’m not supposed to have this information.”

Hope looked at me. “Well, obviously, I won’t ask about that. But Sophie might tell me something if I call to see how she’s doing.”

I straddled the chair opposite the desk as she dialed.

She drummed her fingers on the desk, and it struck me how… confident she acted.

“Devlin? Hey, it’s Hope.” She frowned. “Jake’s wife? Yeah.” She listened for a minute or so before she said, “Is Sophie around? Oh. No. Don’t wake her. Just tell her… I miss seeing her, and I wanted to know how she was doing. Okay. Bye.” She scowled at the receiver. “Devlin is such a shithead. I’ve never liked him. He acted like he didn’t know who I was. Anyway, Devlin claimed Sophie was taking a nap, but I could hear her and John-John talking in the background.”

“But he didn’t say anything about Penny being missing?”

“Nope.”

I stood. “I think I’ll take a drive.”

“I’d offer to go,” Hope started, “but I want to get this done while Jake is taking care of Joy.”

Made me happy Hope could let go of her mama responsibilities, even for a little while, just to do the ranch books. “That’s okay. I’ve had my fill of domestic stuff. A little alone time will be good for me.”

Things had been tense in the Gunderson/Dawson household since our little blowup, and so far we hadn’t kissed and made up. Mason had a rare weekend off, so he and Lex had been inseparable and underfoot. Every day had been the same. First they’d watch a movie-a loud movie. Then they’d play video games-loud video games. All of which required popcorn, pretzels, and peanuts-loud snacks.

Earlier that morning, when I’d needed a break, I’d gone outside with a couple of guns to keep up with my shooting skills. Practice had almost become an addiction for me. With nothing better to do after supper while I was at Quantico, I spent at least two hours at the shooting range every night. Four hours on the weekends if we weren’t tasked with other training.

But my target practice session had been short-lived. Mason and Lex had decided to throw a football around. Then a baseball. When I was tempted to shoot their balls out of the air, I knew I needed to go. I’d spent the rest of the day inside.

Now I would’ve liked someone’s company besides the radio.

Jake called on my way into Eagle River after he’d heard from John-John that Sophie was so distraught over Penny’s disappearance that she’d gone straight to bed.

He advised me to turn around.

I kept right on driving.

The shades were drawn at Sophie’s house. There weren’t a bunch of cars on the street. Was no one here supporting them? After all Sophie had done for her grandkids?

John-John wouldn’t let me past the front door. “She doesn’t want visitors, Mercy.”

“But I’m…” Family.

Wasn’t I? Sophie had been an enormous part of my life, seen me through some bad times, and I wanted to return the favor.

The raw anger on John-John’s face indicated I’d be wasting my breath, trying to convince him to let me in.

“Fine, I’ll go. But you’d better tell her I was here.”

He looked off into the distance, his jaw set so rigidly the tendons in his neck stood out. Then he nodded and closed the door in my face.

• • •

On my way to work Tuesday morning I’d just turned off the gravel onto the blacktop when I saw Shay standing beside his vehicle, parked on the shoulder.

What the hell? I threw my truck in park and jumped from the cab, clenching my teeth against the wind slicing through my clothing. “You have an aversion to my ranch? It’s just three miles up the road.”

Shay wore dark sunglasses. “Couldn’t chance slurping coffee with the people in your household, Mercy.”

People, meaning Dawson. “This couldn’t wait until I got to the office?”

“We’re not going to the office.” He shifted his stance against his car, which was one of Shay’s few tells.

Bad news. My stomach dropped to the tips of my boots. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Another body. This one ID’d by Officer Spotted Bear as Penny Pretty Horses.”

Blood whooshed in my ears. “What? When?”

“An hour ago.”

“Does Sophie know? John-John? Devlin?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

I blinked at him. Cocked my head as if I’d misunderstood. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. And since, for all intents and purposes, you’re related to members of the Pretty Horses and Red Leaf families, you’ll have to ride with me to the scene and refrain from using your cell phone.”

That chapped my ass. “You think I’m gonna… Why would I want to call Sophie and give her this shitty news?” This would destroy her.

His agitation was laced with sadness. “Just get in, okay?”

I fished my cell phone out of my front pocket, shut it off, and tossed it to him. “You know it’s the only cell I’ve got. Keep it to assure yourself that I’m not making any unauthorized calls. But no way in hell am I riding with you, Agent Turnbull. I need some time to get my head on straight.”

Shay couldn’t argue with that logic. He climbed into his vehicle and pulled a U-turn, I followed him.

Penny Pretty Horses. Dead.

Then it occurred to me that Turnbull hadn’t said anything about it being a murder. Only that they’d found a body. So maybe Penny, in her drugged-up state from cancer medication, had wandered off. Or maybe she’d gotten tired of the pain and the looming death and had decided to take matters into her own hands. End her life where and how she wanted.

That fit with the arguments Sophie had been having with Penny about treatment-or the lack thereof.

Still. It made me sick. Poor Sophie. Poor John-John.

I hoped I wouldn’t be tasked with telling them the news.

Frosted bits of white swirled in the air as the sky tried hard to snow. The wind picked up, and I had to hold tight to the steering wheel to keep from blowing across the damn road.

I hated days like this. Gloomy, with just enough water in the air to turn the normally dry air humid, but without enough precipitation to make snow.

Tumbleweeds the size of compact cars drifted and bounced across the highway. The yellow metal sign warning of slippery road conditions twisted in the wind like a piece of cheap cardboard.

Mentally bitching about the weather kept my mind off what I’d be facing. Turnbull’s vehicle hung a right at the last residential street on the rez. There’d be no jurisdictional issues this time. Several emergency vehicles already lined the street.

Turnbull waited, and I noticed he’d added a heavy jacket over his clothing, the back emblazoned with FBI in enormous white letters. Before I had an attack of jacket envy, he handed me an identical coat.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I hope to hell we aren’t out here long. I’d really like to get the body down soon.”

I looked at him. “Down?”

“The scene is behind the house. Mostly hidden from the street.”

I rounded the corner and stopped in my tracks.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Counted to ten and reopened them.

But the same grisly sight greeted me.

Penny. Naked. Hanging upside down from a tree branch. A meat hook jammed through both her Achilles tendons and chains secured around her ankles.

Just like an animal kill.

Dried blood trailed down the backs of her calves and thighs.

I forced my eyes to travel the length of her naked torso. Her arms hung down like misshapen animal limbs. Her wrists had been slit, and blood pooled in the dirt beneath her in irregular splotches. As if the wind had blown her around as she’d bled to death. Or like she’d been moving, trying to get away, trying to stop her lifeblood from slowly dripping out.

The turbanlike covering she’d worn to hide her bald head was gone, leaving her skull bare, showing where her hair had started to grow in and the patches where it hadn’t.

That turned my stomach. Penny had been so self-conscious about being bald. For her, having her head exposed would’ve been worse than being naked.

And the indignity went on.

I wanted to look away, but I forced my gaze to stay on… this. On what some sick bastard had done. Killed a woman with cancer. Stripped her, humiliated her, and hung her up like a prized kill. Slit her throat and left her to die.

Rage filled me. Then sorrow. Then a combination of both that lodged in my throat like a logjam.

Another hour passed before the members of the Emergency Response Team arrived from Rapid City. They were thorough. Which equaled slow.

A crowd gathered. The tribal cops were doing their best to contain it.

Then I heard that awful noise. One I recognized. A howl of outrage, pain, disbelief, shock, and grief. But I’d never before heard that sound coming from my friend John-John.

I heard it again, this time from Sophie. The word no, followed by a long wail. Over and over.

If I heard that sound in the wild, I’d find the animal and put it out of its misery. But I could do nothing but stand there and bear witness to their sorrow.

After five minutes of mournful keening, I looked at Shay. “How fucking much longer are you gonna leave her up in that goddamn tree?”

“Agent Gunderson-”

“Get her down or build a damn barricade around her. No one should see this. Least of all her family.”

“That’s the first smart thing I’ve heard from the FBI since we got the call,” Chief Looks Twice said.

He and Shay conferred. Then Shay finally motioned for his crew to take her down.

Because Carsten wasn’t on scene yet, I went to deal with the family.

The family. Like they weren’t my family. Like I could keep professional distance in this situation.

Sophie sat on the ground, rocking back and forth and wailing in a low-pitched tremolo, nearly catatonic in her grief.

John-John also sat on the ground. His face was stoic through the tears streaming down.

Devlin wasn’t overtly grieving. Devlin was mad. As soon as he saw me, he stomped over.

“This is your fault,” he spat.

“Devlin, I’m sorry. We’re doing everything-”

“But it’ll be too late for her, won’t it? Penny is dead. Murdered. Fucking slaughtered. Just like was forecast in John-John’s vision. And just like in that vision, here you are in the thick of it. Pretending you care-”

“I do care.”

Devlin screamed obscenities at me.

I let him.

But Shay wasn’t having any of it. He got in Devlin’s face. His eyes were the coldest I’ve ever seen, and his voice cut through the bullshit spewing from Devlin like a scythe. “Stand down. Now.”

Devlin’s mouth snapped shut.

“I understand you’re grieving. But just because you’re personally acquainted with Agent Gunderson-”

“It’s her fault my sister is dead!” He pointed to me. “Look at her! She’s acting guilty because she knows it’s true.”

“One more word, Mr. Pretty Horses, and I will have you forcibly removed from the scene and locked up in the tribal jail. Don’t tempt me on this.” Shay motioned to Officer Ferguson. “If this man speaks, cuff him. If he resists arrest, use whatever level of force you need to ensure he cooperates. Understood?”

“Yes, Agent Turnbull.”

Turnbull herded me toward the street. Then he loomed over me. “Say something, Gunderson.”

I couldn’t.

“How long would you have allowed him to dress you down?”

I looked over at Sophie, rocking and crying. Then my gaze moved to John-John, staring through me, his eyes vacant with shock. I met Shay’s gaze again. “I don’t know. I just… froze.”

“There’s something else going on with them. Tell me.”

Turnbull and I had seemed to be on a sharing kick-at least from my end-since the night of Verline’s wake, so I told him what I knew of John-John’s vision. Penny’s death. My presence as the little black rain cloud of doom.

If I believed Shay wouldn’t discount it, well, I was wrong.

He towed me behind the ambulance. Then he stepped in front of me, blocking me from everyone’s view. His strong fingers circled my wrist, and he lifted my own hand in front of my face. “You see this? Is there blood on it?”

“No.”

“Did you string up your former housekeeper’s daughter like a hunting trophy?”

“No.”

“Then you can’t shoulder the blame.”

I blinked at him.

“A vision is no more relevant than a dream, Mercy. No one can assign real meaning to it. And those who claim they can have usually been smokin’ too much peyote, or hitting the firewater too hard.”

“But you’re the one who told me-”

“About your tie to the spirit world?”

I nodded.

“Not the same thing. I can understand why they didn’t call you when Penny went missing. But your tie doesn’t have a damn thing to do with someone else’s vision.”

Numb, I mumbled, “Thank you.”

“This is gonna be hard. But you can handle it.”

“Because I’m a good agent?”

Shay curled my hand into a fist before he released it. “No, because you’re a good person.”

I watched him walk away. Then I forced myself to seek out Sophie. I sat in the dirt next to her, at a loss about how to help her.

Wasn’t long before she was leaning on me. Just her head on my arm. She stopped rocking. Her tears continued to fall.

So did mine.

Finally, she wiped her nose and her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m tired, Mercy.” Her voice was a breathless rasp of defeat.

“I’m sure you’ve spent the last day without getting much rest. You want me to take you home?”

“No, John-John will need to. It’ll help him if he can fuss over me.”

“What can I do?”

I sat very still as Sophie’s back straightened and she looked me in the eyes. Her lip wobbled. She firmed it and bit off, “Find who did this to my daughter.”

“I will. I promise. And if you need anything…”

“I’ll let you know.” Sophie touched my face, almost absentmindedly, the way she used to when I was an awkward teenage girl. “How is the Sheriff?”

“Well, he hasn’t left me yet.”

She tsk-tsked. “You’re strong, Mercy. But I like that you don’t have to be so tough with him. You’re a good match. Now with Lex living there… you have a family of your own. You need that more than you know.”

This woman I should be giving comfort to… was trying to comfort me. More tears fell down my face. “I miss you.”

“Ah, I miss you, too. You and your grumpy ways.”

I blurted, “Then why did you quit?”

She patted my cheek. “Because I thought it was my job as Penny’s mother to make her last few months bearable. As much as she claimed she was getting better and the herbal medicine eased her pain, I only had to look in her eyes to know she was lying. She was dying. I just can’t believe it came to this…” She briefly closed her eyes, then those sorrow-filled black pools were back on mine. “I never put much stock in the way John-John interpreted that vision. I want you to know that had nothin’ to do with me leavin’, no matter what he says, hey.”

I held my breath.

“I believe the reason he saw the darkness surrounding you was because you’re the only one to make this right. But you’ll need to return to that dark place it took you so long to get out of, takoja. Don’t let the blackness swallow you up again.”

My skin became a mass of goose bumps.

Then Sophie was on her feet, shuffling away.

John-John spoke to her before heading toward me.

I stood and waited, my head so fucked that I felt I’d drifted to another plane of existence.

“Unci doesn’t blame you, but I do.”

And… I crash-landed right back down to earth.

“She didn’t have the vision. I did. I won’t put a rosy spin on it.”

“I will figure out who did this to your mother. Not because I need to prove that your vision painting me the big, bad monster is wrong. You seem to have forgotten I’m the good guy. Go ahead and use your anger, John-John. You’re entitled to it. But don’t direct your anger toward me. And keep one thing in mind.”

“What?”

“This may not be the end to your family troubles, but the beginning. You might not like what I turn up when I really start to dig.”

“Don’t get dirt on my grandmother. Stay away from her. Don’t call her. Don’t stop by. Don’t send her flowers. Don’t bring her food. Don’t do nothing. Leave her be. It’s my job to protect her. Even from you. Maybe especially from you.” His trench coat made a dismissive flapping sound when he whirled around.

Took a long minute before I could move. Before I could breathe.

Ironically, I found my cool detachment in his heated words.

For the first time I noticed the crowd.

Gawkers were a part of crime scenes, something I hadn’t really paid attention to or understood until I took a psych-ops class at Quantico. The crowd was a comfort of sorts. It allowed humans to connect after a tragedy, letting them show sympathy while at the same time allowing for the thank-God-it-wasn’t-me sense of relief. But all too often with a violent crime, the orchestrator of said crime came to the scene and fed off that shock and horror.

I took a more in-depth look at the dozen and a half people milling about. The crime-scene photographer discreetly snapped photos of the crowd. Probably wouldn’t mean much as far as comparing this case to the other two, since this scene was public while the others had been off the grid.

Another round of sorrow rolled through me as Penny’s body was loaded into a black bag and lifted into the ambulance.

Shay ended his phone call and ambled toward me.

“That was Director Shenker. Given your close association with so many members of the family-”

“He’s pulling me off the case?”

“No. Take a deep breath, Gunderson. We think it’d be best if Carsten and I handled the family interviews this afternoon. Shenker’s requiring you to take the remainder of the day off, but he expects you at the VS offices on Eagle River tomorrow at the usual time.”

• • •

I went home.

Dawson was working.

Lex was at Doug’s house doing yet another school project.

I went for a ten-mile run. I could’ve run another ten.

Sweaty, cranky, and carrying an armload of mail, I didn’t hide my annoyance when Jake pulled up next to me as I walked down the driveway.

He rolled down the window. “You busy?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Nice try. Come on, you need to clear your head. You ain’t been out and about on the ranch since you got back from Virginia.”

I squinted at him. “Did Hope send you over here?”

“Yep. When we heard about Penny… Hope knew you had to deal with it, since that’s your job, and she wanted me to make sure you were okay.”

My sister’s concern touched me. So I hopped into the passenger’s side of the truck… and hopped back out when we reached the first gate. We bumped along the existing truck tracks. I opened three more gates. Just as I began to get annoyed, Jake stopped at the top of the rise and parked instead of cutting to the left and following the ridge down to the closest pasture.

I climbed out and avoided stepping on a clump of cactus. The soil was sandy and dry enough to support that type of vegetation. I didn’t understand how those flat and barrel-shaped succulents survived the winter months, when the wind on this plateau blew a million miles an hour and a heavy crust of snow covered everything.

The cactus would be here long after I was gone.

I skirted a pile of scat-it appeared rabbits enjoyed the view here, too-and stood on the remaining chunk of a butterscotch-colored rock. Most of it had cracked and tumbled away down the steep incline, leaving a chalky white trail of sun-bleached shale.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I faced the wind. Not bitterly cold like this morning, but with enough bite to remind me night would be approaching soon. I gazed across the expanse of the valley. Skeletal trees followed the path of a dry creek bed.

The right side of the ridged plateau curved sharply, appearing flat until it fell away into nothingness. Stand too close to the edge in springtime and I would feel the earth’s pull, the ground shifting beneath my feet. Wanting me to tumble down the hillside like the hunks of red dirt and jagged rocks scattered and broken before me.

I’d walked this ridge more times than I could count. Always marveling at the topographical variances, from summertime lush grazing areas down by the creek to the wooded section that rimmed the bowl on the left. Everything I could see from this vantage point was Gunderson land. My father had said it often enough, with pride, that I’d loved coming here as a kid to look and lord over my domain. Knowing it’d be mine someday. And wanting that ownership in the worst way.

Now the vastness humbled me. As did the responsibility of being steward to this land for as long as it owned me.

Jake walked up and stood beside me. I wondered if he saw this the same way I did. Or was his view more calculating? Hoping, come springtime, the creek would run high, the grass would grow tall, and Mother Nature wouldn’t be the bitch, trying to test a human’s resilience.

He handed me a can of beer.

I looked at him and managed a smile. “Thanks.”

He cracked open a Coors, and we drank in silence. Not rushed. Not uncomfortable. Not pregnant with words that needed to be said but that neither of us wanted to speak.

Despite our past issues, Jake and I understood each other.

At least today.

That thought made me smile.

We each finished our cans of beer, but neither of us made a move to leave.

After a bit, Jake said, “Not everyone in my family believes John-John’s visions are gospel, Mercy.”

His comment surprised me. “Why do I think the Red Leaf family was… I don’t know if supportive is the right word, but maybe… accepting of his talents?”

“It ain’t like we got much choice, to be real honest.” He sighed. “Unci is hurtin’ about Penny. That don’t give John-John and Devlin the right to take their pain out on you. Sophie ain’t happy about that.”

“You talked to her?”

“Of course. She’s… this whole thing rips me up inside, mostly for her. For all her faults, loving too much ain’t one of them. With all that’s gone on in the past few weeks, and since you were gone for months… I know you’re questioning your place with her, Mercy. Don’t. She does consider you her family. Both you and Hope.”

A shard of pain lanced my heart that the woman who’d been a surrogate mother to me was emotionally eviscerated and I wasn’t allowed to comfort her.

Before I let that thought weigh me down more, Jake handed me another beer. I gave him an odd look. “Two beers in one day, Jake? Really? You got some bad news to tell me?”

“Funny. Not bad news. But something you oughta know. Something you shoulda been told a long time ago.”

Jake wasn’t a guy prone to drama, so the fact he’d brought me out here in the middle of the ranch to talk to me set off all my warning bells.

“This is something you can’t tell anyone, Mercy. I ain’t kiddin’. Not Dawson. Hope don’t even know. And you cannot let on that you know of this, to any of the people who are involved. I gotta have your word.”

“You’ve got it.”

Jake took another gulp of beer. “You asked about the bad blood between the Red Leaf family and Rollie Rondeaux. It don’t got nothin’ to do with us. Mostly, it’s between the Pretty Horses family and Rollie. It started with Penny, Rollie, and Sophie.” He paused with the beer can in front of his mouth. “Because Rollie is John-John’s father.”

Shocked, I gaped at Jake for almost a solid minute before I could speak. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. Short version: Penny and Rollie had a fling while Rollie was married. Penny got knocked up, had John-John, but wouldn’t give him the Rondeaux name. Rollie refused to support her or the kid unless she did. Sophie got pissed off and said she’d tell everyone-including Rollie’s wife-about John-John’s parentage. Rollie made a threat-I have no idea what-and everyone involved clammed up. Most secrets don’t stay that way for very long, but in this case? It’s one that’s been kept for years.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Wyatt told me.” Jake crumpled the first beer can. “When he figured out that Levi was my son. I’m pretty sure your dad meant it as a warning, since John-John hates Rollie’s guts. He didn’t want that to happen between me ’n’ Levi when I told the boy I was his biological father. Not that it happened before Levi…”

I squeezed Jake’s arm. I sometimes thought he suffered the most from Levi’s death. He had the loss of what might’ve been. “Who all knows this secret?”

“The obvious ones: Penny, Rollie, Sophie, John-John. I’m sure he told Muskrat.”

“Devlin?” I asked, and then said, “Of course he doesn’t know. Devlin can’t keep his mouth shut. So how’d my dad find out?”

“He swore from the first time he saw John-John that the boy was a dead ringer for Rollie. Wyatt had no love for the man, after what happened to your mother, so he confronted Sophie and she told him the truth. She said she’d quit if he told anyone or treated John-John different.”

My dad had been pretty indifferent toward John-John, but I’d always chalked that up to the disturbing vision he’d had about my mother-a year prior to her death.

“John-John and me, for bein’ cousins, well, you know we ain’t never been close. Same goes with Luke and TJ.”

“Why? I’ve never understood that.”

“Just one of them things. When I found out this secret, around the time John-John opened Clementine’s… fifteen years ago, I showed up for a drink to support him. John-John wouldn’t serve me. Said he wasn’t gonna have his ragtag relations hanging out in his bar.”

“Because Clementine’s is so classy,” I said dryly.

Jake smiled. “That’s what I said. Then I did a dumb thing. Opened my mouth and asked if his father would be welcome. John-John punched me. Damn near knocked me out. He said if I ever told anyone, he’d cut out my tongue and watch me choke to death on my own blood.”

“He said that? Holy shit.” I had that bad gut feeling again. Verline’s tongue had been cut out. Had she somehow discovered that Rollie was John-John’s father? Had she threatened to spill the beans? Or maybe she wanted money to keep quiet about what she knew?

No, John-John couldn’t have killed Verline any more than Rollie could have.

But this was getting a little too coincidental and spooky for my liking.

“So now you know why none of the Red Leaf family is allowed to drink in his bar.”

“God. Jake. I’m absolutely… stunned. I never suspected. I mean, Rollie has been such a smart-ass about John-John over the years. When I think of all the shit he said…” Now I wondered if my dad had been trying to tell me something when he said Rollie didn’t give a shit about any of his kids, no matter who their mothers were. Stupid me, I hadn’t bothered to ask him what he’d meant.

“You can’t let on to Sophie or John-John or Rollie that you know the truth,” Jake warned.

“Trust me, I won’t. You know how good I am at keeping secrets.”

“Yes, I do.” He threw his beer can in the back of the feed truck. “Now that we’re done gossiping, let’s get them cows fed before dark.”

• • •

When Dawson brought Lex home a few hours later, he found me on the floor in our bedroom, sitting amid my guns, as I cleaned out the gun safe.

He leaned against the door frame and raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“I remember a few months back when you pulling a gun on me was considered foreplay. So if you wanna go ahead and whip out that Glock, feel free.”

I smiled. “We already reminiscing about the good old days, Sheriff?”

He crouched down next to me. “No. But the last couple days haven’t been very good.”

“True.” Without looking at him, I said, “So you heard about the case we caught today?”

“Yeah. But I wasn’t talking about that.”

I looked at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

He touched my face. “For the way it’s been between us.”

“Me, too.” I leaned into his touch, needing a connection to something. Ever since I’d talked to Jake, I’d felt untethered. Not even being surrounded by all my beloved firepower had grounded me. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He continued to gently stroke my cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“I can tell. It’s been so tense around here that even Lex is worried about you.”

“He is? Why?”

“In the last couple of days, you haven’t asked him even one time if he has his homework done.”

“I haven’t yelled at him for leaving his dirty socks on the couch, either.”

“I’ll remind him of that,” he said dryly. “But my son also has suggested that I do something… impressive to make up for my dickish behavior. His words not mine.”

“Like what?”

He grinned like he had a big secret. “Well, I know you’ve got a thing for bull riders, so Mad Dog is coming out of retirement this weekend to compete in the annual Sheriffs Association Fund-Raiser, which just happens to be a rodeo.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You impressed yet?”

The nickname Mad Dog had stuck during his bulldogging and bull-riding days. I’d tried calling Mason that right after we’d first met, but the name didn’t fit him now. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d imagined seeing him in all his glory on the back of a bull. Or more accurately, that I’d fantasized about seeing him in a pair of fringed chaps, tight jeans, a championship buckle, and a black hat. It appeared I’d get to see the real deal. “Okay, I am impressed.”

“So it’s a date? You’ll watch me ride Saturday night?”

“Yep, I’ll even be your very own buckle bunny.”

Dawson hauled me to my feet. Then he pulled me into his arms. I thought about protesting for a split second, but I wanted this. I’d missed this-how he and I were together. I finally felt some of that peace I’d been looking for today. I wrapped myself around him, buried my face in his neck, and sighed.

Mason murmured, “That was a happy sound.”

“That’s because I am happy.”

“Even when we occasionally piss each other off?”

“Yep. The best part of fighting with you is always the making-up part. We are about to make up, right now, aren’t we?” My hand slid down his body until it met the hard flesh pressing against his zipper.

He growled, “I think it’s past Lex’s bedtime. Don’t go nowhere, I’ll be right back.”

I laughed softly.

It seemed for the first time in years, my personal life was on a happy plane. And I’d be damned if I’d spoil the feeling by worrying about when it’d end.

• • •

Thursday afternoon, Director Shenker singled out the cases that Turnbull and I were working on at the biweekly meeting. He shuffled through his notes. “Three female victims, ranging in age from twenty to sixty-two. None of the murder methods are the same. The victims were not related. Nor were the victims well acquainted. The commonality is the victims had digitalis in their systems.” He looked at Shay. “The family requested immediate release of the body within twenty-four hours? Why? Wasn’t this last victim in the final stage of breast cancer?”

“Yes. She had a living will, and she’d filed paperwork requesting no religious ceremony. She was cremated yesterday.”

That caught me by surprise. I’d heard nothing about it from Hope or Jake.

Shenker sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Have either of you made any progress? We’ve got no suspects… on three first-degree murder cases?”

Shay and I didn’t make eye contact. As the senior agent, he should jump in with a progress report.

He didn’t. Why? Was he afraid he’d get spanked by the boss? I wanted to cluck at him for being such a chickenshit.

“Agent Gunderson.”

Shit. I felt all eyes in the room on me.

Now who’s clucking? “Yes, sir?”

“Did you find anything in your research at the tribal archives to substantiate your earlier theory? About previous deaths of women on the reservation being overlooked, unsolved murders?”

I decided to let fly. I’d gotten smacked down by the boss before, and I probably would get it again. “Yes, sir. Over the last five years, at least three women died in a similar manner, and those deaths weren’t investigated by the tribal PD. Rural car accidents. Domestic abuse turned fatal. Former drug users found OD’d. The pattern was there, but I do understand-to some degree-how the cases were overlooked. Like in these most recent cases, the previous victims were women of varying ages. They were each killed a month apart, over a three-month span. And because the death situations were… close enough to be believable for the victim’s lives, not even their families raised a stink about the cases not receiving proper investigation from the tribal PD. The women who died in mysterious car accidents? All had long records of serious traffic violations and accidents. The women who were found stabbed or sliced up? All had many documented instances of domestic violence. The women who OD’d? All had long histories of drug addiction. The assumed suicides? Those women struggled with depression and had made previous attempts at suicide. So there is a pattern.”

Shenker nodded. “So how do these latest victims fit? Because the pattern has been altered. No one-month lag time between murders. Do you have a theory on why?”

“Before, the killer was content, probably smug, in the knowledge he was getting away with it. But his method has gotten more disturbing. That’s a point of pride for him now. Some initial theories within the tribal PD and the FBI were that Rollie Rondeaux killed Arlette Shooting Star as a screen so he could get away with murdering his live-in, Verline Dupris, a week later.

“It might’ve initially served the killer’s purpose to throw suspicion at Rollie Rondeaux. Then Rollie was arrested and placed in tribal jail. This is where his need for attention has come in. Now he’s afraid Rollie will get credit for his kills. So he kills again, in a very brutal and very public place. This time the killer wanted everyone in law enforcement to know that Penny Pretty Horses wasn’t a copy-cat murder.”

Silence.

“Thank you, Agent Gunderson. I appreciate the legwork on this.” Shenker peered over his bifocals at Agent Turnbull. “It appears it was a good thing Mr. Rondeaux was placed in tribal police custody before we went to the assistant U.S. attorney to ask for a grand jury investigation.”

Turnbull remained stoic.

“But we are still looking at three first-degree murders and no suspects.” Shenker frowned and pulled out his BlackBerry. “Sorry, I’ve been waiting for this call. Take ten, people.”

Chairs creaked as everyone got up, but I stayed put, figuring this would be the quietest place. I closed my eyes, wondering if I could get in a quick ten-minute combat nap.

But there was always the possibility I’d drift into a combat nightmare.

“Great job laying out the cold cases’ facts, Mercy.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Shay. “Thanks.”

“You pulled my ass out of the fire, because guaranteed, Shenker was holding a blowtorch.”

“You would’ve deserved it.”

“Definitely.” He grinned. “I might make an FBI agent out of you yet, Sergeant Major.”

I leaned closer and whispered, “Fuck off. Sir.”

Shay laughed. “Any issues with the Red Leaf and Pretty Horses families?”

“No. In fact, I had no idea the family had requested early release of the body.”

“It’s been a long week.” He paused. “Do you have plans for the weekend with the Dawson boys?”

I must be giving off friendly vibes for Turnbull to ask about my personal life. “Mason is riding in the Sheriffs Association charity event Saturday night.”

Shay lifted a brow. “Riding? Like, motorcycle? A poker run or something?”

“No. It’s a rodeo benefit, so he’ll be bull riding.”

“Better him than me, I guess.”

With all the tragedy and drama that’d gone on in our lives recently I was looking forward to a night at the rodeo. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Working.”

“Why?”

He grinned at me again. “Someone’s gotta figure out what’s going on with these cases while you’re off jerking on Dawson’s… rope.”