THIRTY-SIX
“Mercy?”
It took her a moment to realize the whispered voice wasn’t part of her dream. As she woke, she was surprised to find that she’d fallen asleep. Nervous energy had kept her pacing her parents’ home past two in the morning. Her parents had gone to bed and Pearl had crashed in a spare room while the FBI and county sheriff maintained a quiet vigil in the kitchen.
Truman had ordered her to sit on the couch at one point and sat beside her, threatening to hold her down if she didn’t stop pacing. “Give me your hand,” he commanded.
She’d given him an odd look but held out a hand. “Now lean your head back, close your eyes, and . . . count pieces of wood as you imagine swinging your ax.” She’d snorted. He’d grabbed her mother’s hand lotion from the end table, squeezed some into his hand, and started to massage her fingers and palm.
Mercy instantly melted. “Holy crap. Where’d you learn that?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Done.” His fingers were brutal as they stroked and rubbed.
“Swinging your ax?”
“Yes,” she muttered. “Don’t stop.” It was nearly painful. Every joint she’d abused with swing after swing of the ax was melting into a pool of butter.
“My mother used to do this for me when I worked for the Highway Department in high school. I used a shovel all summer. My hands would cramp every night.”
Mercy couldn’t think of an answer.
Then a low voice was calling her name, and she woke with her head on Truman’s shoulder as they lay on the sofa. Actually she was glued to his side from the hip up. She sat up, feeling the cold as she left his body heat. “Levi?” she whispered. Faint light illuminated a silhouette squatting in front of her.
“I need to talk to you. Outside.”
“What happened?” Shock jolted her fully awake. “Did they find Rose? Is she okay?”
“No word on Rose,” he whispered.
She deflated.
“Come with me.” He took her hand and pulled.
Mercy stood and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Almost five.”
“Mercy?” Truman spoke behind her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said. “They haven’t found Rose. I’m going to talk with Levi.”
“Shouldn’t I hear this too, Levi?” Truman asked.
Mercy froze at the suspicion in his voice. She met Levi’s gaze. Even in the dim light she could see the anguish and pain.
And guilt.
“Levi?” Her voice cracked. “What’s going on?” Apprehension raced through her muscles.
He tightened his grip on her hand. “We need to talk.” He sounded next to tears.
“I’m coming too.” Truman stood. “Outside. Now.”
Mercy glanced toward the kitchen, hearing the faint murmur of voices. What did Levi do?
Outside she slipped on a jacket, zipped it up to her chin, and buried her hands in the pockets. With the sun gone, the chill reminded her that winter weather was coming fast. Warm days would soon be a faint memory. She sniffed, inhaling the fresh crispness that hinted at snow and ice.
Levi looked sick. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders stooped. He wouldn’t make eye contact. Truman stood silently beside her, and she wondered what’d made him insist on listening to their conversation.
“I might have an idea of who took Rose,” Levi started.
White-hot shock raced through Mercy. “Who? Tell the police. Now!”
Levi held up his hands. “Hear me out first. I could be wrong.”
“No! If you have an idea, we need to get on it now!”
“Give me sixty seconds, Mercy!”
“I suspect you’ve already wasted half a day,” Truman shot back. “Start talking, Levi. Fast.”
Levi seemed to crumble beneath his coat. “Remember how I told you I disposed of . . . that thing by myself?”
Mercy couldn’t speak.
“Jesus Christ,” said Truman. “Someone helped you get rid of the body?”
“He knows?” Levi hissed.
“He knows some,” Mercy stated, her mind spinning. “He knows we shot our attacker and you took care of it.”
“Oh Lord.” Levi turned away, pressing his hands against his eyes. “I’m going to prison.”
“I told Mercy I’d keep her story quiet until I saw a need for the truth to come out. I didn’t think it was hurting anyone, but it sounds like that might have changed?” Truman asked. “Who was it?”
“Craig Rafferty.”
Truman sucked air in between his teeth. “He helped you get rid of the body?”
“Yeah.” Levi still couldn’t look either of them in the eye. “I didn’t know who else to call that night.” He cleared his throat. “The guy’s name was Kenny.”
“The one who died?” Mercy said faintly.
Levi nodded. “He and Craig were the men there that night.”
“What? You’ve known all along it was Craig Rafferty who attacked us?” Mercy’s knees shook as Truman swore at Levi. He took a step toward her brother and she grabbed his jacket, holding him back.
Levi knew it was Craig? And did nothing?
She struggled to breathe. The boards under her feet seemed to rock as if she were on a boat, and she swayed, holding fast to Truman’s coat for balance.
“Wait! Hear me out. It’s not what you think,” Levi pleaded.
“You’d better start talking faster,” Truman threatened. Mercy was falling to pieces with every sentence, but Truman seemed to get bigger, taller, more looming. Quiet waves of anger floated around him.
“You saw Craig’s vehicle out the window,” Mercy stated. “At the time you said you couldn’t see who it was.”
“I saw a flash of it. So I was pretty certain Craig had been there too, but I couldn’t believe he’d hurt my sisters.”
“And that’s who you called to help you get rid of the body?” asked Truman. “The accomplice? What the hell made you do that?”
“I figured he’d have a good reason to keep his mouth shut,” said Levi. “I loaded Kenny into the back of my truck and went to Craig’s. He was shocked as hell to see me and was totally rattled by Kenny’s death. He said Kenny and he were just stopping by when Kenny attacked Rose. Craig freaked out and ran. He was scared shitless and I trusted what he said. Then he told me he thought Kenny might have killed those other two women.”
“Craig claimed he wasn’t with Kenny at Jennifer’s and Gwen’s?” Mercy asked. “Liar.”
“I believed him at the time. I told him I’d keep my mouth shut about his involvement at our home if he’d help me get rid of the body. He wanted assurance that you and Rose hadn’t seen him and wouldn’t tell anyone. I told him Rose had heard a second voice, but we’d already agreed to keep it quiet.”
“Wait.” Mercy’s spinning brain locked on to one thought. “How did you assure him Rose and I wouldn’t go to the police?”
Levi’s face crumpled. “I told him I’d make certain Dad wouldn’t let you. That you’d do whatever Dad decreed.”
“I had to leave town because of my arguments with Dad!” Truman’s hand caught her elbow as she fell back a step. Her vision tunneled; the only thing she could see was Levi’s guilt-stricken face. How could he promise such a thing? Were Rose and I simply pawns to him? “You took Dad’s side! But you were just protecting your own ass!”
“I was protecting yours too! Who knows what would have happened if you’d gone to the police? We both could have ended up in prison. Or what if Rose had identified Craig’s voice at the Bevins ranch? That could have ratcheted up the conflict between Dad and Joziah to who knows what level. A full-out war.”
“OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.” Mercy turned away from Levi. The brother she’d always trusted . . . his betrayal had stripped her bare, and she strove to keep from falling to her knees. Leaving home had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Learning Levi had helped push her out the door rubbed salt in her old wound. “Damn you, Levi,” she whispered. She wanted to vomit.
How did he do this to me? To Rose and me?
“You’ve got to believe me that I thought the killer was dead when Kenny died. I didn’t believe Craig had anything to do with the attacks,” Levi said earnestly. He touched her arm and she shook it off, unable to look at him. “It wasn’t until you mentioned the mirrors that I started to have doubts.”
“Why didn’t you say something then?” Truman sounded ready to rip off her brother’s head.
“The cases were too different! Women were raped and murdered back then. Not old men shot in the head! Craig told me that Kenny was some sort of sexual pervert and I thought we were doing the right thing by keeping his death quiet.”
“I bet Craig was with him the whole time,” Mercy stated quietly.
“I don’t know,” Levi said. “But he might have been.”
A thought struck her. “Could Craig have been the one who stole the prom photos, since he actually knew both women? I don’t see Kenny stealing them, as the women were strangers to him.” She looked at Levi. “Does mom still have Pearl’s old prom photos?”
Levi thought for a moment. “There are some old albums in Dad’s office. Our high school stuff. Hang on.” He jogged up the porch stairs.
“Pearl was at the same prom as Jennifer and Gwen, correct?” Truman asked.
“Right. It was a big deal in our house. Dad was firmly against Pearl going, but Mom convinced him since Pearl was going with a group of girls, not with a date.”
“What are you hoping to see in the pictures?”
“A very tall young man named Craig.”
“It won’t prove anything.”
“I agree,” said Mercy. “But it’s one common thread that might tighten things up.”
Levi came outside, flipping through a fat album. “Here.” He tapped an open page and showed the two of them a few candid shots of Pearl in her prom dress, standing in front of her parents’ wood stove. Another shot showed her and Jennifer in the same spot.
Mercy blinked, stunned that the dresses and hairstyles were so dated. That night she’d believed her sister was movie-star fashionable. She turned a page and found a formal group picture shot by the prom photographer.
A Night in Italy. The group stood in front of an image of an Italian palace.
Craig Rafferty stood in the back row. Five girls. Three guys.
They all looked incredibly happy.
“Think this is the picture that’s missing from both scenes?” Truman asked.
“I do,” said Mercy. “I wonder why he took them.”
“Souvenirs,” mumbled Levi.
What drove the nice young man in this picture to kill women he knew?
I’m jumping to conclusions.
“So Craig said he and Kenny were coming for a social call the night they attacked us?” Mercy spit the words as she shut the album.
“He said they were stopping by to see me and he didn’t know what Kenny was going to do until he suddenly attacked.”
“Bullshit. Rose said two men attacked her.”
“I didn’t know what to think!” Levi pleaded. “My main concern was hiding the body and keeping you and Rose safe.”
“Rose isn’t safe now,” said Truman. “Are you done with your story, Levi? Because we need to tell the FBI to go find Craig Rafferty.” He turned away and strode back to the house.
“When did you know?” Mercy whispered. “When did you know Craig had Rose?” A fine, frail thread connected her and her brother. A thread she’d repaired this week. Now it was close to breaking again.
“I don’t know that he has her,” Levi admitted. “I didn’t tell you right away because I wasn’t sure. I’m still not sure. I’m just guessing.”
“You’re lying. Where did you go at midnight?” The look on Levi’s face told her he’d suspected all along that Craig had been involved. Why didn’t he say something immediately?
Because it made him look bad.
Another hole ripped through her heart.
I can never trust him again.
His shoulders slumped. “I went to Craig’s to look. There’s no one there.”
“Damn you, Levi,” Mercy swore again, tears flooding her eyes, that thread stretching dangerously tight. “If Rose is dead, this is on you.”
Her brother started to cry.