NINE
Mercy steamed as she drove to Eagle’s Nest hours later.
Truman had called that morning before arriving at her apartment with Kaylie in tow, shocking her out of a dead sleep and gently breaking the news that he’d caught her wayward niece running wild in the middle of the night. When the two of them arrived, he’d given her a kiss, and Kaylie a thumbs-up, and then had nearly run down the stairs, leaving the girl in Mercy’s confused hands.
Chicken.
Her brain still spun with the story Truman had told.
Alcohol? Guns?
Mercy couldn’t get the image out of her head. And Kaylie was the only girl in a group with four guys?
She shuddered. Kaylie had claimed the guys were her friends, but it didn’t calm Mercy’s nerves.
“What if they’d decided to attack you?” she’d nearly shouted at the defensive teen. She’d amazed herself that she’d kept her voice even.
“They wouldn’t do that. I know them.”
“Well, I don’t know them. From now on I want to meet whoever you’re going out with. And I want to know when you’re going out. No more sneaking out at night. You can go out in the daylight like the rest of the human race.”
“I don’t want to go out at night anymore,” Kaylie had muttered. “I’m done with that.”
Mercy hoped she was telling the truth. Figuring out a punishment had been the hardest part. She could rescind the girl’s driving privileges, but then Kaylie wouldn’t have a way to get to school and work. She could take away her phone, but she needed it in case of emergencies, and Mercy liked being able to immediately reach her.
So that left extra projects.
Kaylie was now in charge of both bathrooms and the rest of the apartment for the next month. The teen had already proved she cleaned up after herself most of the time, so it didn’t feel like much of a punishment to Mercy, but she’d been at a loss about how to punish a kid who was usually very responsible.
Now she had to figure out a way deal with Kaylie’s relationship. According to Pearl, Mercy would make it worse if she forbade Kaylie to see him. “Keep him close,” Pearl suggested. “Invite him over and suggest they do things at the apartment when you’re there. Or take the two of them out to dinner.”
Mercy couldn’t imagine anything more uncomfortable. When she suggested it to Kaylie, the girl’s stunned look had said she felt the same.
Either way, there was a new understanding between Mercy and Kaylie: more communication.
Restless energy radiated through her. She hadn’t been to her cabin in over two weeks. Truman had assured her everything was in fine shape, but she liked having her weekends to get away and futz around in her own space. Kaylie had been to the cabin, and together they’d moved a lot of items from Levi’s house to the storage space in Mercy’s barn. Levi had laid in good supplies and had a wealth of equipment that thrilled Mercy. Everyone had agreed that his belongings should go to Kaylie, along with the proceeds from the sale of his home. Kaylie now had a nice college fund.
Kaylie had embraced Mercy’s cabin as if it were her own, and Mercy had started to think of it as belonging to the two of them. It’d been a rough mental transition at first. For several years she’d always pictured herself alone in the cabin if disaster struck, but now there was comfort in knowing her niece would be there. Kaylie was her family.
And there was Truman.
A smile turned up the corners of her lips. She liked having him around, but it was too soon to know if he would stick around permanently. Mercy wouldn’t allow her brain to travel down that path just yet. Caution and habit stopped her from relying on his presence. Maybe later. She needed more time.
She parked in front of the Coffee Café and went in, putting Kaylie and her punishment out of her thoughts. Rose smiled at her from a table as Mercy approached, her sweet face beaming.
“You knew it was me, didn’t you?” Mercy hugged her sister.
“I heard your steps outside. I know what you sound like.”
Mercy slid into a lime-green-painted chair. “Do my steps sound the same as when I was a teenager?”
Rose’s forehead wrinkled in thought as she wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee. “No. But after spending one evening with you, I learned your sound and it replaced the old file in my brain.”
“Old file?”
Her laugh was like sunshine. “That’s how I think of it. The sounds I hear open the correct file and tell me who’s coming.” She turned her face toward Kaylie as their niece came to their table, a white apron wrapped around her waist. She had dark smudges under her eyes, but Mercy didn’t feel the slightest bit sorry for her.
“Do you want your usual, Aunt Mercy?”
“Please. And one of your cacao oat bars too.”
“I’ll take one of those too,” said Rose.
“Yes, Aunt Rose,” Kaylie said as she walked away, and Rose immediately whispered to Mercy, “What’s wrong with Kaylie?”
Rose’s perceptiveness didn’t surprise Mercy. “She didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s what happens when you sneak out and are brought home by the police at two in the morning.”
Her face lit up. “Ohhh. Tell me!”
Mercy shared the story. Rose’s wide grins and questions helped her see a degree of humor in the situation. A very small degree.
“Too bad you don’t have a farm,” Rose mused. “Mom and Dad would have come up with all sorts of grueling work punishments.”
“They sure would have.” Mercy was done thinking about Kaylie for the moment. “How are you feeling these days?”
“Good. Less puking this week.” Rose’s skin glowed and her happiness radiated. Her usual calm seemed more pronounced to Mercy. In fact, Rose had been calm about the pregnancy from day one. At least as far as she shared with her sister. Mercy had been the one with anxiety, but Rose’s attitude had brought it into check.
Kaylie dropped off Mercy’s Americano with heavy cream and two plates with cacao bars. Mercy took an immediate bite of the bar, relishing the bitter taste of the chocolate and the crunch of the almonds. It was her favorite of Kaylie’s recipes—dark, dense, and not too sweet.
Rose took a bite of hers along with a sip of coffee. “The girl has talent.” Bliss filled her face as she chewed.
“She does. And she can pursue it all she wants after she gets a college degree.”
“I think Pearl can handle the café if Kaylie leaves for college,” added Rose. “I hear an excitement in Pearl’s voice when she talks about the café. She hasn’t been excited about anything in a long time.”
“I’ve noticed it too,” Mercy agreed. “Has she not had a job in recent years?”
“No. Rick liked her staying at home with the kids and managing the house. I think Pearl liked it too, but after Charity left home, I think she felt a bit useless. Samuel doesn’t need a lot of parenting. Working here has given her something to look forward to.”
“How’s Rick feel about that?” Mercy had spoken only briefly with Pearl’s husband and son. She saw Pearl’s need to currently keep a wall between Mercy and her immediate family and tried to respect it. But one day she’d get to know her other niece and nephew.
She’d know Owen’s kids too.
Rose held up a palm and tipped it from side to side. “There’ve been some complaints from Rick. I don’t think he likes having to make his own breakfast.” Her lips tightened in mirth.
“It’s good for him,” Mercy said. “And definitely good for Pearl.” She watched her sister behind the café bar. Pearl moved with confidence and threw back her head as she laughed at a comment from a customer. She was definitely happy, and her laughter gave Mercy warm fuzzies.
“I agree. It’s not good to be stuck in a rut.”
Mercy changed the subject. “Do you know the Parker family very well? The young family that lives pretty close to you guys? I met Julia and Steve last night when I went to interview them about the arson at their place.”
“I do know them. Their little Winslet is a doll.” Rose’s nose twitched. “I smelled the smoke from their fire the morning after it happened.”
“Have you heard about anything unusual going on?” Mercy asked, abruptly realizing her sister was an excellent source for gossip and rumor in town. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean. If I’ve listened to talk about the shootings and fires. Who do people think might be responsible, or who has a beef they want to take out on a neighbor? Or who is angry with the police?”
“Exactly.”
“I haven’t heard anything very useful.”
“Then you’ve heard something.”
“Well, of course. It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“What are they saying?” Mercy knew leads could be buried in casual conversations. She hadn’t been in town long enough for the residents to talk openly around her, but everyone talked to Rose.
“Well, until those two deputies were shot, people were up in arms about kids or teenagers starting the fires. They were convinced that someone’s kid had an issue with fire and that the parents needed to pay more attention to what their kids were doing before someone caused a lot of damage.”
“I’d call the Parkers’ situation quite a bit of damage. It could take them a few years to rebuild what they lost.”
“I agree.” Rose nodded. “I heard Mom and Dad say they’d do what they could to help them catch up.”
Pride and sadness warred inside Mercy. Pride that her parents watched out for and helped their own; sadness that she no longer fell beneath their umbrella of concern.
I can’t fix what they’ve torn down.
“But after the deputies were shot, people became nervous. What had first been perceived as kids being stupid suddenly became a threat embedded in the community. When they believed it was kids, their voices were filled with anger and disgust. After the shooting, their voices were quieter and infused with worry. People felt vulnerable.”
“Understandable.” Mercy knew exactly what Rose meant. “What kids did people speculate about to start with?”
“The only names I heard tossed around were the two Eckham boys. But it was just talk based on their previous behaviors, you know?”
“Have they had trouble with fires before?”
“Not that I know of. The two women I heard talking about it seemed to be basing their assumptions on a history of behaviors like smoking and drinking and riding dirt bikes through the middle of town.”
Jason Eckham was one of the young men with Kaylie last night. Mercy took a sip of her drink, remembering how her brothers had been at that age. Stupid behaviors were often par for the course with males of a certain age.
“Do you know Tilda Brass? The owner of the property where the deputies were shot?”
“I’ve met her once or twice. She seemed like a quiet woman. Moved softly and spoke as if she was only partially present.”
“Truman said she has memory issues. Maybe the start of some dementia.”
Understanding crossed Rose’s face. “That would explain my impression. I assume she didn’t have much helpful information?”
“None.”
“Those poor deputies and their families,” Rose whispered. “Are you going to the funerals this evening?”
“Yes. Do you need a ride?”
“No, Pearl already offered.”
She and Rose sat silently as memories of a recent funeral swept over them.
“How is Kaylie holding up?” Rose asked.
“As good as can be expected. I encourage her to keep busy. Keeps her from thinking about Levi too much.”
“Sometimes I simply sit and remember him,” Rose said, her fingers playing with her coffee mug. “It’s important to think about the good times.”
But then you remember that last day.
A pink scar terrifyingly close to Rose’s right eye held Mercy’s gaze, and she let the anger and hatred toward her sister’s attacker out of a locked closet in her mind. He’d murdered her brother and brutalized her sister. She’d wanted to castrate the man for what he’d done to her family. Instead Truman had tried to save his life. To no avail. She didn’t feel guilty for hating the dead man; she fed on the hate, using it to fuel her current search for the cop killer.
“I need to get back to work.” Regret filled her. She’d rather sit and gossip mindlessly with her sister. Talk about baby names and drink too much caffeine.
Rose stood and kissed her good-bye. “Be careful.”
Mercy left the coffee shop after a wave to Pearl and Kaylie, who were filling drink orders for a family of five.
Kaylie was a good kid, and again Mercy hoped that she could continue to guide her, not create a divide between the teen and her other relatives.
Losing all family support was a level of hell Mercy didn’t wish on anyone.
Mercy opened the door to her Tahoe and spotted two men in conversation across the street. Her heart had felt happy after her conversation with Rose, but her carefree attitude vanished at the sight of her brother Owen.
He hates me.
Owen was talking to an overweight man with a thick beard. Mercy didn’t recognize the man but immediately noticed the bulge at his hip under his heavy coat. Their conversation seemed calm, but Owen glanced around several times, as if making certain no one was listening in.
Mercy froze with her boot on the running board. Should I approach him? She’d made some inroads with her mother and Pearl. Maybe it was time to start working on Owen too. I only have one brother left.
She slammed the door and crossed the street before she could talk herself out of it. Both men glanced in her direction, and Owen did a double take, his shoulders straightening as he recognized her. His face hardened and he plunged his hands into the pockets of his coat as he looked away. He pivoted, turning his back to her.
Keep going.
Mercy stepped up onto the curb and stopped before the two men. The bearded man gave her a curious look and touched the brim of his cowboy hat. His eyes were a dark brown, and two red spots burned high on his cheeks. He was even bigger up close, his girth rivaling that of a giant pine near her cabin. The lines around his eyes told her he was older than she’d first assumed from a distance. Now she estimated him to be in his late fifties.
“Hey, Owen,” she said. “I just had coffee with Rose.” Owen glanced at her and looked away. She held out her hand to the other man. “I’m Mercy Kilpatrick. Owen’s sister.”
Comprehension washed over the other man’s face and he blinked several times. He took her hand, giving it a weak shake. The type a man gives when he’s afraid to crush a woman’s hand. “Tom McDonald. I’ve heard of you.” His beard and mustache needed a trim. Hairs curled under his lip and covered half of his teeth as he spoke.
Owen looked miserable. “All good, I hope,” she said with a wink at the bearded man. She didn’t recognize his name, but he felt familiar even though she couldn’t recall any men of his size from her youth.
Tom smirked at Owen, and Mercy kept her gaze locked on his eyes, startling Tom when he turned his focus back to her.
Great. Owen’s friend is a jerk.
Tom excused himself and headed toward a big Chevy king cab with three rifles in the rear window gun rack. Two other men in jeans and heavy coats leaned against the fender, clearly waiting for Tom to join them. The three of them got in the truck and left.
“Pleasant guy,” Mercy said, mentally filing away the license plate number of the Chevy.
Owen glared at her and started to walk away.
“Owen, wait!” She sped after him, speaking to his back. “I want us to be able to talk to each other. You don’t have to like me, but let’s at least get to the point where we can be in the same room. We’ve got a new niece or nephew coming in seven months. I’d like to welcome the baby without feeling like I’m hated at family gatherings.”
He whirled around, making her halt, anger shining in his eyes. He looks like Dad when he’s mad.
“You killed Levi. It’s your fault he’s dead. Don’t talk to me about family.”
Mercy couldn’t move. Her lungs crashed to the sidewalk and her vision narrowed on his face. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.
“What?” she finally croaked.
“You cops stuck your nose in everything. Levi would still be alive if you hadn’t come to town.”
“Craig Rafferty shot Levi! You can’t blame me for that. Craig was your friend. Didn’t you ever see how unhinged he was? He killed Pearl’s best friend.” A high-pitched buzz started in her ears.
“You shot Craig before he could prove his innocence.” Owen spit the words. “It’s impossible for a dead man to defend himself. That’s the cops’ solution for everything.”
“You’re making excuses for the man who murdered your brother,” she whispered. Does Owen truly believe what he’s saying?
“The real problem is at the core of our society,” Owen continued, his eyes fierce. “Law and order need to be back in the hands of the people . . . They should govern themselves.”
“Who do you think makes our laws?” she snapped at him. “Cats? Aliens?”
“Laws are made by bureaucrats who sit on velvet chairs in mansions somewhere. They’re totally out of touch with the common man. We need to have a say.”
“You do have a say. Everyone does. It’s called voting.”
“Our process has gone haywire. It’s time to return the power back to the average guy. He’s the one who understands what life is truly like.” Passion burned in his voice. “People sitting in Washington . . . hell, the people sitting in Salem don’t understand what life over here is like. Why are they the ones telling us what to do?”
Are we really arguing about politics?
“You cops are a by-product of the problem.”
A red haze started at the edges of her vision. “Excuse me?”
“Levi and Craig shouldn’t be dead,” he hissed at her. “You and your cop boyfriend are just tools. Tools of the assholes running this country. We don’t need you. We can take care of ourselves.”
Mercy opened her mouth to argue and then shut it, studying the anger in his expression. He’s not in the mood to listen. “What’s happened to you, Owen?”
“I’ve wised up. I’m tired of bending over and taking it up the ass. Levi was the last straw.”
“I miss him too.”
“You don’t miss him. You don’t even know who he was.” The hatred in his tone tore at her heart.
“He was my brother,” she whispered.
“Well, you didn’t act like much of a sister.”
“I’m here now. I want—”
“Leave it, Mercy.” He cut her words off with a jerk of his hand. “Do whatever you think you need to do. Just keep it away from me. You slunk into town and won over Kaylie and Rose, but don’t you dare come near my kids.”
She couldn’t speak.
He spun on his heel and strode away.
Mercy watched him walk, seeing echoes of their father in his stance and stride.
I tried. She firmly set aside the anger and sorrow he’d ripped out of her heart and replayed his words in her brain. Tools. Bureaucrats. Take care of ourselves.
She didn’t like where his mind was spending its time.