THIRTY
Truman insisted they immediately leave her cabin. She agreed, activated her security system, locked up, and drove him to his truck out on the road. They briefly argued about their next step. She wanted them to go to their respective places, but he put his foot down and insisted that their discussion wasn’t done.
“I’m not waiting until tomorrow when you can brush it off and avoid me,” he stated, holding her gaze.
Which had been her exact plan.
He plugged his address into her GPS and followed her out of the forest. After the drive she was surprised when she stopped in front of a tiny, newish home on a crowded street of identical homes in Eagle’s Nest. Nothing about the house said that Truman Daly lived there. She’d expected something more manly and rugged. Not the cookie-cutter starter home.
“I rented it,” he replied when she asked. “It felt safer than buying.”
Had he believed the police chief job might not work out?
He told her to wait in the living room while he did a quick walk of the home and checked the small, fenced yard. While she waited, a gorgeous black cat strolled into the room and leaped onto the arm of the couch to stare at her. Her golden eyes fixed on Mercy, and the tip of her tail flicked as she waited for Mercy to explain herself.
By the time Truman returned, the cat was on her lap, looking extremely pleased. Truman raised a brow at the sight. “That’s Simon.”
“It’s a female.”
“I know. I let the little neighbor kid name her. She showed up about a week after I moved in. No one claimed her, so I let her stay.”
A golden gaze slowly blinked at Mercy. That’s what he thinks. Clearly the cat had chosen where she wanted to live.
“I need a beer. What can I get you?” he asked.
“I don’t drink.”
“Sure you do.” He stared at her.
“Vodka and orange juice,” she admitted. She could use some vitamin C, and she didn’t want to argue with him. The next hour was going to be difficult enough.
He grabbed a chair from the dining set and set it directly in front of her, handing her the drink. He sat down with a sigh and took a long drink from his beer. The citrusy smell of hops wafted across the space between them and tickled her nose.
Exhaustion settled into every muscle and her brain, and she took the tiniest sip of her drink. It wasn’t strong. Whatever Truman had in mind, it wasn’t to get her drunk and make her spill her guts. His brown gaze fixed on her over the rim of his glass, and an unease stirred her stomach. What does he want?
“I have two questions,” he said softly. “The first is why do you think someone would follow you, and the second is what happened fifteen years ago that made you leave town? I’ve looked. There are no police reports involving your family around that time. Little happened that year except for the murders of Jennifer Sanders and Gwen Vargas. But you’ve already said they were friends of your sister’s, not yours.”
She nodded and took another minuscule sip. “I don’t think either question is any business of yours.” I won’t tell him.
His gaze narrowed. “It is if I think it’s affecting your performance on this investigation. You’re not getting enough sleep and it shows. You’re consistently distracted, and I think you spend more time trying to avoid people in town than investigating.”
She jerked and Simon launched from her lap, her claws skittering on the hardwood as she raced out of the room. “I take this investigation very seriously! I am not a slacker! I’m doing the best I can.” Fury narrowed her vision. How dare he? “Who found those weapons today?”
“We did.”
“Bullshit. I crawled on my belly into that space after leading you to the cave. If anyone is compromised on this case, it’s you with your focus on your uncle. There’ve been three other victims, you know,” she snapped. He didn’t spend too much time focused on his uncle, but if he was going to poke her, she would strike back. “You walk around this town like you’re the only person seeking justice. We’re all working our asses off.”
He sat very still. She’d found a wound. “I’m not on some noble crusade for justice,” he said. “I want payback for my uncle. Someone out there thinks they’re smarter than I am, and I’m going to prove them wrong. Very wrong.”
The absolute evenness of his tone disturbed her. Truman Daly was fully in control, or else he was a split second away from snapping. She didn’t know which.
“We both want the same thing,” said Mercy.
“Then you need to come clean. Something hangs over your head. I see it emerge when you run into people from your past. But it doesn’t happen with every person. Just some of them. Why does Joziah Bevins rattle you so bad?”
“There’s a history there. Our families were at odds.”
“Explain.”
She shrugged. “Dad said he shot one of our cows.”
Truman leaned back in his chair, surprise on his face. “A cow? That’s it?” He blinked. “I mean, that’s horrible, but that’s not worth years—”
“It was done as a message to my parents. They’d refused to join the Bevinses’ community. Again.”
“Community? I don’t under—”
“Remember how you said earlier that the preppers are often about community? And asked why I was preparing my cabin alone?”
“Yes.”
“Some of those communities take themselves very seriously. They’re practically micro-towns of specialists. They need doctors and vets and mechanics. They always have a very strong leader.”
She saw the comprehension dawn.
“And people declare allegiance to the group?” he asked. “You promise to help a circle of people when disaster strikes? That’s the history of the turbulence between your father and Joziah Bevins?”
“Yes. My father has a quiet draw. People trust him and want to be involved with him. Joziah is forceful and demands allegiance and then rules with an iron fist. My father didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“Your mother’s a midwife,” Truman stated. “Everyone in town swears by her.”
“And my father is skilled with animals. Very important trades.”
Truman scratched his head. “Okay. So now I think I get it, but what does that have to do with you leaving?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all night—at least half the night is left. Start talking.”
She wanted to tell him everything. No one had gotten under her skin the way Truman had. She liked him.
I like him a lot. More than I should.
Her secrets had festered in her heart and mind for too long. What was the risk?
Her job.
Her family. Levi’s family.
Prison?
“You’re shaking.” Alarm and concern widened his eyes.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me.” He was right; her legs shook as if she were freezing. With a trembling hand, she set her drink on the end table.
“Jesus Christ. How bad is it?”
“I could go to prison,” she whispered, her mind spinning out of control. “My brother too. He has a daughter. I don’t have anyone, so it’s not that big of a deal—”
He leaned closer. “Are you hurting anyone by not talking about it?”
“I don’t think so. Believe me, I’ve asked that a million times.” I’m so cold. She zipped up her coat, suddenly wanting hot tea, hot chocolate, hot coffee. Something comforting.
He scooted his chair closer, set his beer next to her drink, and took her hands. His were incredibly warm, and she relaxed into the heat.
“Did you kill someone, Mercy?”
She held his gaze, but saw the giant bottomless pit near her feet. Can I trust him? She teetered on the edge for a long second and then took a step. “I think so.”
He didn’t blink. “Why do you only think so?”
“Because Levi shot too. We both did.” No turning back now. Icy spasms shook her chest and flew down her arms to her hands. He clutched them tighter.
“Who did you shoot?”
“We don’t know who it was. We didn’t know him.”
“Was he hurting you?” he asked carefully.
“Rose. He attacked Rose. And then me,” she added softly.
“Then you were justified.” He lowered his head and let out a sigh.
“But we hid him. We’ve hidden it for fifteen years. And didn’t tell anyone. We can never tell anyone we killed him.” She was babbling. All the words she’d buried deep inside flowed out of her.
“I’m not going to push you to tell anyone—wait a minute.” He gripped her hands. “Was this the same person who killed Jennifer and Gwen?”
“We think so.”
Mercy looked ready to dissolve into a puddle of stressed-out-special-agent goo. Her hands felt like ice and quivered constantly. What is it like to hide a huge secret for fifteen years? He ached to take away her stress. Her secret didn’t surprise him. The vulnerable glimpses he’d seen from her had warned him she was hiding something big.
She told me she killed someone. And it doesn’t change how I feel about her.
Color him surprised.
Her shooting sounded justified to him, but had she stalled the other murder investigations by not coming forward? How would the FBI handle her old story? Had she messed up the current investigations by not revealing what she suspected about the old murders?
Truman doubted she would go to prison for murder, but she would be in life-altering hot water for a slew of other things.
What’s my role here? Cop or friend?
He shoved the question aside for the moment, unwilling to explore the answer. Mercy had confided in him. She’d taken a huge risk and he’d pushed her to do it. Guilt was bitter on his tongue.
“Did your father know? Is that why you left?”
She shook her head, her gaze on the floor. “No one knows except Levi and Rose. And now you. We didn’t tell my parents the whole truth. We told them that someone had tried to break in . . . and that Rose recognized his voice as someone she associated with the Bevins ranch, but she didn’t know who. I wanted my father to confront Joziah and let Rose listen to his workers’ voices because the man could have been the one who murdered Jennifer and Gwen. My father refused.”
“Wait. You said the attacker was dead. Who would Rose be listening for?”
“There was a second man. She heard him speak that night and knew she’d heard him before but couldn’t place the voice. He got away before Levi or I could see him. We heard his truck leave the property.”
Two men?
“He left his friend behind? Dead?”
“Yes.”
“He never came back searching or asking for his accomplice?”
“No. We expected him to, but it was like the dead man belonged to no one. No one came looking for him. No one was reported missing.”
Mercy’s story was growing odder by the moment. Who doesn’t report their missing friend?
A murder accomplice.
“The man who escaped knew the other had been shot?”
“We heard the engine a few moments after the shots. I have no doubt the guns scared him off, but he had no way of knowing if his friend had been hit.”
“So you’re wrong that I’m the third person to know what happened. One other person knows—the guy you scared off.”
Mercy nodded.
“Start from the beginning.”
Mercy haltingly told him a story that made his hair stand on end. A break-in. An attack. First Rose and then herself. Gunfire. He’d seen the brutal pictures of Jennifer Sanders and Gwen Vargas. Mercy and Rose had come close to joining them.
Truman was silent as he absorbed the weight of what she’d told him. “Where’s the dead man?” he finally asked.
She seemed to crumble. “Levi hid the body.”
“Ah, jeez.” Truman stood and paced in a circle, running his hands through his hair. Another crime she and Levi could be tried for. “Where the fuck did he hide it?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Come on, Mercy.”
Her ponytail fell over her shoulder as she shook her head, her eyes distant. “It’s Levi’s burden. I won’t make it worse.”
No body, no proof.
She’s drawn the line. Her story is just a story unless a body supports it.
He sat back down and took her hands again. She tried to tug them away, but he held on. “I’m here to support you. We’ll figure out a way through all this.”
“No. No one can know.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
He wasn’t. He’d decided on his role in her story.
It’d been a simple decision that surprised him. He should have mentally and emotionally struggled with the decision, but he’d looked in his heart and immediately known the answer.
Mercy was an honest person. If her shooting hadn’t been justified, she would have admitted it.
Damned if I’ll let her get hurt by this old crime.
It might be the wrong decision, but it was his decision and he’d stand by it.
People screw up, and she and Levi were guilty of some bad choices, but no one could deny that they had been within their rights to fire, since Mercy and Rose had been attacked.
Have I violated my own ethics?
He’d crossed a line he’d never thought he’d cross. As a member of law enforcement, he had a duty to report that he knew of a death and cover-up. As a decent member of the human race, he had the same obligation. But at the moment it seemed insignificant in light of the stress of the woman in front of him.
Can I live with my decision?
Definitely.
“Your father didn’t want to rock the boat any further with Joziah Bevins? Is that why he refused to talk to him?”
Mercy nodded as if her head weighed fifty pounds. “When I pointed out that the person who tried to break in might have murdered those other girls, he brushed it aside. I told him we were putting other women at risk by not looking into what we suspected. When he refused again, I knew I couldn’t live under his roof anymore.”
“What was his reasoning?” Truman had a hunch about her father’s attitude.
“He said other women weren’t our responsibility. We only focus on our own.”
His hunch was right.
“That didn’t sit well with you?”
The sour look she gave pleased him. It was the first sign of the old Mercy.
“I guess it’s a philosophical difference.” She shrugged. “If you see a nail in the road, you pick it up so it won’t lodge in someone else’s tire, right? Why on earth would you not do something about a possible murderer?”
“You were eighteen, right? And Levi was even older. You could have gone to the police,” he pointed out. “You didn’t need to wait for your father.”
She laughed. “We didn’t view the police as an authority back then. Police were the guys who handed out traffic tickets. The authority and enforcement in town was Joziah Bevins. If we wanted answers and action, Joziah is who we’d talk to.”
Truman started to contradict her and then closed his mouth. How many times had he heard the mayor and even Ina suggest they get input from Joziah Bevins before taking a new step? Truman had assumed it was because the man sat on the town council. Not because everyone was scared shitless of him.
Has Joziah influenced some of my decisions?
No. He could say that with confidence. He hadn’t crossed swords with Joziah Bevins. Yet.
I’m more of an outsider than I realized. No one had told him about Joziah. Was he expected to fall in line with the rest of the community? They’d be in for a surprise. Truman had no problem standing up for what he thought was right.
Does Mike know how powerful his father is?
Of course he does. It must be one of the reasons he wants to leave. “You think the second man at your house that night was one of Joziah’s men.”
A reluctant nod. “Exactly. Rose wasn’t positive about where she’d heard his voice before. It wasn’t enough for Levi and me to confront Bevins on our own. But our father could have done it.”
“Your father didn’t want anything to do with it.”
“And then Levi took his side,” Mercy said bitterly. “There’s a strong patriarchal core in my family. Levi stood against me when I threatened to go tell on my own. My father said I’d destroy the family if I went to Joziah with accusations of a possible attacker working on his ranch. And my father was right. Every male in my family begged me to let it go and then turned their backs on me when I said I couldn’t. And the women stuck with them.”
“You couldn’t see your family every day and forget about it.”
“No. And I couldn’t live with such outdated rules. Levi may have been part of the ‘protect our wimminfolk’ philosophy back then, but now he’s over it, thank goodness. I can’t say the same for Owen. He still won’t talk to me. I think my sisters have gotten past most of it.”
“Essentially your father’s refusal to do something that might have protected other women from being killed was the last straw for you,” Truman said. “But Mercy, if you felt so strongly, why didn’t you go report it yourself?” he asked again.
“I was also afraid what I said would reveal that a man had died. I didn’t want the police to come investigate a possible attack and discover evidence that Levi and I had shot someone,” she whispered.
“Understandable. But hard to live with.”
“Yes. I was ashamed when I left town, and I watched the news for months afterward, expecting to hear of more women murdered, but nothing happened, and I was relieved. Maybe the death of the first attacker was enough to stop all the attacks.”
“That’s possible,” said Truman.
“I’d been toying with the idea of leaving Eagle’s Nest for a while. After the attacks my father cracked down on me, told me to forget any plans for college. He told me to find a husband and even made a few suggestions of men he thought would take good care of me.”
Truman snorted. If there ever was a woman who didn’t need taking care of . . .
“Right?” Her mouth curved up on one side.
“Didn’t your father know you at all?”
“I’m not the same person I was back then. I was a good girl for a long time. I did what they wanted and followed their rules. But then I started to see what was outside of the tight circle I was raised in. I wanted to make my own decisions.”
“Leads you to hell every time.”
“My family feared so.”
“Are you sorry you told me?” Truman asked. Guilt still weighed on him for pressuring her to bare her secret.
She considered him for a long moment. “No. I feel relieved.”
“You think the second person who was at your attack might be the one who followed you—possibly twice this week.”
Her shoulders tensed again. “It’s a possibility, but it seems like a slim one. On the other hand, I don’t have any enemies in town that I know of. But I can’t imagine that someone involved in those murders would stick around Eagle’s Nest for fifteen years.”
“It’s a town that few people seem to leave.” Truman glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. It was nearly two a.m. “Crap. I need to get up in three hours.”
Mercy didn’t move. He’d expected her to make a beeline for the door, but he noticed her green eyes were calm for the first time in several hours. “I don’t want to go back to my room right now . . . ,” she said slowly. “I can’t be alone. Do you care if I sleep on your couch for a few hours?”
His mind shot to several places, but he heard himself say, “No problem. It makes sense considering you might have been followed tonight—by someone other than me. You sure that’s what you want?”
She relaxed and smiled. “Yes. Give me a blanket and I’ll be asleep in two minutes.”
He got her a blanket and showed her the guest bath. If he’d purchased a bed for his guest room, she could have slept there. But it held a treadmill and a weight bench. The couch was all he had to offer.
He handed her a pillow. “Need anything else?”
“No. I’m so tired, I could sleep standing up. I guess confession is exhausting.”
“You’ve been carrying that around for a long time by yourself.” He couldn’t imagine.
“I got used to it, but it’s been worse since I came back here. There are visual reminders everywhere. Back in Portland, I can forget. Mostly.”
He told her good night.
As he crawled into his own bed minutes later, he wondered if he’d be able to sleep knowing Mercy Kilpatrick was asleep under his roof. He spent ten minutes reviewing his day and thinking on her dilemma.
She’d dumped a lot of information on him in the last few hours, and none of it changed his perspective of her. Mercy was still a fiercely independent woman and an experienced, sharp agent. If anything, he admired her more.
He wanted to help her; it was what he did. But his goal felt different this time. It wasn’t solely about helping her; he had an additional motive.
He wanted to be with her.