Two miles away from the scene at the Hartlage house, Mercy parked at the closest neighbor’s home. Kenneth Forbes’s house strongly resembled the Hartlages’, but there was a long ramp to the front door. An ancient sedan without license plates sat beside the home, weeds growing around its tires.
Does he live alone?
Earlier a deputy had briefly visited Kenneth Forbes, returned to the Hartlage crime scene, and reported that Forbes believed Corrine Hartlage’s brother had lived in the home with the family, but didn’t know his name.
“What else did he tell you?” Mercy had asked the deputy. “When did Mr. Forbes see them last? Has he been by the farm recently?”
The deputy had looked at his feet and shuffled them. “He wasn’t very cooperative, ma’am. And he’s disabled. I didn’t want to pressure him.”
Mercy had exchanged a look with Detective Bolton. The deputy was very young. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Forbes,” Mercy stated.
Still in her vehicle, Mercy looked at the cat, who’d curled up on the passenger seat and gone immediately to sleep. I thought cats hated cars.
Should I stop at a pet shelter?
If a Hartlage relative wanted the cat, leaving it at a shelter could lead to a hot mess. Mercy decided she’d keep it until they heard if anyone was interested in it.
I’ll tell Kaylie up front that it might leave.
As Mercy got out of her vehicle, the front door opened, and a man in a wheelchair appeared.
“Mr. Forbes?” Mercy stopped ten feet from the ramp.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick. I’m investigating your missing neighbors and could really use your help.”
The man gave a short laugh. “Help? Do I look like I can help anyone? You’re just here to ask more questions. I already told that other policeman all I know.”
Kenneth Forbes appeared to be in his midfifties. His short hair was salt and pepper, and his face was well weathered and lined. Even at this distance, Mercy could see his eyes were a piercing blue. Anger radiated from him.
“Did you know the girls, Alison and Amy? There’s a lot of blood in their room, and it appears they’ve been missing for months.” Mercy lobbed the loaded question at the man. If missing children didn’t affect him, he wasn’t human.
He was silent for five seconds. “Blood?”
“Yes. In all the bedrooms. The house hasn’t been lived in for a long time, but their belongings are still there.”
His cheeks tightened as he flexed his jaw, and he spun his wheelchair around. “Come in then,” he said over his shoulder.
It wasn’t the welcome she’d hoped for, but she’d take it.
The home was extremely plain inside, with wide paths for his wheelchair. He motioned for her to sit in an old easy chair by the front door. He maneuvered his wheelchair so he could face her, crossed his hands in his lap, and looked at her expectantly, his eyes still hard. “What do you need to know?”
No coffee. No tea. No small talk.
“When did you see any of them last?”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure. Last summer, I guess. And that was just passing them on the road.”
“But they’re your closest neighbor.”
“No, I’m their closest neighbor. My son lives a quarter mile away from me.” He frowned. “Just because I live near someone doesn’t make us friends. I didn’t need anything from them, so I rarely interacted with them. Are they dead?”
Mercy blinked at his bluntness. “We don’t know.”
“You said there was blood.”
“I did. But we didn’t find any bodies there.”
“Why does the FBI care about a missing family? Shouldn’t this be handled by the sheriff?”
“Missing children are always our business,” Mercy stated firmly. “Did you know the children?”
“I’ve seen them.”
Mercy waited.
“I’ve never talked to either one.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t even know their names if you hadn’t said them. I’ve only spoken with Richard. He told me his wife’s brother was living with them, and I got the impression he wasn’t very happy about the intrusion.”
“But you don’t know his name either?”
“No, but I’ve seen him once or twice.”
“Was the brother Asian?”
Kenneth gave her a confused look. “No. Why on earth would he be Asian?”
“Just following up on a possible lead.”
Who is the Asian skull?
“Do you know who can tell me more about this family?” she asked.
He looked beyond her, scratching his chin. “Maybe my son. If he’s met them, I’m unaware of it, but he is the next-closest neighbor.”
“Do you live alone?” Mercy asked curiously.
Defensiveness filled his face. “I do. My son brings my groceries and helps me out.”
“I noticed the car out front.”
“Haven’t taken it out since my accident ten years ago. Thrown from a horse.”
“I’m very sorry,” Mercy said awkwardly. His anger had returned during the statement.
“Me too. Fucking hate this chair.” The bitterness in the room was suffocating.
Mercy pulled out her business card and set it on the accent table. “Can you give me your son’s address?”
“Don’t need that. Just turn left after you leave my drive and then take the next left off the main road. But he’s gone for a few days.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No.” The anger rose again.
“Can I get his phone number?” She wrote down the number he rattled off. “Please call me if you think of anything that might help us figure out what happened to this family.”
“Don’t know nothing. I rarely saw them. I hardly see anyone.”
Mercy escaped the hostile-feeling house. She darted between the puddles in the yard and climbed into her Tahoe, shaking the drizzle from her hair. The sour atmosphere still clung to her. The cat raised its head, gave a jaw-stretching yawn, and went back to sleep. Mercy stroked her back, wondering how long the cat had been alone at the Hartlage home.
Does the cat miss her owners?
Mercy pictured the skeletal remains she suspected might be the Hartlages.
There’d been two male skulls in the culvert. One Asian, one Caucasian.
Kenneth Forbes claimed the brother-in-law wasn’t Asian.
If the Hartlage family was in the culvert, is the father or brother-in-law still alive?
“I might have gotten a cat,” Mercy told Rose over a late lunch.
“Might?” Rose asked in surprise, nearly dropping her glass of soda.
“I might have to give it back if someone claims it.” Mercy shared that morning’s cat-acquiring incident with her sister at the diner in Eagle’s Nest.
“Where is the cat now?”
“I stopped and bought cat litter, cat food, a cat bed, and a covered litter box and dropped her off at my place before coming here.”
“Does Kaylie know?” Rose grinned.
Mercy grimaced as she took a bite of her BLT. “I texted her so she wouldn’t be surprised when she walked in the door. She was ecstatic, of course.”
“Of course she was. She’s a teenage girl.”
“I don’t need a cat.”
“No one needs a cat . . . until you get one and wonder why you never had one before.”
“Just like a baby?”
Rose laughed and touched her rounded stomach. “Honestly, I don’t remember what it was like to not be expecting this little one. I think that’s a pregnancy hormone thing. It’s made my brain forget how life was before.”
“I’ve heard you forget the pain of birth too. Makes you willing to go through it again,” said Mercy. She suspected that was a lot of bull. People didn’t forget pain. She remembered every bit of the agony from when she was shot in the leg.
Rose looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard that. I can’t say I’m not worried about the pain. But my biggest fear is getting to the hospital in time.”
“Call me and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing.”
“Nick has promised the same thing.”
“How is it going with Nick?” Mercy asked. She tried to meet Rose once a week for lunch and catch up, but this was their first visit in three weeks. Nick Walker had been very clear about his attraction to Rose. At least to Mercy. Rose had been slower to believe his interest was real. Rose’s baby had been conceived during a rape by a serial killer, and Rose struggled to believe that any man could consider becoming involved in her situation. The baby hadn’t bothered Nick, and neither did her lack of sight. The adoration that Nick consistently showed for Rose took Mercy’s breath away. And the two of them were officially dating now.
A faint blush appeared on Rose’s cheeks. “Good. We went out to dinner in Bend last night.” Her brows came together as she frowned slightly.
“What is it?”
Frustration crossed Rose’s face. “He’s a bit overprotective. Always asking if I need help or trying to do things for me.”
“Ah.” Mercy believed that. Many men assumed Rose was a helpless flower, but she could do almost anything. Except drive a car. Rose was tough as nails under her rose-petal exterior. “He needs to spend more time with you. I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so.”
“Stand up for yourself now. The two of you need to learn if you can work together. Don’t back off because you’re afraid of offending him.”
“You make it sound like we’re coworkers.”
Mercy shrugged. “Dating and marriage is a balance. He has a lot to learn about you and vice versa.”
“He always wants to know how I feel and how each prenatal visit went. I finally said I’ll let him know if there is something unusual to share. It’s a small thing to be annoyed about . . . I should be happy he’s interested.”
“He did lose his wife to breast cancer,” Mercy pointed out. “I can see him having anxiety about your health, but is your relationship at the point where you’re sharing everything about the baby with him?”
“It’s pretty serious,” Rose whispered with a small smile. “He told me he’s in love with me last week.”
“Oh, Rose. That’s wonderful!” Mercy’s heart warmed at the happiness on her sister’s face.
“We’ve talked a lot about the baby”—she sucked in a big breath—“and how it was conceived. He’s such a good man, Mercy. He swears it makes no difference to him.”
“Have you accepted that yet?”
Her sister was quiet for a second. “I’m getting there. We haven’t been together that long.”
Rose hadn’t said that she’d told Nick she loved him too. “You need to feel absolutely certain of his commitment to the baby before you tell him you love him, right?” Mercy asked softly. She’d seen the dedication on Nick’s face, but Rose had to make her own decision.
“Is that horrible of me?” Rose tipped her head to the side a little, reminding Mercy of Kaylie.
“I don’t think so. Your baby is your priority now, right? Your actions and decisions are based on what’s best for your baby . . . even if it might break your heart.”
Rose held perfectly still. “That’s exactly how I feel,” she whispered. “I can’t go any further with Nick until I know.”
“You’ll know soon,” Mercy said, remembering when she’d realized she loved Truman. “One day you’ll simply realize that he’s the right one.”
“I hope so.”
“How long do you have left?” Mercy asked.
“Three months.” A dreamy smile filled her sister’s face.
Mercy was glad to see her sister’s happiness about the baby. The thought of the challenge of her being blind and raising a baby gave Mercy anxiety but not Rose.
“I hope . . .” Rose trailed off, a thoughtful look on her face.
“You hope what?”
“I hope as an adult, my child will look back and be grateful to have a mom who was different. I’ll learn as much from her as she does from me.”
“Her?” Mercy jumped on the pronoun.
Her sister laughed. “No, I’m not hiding the sex. I’ll be as surprised as everyone else. But in my mind, I think of it as her.”
Mercy did too. “She’ll be lucky to have you as a mom. What will you do about your preschool when the baby comes?”
“I’m going to close up for the summer. I usually do anyway, but I don’t know what I’ll do in the fall. Mom has offered to watch the baby while I teach, but if possible I would like to bring the baby with me. I’ll know better what I’m capable of once she’s born.” Rose leaned toward Mercy. “Just promise you’ll be in town the week I’m due. Seriously . . . I don’t want to have this baby at the farm. Even if Mom is a skilled midwife.”
“I promise. You’ve also got Mom and Dad as backup drivers. Nick too. You could even call Kaylie or Truman or an ambulance, if it comes to that. There are a lot of options.”
Rose sat back, her face clearing as she nodded. “True. I’ve had dreams that I can’t get there and it’s just me and the baby alone at the farm. Something is wrong, and I can’t take care of her.”
Mercy reached across the table and took Rose’s hand. “That won’t happen. No apocalypse is scheduled before the baby is to be born.”
Her sister laughed, and Mercy sighed in relief, but part of her brain immediately started to make plans in case a national crisis happened before Rose’s baby was born.
I’ll bring Rose to my cabin. Shit! The cabin won’t be done by then.
Her heart sped up and her lungs tightened.
I’m unprepared. Rose’s baby could suffer because of it. I need to check my medical supplies—
Stop it.
Mercy took deep breaths and searched for a different topic. “Are you familiar with the Hartlage family?”
Rose finished her grilled cheese sandwich as she considered the question. “First names?”
“Corrine and Richard.”
Her sister shook her head. “I don’t recognize them. Do they have something to do with you getting a cat?”
“They own the home I was at this morning. That’s where I found the cat.”
“They’re the missing family?”
“Yes. Do you know Kenneth Forbes?”
Understanding flashed. “I do. He’s in a wheelchair, right? Got thrown from a horse and can no longer walk.”
“That’s him.”
“He’s an SC. Whole family is.”
Sovereign citizen.
“No wonder he didn’t want to talk to me this morning.” Mercy sighed. “I don’t care what he believes. I just want to find out what happened to this family.”
“Is this missing family related to the bones found at the road on March Mountain?”
“We don’t know yet. It’s possible. Hopefully we’ll find out soon.” Mercy checked the time. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No, Dad is at the feed store. He said he’d drive me when I was ready.”
Mercy pictured her father exchanging gossip and shooting the breeze with the other men who tended to congregate at the feed store. The constantly brewing free coffee probably had a lot to do with the frequent gatherings. How many times did I wait for him to finish his conversations when I was little? As a kid she had explored every inch of the feed store to fight her boredom. Sometimes there had been baby chickens to hold. Mercy could still feel the yellow fluff under her fingertips. Those had been the best days.
Mercy hugged and kissed her sister goodbye and headed toward her vehicle. She was tempted to wait and see her father, but it wasn’t the right time yet. He’ll let me know when he’s ready to accept me back into the fold. It’d already been six months. It’d been fifteen years and six months since they’d parted ways because she’d refused to live under her father’s iron fist. Hopefully it wouldn’t take much longer.
Truman called as she drove back to her office. “How’s your day?” she asked.
“Good. Only one bar fight so far.”
“Already?”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere. Say, I wanted to ask you if you’ve ever received a letter from a sovereign citizen claiming you owe them money for trampling on their rights.”
Mercy grinned. “Not me personally, but I saw a few when I worked in the Portland office. We had a few judges get them.”
“I got one from the guy I pulled over with the fake ID and plates yesterday.”
“Awesome! How much money does he want?”
“Three million.”
“You just made my day,” she stated. The letters had been a big source of amusement at her old office. “Did he use a funky signature?”
“Yep.”
“The lure of never paying taxes is very strong. People will subscribe to any scheme, no matter how convoluted it is.”
“Do I need to do anything about this?”
“No, but email me a copy. I’ll file a report and check the FBI’s records to see if your guy has done anything else. SCs love to create stacks of paperwork and bog down the legal systems, but they rarely take physical action.”
“According to your brother Owen, this guy is also creating and selling diplomatic licenses.”
“Isn’t that like Owen, to keep that little piece of illegal activity to himself?” Mercy wasn’t surprised. Her older brother wouldn’t report someone unless physical harm had happened. “Sounds like I need to open an investigation. Get that letter to me, and I’ll go from there.”
“He’s being arraigned tomorrow. I plan to be there.”
“Let me know if anything else crops up about him.”
“Will do.” He sounded relieved. “I love you. I’ll miss you tonight,” he said in a husky tone.
His voice sent good shivers up her spine, and she ended the call. She blew out a breath and leaned back in her seat.
What was my life like before Truman Daly?
She barely remembered. She recalled faint memories of quiet evenings in front of the TV and weekends full of work on her cabin. Now he was an element of her life as routine as breathing and eating. She’d been comfortably independent and alone for a long time until Truman showed up and disrupted her normal. She’d fought her growing need for commitment for months, worried that loving him would mean losing herself.
How wrong she had been.
Thank God he was persistent.