The interior reminded her of someone’s overstuffed garage. Crammed shelves lined the walls, and more shelving units full of cardboard boxes filled every available space. Contents were listed on the boxes in childish letters. Sheets, flashlights, boots. Cracked plastic laundry baskets held clothes, and worn denim and chambray showed through the sides. A half dozen of the baskets were labeled as men’s clothing. Only one was labeled as women’s. Mercy looked for a children’s basket and didn’t see one. Nothing was new. Everything was secondhand.
Beckett grabbed a small box off a top shelf. Gloves and hats.
Mercy studied the rest of the supply depot as Beckett and Eden considered the leftover gloves. Eden had found one she was happy with, but it didn’t have a mate.
A corduroy coat tossed on the top of one of the men’s clothing baskets caught her eye.
It looked like Chad’s coat.
Her gaze locked on a red plaid shirt in the next bin, and her pulse stuttered.
That was definitely Chad’s shirt.
He’d been wearing it when he left with Jason yesterday. Beckett and Eden’s glove discussion faded away as Mercy’s vision tunneled on the shirt, and Vera’s words rang in her head. We reuse everything until it falls apart and is beyond repair.
They’d taken his clothes.
They’d known he wasn’t coming back.
Dear Lord. No.
Her knees turned to water, and she grabbed the adjacent shelf for balance, abruptly understanding there had never been a shipment to pick up in Portland.
Chad had been eliminated.
Probably as an assignment for Jason. Eden’s father, Pete’s most recently branded and fervent follower.
Mercy took deep breaths as another thought blasted into her brain.
Is my cover blown?
TWENTY
Mercy couldn’t think straight after seeing the clothing.
As she blindly walked across the compound, her throat tightened, Chad’s kind face flashing in her mind. She hoped she had jumped to conclusions when she saw his clothing in Beckett’s supplies.
If Chad had been eliminated, wouldn’t Pete have immediately taken her for questioning? If Chad’s cover had been blown, it was logical his girlfriend would be suspected.
But no one had approached her. Pete had talked calmly to her at breakfast, acting as if nothing had happened. The men she’d overheard yesterday hadn’t mentioned having a traitor in their midst. Wouldn’t that fact be passed around?
Unless everyone knew, and they were all biding their time to see if she gave herself away.
Mercy wanted to pull out her hair. Her brain was in high paranoia mode.
Did I overreact?
Chad could be doing exactly what Pete said. Sitting in a hotel, waiting for word on a shipment. Maybe people were expected to occasionally trade out their clothing to keep things more equal.
Rags for everyone.
Maybe she’d been mistaken about the clothes. Maybe it just looked like Chad’s clothing.
Maybe.
Maybe.
There was nothing she could do about it now.
A sense of a clock ticking down propelled her to do something—anything—to find more information on the big plan for tomorrow. It was time to act, not sit idle and stress.
Mercy had sent Eden back to Sadie’s, not wanting the girl around because she had decided to take another look at the new garage. If the trucks were being packed up tonight for the plan tomorrow, that meant their supplies were somewhere on the compound. And the new structure was the only place Chad said he hadn’t searched.
If someone asked what she was doing, she’d say she was just looking at the trucks, wondering when Chad would be back. It was a weak excuse, but she couldn’t think of another, and right now she didn’t care. Something big was about to happen, and she had to figure out a way to stop it.
She debated tinkering with the vehicles and discarded the idea. What went on under the hood of a truck was foreign to her. She knew where to add oil but nothing else. Her brothers had been the ones to learn about engines; she and her sisters had learned how to cook.
It’d always been a weak point in her preparations. Knowing how to keep a vehicle running would be extremely important if she was suddenly alone, mechanics gone, internet gone. The topic had kept getting pushed to the bottom of her preparation list. Maybe deep down, she’d hoped her father or brother would be with her.
Bullshit.
She’d always expected to be on her own.
Like now.
She followed a broken path toward the old carport and new garage, her boots crunching in the snow. Stopping behind a tree before she crossed the clearing, she watched and waited for a long moment.
It was silent. She didn’t see anyone near the carport or working on construction. No tire tracks led away from the buildings. The snow had already filled in Sean’s tracks from last night’s return. The vehicle Chad and Jason had driven to Portland was still gone.
Holding her breath, she moved out from behind the tree.
Tension boiled in her veins as she reached the garage. The scent of fresh-cut lumber met her, its soothing odor clashing with the anxiety bouncing in her head.
“Hello? Anyone here?” she called out, injecting a cheeriness she didn’t feel into her voice.
No answer.
She passed by the new roll-up doors, headed for a regular door she’d seen on the south side of the building. An open padlock hung on a hook by the door, giving her hope. The only other locks she’d seen in camp were on the supply depot and command center. She turned the knob. It swung open, and she pumped a fist.
“Hello?” she called, embarrassed at the way her voice cracked.
No answer.
She took two steps into the dim interior and called again, letting her eyes adjust. Two large utility vans that had seen better days were parked inside. She moved back out and gazed at the aging carport, remembering that she’d previously seen the vans parked under the structure. Now there were only two four-wheel-drive trucks. Stealing a vehicle crossed her mind for the thousandth time, but the only way to drive out of the compound was through the front gate, which was monitored 24-7.
Gazing to the east, she remembered that Chad had said the compound was bordered by a steep ravine. He’d said it was difficult to cross. She would get nowhere taking a vehicle that way.
She could go on foot. Looking up at the gray clouds still dropping snow, she weighed the option. She knew how to survive in the woods and could find her way north toward Ukiah. But she preferred to do it with some supplies. Not just a pair of boots and a jacket. Her fingers ached to hold her Leatherman and a compass. Without her usual equipment and provisions she felt naked and didn’t dare venture into the unknown.
Her best bet was to sabotage Pete’s plan from inside.
Somehow.
She checked for people again and saw no one. Now was as good a time as any.
Making her decision, she entered the big garage again and saw there was easily room for three more vehicles beyond the vans. Empty shelving lined half of the back wall, and four storage rooms filled the rest. She silently jogged past the shelves to check the rooms. The first door was locked. She yanked on the handle, noting the heavy-duty padlocks and solid construction. Whatever was inside, they had put extra effort into keeping it safe. She moved to the second and third. Both locked. The fourth door opened.
Empty. It wasn’t large. Maybe four feet wide and six feet deep. No shelving. She swore and examined the sturdy doorframe, wondering what was being kept from prying eyes in the first three rooms.
Frustrated, she moved to the side of one of the utility vans. It had windows only on the driver and front passenger doors. Cupping her hands on the passenger window, she peered inside. The seats were ripped, and wires hung out where a radio had once existed. She wondered if Pete had removed it on purpose, keeping his people in the dark as usual. She tried the door. It opened, and she crawled onto the passenge
r seat to look in the back. It was empty except for a stack of padded blankets such as movers use to protect furniture.
She moved to the next van. That one’s seats were in better condition, but again no radio. The vehicle also wasn’t locked. Opening it, she knelt on the seat and peered into the rear of the van. Two plastic bins sat behind the driver’s seat, each filled with elongated plastic-wrapped bricks.
“Looking for something?” A hand grabbed her upper arm and yanked her backward out of the van, and her arms flew out as she scrambled to keep her balance and land on her feet. Shock coursed through her, and she lost her breath.
Instinct took over. She planted her legs and thrust her other elbow back at his nose. It connected with bone, sending waves of pain down to her fingers, but it’d nailed his jaw. She glanced back as he shook off the impact, and he tightened his grip on her right arm.
Sean.
She flung her elbow back again and hit his nose, making his eyes instantly water, and he let go of her arm. She turned and aimed a knee for his crotch, but he shifted, and she struck his thigh.
A blow to her nose made her drop to her knees. Agony erupted in her head, and she fought to open her eyes as burning tears streamed and mixed with the blood flowing from the injury. Blinded, she heard him circle behind her, and a boot to her back knocked her to the ground.
She was facedown, his knee on her spine, and then he wrestled her arms behind her back, ripping off her gloves. The clicks of handcuffs shocked her. “You carry cuffs?” she said, spitting the blood that had drained into her mouth.
“Always,” he grunted. He hauled her up by one arm, and she felt as if it would tear out of the socket. Spinning her around to face him, he eyed the blood on her face with distaste. “Shit.” Keeping eye contact, he picked up her gloves and used them to wipe off the blood.
Stars exploded in her vision when he touched her nose, and she reared her head back, the pain making her thighs shake.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Sorry”? Seriously?
“Was that necessary?” she asked. A metallic flavor covered her tongue, and blood flowed down the back of her throat.
“I believe you started it,” he answered, intent on getting rid of the blood on her face.
“No, you fucking started it. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to grab a woman? Especially from behind?” Anger pulsed through her muscles.
“Pete wants to see you.”
Mercy’s heart dropped.
“Why?” she managed, struggling to keep her voice calm.
“Dunno.” Sean wouldn’t look her in the eye. He finished cleaning her face but didn’t look satisfied with the results. Blood still oozed from the right nostril, and she couldn’t breathe through her nose.
He took a firm hold on her arm and jerked, making her stumble, leading her away from the vehicles. Mercy had a feeling her undercover assignment was over.
They know.
Sean didn’t say a word as he escorted her through the compound. People stared. Actually, the men stopped and stared. The women looked and then quickly averted their gazes. Sweat beaded on the back of Mercy’s neck, and her pulse raced.
She felt as if she was marching to her execution.
Maybe I am.
Chad was gone. She was on her own.
The plastic bricks she’d seen in the second van flashed in her memory.
Explosives.
What will they blow up?
She fought to clear her head. Panic was of no use. Focus. She tripped on the first step at the command center and would have landed on her face if Sean hadn’t kept a death grip on her arm. He opened the door and thrust her through. Stumbling, she caught her balance and found the other three lieutenants, Vera, and Beckett in the room outside Pete’s office. The eyes of all five judged her. Mercy automatically looked to Vera, hoping for a break in the woman’s tough shell. Vera’s expression was stone. Mercy would find no ally there.
As if I didn’t know that.
“He’s waiting for her,” Beckett rumbled. The large man’s arms were crossed on his chest, anger blazing from his icy eyes.
Vera opened Pete’s door and stepped back, condemnation radiating from every pore. Sean pushed her forward into the room, where Pete sat on the edge of his desk, facing her. Judge and jury.
The door shut, and she glanced back. Sean had left.
She was alone with Pete.
“What happened to your nose?” Pete asked.
“It met Sean’s fist.” Mercy kept her expression neutral. Pete was doing the same.
“I didn’t order that.”
“Did you order the cuffs?”
“No.” A brow lifted. “I take it you didn’t come willingly?”
“Sean scared me. He silently came up from behind and grabbed my arm. My instincts kicked in, and I fought back.” She tipped her head toward him, her gaze earnest. “With Chad gone, I’m on edge. I’ve never lived in a place where I’m completely surrounded by men I don’t know.”
“My men wouldn’t do anything.”
Mercy said nothing.
“I don’t allow it,” he emphasized.
“You can’t police them every second,” she said softly.
“This wasn’t how this interview was supposed to start, Agent Kilpatrick.”
A shrill noise erupted inside her head.
The sound of terror.
The room spun, and she felt as if she were falling, but her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Her hands turned to ice as sweat dampened her neck and lower back.
He knows who I am.
“What does the FBI know about us?” he asked calmly. “What information have you passed on?” He pushed off the edge of his desk and slowly paced around her. “How are you communicating?”
Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she could barely hear his words over the clamor in her skull. He stopped directly behind her, and his breath moved her hair along her jaw, making her skin crawl. She briefly closed her eyes, fighting a shudder. He’s too close.
“I don’t know why you’re even here,” he said quietly into her ear. “I thought the ATF was monitoring us. There’d been no mention of the FBI. Until now.”
How did he find out who I am?
She stood silent. He continued his walk and stopped two feet away in front of her, his eyes staring daggers into hers.
“Once I knew your name, you were easy to research online.” He smiled, keeping his focus steady. “How’s the leg? Your shooting was all over the web earlier in the year.”
Her healed thigh twinged in response.
“Digging a little deeper gave me insights into your world. A niece . . . a fiancé . . .”
Blackness swamped her peripheral vision, and the office faded away. Anger replaced her terror, and all her senses homed in on Pete’s face.
If he touches my family . . .
The cuffs bit into her wrists as her hands strained to get loose.
“I like to know about the families of my people. Information is power.” He tilted his head to one side, reminding her of a bird. “A little whisper here and a quiet word there. My men perform best when reminded that no one is outside of my influence. I may sit up here in these hills, but my reach has no limits.”
He waited for her to speak. Mercy counted her breaths, trying to slow her racing lungs and heart. Her priority at this moment was to stay alive. Pete wanted information. He wouldn’t kill her until he had it.
“The government has no business spying on its people. This country was built on freedom. Our leaders seek ways to quash and keep us silent while they stomp on our rights.” He stepped back and sat on the edge of his desk again, his arms crossed, his eyes hard. “We have the right to bear arms, but the government can’t keep their noses out of it. Their weapons data collecting process is illegal.” He snorted. “The ATF doesn’t follow its own rules, which say they are to eliminate certain identifying information from some weapons sales after a set time
period.” He paused. “Guess who is hoarding information on gun owners when they’re not supposed to? It’s up to us to destroy their illegal record keeping if they won’t do it themselves. Those records belong to the people, not the government.”
Mercy tried to keep up with his twisted logic, wondering where he believed these illegal records were being kept. Records weren’t solely stored in file cabinets in a back room anymore; most records had digital backups.
What did he plan to destroy?
Was that the purpose of the explosives in the van?
“You agents of Babylon try to suppress us when all we want is to be left alone.”
Agents of what?
“We are peaceful. We can govern ourselves. We deserve our own place to live in the US apart from the rest of you. It’s not out of line to demand such a place. Even Martin Luther King Jr. suggested a separate nation for the colored.”
Racist and wrong.
She swallowed and spoke up. “King supported an integrated community. You’re thinking of Malcolm X.”
His face flushed red, and fury lit his eyes. Fear ignited all her nerves.
Why did I open my mouth?
“Cunt.” He stepped aside and swung a steel-toed boot at the edge of her left kneecap.
Pain radiated through her body and exploded in her brain like a firework. She collapsed to the floor, blind from the tears. She rolled onto her right side as an inferno raged in her leg.
“Racist asshole,” she managed to say between clenched teeth.
The steel toe connected with her stomach.
She couldn’t breathe, her diaphragm refusing to function.
The door swung open behind her.
“Lock her up,” ordered Pete. “She won’t need rations.”
TWENTY-ONE
Truman entered the medical examiner’s office the morning after the discovery, ready to observe the newest John Doe’s autopsy. He had a body to identify.
After interviewing Gerry Norris’s girlfriend, Kim Fuller, Truman and Bolton had driven to the friend’s home where Norris had been dropped off the night before. A bleary-eyed Norris answered the door. He wasn’t dead; he was just pissed at his girlfriend.
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