She sped back toward her office, mentally going through Sandy’s interview and still feeling sad that her questioning might have ruined their friendship.
Tabitha is dead. Bree nearly was.
Mercy had been doing her job.
But damn, her female friends were few and far between.
She gave a short laugh that echoed in her Tahoe. Since when have I worried about maintaining friendships?
Sometime over the past few months, they’d become important. She’d planted roots. Roots that had replaced the ones she’d ripped out years ago.
My father ripped out those roots, not me.
That wasn’t completely true. She’d nursed her role as victim after her father had ousted her from the family. A little effort on her part might have repaired most of that break years ago.
Might have.
She pushed the what-if scenario out of her head. For years that type of thinking had dominated her spare time, and she wasn’t about to get caught up in it now.
Focus on the case.
She asked her vehicle to call Art Juergen. Listening to the phone ring, she refused to worry that she was stepping over a department line again.
If I have a question, I should be able to ask.
“Hello?”
“Art. It’s Mercy. You have a minute?”
“Always for you.”
“We found an odd notation in Tabitha Huff’s notes that I wanted to run by you.”
“Go for it.”
“Did you ever consider that the getaway driver was female?”
Silence filled her vehicle.
“Well . . . that’s an odd one, Mercy,” he said in a voice full of contemplation. “I can’t say we investigated that angle specifically, but we looked into every female associated with all the men. Relatives, girlfriends, coworkers. We always operated under the assumption that the driver was male because Shane Gamble told us it was a man. Didn’t have any reason to doubt him. I think he would have noticed if it was a woman.”
“What if he didn’t want you to know it was a woman?”
Art was silent again. “I guess it’s possible. But what would be the point? I don’t see what we would have done differently if we thought it was a woman. We questioned all the female connections while trying to locate the thieves.”
She thought about the pages and pages of information and interviews of the women who’d been investigated as the FBI searched for a lead on where the men had vanished with the money.
“That’s true,” she admitted. “But you’d have to see the page in her notebook. It’s hard to explain, but by the way she wrote it, I believe she was convinced the driver was female . . . and she had been in touch with Shane Gamble. I suspect he said something that made her go that route.” As she said the words out loud, she realized the basis for her theory was very weak.
One notation.
“Well, she might have found something to make her believe that . . . and maybe it’s true. Now what?”
“I’ve got two women I’m looking at,” Mercy told him. “You heard about the attack on Bree Ingram, correct?”
“Yes. She’s lucky that kid showed up when he did.”
“Tabitha talked to Bree the day before she was murdered, and she also spoke to the female owner of a B&B in town. Gamble told me he asked Tabitha to deliver a message to someone to be careful because the body of Ellis Mull had been found.”
“Are those the only people Tabitha spoke to?”
“Well, no, but since a safety warning had been sent and then Bree was attacked, it was worth following up.”
“What did you find out?”
“That Bree Ingram is nearly impossible to track before she got married nearly thirty years ago. The same is true for Sandy, the B&B owner. It’s almost as if both women didn’t exist.”
“You think they have new identities. And they got new identities because they were avoiding investigation for the robbery.”
“Sandy does have a new identity, but it’s only ten years old, and we know she did it to escape an abusive husband. It’s odd because these two are the closest of friends. I honestly don’t think they knew each other before Sandy moved here. Bree’s lived here at least thirty years, and Sandy lived in Portland with her husband.”
“Doesn’t rule it out.” A pencil scratched in the background as he took notes. He was taking her theory seriously.
“It doesn’t,” agreed Mercy. “Sandy was assaulted earlier today by her ex-husband. He had her at gunpoint, but she managed to turn the tables on him.”
“She hurt?”
“A few cuts and bruises. Sandy’s ex has a firm alibi for Bree’s attack. He didn’t attack Bree.”
“Still odd that two best friends suffered attacks so close together. They were tight?”
“Very,” said Mercy.
“Any new leads on who attacked Bree Ingram?”
“No hits on the fingerprints—”
Art laughed. “He left fingerprints?”
“Yeah, not the smartest guy. They’re expanding the search on the prints. The other lead is a red truck that was seen near Bree’s home at the time of the attack. The plate was stolen, so we’re narrowing it down by the make and model of the vehicle.”
“That sounds promising.” Enthusiasm rang in his voice. “Stolen plates. Someone was up to no good.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll go through my notes with your theory in mind about a female driver,” Art told her. “Can I check in with you later?”
“Yes, I’m headed back to the office right now. Leave me a message if I don’t answer.”
“Will do.”
The call ended.
Pleased Art hadn’t punched too many holes in her female-driver theory, Mercy placed a call to Evan Bolton. Think of all the time wasted in vehicles before hands-free conversations.
“Bolton.”
“Evan, it’s Mercy.”
“Hey. I was about to call you. So far we’ve only eliminated two of the six trucks in the area.”
“I’d hoped to hear a better number than that.”
“That makes two of us. I’ve sent deputies to four of the homes, but no one was home at two of them and no signs of the truck. I’m following up on employment locations, but we’ve got a marijuana bust situation south of here that’s gotten out of hand. That takes priority and a good number of the deputies.”
“Marijuana is legal now. Why are people still growing it on illegal farms?”
“Most of it is shipped out of state.”
“I see. How about you give me a couple of those addresses for the trucks and I’ll check them out?”
“You sure?”
“I am. It feels like our strongest lead to discover who attacked Bree Ingram—and hopefully will give us some insight on the Gamble-Helmet Heist.”
“That’s a long stretch.”
“I know. But it’s one I’m willing to check out. Email me the addresses. I have some work at the office, but I should get to them within an hour or two.”
“Will do.”
Mercy ended the call as she pulled into her office parking lot.
I’ve got a good feeling about that truck.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“You’re sure you don’t need a change of clothes?” Ollie asked Kaylie again.
She laughed, making his stomach twist in a pleasant way. “I never get wet.”
“But you believe I will?”
“Absolutely.”
Kaylie had talked him into paddleboarding this afternoon. He’d watched people float down the Deschutes River on the long boards, standing with tall paddles in their hands.
It looked easy.
He’d handled the equipment at Lake Ski and Sports, wondering what it would be like to stand on one. One of his personal goals was to try out a half dozen new activities that he’d learned about since working at the warehouse. The job had exposed him to a whole new world he hadn’t known existed. He’d also learned that sports and communing with
nature were expensive. Some of the price tags had blown him away, making him wonder who could afford to spend that sort of money on “fun.” Today he and Kaylie were going to rent boards near the Old Mill District.
Like hell he could afford his own board.
“Maybe we should have waited for a super-hot day. That water is going to be icy,” Ollie muttered as he pulled into the parking lot of the Bend FBI office.
“It will definitely be cooler out on the river,” Kaylie said. “I’m glad I wore yoga pants, but I should have brought a sweatshirt.” She eyed his cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirt. “You might need something more.”
“I don’t get cold.”
She gave him an odd look but didn’t say anything.
He parked at the Bend FBI office. Kaylie had one errand to run.
“You coming in?” Kaylie asked as she gathered up her day-old baked goods. She dropped off muffins and pastries at the Eagle’s Nest Police Department and Mercy’s FBI office on alternate days. Mercy grumbled when Kaylie brought in the sweets, but her coworkers were delighted.
“Nope. I’ll wait right here.” He had an odd fear of Melissa, the office manager. No one could be that perky and happy all the time.
“I’ll just be a minute. I’ll see if Mercy has a light jacket I can borrow.”
He rolled down the windows, turned up the music, and tapped his fingers as he waited. Kaylie had picked a good day for him to try paddleboarding. The sky was a brilliant blue, but he knew the river would be frigid from the Cascade snowmelt. He hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t get cold. Long before, out of necessity, he’d taught his mind to ignore it. But he had to admit it’d been nice to sleep in a real bed and under a solid roof for the last two months.
He was getting soft.
Kaylie had been gone for a full ten minutes, and he imagined her talking with Melissa. That was another thing he feared about Melissa. She could carry on a one-sided conversation for a half hour. It’d happened to him twice, and he still hadn’t come up with an escape technique for the next incident. He was better off staying out of the FBI office.
Kaylie finally reappeared, pushing open the heavy glass door of the office. She wore a lightweight white jacket that he frequently saw on Mercy. She tucked some of her long hair behind her ear as she walked toward him.
She stepped off the curb and stumbled. A loud crack filled the air, and her body folded in half as she collapsed.
Ollie stared, his mind scrambling to put the sound together with her abrupt drop.
She’s been shot.
He was out of his truck before his brain completed the thought. A faint voice in his head warned that he could be shot too, but he pushed it away, his gaze locked on Kaylie lying on the blacktop as he sprinted toward her.
Dropping to his knees, he turned her over, and his heart stopped at the sight of the blood on her stomach. Her green eyes were wide, and her hands pressed into her belly. “Ollie,” she whispered, terror in her gaze.
“You’re gonna be fine.” He ripped off his shirt, balled it up, and pressed it into her stomach, adjusting her hands to hold the bundle.
“Kaylie!” He’d know Mercy’s voice anywhere. She and an FBI employee with her hair in a long braid dropped next to him. Mercy elbowed him out of the way as she assessed her niece, keeping pressure with Ollie’s shirt. The other woman was on her phone. “What happened?” Mercy shouted at Ollie as her hands flew over her niece.
“I don’t know. I heard a gunshot and she went down.”
Mercy froze and scanned their surroundings, her gaze hard, ready to kill for her niece.
“Ambulance is on its way,” said the other woman.
“Darby, keep pushing on this,” Mercy ordered. She leaned closer to Kaylie, taking her face in both hands and staring into the girl’s wide eyes. “Stay with me, Kaylie. You’re going to be fine.”
“Hurts,” Kaylie whispered. “Am I going to die?” Her gaze flew from Mercy to Darby and then to Ollie.
I don’t know what to say. His tongue was as frozen as the rest of his body.
“Fuck no!” Mercy informed the trembling girl. “We’ll get you to the hospital.” She turned to Ollie, dug a remote out of her pocket, and pressed it into his shaking hand. “In the back of my Tahoe, there’s a medical kit . . . Dammit! I already used it!” Her face went white, and she struggled to speak. “I haven’t restocked. Get the bag anyway,” she finally said. “I’ll improvise.”
Ollie sprinted in the direction she pointed, recognizing her SUV. He clicked UNLOCK on the remote and flung open the rear hatch. He grabbed the medical bag and slammed the hatch closed, ignoring the bloody handprint he left on her vehicle. The sound of squealing tires made him halt and spin toward the noise. Trees blocked his view of the road, but he followed the sound of an engine as it sped away. A flash of silver was all he saw.
Someone’s in a hurry.
Sirens sounded in the distance. They need to know about that vehicle. He ran back to Mercy and dropped the bag next to her, and she immediately unzipped it. “The cops need to know a silver vehicle just sped away,” he told Darby. “I couldn’t see what it was, but it was definitely silver.”
“Hold this,” Darby ordered, and Ollie applied pressure on his balled-up shirt again. But now it was soaked, and more blood covered his hands.
Kaylie’s eyes closed, but she moaned, her lips pale.
Is she going to die?
He looked from Mercy to Darby, his heart in his throat, unable to ask the question out loud. Mercy had her head close to Kaylie’s, speaking rapidly, but Ollie couldn’t hear the words. Darby was on her phone again, her lips pressed together, her eyes grim.
They look terrified.
Not good.
I have to go with her.
“No, ma’am! I’m sorry, ma’am!” The EMT unclasped Mercy’s fingers from the handle of the ambulance door. “Meet us at the hospital. You can’t ride inside.”
Mercy barely heard him, her gaze locked on Kaylie through the small windows in the rear doors. Another EMT rapidly worked on her niece, ripping open sterile packets and injecting something into her IV.
She’s not going to make it.
Why didn’t I immediately restock my kit?
The EMT who had dislodged Mercy’s hands dashed for the driver’s door of the ambulance, and the vehicle sped away, lights flashing. As he pulled out of the parking lot, the sirens began to wail. Bend Police Department cars started to flood the parking lot, their lights flashing and their sirens drowning out the ambulance.
Don’t just stand here. She touched the pocket where she kept the remote to her Tahoe. Empty. “Ollie! Give me the key!” The teenager stared at her. His eyes were huge and his hands bloody. Smudges of blood marked his bare stomach, and his shirt was in a bloody heap on the ground where the EMTs had dumped it. He didn’t appear to have heard her.
“Ollie!” Mercy took three long steps and grabbed his arm. “Where’s my key?”
He jerked and ripped his arm away as if she’d cut him. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Hang on.” Darby put a hand on Mercy’s shoulder. “You’re not driving anywhere right now.”
Fury raged through her, and she spun toward Darby, knocking her hand away. “I need to get to the hospital!” Her vision blurred, and she angrily wiped away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Her lungs hurt, her brain throbbed, and her heart was shredded. “I need to go!”
“I’ll drive you,” said Darby. “Now calm the fuck down.”
Red clouded her gaze. “Do not tell me to calm down,” she said with deadly intent, feeling fire burn in her eyes.
Amazingly, Darby didn’t turn to ash. Instead she took a deep breath and held up her hands. “I know. I know.” She pointed across the lot. “Go wait at my car. I’ll be right there.” She ran back to the office.
Her heart pounding, Mercy watched her leave. She took several deep breaths and looked at the ground. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
Kaylie’s blood was everywhere. Pieces of packaging and red-stained gauze dotted the ground.
Something bad happened here.
I need to protect the scene.
I need to get to Kaylie.
Thinking clearly felt far beyond her grasp. She needed to do everything at once. More police cars arrived. Officers in dark uniforms streamed her way.
“Mercy.”
She barely heard Ollie’s whisper, but she saw him shiver in the warm air, bumps covering his bare skin. “Sit down,” she ordered, her brain snapping back online. She helped lower him to the ground and pushed his head between his knees.
“Is she going to die?” It was the voice of a seven-year-old.
“Of course not,” she told him. She wrapped her arms around the lost boy, rubbing her hands up and down his back to warm him. “She’s tough.”
“I know . . .” A huge shudder racked him.
Poor kid watched it happen.
“Ollie. You’re going to talk to the police. They need to know what you saw.” She lifted his head, making him look her in the eye. “Tell them about the car you saw too.”
Glancing behind her, she saw Darby dash back out of the office. “I need to go. I’ll call Truman on my way and have him meet you here, okay?”
He nodded, his eyes unseeing.
Ollie had filled out a lot in the two months he’d lived with Truman. He no longer looked three years younger than his eighteen years. But right now Mercy saw a terrified teenager who’d been alone for too long. The thought of leaving him to sit in a parking lot crime scene killed her.
“You did good, Ollie. That was quick thinking to get pressure on her stomach.”
“There was so much blood,” he whispered.
“The best thing you can do now is tell them what happened. We need to catch who did this.”
His chin lifted as cognizance entered his eyes. “I’ll kill him.”
The bleak tone stabbed deep in her chest. “Get in line,” she whispered.
She looked up as a patrol officer approached. Standing, she showed him her badge, handed him a business card, and pointed at Ollie. “There’s your witness. He saw the shooting and a car that sped away. The victim is on the way to the hospital, and I’m following. Tell your detective to call me when he gets here.” The officer had a few years on him and appeared competent. He nodded and immediately started to direct the other officers to protect the scene.
A Merciful Fate (Mercy Kilpatrick Book 5) Page 22