Fatal Frost

by Nancy Mehl

  Tally looked down at his hands. “That’s not fair. You need to hear us out first. Then if you think I’ve betrayed you—I can live with that.”

  Mercy turned to Mark. “And you’re supposed to be my partner on this assignment. Partners have to support each other. If you can’t do that, you shouldn’t have agreed to work with me.” A sudden shadow crossed her face. “Does Batterson know? I mean, is he in on this?”

  Mark took a deep breath. “Yes. It was his idea.”

  Mercy opened her mouth slowly, but then closed it. “Why keep me in the dark?” she asked.

  Mark could hear the hurt in her voice. “Because there’s a mole,” he said. “We don’t know who it is, and we couldn’t take any chances.”

  “Surely, you don’t think it’s me?”

  “No,” Mark said emphatically. “No, I don’t.”

  “But the chief does?”

  Mark wanted to deny her suspicion, but he’d lied to her enough. Yet even though he didn’t respond, it was clear Mercy wasn’t fooled by his silence. Her wounded expression changed to stone. Mark had seen that look many times. It meant her defenses were up. The knowledge cut him to the quick, but he didn’t have time to worry about her feelings. He had to make certain this operation was successful. Or at least looked like it was.

  “Everything appears secure out there,” Mark said, turning his attention to Jess and Tally. “I couldn’t find signs of anyone near the house. No footprints. Nothing. For now, we seem to be all right. But it might not last long. They were very determined to get to us once we were isolated. We have to assume that plan hasn’t changed.”

  “Seems to me the only way they could approach us is from the hill across the road.” Jess gestured toward the front of the house. “The field behind the house is too exposed. They’d never come that way.”

  “Let’s eat now, and then we’ll set up surveillance. We can take turns.” Mark absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair. “Even though you don’t think we’re vulnerable from behind, let’s check the back of the house every so often. I’ve learned not to assume anything in this job.”

  “Don’t you think one of us should be on the lookout now?” Tally asked.

  “One of us can keep an eye out from inside while we eat. We won’t take long. Right now I think our priority is to talk to Mercy. We can’t move forward until we’re all on board.”

  Tally grunted. “Hard to proceed with anything in the middle of a winter ice storm.” He nodded at Jess. “I don’t suppose you have any idea when we can get a signal out?”

  Jess shrugged. “Not a clue. This storm turned into a monster before any of us had the chance to plan for it.”

  “Where are the people who own this house?” Mercy asked.

  “They’re friends of Batterson,” Mark said. “Snowbirds who go to Arizona every winter. They told him we could use their house—so long as he fixes any damage.” Mark cocked his head toward the front door. “The chief won’t be happy about that.”

  “Not our fault,” Tally said.

  “You don’t know our chief the way we do,” Mark said, making a slicing motion with his finger across his neck.

  Jess stood to his feet and smiled at Mercy. “I may be a fake witness, but I can prepare food from a can. Give me a few minutes to heat up the chili.”

  Tally got up too. “I’ll do a quick check out back since Mark covered the front pretty well. Then I’ll come back and see what we’ve got to drink besides coffee.”

  Once Tally had left, Mark got up from his chair and sat down on the edge of the coffee table so he’d be close to Mercy. “Look, if it was me, I’d be angry too,” he said, keeping his voice down. “I want you to know that keeping you in the dark wasn’t my idea. I told Batterson it was the wrong move, but he wouldn’t listen. The shrink you’ve been talking to told him you were still fragile. Batterson translated that as weak.”

  Mercy’s lips thinned. A sure sign she was angry. “I’ve worked for the chief for two years,” she spit out. “He should know me better than that.”

  “He has a lot of deputies, and he’s under pressure right now too.”

  Mercy got up and went over to the fireplace. The fire had died down so she added a few logs and stirred the embers with a poker. Within a couple of minutes the fire was blazing strong again. When she turned around, her expression was unreadable.

  “We’re stuck here, so there’s nothing I can do about it right now,” she said. “But if you think I’m going to just let this go, you’re crazy. When we get back, I’m handing in my resignation. I’m sure the St. Louis PD will be happy to take me back. No one there ever treated me like a child.”

  “You should work wherever you want, but leaving the Marshals because your feelings are hurt is childish. It’s not the reason to make such an important decision.”

  “My feelings aren’t hurt. I hate being treated like some kid who has to be taken care of. And whether I stay with the Marshals or leave—that’s not for you to decide.”

  “I know that, and I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just reminding you that losing your temper isn’t the mature way to choose your career path.”

  She stared at him without comment. Mark finally glanced away. He’d never been able to stand up under her withering gaze. When she was like this, it was best to back off. She reminded him of an animal whose pupils dilated before it attacked. It wasn’t that Mercy intimidated him, but once she made up her mind there usually wasn’t any way to get her to listen to reason. It was one of her greatest weaknesses—yet he’d also watched her use it as a tremendous strength. When she was face-to-face with danger, she wouldn’t back down. That’s why he was so surprised when he learned she’d been shot by a frightened gangbanger. How had he managed to get one shot off, let alone two? Was she in trouble? Could the department shrink be right? She’d shouldered a lot of responsibility in her short life. Had she finally had too much? If she needed help, she’d never tell anyone. Especially him. It had taken time for him to make it past the carefully constructed walls she’d built around her heart, and then he betrayed her. Well, that’s how she saw it anyway. And once you let Mercy down, there were no second chances. He’d lost her trust. Now all he could do was try to keep her alive.

  He rose and walked toward the front of the house. He doubted they were in any real danger—yet. The problem they faced now was getting to safety before their adversaries were able to get through to them. Being unable to call anyone for help made them perfect targets.

  “See anything?”

  Mercy had come up behind him and was looking out one of the house’s large windows.

  “No, nothing. I could be wrong, but I think we’ll have more to worry about when the weather starts to improve.”

  “You had no right to put me and Tally in danger.”

  He turned to look into her eyes. “It’s just the opposite, Mercy. I’m trying to protect you. I . . .”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Jess’s voice rang out. “The chili’s ready.”

  Dropping their conversation for now, Mercy and Mark joined Jess and Tally in the kitchen.

  “Everything looks secure,” Tally said. “I’ll check again in a little while.”

  “Thanks,” Mark said. There was a table near the doors that led to the back deck. As Mark sat down, he stared out the window. Thanks to the lights below the deck that Jess had turned on, and the light from the barn, they could see most of the backyard. It confirmed his belief that any threat would probably come from another direction.

  “Are there horses in the barn?” he asked Jess.

  “Nah. They’re moved somewhere else every time the owners leave for Arizona. I checked it out when I first got here. There’s nothing in there. Some feed, supplies for the horses, hay . . . not much else.”

  “Is it locked?”

  Jess nodded. “I thought of that first thing. I made sure it was bolted and completely secure. I also nailed the windows shut. There were only two small ones, but I d
idn’t want to take any chances. We don’t need anyone hiding out there. That’s why I turned on the light inside. I’m not saying it’s as safe as I’d like it to be, but it’s almost impossible for anyone to break in without our seeing them or hearing something.”

  “Good.”

  Jess brought four bowls of chili to the table, along with diced onions, shredded cheese, and sour cream. Then he took out a bag of corn chips from one of the cabinets. “That should do it.”

  Tally pointed at their glasses. “It’s instant tea. I hope that’s okay. If you’d rather have water . . .”

  “It’s fine, Tally,” Mark said. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After adding onions, cheese, and corn chips, Mark took a big bite of chili. Surprisingly it was delicious. The four of them ate in silence for a few minutes until Mark put his spoon down, making it clatter on the side of the bowl.

  “Go ahead and eat,” he told them. “I’m just going to talk for a while.” He looked at Mercy. “What I’m going to tell you will be hard to hear,” he said, “but you need to know the truth. Your life is at stake, Mercy.” He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. When he was ready, he peered deeply into her eyes, hoping to convey how serious the situation was. “The first thing I have to tell you is that your father wasn’t shot by a random criminal. He died because he was targeted by one of the most powerful drug cartels in this country. He was murdered, Mercy. And now the cartel is after you.”

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  “What are you talking about?” Mercy couldn’t comprehend Mark’s words. Her father was killed during a dispute between two gangs. It was true the shooter had gotten away, but there was a witness. Someone who saw the whole thing unfold.

  As if reading her mind, Mark said, “We’re certain the so-called witness to your father’s shooting was actually involved in the plot to kill him.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Mark hesitated a moment, and Mercy could tell there was still something he was holding back.

  “No more lies,” Mercy said, trying to rein in her temper. “All of it. Now.”

  Mark looked at Tally, who slowly nodded at him. For some reason that made Mercy even angrier. She didn’t like being out of the loop. It made her feel insecure.

  “He was badly beaten before he was shot, Mercy. We kept that from you because . . . well, because we thought it was best.”

  “Thought it was best?” she repeated, each word sharp and emphatic. “He was my father. You had no right—”

  “Mercy, Mark is telling you the truth,” Tally said, interrupting her. He shook his head. “This isn’t coming out right.” He turned to Mark. “Start at the beginning. It’s the only way it will make any sense.”

  “All right.” Mark took a deep breath and pushed his chair back. Mercy could tell he was nervous, and Mark was rarely nervous. Her stomach was tied up in knots. She felt betrayed by the people she trusted most, and now her suspicions were working overtime.

  “Everything started not long after your father came to town,” Mark said, pronouncing each word carefully, as if every single syllable was invaluable. “As you know, he transferred from Virginia to St. Louis to be closer to you.”

  “So he said,” Mercy shot back. “Let’s leave my father’s so-called good intentions out of this, okay?”

  Mark frowned at her. “I’m not sure I can, but I’ll try.”

  “You need to cut Mark some slack, Mercy,” Tally said. “This situation had nothing to do with him. He was just following orders.”

  Mercy considered Tally’s admonition. Maybe she was being unfair. She nodded at Mark, encouraging him to continue.

  Mark rubbed his eyes before speaking. He was obviously tired. “Your dad worked with gangs in Virginia, so he was assigned to the gang unit in St. Louis. Since the gangs didn’t know him, he was used in several undercover operations, alongside an undercover operative named Jose Alvarez. Your father’s number one contact was Darius Johnson.”

  Mercy grunted. “Johnson again. You’d think he was the only gang leader in St. Louis. It’s like no other threat ever existed in the city except for this punk.”

  “It wasn’t just his connection with the gangs,” Jess said. “Johnson hooked up with Angel Vargas, the head of the Vargas cartel out of Mexico.”

  “The Vargas cartel is one of the most dangerous groups in this country,” Mercy said. “Why would they mess with Johnson? They didn’t need him.”

  “Except they did,” Mark said. “The cartel’s been moving heroin and other drugs into the city. Vargas came up with a plan to weaken law enforcement in St. Louis—and across the country. A way to take over major cities with heroin. They stand to make a financial killing.”

  “How?”

  Jess got up and came over to her. He pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. “Vargas has deep, deep pockets, Mercy,” he said, “but he has to have someone inside the gangs. Inside St. Louis. Darius Johnson was made to order. Before he died, he was the most powerful gang leader around—and he could give Vargas what he needed.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Jess looked over at Mark, and he nodded. Jess reached down and picked up a laptop he’d brought into the room earlier. He put it on the counter and flipped it open. Then he opened a link to a video and clicked Play. The video showed someone wearing a blue windbreaker with the words U.S. MARSHAL stamped in yellow on the back. The deputy’s gun was drawn, and he approached a car pulled over to the side of the road. Although there wasn’t any sound, it was obvious the deputy ordered the driver to show his hands. When the driver obeyed, the deputy looked around as if scoping out the area. Then, without warning, and with the driver’s hands still visible, the deputy began firing shots into the car.

  “I don’t get it,” Mercy said. “His hands were empty. Is there someone else in the car?”

  “No one else in the car,” Jess said softly. “According to the video, the Marshal shot an unarmed man. This happened a couple of months ago. The man in the car was William Smith.”

  “William Smith? You mean Dumb Willie? A Marshal did that? I don’t believe it. Dumb Willie was a wasted drug addict. No threat to anyone.”

  “You need to look closer, Mercy,” Tally said. “Watch it again. Look to see if you recognize the shooter.”

  Mercy let out a quick breath of air, upset by what she’d seen. Mark came over and sat down on her other side while Jess started the video again. This time, when the Marshal turned toward the camera, Mercy leaned in and looked closely at the image on the screen. What she saw caused her to gasp. She looked at Mark, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “It . . . it’s me. But I didn’t . . . I’d never . . .”

  Mark reached over and held her arm as she swayed slightly. She felt as if all the blood had drained from her head.

  “It’s not you, Mercy,” Mark said. “That’s the point.” He turned her toward him, taking hold of her other arm and forcing her to look at him. “The Mexican drug cartels are rich. I mean, incredibly rich. We found out a while back that they’d decided to use any bad blood toward the police for their own benefit. They plan to hook up with the most influential gang leaders in an area, pay them to kill someone, and then they film certain law-enforcement officers. They have an expert who turns the videos into this.” He crooked his head toward the computer screen, still holding on to Mercy. “Is it perfect? Probably not. But all they have to do is release it to the news media. By the time anyone can prove this video isn’t the real thing, the neighborhood will have already exploded with violence, looting, burning—all the ingredients necessary to direct police away from drug deliveries coming into the area. Violence is rampant right now for a lot of reasons, but most of it is coming from gangs killing each other for their piece of the action. It’s only going to get worse when this plan swings into action. It’ll be a bloodbath.”

  “But why would they use me in a video? I don’t drive around the ne
ighborhoods. I don’t pull cars over. I’m not a cop anymore.”

  “They don’t care about that. They have a reason for everything they do.”

  She pulled away from Mark but kept her eyes focused on him. She knew him well enough to see that he was being honest with her, and it made her feel cold inside. This was real. Her entire future in law enforcement teetered on the edge of an abyss. If this video ever got out . . . well, she couldn’t even think about it. It was too awful.

  “Okay, I get that,” she said. “But again, why me?”

  “I have to bring up your dad again, Mercy,” Mark said gently. “Although his cover was never blown, as far as we know, he made himself appear invaluable to the gangs and the cartel. He got rid of evidence, warned them when the police were close by, and gave them information that would keep them one step ahead of authorities. Of course, this was all sanctioned by his superiors. His actions were part of their plan. And it seemed to work. The cartel grew to trust him. But Vargas was nervous, and he decided to make certain your dad would never turn on them. So they used you in a video and threatened your father with it.”

  Mercy shook her head, trying to understand what Mark was saying. “But why not put him in the video? Why would they think my dad would care what happened to me?”

  “Vargas only had the original cellphone video to work with, and your dad was out of town on assignment at the time this murder occurred. So they looked for someone they thought he would care about. That was you.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Believe me, Mercy, many more people will lose their lives just so the cartel can make these videos. Some of them will be people the gangs want to get rid of. Rival gang members, CIs, anyone who is expendable. Once the gangs record the shootings, all they have to do is turn them over to the cartel. They’ll do the rest. I hate to say it, but this plan will succeed. Evil and genius all at the same time. All law enforcement is at risk. No one’s safe.”

  “And they won’t just kill criminals to make these videos,” Jess added. “Our CI told us everyone is a target. An innocent person coming home from work or going to the store. Anyone who fits the right time frame and can evoke empathy from the community.”