Ben sighed. He hated to bug Truman, but his wife was hounding him to get next Saturday off. Samuel had offered to switch shifts with him, but all changes had to be okayed by Truman. Ben’s wife wanted to buy tickets for some play in Bend, and she needed to know today if Ben could get the evening off.
He wouldn’t mind missing the play. He always fell asleep.
“No answer,” said Lucas. “I’ll try the radio.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Ben hedged, hating to put Lucas out.
“He should have told me where he was going next,” Lucas pointed out, a slightly miffed tone in his voice. “He’s not picking up his radio either.”
“I’ll head over to the lumberyard,” said Ben. “Maybe Nick knows where he went next. Back in a bit.” Ben grabbed his cowboy hat and headed outside, thankful the rain had stopped.
Ten minutes later he parked at the lumberyard and strode to the front door. Truman’s Tahoe wasn’t in the lot.
“Hey, Ben,” Nick said from behind the counter, his face lighting up with a smile as Ben entered. The tall man leaned on his forearms, writing up something in a ledger.
Ben wiped his boots on the mat, and Belle peeked around the side of the counter, her black ears pointed in Ben’s direction. “I’m looking for Truman.”
Nick’s face cleared. “He left hours ago. He was only here for about ten minutes.”
“What did he talk to you about?”
The man’s shoulders slumped. “He told me Clint Moody is missing and blood was left behind.”
“Yeah, that happened last night. We’re keeping an eye out for his truck.”
“Truman asked me if he got along with his brother.” A questioning gaze met Ben’s.
“Well . . . now . . .” Ben understood what Nick was asking. The possibility that one brother had caused the disappearance of the other didn’t sit well with Ben, and he could see Nick felt the same. “He’s missing. Coulda took off for an impromptu trip. Maybe he got in an argument with his brother so he didn’t tell him he was leaving.”
“Maybe.” Nick didn’t look convinced. “I had the impression Truman was headed back to the station when he left, but he turned the wrong way out of the parking lot.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll hunt him down.”
“Don’t you have GPS tracking on your department vehicles?”
“We’ve looked into it. Too spendy.”
“Hmph. Maybe it’s time to consider it again so you’re not wasting time looking for one another.”
“I’ll bring it up. See you around.” Ben headed back to his vehicle. As he pulled into the street, he turned in the direction Nick had mentioned. If Truman had been going back to the department or back to the Moody home he would have gone the other way. In this direction the most logical location was Truman’s home.
I bet he’s home sound asleep.
Ben knew the last two nights had been long ones for the police chief. He relaxed as he headed toward Truman’s, confident he’d find the boss sacked out on his couch.
Truman’s vehicle wasn’t in the driveway. Ben knew he occasionally parked in the garage, so he parked at the curb and headed up the driveway to take a look in the garage door windows before ringing the doorbell.
“Meeeoooow!”
Simon glared at him from the window next to the front door. Ben grinned and waved at the indignant cat before he peeked in the skinny horizontal windows in the garage doors.
No Tahoe.
Ben frowned. The cat expressed her displeasure again, and Ben decided to ring the doorbell.
He waited.
Simon continued to complain through the glass to him, and Ben rang the doorbell again. Of course he’s not here. There’s no vehicle. He slowly walked away, half expecting Truman to sleepily open the door as he left.
No luck.
Where to next? Ryan Moody’s house?
Ben stopped, his boot in the air, his gaze locked on blotches on the driveway.
Blood.
The biggest spot was still wet in the center. Ben studied the entire driveway. The blood was on the side closest to the house. Where Truman’s driver’s door would have opened.
Maybe he hit a dog in his driveway and drove it to the vet.
His heart pounding, Ben went to his car, popped the trunk, and found his blood-testing kit. His hands shook as he slipped on gloves and opened the small box. He studied the directions. He hadn’t used this type of kit in years, but he knew it would tell him if the blood was human.
Squatting next to the biggest stain, he dipped the kit’s long Q-tip into the blood. He broke the seal on a small container of liquid and stuck the wet end of the Q-tip in and stirred, letting the blood mix with the liquid. He put the lid back on and shook the tiny container. He set it down and ripped open a small envelope from the box, then shook out a white plastic stick with two windows on the flattest side.
He removed the lid of the container of the blood mixture and dripped three drops into the smaller round window on the stick.
He held his breath as he watched it soak up the stick toward the other opening. If one line showed in the second window, it meant the test was working. If two lines showed, it meant the blood was human.
Two lines appeared, and Ben nearly dropped the test.
Shit.
I need to call Lucas.
“That’s great about confirming the Hartlage parents,” Jeff told Mercy late that afternoon as they met in his office. “What else do you have?”
He always wants more.
Eddie sat beside her in front of Jeff’s desk, listening to her recap of the latest developments. She missed working with Eddie, but he was up to his neck in another case.
Mercy shared Dr. Peres’s theory about the Asian skull.
Jeff’s brows shot up. “I’ve heard people buy stuff like that. I consider it to be in the same class with serial killer memorabilia.”
“What is wrong with people?” asked Eddie.
“Everyone has their little secrets and obsessions,” said Jeff. Mercy caught him looking at her and immediately studied her notes.
Does he know the true reason I have my cabin?
“Chuck Winslow published an article that outed Britta Vale,” Mercy added. “Now she’s being harassed online.”
“I repeat,” said Eddie. “What is wrong with people?” He shifted in his seat, a black glare in his eyes.
“Is she safe?” Jeff asked.
“I think so. She said someone would have to dig deep to figure out where she lives. I can’t imagine anyone would go to that effort. It’s much easier to sit at a keyboard and vent, but she did have a prowler the other night. She found footprints outside her home, and her dog went ballistic.”
“Before or after the article?” Eddie asked.
“Before.”
“Probably not related, then,” Jeff said. “But she does need to take precautions living in the remote place that she does.”
“She’s very cautious,” asserted Mercy, remembering the rifle during their first visit.
“What are your next steps?” asked Jeff.
“I need to interview Don Baldwin, Grady Baldwin’s brother—who, by the way, has been keeping tabs on Britta for Grady for the last twenty years.”
“Could he be her prowler?” Eddie suggested.
“I wouldn’t rule it out.” She looked at the list in her hand. “I’d like to talk with Britta again. I feel like she’s holding something back, but I don’t know what. She’s reached out to me twice now, so I think she’s starting to trust me.”
“That’s the old cases—the solved cases,” Jeff reminded her. “What are you doing on the new?”
“I’m waiting for some evidence on the Jorgensen case. And I want to talk with Janet Norris again. I told you she was Maria Verbeek’s friend, right?”
Jeff nodded. “That’s a coincidence I don’t like.”
“Me neither.” Mercy went back to her list. “The investment firm Ray Jorgensen worked for had some
legal issues not too long ago. I want to look into those and the neighbor’s statement that Sharla Jorgensen asked questions about getting a divorce. Back to the Hartlage family, I keep stumbling over one aspect of their case—I can’t figure out the brother-in-law’s name. I know Corrine’s maiden name was Palmer, but for the life of me I can’t find his name or someone who knows him.”
“No other relatives?” asked Eddie.
“I found Richard’s uncle, who didn’t know anything about Corrine’s family. Darby has been digging, and she’s stumped too.”
“Maybe he wasn’t a brother-in-law,” suggested Jeff.
Mercy blinked.
I was so hung up on one aspect, I didn’t consider any others.
“I didn’t think of that!” Mercy wanted to bang her head on Jeff’s desk. Case tunnel vision.
“Who originally told you the other man was Corrine’s brother?”
“Kenneth Forbes. The neighbor said that was what Richard told him. I’ve been operating on hearsay.” She closed her eyes and tipped back her head. “Stupid. Stupid. But I still haven’t come across anything that indicates who he is.”
“What about his mail in the house?” Eddie asked.
“None. And there’s no mailbox at the home, so they must get their mail at the post office. I suppose if mail is no longer picked up, they return to the sender? I’ll check.”
“Good—”
The office door opened. “Mercy?” Melissa, the office manager, interrupted, worried lines creasing her forehead. “You’ve got a call. He seems very insistent.”
“Who?” Mercy glanced at Jeff, embarrassed that their meeting had been disturbed.
“One of Truman’s men. Ben Cooley.”
Mercy checked her silenced phone, and alarm shot through her. She had four missed calls from the Eagle’s Nest Police Department. “Something’s up, Jeff. Can I take a minute?”
“Is there anything else we need to cover?”
“Not really.”
“Then we’re done. Tell Ben hello from me.”
Mercy darted to her office and picked up the call, not bothering to sit down. “Ben?”
“Sorry to bug you at work, Mercy. Have you talked to Truman today?”
“No. He texted me early this morning, but I’ve been on the go all day.” She tightened her grip on the phone. “What happened?”
“Well, we don’t rightly know,” Ben said slowly, reluctance in his voice.
“What do you know?” she asked firmly. Get to it, Ben!
“No one’s heard or seen him since around nine this morning. He even missed an interview he’d scheduled for this morning. That’s not like him. I’ve followed his steps best I could, but I hit a dead end.”
“It’s nearly four o’clock.” Mercy forced her lungs to work properly. “How can you just be calling me now? I would think I’d be one of your first calls.”
Ben was silent on his end.
“Ben? What happened?”
“We wanted to check all possibilities first because we didn’t want you worried.”
“Well, now I’m definitely worried. What possibilities?” She wanted to reach through the line and shake the older man to get him to talk faster.
“I found human blood in his driveway on the driver’s side next to where he usually parks. It was fresh.”
Mercy leaned on one hand on the desk, dizziness threatening. Her tongue stopped functioning and her mouth went bone-dry.
“His phone is going straight to voice mail,” Ben continued. “His wireless carrier says his last location was his home. We checked the hospitals and clinics before calling you. We’ve put out a BOLO on his vehicle, and all the guys have clocked in to do patrols, looking for his Tahoe. We’ll find him,” he said in a caring tone.
Blood?
“His SUV is missing?” she whispered.
“Yes. He couldn’t have been too hurt if he managed to drive away.”
If he was the one driving.
“I’ll be there in forty minutes.” She ended the call. Sweat had bloomed under her arms and dampened her lower back. This wasn’t like Truman. Panic exploded in her head and chest, making her legs shake. She shut it down. Panic doesn’t help anyone.
“I have to go,” she said out loud to her empty office.
Her brain shifted into get-shit-done mode.
I’ll tell Jeff I’m leaving for the day and then follow up on Truman’s recent calls.
Hold tight, Truman.
She refused to consider that it might be too late.
TWENTY-FOUR
The stress and concern in the Eagle’s Nest Police Department were palpable.
When Mercy had stepped through the door, the four men inside had turned toward her as one.
Royce Gibson had immediately hugged her, and the young cop had whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” as his voice cracked.
Ben Cooley patted her on the back, a grandfatherly look on his face that made her want to curl up in his lap and hide.
Samuel was his usual resolute self, standing strong, his arms crossed on his chest, determination filling his gaze. No hugs; that wasn’t his style. Lucas was working the phone and held up a hand to her as he spoke into his headset.
This is Truman’s family.
She’d locked her emotions behind a tiny door deep in her mind during the drive to Eagle’s Nest, but being among these concerned men who loved their boss nearly broke that door down. Her eyes burned, and she struggled to stay in control.
“We’ve got county and state on board. County offered a detective, and he should be here soon,” Samuel stated. His tone told her the experienced cop had taken the lead among the men. “All their patrols are keeping an eye out for Truman’s vehicle. I suspect he went off the road.” The other men looked to him and nodded hopefully. “We’ve all been driving the roads for a few hours, and we’ll get back out there, but we wanted to be here when you arrived.”
Samuel’s face blurred in her vision.
“Thank you,” she choked out. “You guys are too kind.”
Lucas got up from his desk. The young man slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. It was like being hugged by a huge bodybuilder. Lucas planted a kiss on her temple. “The two of you matter to us,” he said hoarsely. “He’ll turn up.”
She wouldn’t lose hope.
And she refused to think about her last discussion with Truman. When she learned she’d disappointed him by forgetting to include him in the cabin decisions.
I’m so sorry, Truman.
“I want to see the scene.” Mercy felt as if she could verify Truman’s blood by looking at it. He’s a physical part of me.
Stupid thought.
“How about photos?” Ben suggested.
“To start with,” she said reluctantly, wondering if the men were protecting her from seeing something. “Did you go in his house?”
“I did,” said Ben. “Everything looks perfectly normal—no blood inside. No evidence that he hurt himself in the house or cleaned up a cut in the sinks or shower. His cat was acting weird, though . . . it was like she knew something was up. I fed her.”
She followed Ben to a computer screen. The photos were already up. She studied each one. Ben was right. The blood was on the driver’s side of where Truman usually parked. She zoomed in on the largest pool of blood, taking heart because it wasn’t big enough to indicate someone had bled out. In fact, if the spots had fully dried, no one would have noticed them unless they specifically looked.
She focused on the big spot, her mind probing for Truman as if she could mentally speak with him.
Truman?
No one answered.
I’d know deep inside if something horrible had happened, right?
“What’s he worked on in the last twenty-four hours?” she asked, keeping her thoughts from spinning off into drain-circling pessimism. Focus.
“Last night he and I responded to a missing persons case,” Samuel told her. �
�Clint Moody, age twenty-eight. His brother found blood in his bed and couldn’t locate Clint or his vehicle. He’s still missing.”
Mercy stared at him, her heart sinking. “Like Truman? Blood left behind and a missing vehicle?”
Samuel scowled. “There are similarities. Truman had told me he’d originally wondered if Clint’s case was related to yours. He said the patterning of the blood left behind in the bedroom resembled your cases. But this wasn’t a family, no body was left behind . . . and the vehicle was missing.”
“Truman didn’t tell me about that case.” He didn’t have a chance to.
“Ryan Moody, Clint’s brother, came in this morning. Said Truman had set up the time to talk to him about his brother,” added Lucas. “He waited around awhile and I finally told him I’d have Truman call to reschedule.”
“How was Ryan?” Samuel asked. “He was a mess last night.”
“He said he didn’t sleep at all last night. His eyes looked like it.”
“Did you contact Truman to tell him Ryan was waiting?” Mercy asked.
“I shot him a text and then forgot about it,” said Lucas. “I checked it later and it didn’t indicate it’d been read.”
Same with my texts to Truman. “What time did you text him?”
“Nine-oh-seven.”
“His phone was probably off by then.”
“We checked with our wireless provider. Truman hasn’t used his phone at all today.”
That’s not good.
Mercy sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s start a timeline.” Ben nodded and headed to the back of the building. He returned a minute later with a large whiteboard and marker.
“What else has he handled? What did he do today?” Mercy asked, looking from man to man.
“He was here by seven,” Lucas told her. “He was in his office most of the morning and then said he was going to talk to Nick Walker at the lumberyard. He left around eight thirty.”
“I talked to Nick,” said Ben. “He said Truman wasn’t there more than ten minutes.” Ben made notes on the board.
“What time was he supposed to talk with Ryan Moody?” she asked Lucas.
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