Trying not to limp, Mercy took a few steps to lean against a tree trunk. She’d swallowed all her Advil, ignoring the recommended dose. While going down a steep hill, she’d been terrified her leg would buckle under the strain, and Anna had given her a strange look as Mercy wiped heavy sweat from her forehead. No one else was visibly sweating.
At the break, Anna followed Mercy to the tree and removed a bottle of water from her pack. “What’s wrong with your leg?” Anna asked quietly between sips, her lips hidden behind her water bottle.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. I vouched for you to come. Am I going to regret it?”
“No,” Mercy said through clenched teeth. “I’m keeping up just fine.”
The woman studied Mercy, her green eyes doubtful. “What happened?” she asked again.
Do I tell her? “Gunshot. Two months ago.”
A small measure of respect replaced the doubt. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“I have to find him.”
Anna looked away, indecision flickering as she took in the men as they rehydrated and rested. “I should tell Lou right now.”
“Not until I collapse. Then you can say something.”
“What’s that sound?” asked one of the men.
Then Mercy heard it. An engine.
The sound wasn’t far off and seemed to be coming closer.
“That’s a quad,” said one of the officers.
“Pair up,” Lou ordered.
Mercy and Anna automatically stepped shoulder to shoulder as they drew their weapons, and Lou gestured for them to move ahead. The other pairs of cops were sent in the same direction, sweeping forward but several yards apart.
As they moved, Mercy could hear yelling far ahead. It sounded like cheering. Did someone else find them? An eagerness quickened her steps. The forest thinned, and Mercy spotted a small clearing with a group of giant boulders in the center. Three unknown men on quads were circling the boulders, cheering and yelling obscenities at the rocks. Mercy froze and caught her breath.
They must be Kenneth Forbes’s men.
Each rider had a rifle.
This isn’t good.
She and Anna stopped behind a large pine and looked to Lou. He gestured for them to sit tight. The three pairs of searchers all waited, watching the four-wheelers’ tires send mud flying into the air.
A dog darted out from between the boulders, barking at one of the quads. A thin figure burst out and leaped at the dog, caught it around the belly, and then hauled it back to the shelter of the rocks.
Was that the teenager and his dog?
Truman has to be there too.
Mercy tasted blood as she bit her tongue to keep from calling his name.
The four-wheelers came to a stop, each one on a different side of the huge boulder pile to pin down whoever hid in the rocks. The men dismounted. Mercy could see two of them from her angle. Both carried their rifles, casually aiming them toward the rocks.
“Come out, you little shit!” one yelled at the boulders. “If you don’t get out here now, I’ll shoot your dog first and make you watch as it slowly dies.” Laughter from the other two men filled the clearing. “If you do what I say, you can be shot first so you don’t have to watch.” Peals of laughter again.
“Send out the cop,” another one yelled.
Truman.
Joy and terror shot through Mercy, and she fought to keep her focus. Lou gestured for her and Anna to watch the first man who had spoken. One set of cops moved through the trees and around the clearing to cover the man Mercy couldn’t see. Lou and his partner had the third.
Lou’s suspect aimed his rifle at the rocks and fired twice.
Mercy’s heart stopped, and her fingers tightened on her gun. Did he hit Truman?
“Police! Put down your weapons and get on the ground!” shouted Lou.
Mercy’s man spun around, his rifle pointed at the ground, searching the trees for the location of the shout. She and Anna both had him in their sights, but waited to see if he’d follow orders.
Lou yelled again, his weapon aimed at his suspect. The shooter turned and fired in Lou’s direction.
Several gunshots sounded, and Lou’s suspect fell to the ground, blood flowing from his chest and neck.
At the same time, Mercy’s man threw his rifle to the side and dropped to his stomach in the mud, his hands protecting his head.
Thank God.
No other shots came, and the officers on the other side of the rocks announced that their man was in custody. Mercy and Anna slowly left the trees, their weapons trained on the man covering his head.
As they drew closer, Mercy’s suspect whipped out his hand and lurched for his weapon. Three fast steps put Mercy at his head, her gun pointed at his skull. “Just try it,” she said in a low voice, as anger raced through her. “Your buddy has several holes in his chest. Do you want some too?”
He slowly returned his hand to the back of his head.
Mercy covered Anna as she cuffed the man. Once he was secure, she exhaled and noticed Lou and his partner checking their suspect. Lou looked her way and shook his head. He was dead. She winced in sorrow for the suspect and for the officers who had fired.
Truman. “Truman?” she shouted at the rocks, her weapon trained on the rocky hiding place. I don’t know else who might be in there.
“Mercy?”
His voice lit up every nerve receptor in her body. He’s alive. Anticipation made the gun shake in her icy hands. “Are you hurt?” Her voice cracked as she took careful steps closer to the boulders, wanting to dash between them. “The three men out here are in custody. Are there any more in the area?”
“No, just us.” A familiar tall figure limped out from the rocks, and she lost her breath at the sight of him. His face was thin and covered with two weeks of beard. His clothing and hair were filthy, but he looked stunningly beautiful to her. She holstered her weapon and ran the rest of the way, flung herself at him, and nearly knocked him down, her thigh forgotten. The only thing that mattered was him.
Finally. I’m not letting go.
His arms went around her and he clung tightly, his beard soft against her cheek. And wet. He started to shake, and she moved him to a rock to sit on and nearly crawled in his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wept, burying his face against her. A moment later he pulled back and put his right hand on her face, eyeing her hungrily. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered over and over.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, moving her hands to hold his face. She couldn’t stare at him enough. His face felt foreign yet familiar to her fingertips as they learned the new contours of his sunken cheeks.
“I thought I was too,” he admitted. He moved his hand to her shoulder and frantically rubbed it up and down her arm, his gaze still locked on her face. “I didn’t think I’d ever touch you again.”
His eyes were red and wet, and he continued to quake under her fingers.
“You’re not moving your left arm,” she noticed.
“I think it’s broken.”
The pain he must have suffered.
“Is the rest of you okay?” She pulled back and assessed him.
“Everything is okay now.”
“No, seriously, Truman. Are you hurt somewhere else?”
“I think I had a concussion, and I know I had a fever for a while . . . I’m a bit banged up, but my arm is the worst of it.”
“We’ll get you to a hospital.” She stood, determined to carry him out if she had to, and nearly bumped into a young man directly behind her. A small hound sat next to his feet and showed Mercy its teeth. Anna stood a few yards behind the young man, her weapon holstered, but her hand ready as she kept a careful watch on the teenager.
“Mercy,” said Truman. “This is Ollie. He saved my life.” His voice wavered. “I would be dead if he hadn’t gotten me out.” He straightened his spine and sat up, his eyes widening. “Ollie knows where to find the guys who took me. T
hey are running a—”
“We know.” Mercy put a calming hand on his shoulder. “We’ve already arrested the three men back at the house. Joshua Forbes came in and told us where you might be. His father was one of the ringleaders.”
Truman slouched on the rock in relief. “Forbes. It seems so long ago that I pulled him over. One stupid traffic stop triggered this whole thing.” He covered his eyes with one hand and shuddered.
He’s been through hell.
“Is everyone else okay?” he asked. “My men . . .”
“Everyone is fine. Your parents and sister will be happy to hear you’ve been found.” She glanced at Lou, who had stepped away and was speaking on his radio. The message that Truman was fine should spread quickly.
“I worried what they might think,” he admitted, his dark eyes searching her face. “I worried what was going through your head too.”
“It was rough,” Mercy agreed, unwilling to share her bouts of guilt and doubt and depression. Truman had enough on his plate. She hugged him again, unable to get enough of the feel of his body. He’s safe.
“Can you drive one of those things?” Lou came back and gestured at one of the quads, raising a brow at Mercy.
“Yes.”
“Let’s get him loaded up, then, and you can ride out of here in luxury.” He glanced over at the dead body. “I’ll drive that one out, Anna can drive out the kid, and then everyone else can start walking.”
“I’m not a kid.” Ollie spoke for the first time. “And I’ll head back to my own place. I don’t need a ride.”
“No,” Truman said firmly. “You’re coming out. You and Shep will stay with me for a bit.”
Ollie looked at the ground. “That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. We already discussed this.” Truman was adamant.
Mercy watched the exchange, wondering what had happened between the two of them in the woods. Truman has taken him under his wing. “Ollie, is your family close by?” she asked him. The teenager looked exactly as he’d been described by Forbes’s men. A hermit who lived in the woods.
“His family is gone,” Truman told her. “He’s going to stay with me until he gets his feet underneath him. We’ve got plans for his future.”
Ollie looks less than convinced.
But he needs help.
“I hope Shep doesn’t mind cats,” she told Ollie. “Simon is the ruling queen of Truman’s house.”
The teen finally smiled.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Truman was relieved to be out of the woods. I’ll never enjoy camping again.
After a painful ride on the quad that had continuously jolted Truman’s broken arm, Mercy took him straight to the hospital. Ollie refused to let Truman out of his sight and tagged along, which meant Shep was there too. The ER staff banished the dog and Ollie outside while Mercy and Truman spent the next three hours in the emergency room. His parents and sister showed up, and more hugs and tears were exchanged. After an hour he sent his family back to their hotel with promises to see them the next day.
Mercy had sucked in a deep breath at the sight of the colorful bruises on his back and ribs, but there was nothing to be done but allow them to heal. He pissed in a cup and was told his kidneys were doing their job. His head was scanned and his arm was x-rayed. The head looked good, but the arm was broken, as expected. “You’re lucky,” the busy ER doctor said. “We don’t cast this sort of break. Usually a splint is all we do, and it looks like you had a pretty good makeshift one. Keep the arm still and elevate it when you can.”
He went home and showered for thirty minutes, letting the horror of the past week go down the drain. Then he ordered Ollie to shower and gave him a spare pair of pajamas. When the teen was sacked out in his guest room with Shep on the bed beside him, Truman finally allowed himself to go to bed.
Mercy snuggled beside him, and they whispered in the dark and touched each other’s skin, hair, and face. He couldn’t stop touching her to make certain he wasn’t dreaming, and she seemed to feel the same. She asked a lot of questions, and he told her the bare minimum. Talking about it brought back too many memories. He pushed aside the flashbacks of extreme thirst and fear of losing circulation in his arm.
“What was it like for you?” he asked her.
“I had a lot of bad days,” she admitted. “My emotions were all over the place. The longer you were gone, the deeper I sank. The not knowing . . .” Her voice was raw and earnest. It was a poignant side she rarely exposed.
“This sounds stupid, but I think that you were in a worse mental and emotional situation than I was,” Truman told her. “Once Ollie got me out, I knew I’d be okay. You didn’t have that luxury.”
“You can’t say I had it worse. I saw the shed.”
“Yes, that was hell.” He shuddered. “My mind wants to block most of it. At least I wasn’t in there long.”
She told him she needed a shower, gave him a long kiss, and disappeared into his bathroom.
It’d been a very, very long day.
Truman would never take his home or mattress or gas heat for granted again. He closed his eyes and appreciated the soft pillow beneath his head, and the vibration of the cat purring on his chest.
Even under the cover of the sound of the shower, he heard Mercy’s sobs. Against every desire in his heart, he didn’t go to her. She needed to expel the pain and fear in private. She’d come to him when she was ready.
He’d nearly drifted to sleep on a glorious sea of painkillers when he felt her crawl back in bed, smelling of soap and fresh water.
“I love you,” she whispered as she formed her body to his.
“I love you more,” he answered and then remembered nothing else.
The next morning he woke to the scent of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. And coffee. The heavenly odors reached his starving caffeine receptors and lifted him out of bed. Ollie was coming out of the guest room as Truman stepped into the hall. The teen was following the smells too. Even Shep’s nose twitched. Ollie’s usually greasy hair was a wild but clean mop on his head. Truman ran a hand over his own facial hair. He hadn’t hated the sight of it in the mirror, but he had been shocked at the change in his facial shape caused by his weight loss. He shook his wrist, still not used to his single handcuff bracelet’s absence. Mercy had removed it at the hospital.
He and Ollie stepped into the kitchen, where the sight of Mercy cooking while wearing simple yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt brought tears to his eyes. He kissed her long and hard, not caring if Ollie was watching. The teen might as well get used to it. They all sat down at the table and feasted.
“I wasn’t sure what to feed Shep, so I cooked some ground beef from the freezer and mixed it with oatmeal,” Mercy told Ollie. “I figured that would be fine until we could buy dog food.” The way Shep was attacking his bowl of food on the floor indicated he was pleased.
The boy simply nodded, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth as fast as he could. Truman watched in amusement. Ollie’s eyes had grown huge at the sight of all the food, and he had served himself tiny helpings. Truman had finally loaded the teen’s plate for him. Mercy watched Ollie inhale the eggs, raised a brow, got up, and started scrambling more.
Simon wandered into the room and Shep lunged at the cat with a sharp bark. Simon promptly swatted the dog’s nose, and Shep howled and dashed to hide under Ollie’s chair, where he watched the cat with terrified eyes. Simon sat in the center of the room, ignored him, and groomed her back leg.
“That was settled quickly,” commented Truman.
Then the parade of visitors started. Kaylie was first, stopping in on her way to school. She’d insisted on FaceTiming Truman last night in the emergency room and had been horrified by his condition. This morning she launched herself at him, hugged him for a long twenty seconds, and then grabbed a tissue to dry her eyes. She eyed him critically over the tissue. “You look much better than last night.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t know what else t
o say.
“I don’t know about the beard, though.” She patted one of his hairy cheeks, her eyebrows coming together in concentration. “Maybe.”
She left for school after giving him a short lecture on never disappearing again.
As if I had control over it.
Mercy’s sister Pearl was next with a huge plate of pastries from the café and clothes for Ollie. Mercy had called her last night, asking if her son had some clothing that no longer fit. Her son was thin like Ollie but had sprouted several inches in the last year. Pearl had two paper grocery bags full of jeans, shoes, and shirts. “What doesn’t fit you can give away. None of it fits him anymore.”
Ollie vanished into his room with his bags of riches as Pearl hugged Truman and ran her fingers over his beard.
“What do you think, Mercy? Do you want him to keep it?”
Why does everyone need to touch it?
Mercy tipped her head, pretending to look thoughtful. “I haven’t decided yet. The mountain man look has never appealed to me. But it does make him look rugged, doesn’t it? Or maybe we could trim it down to a Tony Stark look.”
Both women eyed him with fresh speculation. “No Iron Man,” stated Truman.
Ollie emerged in jeans, a University of Oregon sweatshirt, and a baseball cap crammed on his mop. He looked pleased.
Truman’s men straggled in throughout the day. Ben was first and unashamedly wiped away tears after giving Truman a rib-crushing hug. His bruises shot pain directly into his brain, but Truman didn’t care. His senior officer’s affection was more important.
“Wondered if we’d ever see you again,” Ben muttered. His wife had sent food. Two casseroles and a cake.
Royce’s wife sent a complete turkey dinner to feed a dozen people, and Samuel handed him a six-pack of beer. “Thought this might taste good after that long stretch of alcohol-free days,” Samuel told Truman. The usually undemonstrative officer gave him a hug with manly back slapping and had a hard time looking him in the eye.
Truman was touched.
Lucas showed up and lifted Truman off the ground in a bear hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you.” Ollie watched the giant man in awe, his gaze never leaving Lucas’s burly arms. Lucas added cigars to all the food offerings, and Mercy wrinkled her nose at the gift.
A Merciful Silence Page 23