Mercy (Beartooth, Montana)

by B. J Daniels

  He saw her eyes glass over as if she was back there in that awful place, just a child herself. “What was your sister going to do to Callie?” he asked as he recalled what Edwin had told him about one of the twins pushing the other one down a flight of stairs.

  Laura met his gaze. “I pleaded with her not to hurt Callie. We were standing on the landing in the third-floor stairwell. Callie hadn’t said a word since...that night. I told Catherine that I would talk to her, that she wouldn’t tell anyone if I asked her not to, that we were friends. But...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Catherine was jealous. She just wanted to hurt Callie because I loved her.” Laura began to cry.

  “Laura, no one should have had to go through what you did,” Rourke said. “Please. Untie me. Let me hold you.”

  She looked at him through her tears. He saw her weaken, and then something changed in her. She shook her head and rose from the chair to pace again at the end of the bed.

  Past her, he watched the open doorway to the other room, afraid Catherine would return too soon. “Laura.”

  When she looked at him, he motioned with his head for her to come back to the side of the bed.

  “You told me that you trusted me with your life,” he said. “Trust me now.”

  “My sister, Catherine...” Her voice broke, and she looked toward the open doorway between the rooms again as if she’d heard her sister. “She’s dangerous. You don’t know what she’ll do.”

  “Laura, let me help you,” he whispered.

  Her eyes filled again. “It’s too late.”

  “It’s not. If you untie me, I can handle your sister. We’ll get her help.”

  “But they will blame me.”

  “No one will blame you.”

  “I didn’t stop her. I was afraid—”

  “Laura, I can see that you’re afraid of her. Please, let me help you. Remember when you and I were a team? We were unstoppable. We can be again.”

  He saw her weaken even more. She glanced toward the doorway to the other room, then reached behind her and picked up a knife.

  For a moment, he thought he’d failed. He felt his stomach drop. But with more relief than he’d ever felt, he watched her cut the duct tape binding his left wrist to the bed frame.

  She had cut almost all the way through the tape, when she suddenly stopped. He saw the change come over her.

  “Catherine,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I can’t. Catherine—”

  “Laura, hurry. Cut—”

  But she cocked her head to the side as if she had heard something in the next room. She hurriedly laid down the knife on the bedside table and began to move away.

  “No, Laura—”

  She turned back, picked up the gag and stuffed it into his mouth hard. The look in her eyes told him that when she came back, it would be with her sister, Catherine. Whatever hope he’d felt was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CALLIE FUMBLED AS she tried to put the key into the motel-room lock. Her vision doubled for a moment. Finally the key went in. She couldn’t hear anything inside the room at first as she unlocked the door as quietly as possible and pushed it open.

  The room was dark, the curtains drawn. She blinked, trying to focus. It appeared empty, but she could hear water running. Someone was in the shower? Rourke?

  Could it possibly be true about Rourke and Laura? Was she a worse fool than even she thought? She was trying to make sense of all of it as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. Catherine thought she was dead. Did Rourke think the same thing? Were he and Laura in the shower together?

  Callie didn’t think a heart really broke. At least she didn’t before that moment. She felt a sob rise up in her chest. Until that moment, she hadn’t admitted the truth about her feelings for Rourke.

  What if Rourke and Laura really were lovers and they had planned this whole thing to frame her? Rourke hadn’t told her that he and his friend Laura had been homicide investigators together on the Seattle police force. Nor had he told her that he was working with Laura on this case.

  Wasn’t it possible he kept even more from her?

  She almost turned and left, telling herself she couldn’t bear it if Catherine had been telling her the truth. She looked down, surprised to see that she still had the piece of pipe in one of her hands and the room key in the other. Moving toward the bed, she started to lay both down. What she really wanted was to lie down on the bed and curl up in a ball and sleep. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep standing.

  The sound of voices in the adjoining room startled her. She recognized Laura’s, then Rourke’s. But something was wrong. They didn’t sound like lovers. And if they were in the other room, then who was in the shower in this room beyond the closed bathroom door?

  Picking up the pipe again, Callie moved toward the door to the adjoining room.

  * * *

  ROURKE KNEW THAT once Catherine came back into the room, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He tried to spit out the gag, but had no luck. Just as he knew there was no reason to try to call Laura back even if he could.

  For a moment, he’d thought he’d reached the old Laura. But one sound from the other room and her twin had Laura under her control again.

  Laura was moving slowly toward the open door to the next room as if she’d heard something. He suspected she’d only imagined it since he could still hear the shower running.

  Hurriedly he looked around, knowing he had one chance. Once Laura returned with Catherine—

  Laura had left the knife just out of his reach on the bedside table. Before she’d stopped, she’d cut through most of the duct tape on his left wrist. He pulled as hard as he could and felt it give. Just a little more.

  His left wrist broke free as he heard Laura say, “Callie? What are you doing here?”

  His heart lodged in his throat. Callie was in the other room? Fear froze him, but for only a second. He pulled the gag from his mouth. Every instinct in him told him not to call out to Callie as he reached for the knife on the bedside table and hurriedly began to saw at the duct tape binding his right wrist.

  * * *

  “I WANT TO SEE ROURKE,” Callie said as she started toward the open doorway. She was glad she hadn’t put down the pipe.

  Laura stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “It’s over between the two of you. He doesn’t want to see you.”

  “That’s too bad, because I want to see him.”

  “You don’t look well, Callie. You look as if a gust of wind could knock you over.”

  “I’m okay,” she lied, lifting the length of metal pipe. “Move out of the way, Laura. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’re wasting your time. Rourke and I share something the two of you will never share. He’s a lawman. He gets on a case and nothing stops him.” She smiled. “He does whatever he has to, even seducing a suspect, to find the killer. He might have told you he loved you.... Like I said, he’ll even lie. That’s how much he loves his work. But if you really want to see him...” She stepped aside. “He used you, Callie. Go to him. But you will never have him. No woman ever will. His work will always come first.”

  Callie kept her eye on Laura as she moved to the open doorway and quickly stepped through. For a moment, she was so shocked to see Rourke on the bed that she froze.

  “Shut the door and lock it,” he cried.

  Just seeing him bound to the bed... The room swam. She heard the shower shut off in the room behind her as she tried to stay on her feet. Her head seemed to buzz as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Rourke had a knife. He was sawing through duct tape that had his ankles bound to the bed frame.

  “Callie, she’s right behind you!”

  She hadn’t heard anyone behind her—hadn’t sensed anyone. With a start, she realized
that she hadn’t picked up anything from Laura. No psychic flashes at all from the moment she’d been shot.

  It was why she turned too late. Suddenly Laura was beside her, a gun in her hand. Only the barrel wasn’t pointed at her—but at Rourke.

  Callie swung the pipe. She heard it connect with Laura’s arm, the sound a sickening crack. Laura’s scream of pain was lost in the sound of the gunshot.

  Running on nothing but sheer will, Callie swung the pipe again, knocking the gun from Laura’s hand. It skittered across the floor, and Laura dived for it.

  Rourke still had one ankle bound to the frame, but he managed to catapult himself over the side of the bed and grab up the gun from the floor. “Stop, Laura!” he cried, aiming the weapon at her. “Don’t make me kill you.”

  Laura laughed, grabbed the knife up from where he’d dropped it at the foot of the bed and launched herself at him.

  Callie saw the expression on Rourke’s face and realized in that split second that he wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger and kill his former partner. She swung the pipe, this time catching Laura in the side of the head. The woman fell onto the bed next to Rourke, the knife sticking in the mattress just inches from his heart.

  His face was pale, the white sheet wrapped around him splattered with blood from where he’d caught a bullet in the shoulder. His gaze widened as he motioned to the door behind her. “Catherine—”

  Callie turned, but the doorway was empty—just as she realized it would be. Callie thought of the angel out in the field, away from the others buried in the Westfield cemetery that she’d walked out to see, and the name on it. But it was another memory, along with the one in which Laura and Catherine were arguing and Catherine tumbled down the stairs to land, her neck broken, her eyes open, seeing nothing.

  Earlier, as she’d lain bleeding on the floor, when she’d opened her eyes there had been only one sister standing over her.

  “Catherine can’t hurt anyone,” she said to Rourke. “She’s dead. She’s been dead since she was twelve. Laura killed her, and her mother forced her to become both herself and Catherine so no one would ever know.”

  Callie heard the wail of sirens in the distance. The room began to swim. She saw Rourke reach for her. The last thing she remembered was dropping the pipe as he caught her before she hit the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CALLIE OPENED HER EYES, and for a moment, all she saw was white. White walls, white sheets, white light coming in through the window.

  Then a dark shape stepped in front of the window. The dark silhouette moved toward her. A scream rose in her throat but quickly died as the shape spoke.

  “Callie.” The word came out on a relieved breath as Rourke took her hand. “Thank God,” he said as he lowered himself into the chair next to her bed. “I was so worried about you.”

  She stared at him, praying that she wasn’t hallucinating from some drug Laura had given her. Or worse, dreaming. For all she knew, she and Rourke could be dead.

  “Rourke?”

  He smiled, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “You’re safe. We’re all safe. Callie, there’s something I have to tell you. Callie?”

  She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes.

  When she woke again, the room was dark.

  “Ms. Westfield?” A doctor materialized from the dim light of the hallway. He turned on a lamp next to her bed. “How are you feeling?”

  She reached up to touch her temple. It was covered with a thick bandage.

  “Let’s see how you’re doing, okay? Follow my finger. That’s right. Good. Now this way.” He produced a small light and shone it in one eye and then the other, before pocketing it again. “Good.”

  Callie stared at him, at first not understanding what was wrong. “Am I...?”

  “You’re fine. You’re in the Havre hospital. You were brought in from Flat Rock after being shot. But you were lucky. The bullet only grazed your head. You have a concussion and you’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’re going to be just fine. I want you to rest now—”

  “Rourke?”

  “He’s down the hall, resting, as well. We operated on his shoulder. He’s doing fine.” The doctor turned out the lamp. “You’ve been through a lot. Rest is the best thing for you now.”

  She watched him go, realizing that she hadn’t picked up even the smallest of flashes. By the time a series of nurses came and went, Callie knew it really was gone. She heard no one’s thoughts. It was as if she’d gone deaf. Her second sight was gone, just as quickly as it had come.

  It left her with a strange feeling of both sadness and relief. The world had gone silent. She would get used to it. Just as she would get used to everyone she met being a mystery. But how would she know whom to trust?

  She thought of Rourke. Look what had happened when she hadn’t been able to read him. Just the thought of him made her heart ache. She told herself that she couldn’t believe anything Laura had said, and yet, she knew at least some of it was true.

  Would Rourke have pulled the trigger and killed Laura? Callie hadn’t thought so. She still didn’t. Laura hadn’t thought he could either. She was right about that, just as she was right about Rourke being a lawman first and foremost. He’d come to Beartooth to catch a killer, and he’d done it. Now he would be going back to Seattle.

  Her life... Callie had no idea where her life would take her now, just that she had to move on as she always had. Even with the past no longer chasing her, she had no reason to stay in any one place too long.

  Callie closed her eyes. She was safe. Rourke was alive. So, why did she feel so empty inside?

  * * *

  “HOW’S YOUR SHOULDER?”

  Rourke looked up to find Sheriff Frank Curry standing in his hospital-room doorway. “I’ve had worse.”

  Frank nodded and smiled at that. “Mind if I come in?”

  Rourke waved the sheriff into the room.

  “I was worried when I heard that both you and Callie had gotten shot. Good thing she has a hard head,” Frank said, as he pulled up a chair.

  “Fortunately.” He’d spent time with Laura at the shooting range. She was a crack shot. If she had wanted to kill Callie, she could have on the first shot. Why hadn’t she?

  Rourke had more questions than he did answers. He told Frank what Callie had told him about Laura’s mother forcing her to become both herself and her twin to keep the authorities from finding out that she’d killed Catherine.

  “What kind of mother would do that to a child?” the sheriff demanded.

  “Gladys McCormick was sick. Apparently, her own mother had spent most of her life institutionalized, I’ve now found out.” Edwin Sharp’s notebook had been found in Laura’s vehicle. The local authorities had brought it to him. “She must have had her own problems and passed a lot of them on to her twin girls.”

  Frank shook his head. “That’s why I like crows.”

  “In Laura’s mind, all the awful things happened to Catherine, and yet, she believed Catherine to be her mother’s favorite.”

  “So it was like a split personality,” the sheriff said.

  “Somewhat, except she believed Catherine existed as another person, a living evil sister who did terrible things.” Rourke thought about when Laura had been putting the profile together. “She was describing herself when she told me about the serial killer.”

  “She would know that person better than any profiler ever could,” Frank agreed.

  “To make matters worse, I was telling her everything I was learning.” Rourke shook his head. “I got Edwin killed. By the time she killed Carson, she knew she had to frame Callie. That’s why she suggested I bring her to Westfield.”

  “It could have been a last-ditch attempt to clear the Catherine side of her,” Frank said. “She probably told herself she would
n’t kill again.”

  “I think she wanted to get caught,” Rourke said. “She could have killed Callie. She could have killed me, as well. I’m not sure she wouldn’t have if Callie hadn’t arrived when she did, though.”

  The sheriff studied him for a moment. “You were both lucky.”

  “She couldn’t hide who she really was anymore. Worse, she’d told me she was in love with me. I was so surprised, I didn’t handle it well.”

  “You never loved her?”

  Rourke shook his head. “Not that way.” He thought about that moment with her coming at him with the knife. Had it been her? Or Catherine? Would he have shot her? He would never know.

  Callie didn’t believe he could have killed Laura. Callie had saved him from finding out.

  “Laura knew she would never have you...” the sheriff was saying. “She must have thought you were in love with Callie.”

  “I am in love with her.”

  “Does she know it?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’ve tried to tell her.” He shook his head. “I lied to her from the moment I met her. It’s hard to build a relationship with someone after that.”

  “I still believe that love conquers all,” Frank said, picking up his Stetson and getting to his feet. “Well, congratulations. You solved your case. I’m sorry I had to call your boss. But I’m sure after this, you don’t have to worry about your job.”

  Rourke nodded. His job was the least of his worries. Nor did he feel any of the elation he usually did after solving a case.

  After the sheriff left, the doctor came in to tell him he was going to be released.

  “What about Callie?”

  “She’s already left. I thought you knew. The sheriff came to pick her up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “I WAS SO worried about you,” Kate said as she pulled Callie into a hug. Her gaze went to the bandage on Callie’s temple. “How is your head?”

  “Fine,” she said, touched by Kate’s concern. “I’ll have a scar, but it is one I can see. I think those are the best because sometimes we need a reminder of what we’ve been through.”