Merciless

by Lori Armstrong

  I knew he was done cooperating, the chief knew he was done cooperating, but Turnbull didn’t stop—until Carsten interrupted.

  “Thanks for coming in and answering the agents’ questions, Mr. Rondeaux. But I believe that will be sufficient for today. It’s been a tiring day for you; I can’t imagine you’ll get much sleep, but you should go home and try. Someone from Victim Services will be in touch in the next few days. We’re sorry for your loss.”

  Rollie nodded. It took him a beat or two to push out of his chair, again reminding me how old he’d started to look. Carsten escorted him out. Chief Looks Twice and Officer Ferguson followed.

  Shay’s voice was cutting. “Did you see how he shuffled out of here like an old man? Trying to leave the impression that he’s harmless and helpless?”

  I kept my mouth shut. Shay wasn’t asking for a response. Just thinking out loud. I was more than a little confused. More than a little heartsick. I wanted to go home and try to put this day behind me. I interrupted his muttering. “Are we done here, Agent Turnbull?”

  He aimed a cool gaze at me. “You are, I suppose.”

  “What do you have to do?”

  “Paperwork on another case. Might as well finish while I’m here.”

  I stood. “Are we in the Rapid City office tomorrow? Or here?”

  “Rapid City. Unless you hear otherwise.”

  “See you.” I found my coat in the employee breakroom, although I had no recollection of putting it there.

  I popped the collar around my ears when the wind sideswiped me. Huge snowflakes swirled, the effect strangely magical set against the black backdrop of the night sky and the foggy beams from the parking lot lights. I was so entranced by the sight that I didn’t notice the hooded figure lounging against the SUV next to my truck until I reached the driver’s-side door.

  My hand automatically went to my holster. People always ask me why I leave my coat unbuttoned: I’d rather be cold than have buttons keep me from immediate access to my gun. “If you’re armed, drop it. Slowly. Hands in the air.”

  My voice startled him and he leaped back, throwing his arms above his head. “Jesus, you scared the crap outta me.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Junior.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah. And shee, why you always pointin’ a gun at me, hey?”

  “Why you always sneakin’ up on me, hey?” I held my stance. “Why are you lurking in the parking lot?”

  “Waitin’ for you.”

  “Didn’t you tell me you’d be dead if Saro caught you here?” I snapped.

  “I … can I put my damn hands down?”

  I nodded, keeping my gun on him. “Why were you waiting for me?”

  “I wanted to ask you about … Verline.” Junior lowered his hood, and I saw misery etched on his face.

  I had a bad feeling about this.

  He tilted his head toward the sky and closed his eyes. Snowflakes landed on his cheeks and melted immediately, sliding down his face like tears. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  I let my gun fall to my side. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Four days ago.”

  “Where?”

  “My place. She’d been staying with me since she’d left Rollie. We were trying to figure out what to do.”

  Oh no. He wasn’t insinuating …? Because that would be a total clusterfuck. “What do you mean, what to do?”

  Junior looked at me then with such an expression of desolation that my breath caught. “I loved her. She loved me. We … were together, but I wanted it to be more. She did, too, I think. Although I know she still wanted to be with Rollie.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Started after she found out she was pregnant, less than two months after she had Taj. Rollie didn’t want nothin’ to do with the first baby, and she knew it’d be more of the same with the second. She hid the pregnancy from him as long as she could. Then when Rollie found out? He stopped going home. She needed someone she could count on.” He glanced at the ground. “That was me. I took her to the hospital when she went into labor a month early, and I was with her in the delivery room. Those boys are more mine than his. I, at least, wanted them. And her.”

  Despite my reluctance to dig deeper into this bizarre love triangle, I knew I didn’t have a choice, given what Nita had said about Rollie threatening to kill Verline if he found out she was cheating on him. “Did Rollie know you and Verline had feelings for each other? Is that why he kicked you out?”

  His head snapped up. “No. He was pissed about me working for Saro. Pissed when he found out I’d been seeing Arlette Shooting Star. But the only reason I did that—”

  “Was so he didn’t figure out you and Verline were sleeping together.”

  He nodded. “I also wanted to poke Rollie, about me being friends with Arlette. When he let me move in with him two years ago, he was such a dick about who I could and couldn’t hang out with. Entire families on the rez were off limits. Such old-fashioned bullshit, the grudges he kept.”

  “Did Rollie know about you and Verline?”

  “I don’t know!”

  I called bullshit on that. Rollie was too astute not to see what was right in front of him. “Any idea what Rollie would do if he found out?”

  “He’d probably kill her.”

  We both froze.

  Junior didn’t retract the statement. He continued to stare at me with some weird kind of childish hope I’d assure him that his father couldn’t possibly have murdered Verline.

  But I couldn’t assure him because he’d just given me exactly what I hadn’t wanted: Rollie’s motive for murder. This insight from Rollie’s son would convince Turnbull of Rollie’s guilt. It’d definitely give him a reason to bring Rollie in for an official interrogation. And knowing Shay like I did, he’d do it tonight. Hammer away at Rollie until the wee small hours.

  Rollie needed time to grieve.

  Or did he need time to come up with an alibi?

  I stilled. Where had that thought come from? As much as I’d like to deny it, the logical side of my brain insisted I consider Rollie a suspect in Verline’s murder.

  I had to do my job. I shoved my gun back in the holster. “You need to listen to me very carefully. I’m a federal officer. What you just told me is crucial information on a homicide case. I cannot ignore it. I cannot pass this on to my supervisor as secondhand information. You will have to come in, either to the FBI office in Rapid City, or here to the tribal police station, and answer a few questions.”

  He started to back off, and I regretted putting my gun away. “I can’t. I told you what Saro would do to me.”

  “Saro’s power is negligible. Mine is not. I can issue a warrant on you. I can actually arrest you for obstruction of justice if you don’t cooperate.” I kept edging closer to him. “Remember one very important thing, Junior. You didn’t tell me this information because we’re friends.” I did question whether Junior had told me this because he wanted to put the screws to his old man.

  “But—”

  “You told me because you want justice for Verline as much as I do. If you loved her, you wouldn’t hesitate. In fact, if you really loved her, you would follow me back into the station right now so I could take your statement.”

  He pulled his hood over his head. “Lemme think about it, okay?”

  “I’ll give you twenty-four hours. If I don’t see you or hear from you before then, I’m bringing out the big guns.”

  He nodded and slipped into the darkness.

  12

  Dawson and Lex weren’t home, which was probably a good thing. Sadness had lodged itself deep in my gut at what I’d witnessed today. Violent death. Grief. Hatred. Suspicion. Family rivalries. Add in my questions about Rollie’s guilt … and my brain was fried.

  A five-mile run followed by a full hour of yoga would be the healthiest way to push my body into the same exhausted state as my
brain.

  So why had I headed straight for the liquor cabinet?

  I knocked back two generous slugs of Wild Turkey before I put away my gun, or even took off my coat. I carried the third glass with me into the bedroom. Once I’d stripped to nothing, I took it into the bathroom, draining the whiskey before I climbed in the shower.

  Steam, water, heat, and a slight buzz took some of the edge off. But didn’t stop the images from flashing in my mind. Verline’s body. Rollie’s tender farewell kiss. The Dupris family’s angry accusations. Junior’s tears. Junior’s accusations. Junior’s stubbornness.

  Wet hair braided, lotion applied, I left the bathroom stark naked and heard the kitchen door open. I ducked inside my bedroom. I needed to get into the habit of wearing a robe so Lex wasn’t traumatized by my naked body. I pressed my back into the bedroom door. Had it been only this morning Lex had walked in on us? Seemed like that’d happened a week ago.

  As much as I fantasized about crawling into bed with a bottle, I dressed and joined father and son in the kitchen.

  Two pizza boxes sat on the table. “I thought we were having antelope?”

  “We were starved, and it’d be at least another hour to cook the steaks after we got home, so we’ll save those for another night when we’re not so rushed.”

  Mason walked to me and curled his hand around my face, locking his gaze to mine. “So it’s Wild Turkey therapy, not yoga, for your rough day?”

  I nodded, appreciating he didn’t pass judgment.

  He pressed his mouth to mine, giving me a sweet kiss as his thumb gently stroked my cheekbone. He pulled back and murmured, “I believe I’ll join you in that drink.”

  I noticed Dawson had bought spinach salad as a side dish. The man had healthy eating habits, much to Lex’s dismay. I wondered if the kid had ever tasted a fresh vegetable before coming to live with us.

  After we dished up, I asked, “So the school project supplies are purchased?”

  “Yep, Lex can start on it tomorrow after school.”

  “What’s the subject?” I asked Lex.

  He gave me a look like he couldn’t believe I cared, but I needed something to take my mind off murder and lies.

  Lex launched into an explanation. It was encouraging that he was taking an interest in his classes, given he’d been pulling straight Ds at his previous school. His cell phone vibrated on the table. He ignored it.

  Mason picked it up and slid it next to the pizza boxes. “It’s your mother.”

  Lex scowled. “I don’t wanna talk to her.”

  “We’ve had this discussion, Lex. You can’t just blow her off. She cares about what’s going on with you.”

  “Only so she can use it against me. And use it against you.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “If she finds out I like living here, she’ll make me go back to Colorado. I just know it.”

  “Son, that won’t happen.”

  “You don’t know her like I do, Dad. She’s already mad I’m using your last name. She’s said when I go see her for Christmas that maybe she won’t let me come back here. I don’t understand why I have to spend Christmas with her. I’ve never gotten to spend Christmas with you. She doesn’t care about me. She just doesn’t want me to like you better than her.”

  Dawson was agitated; Lex was miserable. And the phone kept ringing. I picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Who’s this?” Mona demanded. “Why are you answering my son’s phone?”

  “Hey, Mona, it’s Mercy. I see Lex left his phone on the counter again.”

  “Where is he?”

  I looked at Lex. “He and his father went to town for supplies for a school project. They should be back in a couple hours. Would you like me to give Mason a message?”

  “No, but tell that kid to call me tomorrow since I’m on my way to work.” She hung up.

  “Crisis averted.” I slid the phone to Lex. “You’re supposed to call her after school tomorrow. Let’s hope she’s in a better mood. Now finish your spinach so your dad will let us have cookies.”

  Dawson had Lex clean up the kitchen. I’d just poured myself another drink when the house phone rang. “Gunderson.”

  “Mercy? Is it true? About Verline?”

  “Hope, hang on a second.” I took the cordless phone into the office away from Lex’s curious ears. “I’m sorry to say it is true.”

  “That’s so horrible. Who’s taking care of those poor babies? Rollie?”

  “No. Verline’s mother.”

  “Oh.” I heard her juggle the receiver. “Joy is just Little Miss Grabby Hands. Jake, take her for a sec.” More phone-clunking noises, then a sigh. “Now we can talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Sophie.”

  I was not in the frame of mind to hear Hope complain or whine. “What about her?”

  “She … wants to quit.”

  Okay, not what I expected. Good thing I was sitting down. “Really? Why?”

  “Penny is being difficult, I guess.”

  “So Penny’s gotten worse?”

  “No, that’s the thing. Penny is actually improving. I mean, not like she’s in remission, but some of the natural herbs and stuff have helped her. She’s back to walking every morning. She’s eating. Her spirits are better.”

  I took a long sip of my drink. “That sounds like good news. Not like Penny is being difficult.”

  Hope sighed. “That’s what Jake and I think, too. But you know how stubborn Sophie is. She has it in her head to spend every waking moment with Penny while she can.”

  “I take it Penny doesn’t want that?”

  “No. She told Sophie to worry about doing her job.”

  “Which caused Sophie to quit that job.” I swirled the amber liquid in my glass. “How do you feel about her quitting?”

  “Jake is worried she won’t be able to live on just her Social Security checks.”

  My little sister wasn’t very good at evasion. “That’s how Jake feels. How do you feel?”

  When Hope hesitated, I braced myself, anticipating she’d break down. Her curt response shocked me. “Look, I love Sophie. But after Levi … and during my pregnancy, she smothered me. I thought that after Jake and I moved into our own place, she’d keep working at the ranch like she always has and give us a chance to be a family. But she comes over here every day. Tells me how to do things. She basically tries to run my house. I can’t even watch the TV shows I want. And I can’t really talk to Jake about this stuff because she is his grandmother. So to be honest, I’m glad she’s quitting.” Another pause, and I could almost see Hope biting her lip. “Sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”

  I tried to wrap my head around this side of my sister. Hope had never wanted to do things for herself.

  Or maybe she had. But our dad and Sophie wouldn’t let her. They made her think she was incapable.

  “Do you think I’m an awful person?” she whispered.

  “No, sis, not at all. I’m just surprised. Sophie got pissy with me when I asked if she’d considered retiring.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t her idea,” Hope retorted.

  “When did she talk to you about this?”

  “Today. And before you get all up in my face that she didn’t talk to you, she told me you’re under a lot of stress with Lex living with you.”

  “Lex is one of the least stressful aspects of my life.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. He’s a sweet boy. I like him. I liked Levi a lot at that age, too.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, a couple afternoons when I’ve been over there doing books, he’s kept Joy entertained.”

  Had I been so wrapped up in my day and making sure Mason’s needs were being met that I’d forgotten Lex was part of my life, too? Probably permanently. I needed to stop treating him like a guest and start thinking of him as part of my family. “Thanks. Sometimes I get the feeling he’s disappointed Mason and I won’t have other kids.”

  She laughed. “That’s not true
, trust me. He likes being the sole focus of his father’s attention. Anyway, I hear Little Miss screaming, but I wanted to run one last thing past you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Sophie has asked for the rest of her yearly salary and her year-end bonus. Is it okay to cut her a check for fifteen grand?”

  I whistled. “We can afford that?”

  “Yeah. But …”

  “Spit it out, Hope.”

  “I think Devlin may be pushing Sophie to get the money. I overheard him in the background coaching her. She’ll probably give it all to him. And he’ll blow it all at the casino.”

  Dammit. I’d gotten so busy I hadn’t dug into Devlin’s gambling issues. “Does Jake have any idea who Devlin owes money to?”

  “No. He don’t wanna know. I don’t, either. And you should stay out of it, too.”

  I’d heard Rollie mention Saro, but I wouldn’t get within a mile of that psychotic motherfucker if I could help it. Asking John-John wasn’t an option. The tribal cops probably knew who on the rez was in the business of loans. Maybe I could discreetly get the information.

  “Mercy? You still there?”

  “Sorry. Been a rough day. Nothing you can do but write the check. What Sophie does with it after that … out of our hands.”

  “I hate that.”

  “Me, too. Thanks for the heads-up. Give Poopy a kiss for me.”

  “Stop calling her that,” Hope huffed, and hung up.

  I returned to the kitchen and topped off my drink.

  Everything in this kitchen had Sophie’s touch. The arrangement of the dishes in the cupboard. Where the utensils were placed in the drawers. Where the kitschy objects hung on the walls. The positioning of refrigerator magnets. The style of the tablecloths and the place mats. I didn’t remember much from when this space had been my mother’s domain.

  I’d changed only one thing in this room in all the years I’d lived in this house—I hated the frilly, moth-eaten curtains that blocked the great view of the ranch, so last month I’d yanked them down.

  Sophie had thrown a hissy fit, claiming she felt naked without the coverage the curtains provided. But I’d held my ground. And she’d backed off.

  Even though she hadn’t been here every morning recently, she was around often enough. I couldn’t imagine Sophie not being here at all. Would I ever see her? Would she stop by to chat? Would she call me? Would she welcome me into her home? Or would the relationship end like every other working relationship I’d had? Where she’d become part of my past? Where she’d be gone like she’d never been there at all?