No Mercy

by Joanna Schaffhausen

  Grudgingly, Patrick drew back the door and let Reed and Ellery over the threshold. He led the group down a short hall and back to the humble kitchen. It had a low ceiling and faded wallpaper decorated with fruits and vegetables. The cabinets had been painted several times over, the latest coat a white that showed faint hints of the green beneath it. The ancient stove had a rust spot on one edge, but the stew simmering inside the pot gave off a rich aroma that made Ellery’s stomach rumble. Patrick put a lid on it before drawing out one of the kitchen chairs, a solid piece with beautifully carved lines that echoed back to the family’s doomed furniture business. “State your business,” he said, not offering them a seat at the table.

  “I imagine the police have been to see you already,” Ellery said.

  “They were here earlier,” Myra answered softly. “Searched the place up and down. If you’re thinking Jacob’s hiding here with us, you’re wrong.”

  “Did they tell you why they want to talk to him?”

  Patrick fixed her with a dead-eyed stare while Myra twisted her hands in her lap. Silence stretched between them. “They think he may have killed a man,” Myra said finally. “Something about a shooting. I said that can’t be true: Jake doesn’t own a gun.”

  “It was my gun,” Ellery told them, and Myra raised her head in shock.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Ellery gave them a quick recap of the events from the alley, at least as she could remember them. “If your son is the shooter, then he saved my life. It’s in his best interests to turn himself into custody so everything can get sorted out.”

  Patrick wasn’t giving up his suspicions so easily. “What’s the FBI got to do with this?” he asked, nodding at Reed. “What’s he want with our boy?”

  “I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m just along to try to keep Ellery safe. I’m sure you can understand.”

  “Jake wouldn’t hurt her,” Myra protested. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “He set that fire years ago,” Ellery replied. “At school. Someone could have gotten hurt.”

  Myra bristled at the suggestion, drawing her knit sweater tighter around her. “That was a prank, a mistake. It was years ago, when he was just a teenager. Everyone—everyone makes mistakes.”

  “He was at the scene the night of the store fire,” Reed said.

  Myra’s deformed fingers worried the edge of her sweater in fretful fashion. Ellery had told her this news already, so she was more interested in Patrick’s reaction. He didn’t bat an eye. “So what if he was?” he said curtly. “Don’t make any difference now.”

  “They think he set it,” Myra said, a tad impatient. “That’s what they think.”

  “We aren’t here to make accusations,” Ellery replied. “We just wanted you to know, in case you’re in contact with him, that Jake should talk to the police. Trust me, it’ll go better for him if he’s the one to come forward than if they have to track him down themselves.”

  Myra was shaking her head and muttering. “It’s all a mess. It’s all a damn mess.” She shot Ellery an accusing glare. “Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?”

  Ellery stiffened as if struck. For several moments, she was mute. “He was following me,” she said, “not the other way around.”

  Myra covered her face with both hands. “I lost one boy,” she said mournfully. “Now you want to take the other.”

  “No, I’m trying to keep him out of trouble.”

  “It’s a damn sight too late for that,” Patrick said. He rose slowly to his feet. “I think it’s time you two were leaving.”

  Ellery wasn’t going to push any harder, not when Myra was sitting there in her wheelchair with her head bent low and her fingers trembling. “Have Jake ask for Detective Rhodes,” she murmured as she moved to leave. “She’ll be fair with him.”

  Patrick marched them toward the door. It opened with a great whoosh, the wind slamming it back against the wall. “I know you think you’re helping,” he said, his voice low and hard. “But maybe you can leave my family alone now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ellery began, but Patrick held up a hand.

  “Whatever Jake did or didn’t do, whatever happened back then—it’s my fault.”

  Ellery held her breath. This sounded like a confession. From the way Reed went still at her elbow, she knew he sensed it, too. Patrick shook his head faintly.

  “My wife and boy were at that store because I sent ’em there. The place was going under. I felt like I was drowning along with it. I was short with Myra and the kids, shoutin’ all the time because I couldn’t make anything in my life go the way I wanted. Jake was in trouble at school and I didn’t know it. I didn’t set that fire but I might as well’ve. My house was all out of order, burning in a different way, and I did nothing to stop it.” He raised his bleak eyes to hers. “So if you need someone to blame, you can look no further.”

  Ellery felt trapped by the weight of his gaze, a quarter century of misery in one man’s eyes. But Reed was apparently not as moved. “Your brother, David,” he said. “He was a co-owner in the business. He would’ve had the same financial problems you did.”

  The end of Patrick’s mouth curled up in a gremlin’s smile. “David,” he said, as though the word left a bitter taste on his tongue. “You’re wasting your time there. He wouldn’t have burned that store—he didn’t care about it enough. He left me to make every single decision down to the stationery. ’Bout the only time he visited the premises was after hours, when he liked to take a girl there to show her all the beds.”

  “He must have been happy to take the insurance payout,” Reed said.

  Patrick snorted. “Happy. Sure. As long as someone else filed all the papers.” He nodded at the open door. “Best be going, then. If we see Jake, we’ll tell him about your visit.”

  * * *

  On the way home, they picked up the ingredients for what Reed was calling “a poor man’s jambalaya,” which he set about making in the kitchen while Ellery lay down on the couch with her earbuds in and her eyes closed. “The Magnificent Seven” by The Clash filled her ears, its cheery upbeat tempo at odds with the biting, sarcastic lyrics. She could go for a drink right about now, a little zing in her veins, just enough to lighten the thoughts in her head, which rumbled around like stones. She’d tried so hard but she hadn’t helped Wendy or Myra. Jake was in the wind, and somewhere there was still a violent rapist on the loose. Dr. Sunny didn’t seem inclined to give Ellery back her job, and maybe she was right: Ellery had solved precisely nothing, and all she had for her trouble was a lump on the head and a man sizzling sausage in her kitchen—a man she might have managed to drag into the quagmire with her.

  Her heart lodged in her throat and she rubbed it to ease the ache. “I’m taking the dog out,” she announced abruptly as she pulled the earbuds from her ears. Bump perked up at her words, thumping his tail in anticipation.

  Reed turned from the stove, the spoon in his hands. “Give me a second. I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” she replied, more forcefully than she’d intended. She wanted some space. “I’ll be fine for five minutes. I won’t go farther than down the block.”

  “You aren’t even armed anymore,” he pointed out.

  It was true that the cops had taken her gun as evidence. She held out her cell phone and pushed 9-1, showing the digits to Reed. “I have this,” she said. “If anything happens, I just hit that last one and run like hell. Okay?”

  Reed looked wary, but he agreed. “Five minutes. Then I come looking for you.”

  She shrugged into her coat and hooked up Bump’s leash. Outside in the night air, she felt like she could breathe again. Bump set a leisurely stroll through the snowbanks, his ears making tracks as they went. Ellery refused to look up at the windows to see if Reed was watching. They walked a bit farther, until they were just out of sight of her building. The streets were empty and quiet so she could hear the sound of her boots on the pavement. Wh
en a second set of boots fell into step behind her, she grabbed the phone in her pocket.

  “Wait, stop,” said a male voice.

  She stopped. Cautiously, she turned around. Jake Gallagher stood five feet away, looking ashen and worn, his hands held up to indicate he meant no harm. He had his father’s curly dark blond hair and his mother’s haunted eyes. “I’m calling the police,” Ellery said, her thumb right above the 1.

  “Don’t! I’m not going to hurt you.” Bump meanwhile felt no tension in the air. He strained toward Jake, wagging and sniffing. Jake gave a half-smile. “Hey, boy. Nice doggie.”

  “What do you want?” Ellery demanded, and Jake’s smile vanished.

  “What do you want?” he shot back. “Why’re you all up in my family’s business? Making my mother cry. Bringing back all those horrible memories for her and my dad. She said you’re working with that lawyer, the one who wants to get Carnevale out. What the hell do you even care?”

  “I’m not working with anyone. I was just trying to find out the truth.”

  “That was the truth,” he said. “He burned that store just like they said! You and that lawyer are the ones trying to twist everything, trying to make him seem innocent.”

  “You were there that night,” Ellery said, and his anger sputtered. He shut his mouth and shook his head. “What did you see?” she pressed. When he still said nothing, she waved her phone. “Fine, tell it to the cops.”

  “No, don’t,” he blurted, holding out his hands again. “I was there, yes. I didn’t see him do it, but I saw he was there. The fireman caught the right guy.”

  “How do you know that if you didn’t see him do it?”

  “I just know, okay? Who the hell else was it going to be? He was the only one jerking off to the fire.” He said the last words in utter disgust. “My brother was in there.”

  “You knew they were there.”

  “Of course I knew.” He gave her an appraising look, as if measuring how much to say. “I followed ’em there.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Bored kid, I guess. Not every day your mom and baby brother sneak out at night. I was curious is all.”

  “You said ‘sneak.’ I thought they were going to pick up tax papers.”

  “I didn’t find that out until later.”

  There was something else right under the surface, something he wasn’t saying. She tried a different tack. “You like following people, huh? You’ve been following me.”

  He eyed her, pride glinting. “Good thing I did. You’d be in a body bag by now. That guy was beating the crap out of you.”

  She wasn’t feeling especially grateful right at that moment. “Why were you following me?”

  He shook his head as if she were too thick for words. “To see what you were doing—what you were digging up about the fire. That asshole murdered my baby brother and you were trying to get him out! My family was doing just fine until you came along, sticking your nose in where it didn’t belong. I know your story, too, you got that? I’ve seen the papers. You’re not even a real cop anymore. Who the hell are you to go playing around with people’s lives?”

  The anger in his words vibrated through her and she remembered the note: GET BACK IN THE CLOSET WHERE YOU BELONG. “It was you,” she said softly. “The one who put the note under my door.” Jake turned his face away from her but said nothing. Her voice rose. “Did you also torch my truck?”

  “I don’t know nothing about that,” he said, but he sounded unconvincing.

  “I think I’ll call the cops now. Let them decide.”

  He jerked his attention back to her. “No, wait. Let me do it. I don’t want you trying to tell my story.”

  She held the phone back from him. “Tell me the truth then: what were you doing the night of the store fire?”

  He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I told you! I followed my mom there.”

  “Why were you following her?”

  He kicked at the snow. “I followed her sometimes. It was just something I did.”

  “Uh-huh. Sixteen-year-old boys don’t follow their moms around for fun.”

  His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “My dad accused my mom of running around on him, okay? They fought about it a few times. So I followed her, just to see.”

  Ellery’s pulse picked up. She could visualize Myra from the pictures back then, the ones that had shown her whole and handsome, with thick burnished hair, a curvy figure, and bright blue eyes. “And what did you see?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. She went to the store just like was reported on the news. Who the hell has an affair in the middle of a furniture store? I told my dad later: he was crazy, imagining things. My mother was a good woman, and she did not deserve this.” He held out his hand. “Now can I make the call?”

  “Yes,” she said as she pocketed her phone. Reed would be crashing their little party at any second, and there was no way she was handing over her only lifeline in the meantime. “You can call from inside. I’d lead you but I’m pretty sure you know the way.”

  * * *

  Detective Rhodes was only too happy to come collect Jake Gallagher, although she had plenty of side-eye left for Ellery as she did so. “Twenty cops out looking for this guy, this man you claim you’ve never met before, and he just up and turns himself in to you,” she said, deadpan. “You’re a regular miracle worker, Ms. Hathaway.”

  After she left with Jake, Reed and Ellery finally got to eat the food he’d made, and she surprised herself with how hungry she was. Reed smiled as he watched her eat. “You like it?”

  She picked out a spicy flavored shrimp with her fork and popped it in her mouth. “It’s delicious. If your mom taught you, I can’t even imagine what a cook she must be.”

  “Mama’s amazing. Daddy was always trying to get her to hire someone to help her, especially with the bigger dinners, but she wouldn’t hear of it. When Suzanne hired a caterer for her wedding fifteen years ago, I think Mama cried for two days.”

  “How many people were going to be at that wedding?”

  Reed grinned. “Only five hundred or so.”

  Ellery coughed on the water she was drinking. “I can barely work a microwave.”

  “I’ll be sure to put the leftovers in your fridge before I go,” he replied after a beat, and there was a strange silence as they both sat there with the reminder that he would be leaving.

  After dinner, she was cleaning the kitchen when he cleared his throat behind her. “Uh, would you mind terribly if I borrowed your washer? I’m afraid these clothes might be ready to walk around on their own.”

  “Oh! Of course not. Here, let me show you.” She showed him her small utility room with the stacked washer/dryer combo, and then she went to find her gray terry cloth robe. It would be a bit short on him but he could survive for a couple of hours. He emerged from the bathroom and she tried not to notice his lean, hairy legs. She escaped to the couch while he put his clothes in the washer. A few minutes later, he rejoined her, taking a careful seat at the opposite end.

  “Well? What shall we do now?” he asked, as though he weren’t sitting there practically naked.

  She could barely look at him. “I don’t know. Watch TV? Play cards? I have a deck around here somewhere.”

  “Sure, cards it is.” He looked at her solemnly and then down at his single article of clothing. “Just anything but strip poker.”

  They played gin rummy, and he beat her four games in a row. She would have blamed the head injury but she suspected he’d skunk her even if her brains weren’t recently addled. “I’m beginning to think the southern gentleman routine is all an act,” she grumbled as she dealt a fresh hand. “You must be cheating somehow.”

  “I learned everything about gin rummy from my father,” he replied as he picked up his hand. “He liked to play it with real gin.”

  She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. “I should get a bottle and start plying you with it. Maybe then I’d
win a game.”

  He opened his mouth to retort, but the washer sounded a loud buzzer from the back of the apartment. “You’ve been saved by the bell,” he remarked as he climbed off the couch. “Enjoy the reprieve.”

  She watched him go and when he’d disappeared from sight she remembered suddenly that the dryer door had a faulty hinge that required a slight lift to close it. She followed Reed to the tiny utility room to alert him of this news and promptly collided with his elbow as he was loading in his clothes. He poked her in the ribs right where she was already sore and bruised. “Ow,” she said, sucking in a shallow, painful breath.

  Reed’s eyes widened in horror and he reached out his hands to steady her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”

  She straightened up as the pain receded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Are you sure?” He rubbed her shoulders gently.

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” They were practically on top of each other now. Her laundry room was barely wide enough to hold one person and a basket. Strangely, she felt no desire to get out of the way. It was an odd enough sensation, having someone in her personal space and not being distressed about it, so odd that she let the moment linger. Maybe too long.

  “Ellery?”

  “Hmm?” She was looking at the split in his robe, which had fallen open to reveal an expanse of golden skin and a sprinkling of dark chest hair.

  “You’re sure you’re all right? You seem kind of . . . woozy.”

  “Your hair,” she said, apropos of nothing. She had raised her eyes to his head. “It’s flatter than usual.”

  “Yes, well. Pardon me if I didn’t take the time to gel it up properly before hopping a plane to make sure you were alive.”

  “I’m alive.” She gave a calm smile, and he returned it.

  “And I’m so glad,” he murmured. His hands, still on her shoulders, seemed to be urging her forward, and she decided to let it happen. He folded her in gently as though she might break, and she held her breath in this barest of hugs. Hesitantly, she let her fingers find the sides of him where he was lean and strong through the robe. Her nose poked into his collarbone and he smelled like warm, clean male. She couldn’t help herself: she opened her mouth and gave him a brief, experimental lick.