A Merciful Promise

by Elliot, Kendra

  “Yes.”

  “My boy is sick. I was just checking on him.”

  “Are you Noah’s father?”

  Surprise widened the blue eyes. “I am. I’m Jason.”

  Aha. His eyes were exactly like Eden’s. Wide and a vibrant blue.

  “You already knew he was sick?” Jason asked.

  “I saw him earlier, and I have something that should help with the fever,” Mercy said tentatively. “I suspect he has an ear infection. Ideally he should see a doctor. I don’t have the right equipment to properly diagnose an infection.” She purposefully didn’t name the Tylenol, hoping he’d simply give her general permission to treat his son.

  His shoulders sagged. “Do what you can. My request to take him to a doctor has already been turned down.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone says childhood sicknesses are normal. We shouldn’t be running to the doctor for drugs every time someone skins a knee.” His gaze was flat, the words recited as if by rote.

  I’m getting tired of the same excuse.

  “This isn’t a skinned knee. It’s possible his hearing could be permanently affected—and what if I’m wrong? What if something else is causing the fever?”

  “Fevers are normal,” he stated.

  “It’s okay if I try to lower his fever with what I have?”

  “Yeah.” He looked away, and Mercy remembered Vera had said Eden and Noah didn’t have a mother, making her wonder what had happened. “I need to get back to work.” He passed her on the path without another word.

  Mercy silently seethed as she watched him walk away. Children’s fevers could rapidly rise from mild to alarming. Why did no one care?

  She continued her trek. Hearing chatter ahead, she spotted a cabin under one of the towering pines. A few children were playing tag and the others hopscotch. The game’s outline had been scratched in the dusty dirt, and several rocks dotted the boxes. She counted six kids. Olivia had shed her coat, but she still wore Mercy’s pink hat.

  Mercy paused before the children spotted her, watching for a long moment. The children seemed happy, but something about the environment seemed off. It took a moment before she registered that there were no toys. The kids were playing games with what they could find in nature.

  As Mercy and her siblings had done.

  It wasn’t a bad way to grow up, but she had longed for the toys that other kids had.

  These kids don’t have anyone to be envious of.

  But the camp had been active for only about a year. Surely these children had had toys before that. They had to miss those.

  She didn’t see Noah or Eden. Since Jason had said he’d been visiting, she assumed the two children were inside. Mercy stepped out from behind a tree and was immediately spotted by Olivia, who alerted the others. The kids stopped their play and stared at her in silence.

  It was slightly creepy to approach the group of soundless kids. It was as if someone had flipped off a switch. The children were young; Mercy doubted anyone was older than ten. Their faces were dirty, and a few were barefoot, their toes brown with dirt. Mercy hoped they had shoes for the cold.

  “Hi, Olivia,” she said to the one child she knew.

  Olivia smiled. She touched her pink hat and nodded but didn’t say anything this time. Mercy wondered if the kids had been taught not to speak when adults were present.

  “Is Noah around?”

  Olivia pointed at the cabin, and the other children resumed their game as Mercy passed by. She glanced at the hopscotch squares. Something was wrong about the squares, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.

  The door to the cabin was open, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Noah was curled up on a thin mat in the corner, his body looking bony under his thin shirt and pants. The sight stirred a long-hidden memory in Mercy’s mind.

  My mother checking on a sick child. I was with her.

  Mercy couldn’t have been more than ten.

  The thin little boy had been sleeping on the floor like Noah.

  The home had smelled like pork. And cabbage. Four other children had spied on Mercy and her mother from a loft above the main room. Her mother had been very worried about the boy. Mercy could tell from her tone as she talked to the child’s mother.

  Eden sat beside Noah, leaning against the wall, a toddler asleep against her shoulder. Her sharp eyes immediately locked on Mercy’s. A woman held another child as she slowly swayed back and forth in a creaking rocking chair.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked quietly as she gestured that the child was sleeping. Her face was narrow, and her dark hair hung limply around her face. She looked very young.

  “Are you Sadie?” Mercy whispered.

  “I am. Are you here for Noah?”

  Word got around fast.

  “Yes. I’ve got something for his fever. I ran into his father on the path just now, and he said to do whatever I could to help his son.”

  The young woman nodded. “What do you have?”

  “Children’s Tylenol.”

  The rocking stopped. “That’s okay?”

  “Jason said to do whatever. Why? Has Noah experienced a bad reaction to it?”

  “He’s had it before.” Eden spoke up. “My mom gave it to him.” She fastened a stare on Mercy. “It will make him feel better?”

  “I’ve told them we should have medicine on hand for the little ones,” Sadie said quietly. “No one listens to me.” She stood and took the sleeping toddler to a small crib in the back of the cabin, where she gently laid her down.

  Mercy knelt next to Noah, who opened his eyes, and she offered him the pills. “Chew them up. They’ll help with your ear pain,” she told him.

  He chewed, and his eyes lit up at the grape flavor.

  “Good boy.” Mercy ruffled his hair. She caught Eden watching her carefully. “Hopefully he’ll perk up within a half hour.”

  “I’ll take Jenny now.” Sadie held her arms out for the toddler snuggled against Eden’s shoulder. Eden handed off the tiny one with practiced ease, making Mercy miss her new nephew. Rose’s son, Henry, was a happy, bubbly baby, and Mercy couldn’t get enough of the smell of his baby head. There was nothing else like it. Warmth, innocence, and sunshine all wrapped up in a perfect scent.

  “Eden, can you introduce me to the other children?” Mercy asked. “They didn’t talk to me as I walked by.”

  Sadie had settled back in the rocking chair with the second toddler, and Mercy wanted to talk to Eden alone. The teenager nodded, and Mercy followed her back out into the sunshine. According to nearby shouts, the children were playing hide-and-seek in the forest.

  That ill boy Mercy had visited with her mother had been sicker than Noah. Mercy had felt his body heat from several feet away. He wouldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t lift his head.

  Her mother had been angry with the boy’s mother. Why?

  Mercy set the memory aside.

  “Eden, can you tell me more about Noah not speaking? You mentioned he spoke ‘before.’ When was ‘before’?” They stopped next to the abandoned hopscotch.

  “Before my mother left,” Eden stated.

  “She left,” Mercy repeated. “Like moved away?” Please don’t tell me she died.

  “Yes.” Eden kept her gaze straight ahead. “It was right before we moved here. Noah hasn’t spoken since.”

  “I’m very sorry about that. Where did you live before here?”

  “John Day,” the girl stated, naming a town about an hour south.

  “Sometimes traumatic events like a move or a parent leaving will make a young child’s behavior change.”

  “I know,” said Eden. “Dad says we’re not to worry about it. He’ll come around. Noah just needs time to get over her being gone.” She glanced at Mercy and raised her chin. “I got over it.”

  Sorrow briefly flashed in her blue eyes.

  No, you’re not over it.

  “What made your dad move to the compound?” Mer
cy redirected the conversation.

  “He wanted to live here,” Eden answered simply. “It’s a good place.”

  Mercy tilted her head. The last sentence sounded like a politician’s talking point. Easy to repeat. Full of vague meaning.

  “It’s very beautiful,” Mercy agreed. “I grew up on a ranch and loved it. I was always jealous of the town kids, though. Seemed like they didn’t have a quarter of the chores that I did.”

  “Everyone here has chores,” Eden muttered, kicking at a rock. “Or a job. I miss my friends and school. This place is boring.”

  “But you have school classes here, right?”

  Eden rolled her eyes just as Mercy had seen Kaylie do a hundred times. “They’re for little kids. I’m the oldest one here. I don’t want to learn stupid songs.”

  “I bet it’s hard being the oldest. My brother Owen always complained that he had to do more work than the rest of us simply because he was the oldest.”

  “He’s right. I watch the kids more than Sadie does. She’s always running off to do other things.”

  “What does your dad do here at the camp?”

  “Whatever is needed.”

  That’s not helpful.

  “What did he do before you moved?”

  “Worked with cattle. He hadn’t worked for a while in John Day. Not many jobs were available. Times were tough for everyone.”

  More talking points.

  “Pete offered him a job?” Mercy asked carefully.

  Eden wrinkled her nose. “No, Dad hadn’t met Pete before he came here. At least that’s what he says.”

  Mercy’s ears perked up. “You think your father knew Pete before you moved?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I think so. Who packs up their family and moves without a job lined up? But it doesn’t matter. We’re here to stay.” She exhaled noisily and crossed her arms.

  “Sounds like you’re making the best of a dull situation.”

  “You have no idea how bored I am.” More eye rolling. She dabbed at a box of the hopscotch with her toe. “My mom and dad had a huge fight before she left.”

  Mercy wondered if Eden had no one to talk to about her mom. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Mom had planned a trip to visit her sister in Pendleton, and Noah and I were going with her, but then Dad said we couldn’t.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with her forearm.

  So much for claiming she was past her mom’s abandonment.

  “Did she go?”

  She appeared to not hear Mercy’s question. “They yelled and yelled at each other. They had to know that Noah and I heard every word.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mercy repeated, realizing the girl just needed someone to listen.

  “The next morning, she kissed us goodbye and said she’d be back in a week. She hated to leave us behind, but Dad was being stubborn. She needed to go,” Eden told Mercy earnestly. “She only got to see her sister once a year. They were really close.”

  Eden doesn’t want me to be angry with her mother for leaving.

  Even though she is.

  “I can understand,” Mercy told her. “I went a long time without seeing either of my sisters, and it was awful.” I missed so much over those fifteen years.

  “After a few days, Dad packed up the house. He said Mom had decided to live with her sister and wasn’t coming back.” She blew out a breath. The last sentence had tumbled out in a rush.

  Mercy battled back her shock.

  Eden’s father had moved the children while their mother was gone and made them believe they had been abandoned. Mercy doubted that was the entire story. Jason hadn’t seemed evil when she met him. He’d been a dad concerned for his son’s health.

  How concerned can he be if he moved them to this backwoods camp?

  She wondered if Eden’s mother was searching for her children. Had she notified the police? Had Jason not told anyone where they were going? Surely the police would have tracked down this family by now.

  “Eden, did you get to say goodbye to your friends before you left?”

  “No.” She took a quick look around them and leaned closer to Mercy. “I don’t think my dad told anyone where we went. I know he owed some bills. I don’t think he wants to be found.”

  “I don’t think anyone who lives here wants to be found,” Mercy stated. “Eden . . . does your mother know where you moved?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ve talked to her?”

  “Well, no. Dad says she doesn’t want to talk to us, because it hurts too much. It wasn’t easy for her to leave.”

  “Why do you think she left?”

  “Because they fought all the time. There was never enough money. Dad did the best he could.” She wiped her eyes again.

  How lonely is this girl that she’s telling a complete stranger her story?

  “Eden.” Mercy waited until the girl looked up at her. “Nothing is harder for a mother than to leave her children, and usually there is a much deeper reason for leaving than fighting with a spouse.”

  Do I tell her I suspect her mother is looking for her?

  No. I can’t stir up trouble.

  “I hate her.” Tears leaked from the blue eyes.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being angry in this situation. And there is nothing wrong with loving your mother even though you’re bitter. You can do both.”

  Eden nodded, but Mercy doubted her words had penetrated the girl’s grief. Her wounded gaze had ripped something apart inside of Mercy. She set a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder and then was stunned when the teen immediately stepped close and wrapped her arms around Mercy’s middle, burying her face in Mercy’s shirt.

  She has no one.

  Guilt touched Mercy as she remembered her idea to get the girl alone to question her about the camp. That could wait for another day. Right now she had a broken teenage heart to console. She patted Eden on her back and let her cry. As Mercy waited, her gaze fell on the odd hopscotch drawn in the dirt. Then she saw it.

  It doesn’t have numbers.

  Hopscotch had boxes numbered one through ten. These squares were blank.

  Cold fear wrapped around her lungs. Do the children not remember their numbers?

  No books. Oral lessons.

  An uneducated society was a malleable society.

  That day they visited the sick boy, Mercy’s mother had been angry because that family wouldn’t help their son. No medicine, no doctors. “If he’s meant to be healed, God will heal him,” the boy’s mother had stated, ignoring Mercy’s mother’s pleas.

  He died that night.

  Mercy shivered and wondered how the woman’s other children had fared.

  Kids would not be left to die as long as Mercy breathed.

  Heavy boot steps made her and Eden look up. The lieutenant who had watched Mercy earlier that morning was marching toward them. Eden stiffened, and Mercy tightened her arms around the girl. He didn’t meet their gaze as he passed and strode into Sadie’s cabin, his AR-15 still slung over a shoulder.

  Mercy and Eden exchanged a glance.

  “Who—” Mercy started.

  “Polk!” The lieutenant stepped out of the doorway. “You’re with me.”

  Eden let go of Mercy and stepped away, an alarming fear in her eyes.

  “Where are we going?” Mercy asked.

  “Pete needs to see you.”

  “Can it wait for—”

  “No. Now.”

  “I need to—”

  “Hell, woman! Get moving!”

  Mercy clamped her mouth shut. Don’t rock the boat.

  “My dad said she could give Noah the medicine.” Eden put her hands on her hips, glaring at the man.

  Surprise filled Mercy. Is that what this is about? Tylenol?

  “She can tell it to Pete.”

  He can’t be serious. Mercy considered the uptight lieutenant. She suddenly remembered the name of the actor he’d reminded her of. “Has anyone ever said you
look like a younger Kiefer Sutherland?”

  Amusement flashed. “Walk,” he ordered.

  She walked.

  THIRTEEN

  That afternoon after the autopsy, Truman rested his chin in one propped-up hand as he studied the bullet hole images from both John Does on his computer screen.

  Executions?

  Dr. Lockhart’s word echoed in his head. His mind was fixated on the image of these men kneeling as they took a bullet to the head. Had the killer looked them in the eye before he shot? Had the same man murdered both victims?

  Truman worried this train of thought was keeping him from considering other possibilities. It was too early to jump to the conclusion of a serial killer in Deschutes County. They could have nothing to do with each other.

  Then why does my gut say they do?

  He closed the images, rubbing his eyes with both hands. He needed to focus on Eagle’s Nest issues. Speeders. Loose livestock. Minors with alcohol. His priority was the safety of his residents, not looking over Evan Bolton’s shoulder.

  Although he appreciated the courtesies Bolton had extended him.

  A soft knock on his closed door made him frown. No one in the office knocked like that.

  “Come in,” he said loudly, quickly straightening some papers on his desk.

  Karl Kilpatrick opened the door. Surprise raced through Truman at the sight of Mercy’s father. He stood and gestured at a chair. “Karl, come in. What can I do for you?”

  Mercy’s father sat, his cowboy hat in his hand. “Keeping yourself busy?” he asked conversationally. He was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair that showed much more salt these days. His eyes were an intense green like Mercy’s. Over the last few months, Truman had noticed he moved slower than usual. And had lost weight.

  “There’s always something,” Truman said. “Some days more than others.”

  “Good. Good, that’s good.” Karl paused for a long second, contemplating Truman. “How’s Ollie doing?”

  “He’s still going to the community college in Bend. Works at the sports shop on the weekends.”

  “He’s a sharp kid.”

  “He is.” Truman studied the older man. Karl wasn’t one for small talk, so Truman knew he hadn’t come to shoot the breeze. Something’s up.

  He trusted Karl would get to it in due time.