“Royce. Says he thinks it’s Gerry Norris. A local.”
“So that’s why Royce looked ready to puke,” Bolton commented.
Truman studied the detective. Bolton had always impressed him with his steady demeanor no matter what horror was in front of him. But at what cost had he developed that calm?
“Have an address for Norris?” Bolton asked.
Ben rejoined the group. “I got it and a photo,” he answered. He held up his phone, which displayed an enlarged driver’s license picture. “This guy looks a lot heavier than our victim. Face is rounder. Now I’m not sure it’s him.”
Truman compared the photo to the body. Neither he nor Bolton could be certain it was Norris.
“I’ll text you the address, Truman,” Ben said as he stomped and waved an arm at a bird that had ventured too close, its beady eyes on the body. “Damned birds.”
“Wait for the evidence team and medical examiner,” Truman told Ben. He glanced back at Royce, who was still sitting in his vehicle. “Get Royce back down here and have him help the team. I don’t care if he just holds a garbage bag or takes bird duty. Keep him busy with something.”
Ben nodded solemnly, understanding in his gaze.
Truman looked to Bolton, who was eyeing the birds with distaste. “Let’s go.”
As they headed toward the road, Truman received a phone call.
“What’s up, Lucas?” Truman signaled for Bolton to wait.
“I’m entering Samuel’s reports from last night, and I just discovered he broke up a domestic dispute between Gerry Norris and Kim Fuller at Norris’s address,” Lucas said triumphantly. “Thought you’d like a heads-up.”
“Nice job. Send me a scan of Samuel’s report.”
“I got lucky.” Lucas sounded smug.
Truman ended the call. “We’ve got a girlfriend to interview,” he told Bolton.
Gerry Norris lived in an old Eagle’s Nest building composed of four apartments that had seen better days. The architecture suggested it’d been built in the seventies, and it currently needed a new coat of paint. The outdoor landings were covered with green artificial turf that had thinned to threads in front of each apartment door.
After Truman knocked, a chain stopped Norris’s door from opening more than five inches, and suspicious female eyes studied the men. “More cops?” she asked with a sigh.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Truman answered, holding up his identification. “We’re following up on last night’s report. Are you Kim Fuller?”
Samuel’s report had been clear and concise. At 8:00 p.m. neighbors had reported a fight in the apartment above them. When Samuel responded, he’d found Fuller and Norris drunk and screaming at each other but with no apparent injuries. A disagreement about money was the source of the argument. He’d separated the two of them and talked to each individually, and it had been agreed that Norris would spend the rest of the night with a friend. At 9:00 p.m. Samuel had dropped off Norris at a home a mile away and watched him enter the house before leaving.
The friend’s house was Truman’s next stop.
“Yes, I’m Kim.” The blonde woman closed the door, removed the chain, and opened it wide, releasing a strong cigarette odor from the apartment. She was very thin and wore yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “I thought everything was over once the officer left,” she said, standing firmly in the doorway. “It wasn’t a big deal. The neighbors downstairs are a pain in the butt!” she shouted toward the floor.
“Do you mind if we come in and talk?” Truman asked.
She looked from Truman to Bolton. “What’s wrong with right here?”
I want to see inside your apartment.
“Nothing,” he agreed. She was already defensive, and he didn’t want to push her more. Yet. “The report says the argument started about money. What happened?”
“I told him he needs to get a job if he wants to go party every night. He hasn’t worked since June, and I’m tired of hustling my ass off to keep him in beer.”
“Where do you work?”
“Colonel’s in Bend.”
Truman knew the dive bar. He’d never been inside, but Samuel had gotten food poisoning there. Twice. When Truman asked why he’d gone back, he’d shrugged and said the burgers were worth the risk.
Nothing was worth food poisoning to Truman.
“Have you heard from Gerry since he left last night?” Bolton asked.
“Nah. I’m sure he’s still sleeping it off.” She leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms below her breasts and inspecting both men in a curious way that made Truman want to scratch his neck. She appeared to like what she saw in Bolton.
“The two of you argue a lot?” Truman asked.
“As much as anybody.”
“He ever get physical with you?”
She smirked. “No. He wouldn’t do that. I’m his bread and butter right now. He needs to keep me happy.” Her considering gaze roamed over Bolton again.
This is happy?
“Do you have a picture of both of you?” He didn’t want to ask for just a picture of Norris. She would know instantly something was wrong.
She scowled. “Why?”
“There weren’t any pictures with the report. Usually we take photos of who we’re dealing with,” he lied.
Her phone was tucked in the waist of her yoga pants, and she flashed more skin than necessary as she pulled it out. She held up the phone. The lock screen was a selfie of her and Norris.
Norris wore a cap. Again Truman couldn’t be certain he was the victim. He asked her to send the photo to him and excused himself and Bolton.
He led Bolton down the stairs. “Time to visit the friend’s place where Norris spent the night.”
Was Norris killed by his friend?
NINETEEN
By the next morning, another three inches of snow had fallen. The compound had transformed into a rustic winter wonderland, making Mercy miss the homey, secure feeling of her own cabin during the freezing months. Last night had been cold in the women’s building, its insulation lacking. The beautiful snow hid the fact that the facilities had been built for temporary summertime camping, not wintertime living.
Mercy was one of the first people in line for breakfast, a headache pounding in her skull from her thirty-six hours of no food and constant overnight analysis of the conversation she’d overheard yesterday. Her brain hadn’t stopped. Pete’s plan would kick off in twenty-four hours, and she hadn’t come up with a solution to stop them. She’d wandered the compound, checking for a way to get out. There was none. Even if she did escape, she still had to find a phone.
And hope there is decent wireless coverage.
She’d wait for Chad to return and send him to use the satellite phone.
A few men lined up behind her, and she covertly studied them, wondering if any were the two she’d overheard yesterday.
She got her food, spotted Eden at a table in the mess hall, and sat beside her, curious about what had happened to Noah in town. The girl nodded at Mercy’s greeting and continued to pick at her scrambled eggs, resting her head on one hand, her eyes red and swollen.
Clearly Eden hadn’t heard any news about Noah.
Mercy realized the teen must feel as alone as she did with Chad gone. Eden currently didn’t have a brother or father. Or mother. Mercy committed to keeping the teenager close and distracted from thoughts of her little brother. And maybe Eden’s presence would help Mercy forget how isolated and vulnerable she currently was in the compound. Mercy ate and, even with the mass of turmoil in her head, the breakfast was one of the most delicious meals she’d had in years. Amazing what supreme hunger could do.
Pete entered and scanned the room. Spotting Mercy, he strode toward her. He didn’t look like a man with a mysterious plan of destruction. She wiped her mouth, fear and hope battling in her stomach as she wondered if he had news about Noah. Eden saw him approach and gave a small gasp. She sat up straighter on the hard bench, anticipation
on her face.
He stopped at their table, a light dusting of snow in his hair and on his coat. “The urgent care center transferred Noah to a hospital last night. He was dehydrated.”
A knot untied in Mercy’s chest. No doubt fluids and antibiotics would make a world of difference in the boy’s health.
“The hospital insisted Noah have a parent present,” Pete continued. “They said they’d assign him a county caseworker if a parent didn’t appear.” Annoyance weighed heavy in his tone. “That is part of what I wanted to avoid,” he said, pinning a harsh look on Mercy. “We don’t need the government telling us how to take care of our children.”
Yet I have to force you to take care of them.
“I called Jason in Portland and told him,” Pete said. “He made it to the hospital late last night to be with his son and sent Sean back here.”
“Is Chad at the hospital too?” Mercy asked.
“No. I rented him another vehicle to stay in Portland and get the shipment.” Pete looked behind him, checking on the other mess hall residents. “All of my order hadn’t arrived like they told me. They swear it’ll be there in a few days, so I told Chad to wait for it.”
Mercy’s heart dropped. Chad was out in the wide world without an escort; he had the ability to communicate with the ATF, take long showers, and get Starbucks. But Mercy was stuck in the compound with news of a big event occurring tomorrow and no means to warn anyone. At least Pete’s news meant Chad wasn’t the driver they were waiting for. He might know nothing of the plan. Relief hit her, and the tension evaporated. She hadn’t realized the level of her agitation, wondering if Chad was part of Pete’s plan.
Sean passed behind Pete’s back, a tray of food in his hands. His gaze collided with Mercy’s, but he walked on.
Pete glanced at Sean as he took a seat a few tables away. “Sean barely made it back home in the middle of the night. The roads are insanely slick, and a lot more snow is forecast over the next few days. County won’t send plows up here unless I ask them to, and our landlord says the cost would be on me.” His face was grim. “Good thing we’re prepared for winter.”
Mercy had seen their stores; this compound wasn’t anywhere near prepared. Uncertainty swamped her. “But what about Chad—and Jason? How will they get back if the roads are bad?”
Am I stuck here? Possibly for the rest of the winter?
The ATF needed to know what she’d overheard.
Pete was already walking away. “We’ll figure out something,” he said without concern. He stopped at another table, greeted the men, and joined their conversation.
At least Noah is getting treatment.
“Eden, want to come with me?” Mercy asked the teen. The girl nodded, looking encouraged, and took care of her tray without asking where Mercy was going. “That was good news about Noah,” Mercy added. “He’ll quickly get better in the hospital.”
“I’m so relieved.”
Mercy understood.
Outdoors, Mercy pulled on her gloves, eyeing the snow. Finding the satellite phone was completely out of the question. Frustration made her want to hit something. She was powerless.
Will innocent people die as a result of their plan?
Eden adjusted her hat and then tucked her hands under the armpits of her thick coat.
“Do you have gloves?” Mercy asked as she pulled up her hood.
“No.”
“Then our first stop is to requisition some gloves for you.”
Eden made a face. “I doubt they have any left.” They took the broken path through the snow toward the supply depot, their boots crunching in the white fluff.
“I probably should hide while you ask for gloves,” Mercy admitted, not wanting Beckett to deny Eden something simply because Mercy was there.
“Beckett’s a dick.”
One side of Mercy’s mouth rose in a half smile. “You noticed that, did you?”
“Hard to miss. Where did you want to walk after that?” Eden’s cheeks were pink from the cold, and Mercy’s heart did a double beat at the sight. Kaylie’s cheeks flushed the same way.
A craving to see her niece stole her breath. She desperately missed the teenager and wondered if that was why she was so focused on Eden.
“Nowhere,” Mercy said once her lungs returned to normal. “I wanted to roam around a bit. Enjoy the sight of the snow. Maybe go up to the clearing, where the new building is.”
They passed several people heading to breakfast. Nods were exchanged, but no one spoke directly to the two of them. Mercy wondered if that was normal behavior, or if she’d been identified as a troublemaker already.
She didn’t care what they thought. She should care, since Chad had told her not to make waves, but she couldn’t sit by and let shit hit the fan.
“I saw you the first day I was here.” Mercy put the other residents out of her mind and concentrated on Eden. “Vera was giving me a tour, and you were hiding in the women’s cabin. I didn’t say anything to Vera. I figured if you were hiding, there was a good reason.”
Eden’s cheeks grew pinker.
“No one was supposed to be in the cabin,” Eden admitted. “You and Vera surprised me. Cindy was dead asleep before you came in. I never worry about waking her.”
“What were you doing?”
The teen kicked at the snow. “Just looking around.”
Mercy said nothing.
“Vera often has candy,” Eden said after a long silent moment. “No one is supposed to have it in camp, but somehow she gets it.” The girl frowned. “I don’t take it all—just some. I think it’s funny that she can’t report that someone is stealing from her—”
“Because she’ll have to admit she has contraband,” Mercy finished with a grin. “I get it.”
“I share it with the other kids,” Eden quickly added. “They know not to get caught with it, or else there will be no more in the future.”
“How quickly we learn to deceive,” Mercy murmured. “Do you snoop through everyone’s stuff?”
Eden looked away. “There is seriously nothing else to do here. I usually don’t steal—unless it’s something they’re not supposed to have anyway. I’ve never taken more than some candy and beer.”
“No alcohol is allowed either?” Mercy hadn’t heard that rule.
“Right. But the men hide it here and there outside around the camp. I take it just to mess with them.”
Mercy grinned. “I’m liking you more and more.” Her mind shifted into another gear, wondering about Pete’s plan for tomorrow. “Eden, have you ever found something . . .” Mercy searched for a way to say weapons without using the word. “Found something that alarmed you?”
“Oh, I stay out of the men’s cabins.”
Mercy snorted. “Not like that. Maybe something dangerous that the younger kids shouldn’t play with.”
Eden put a hand on Mercy’s arm to stop her. Her blue eyes were amused. “What on earth are you trying to say? I’m not ten. Just ask.”
Mercy knew she’d broken a rule of speaking to teens. Don’t bullshit; they recognize it.
“Have you ever found weapons where you knew there shouldn’t be any?” she blurted.
Eden’s eyes searched hers. “The patrols carry guns. They keep them in the armory.”
“Not like that. A cache of hidden weapons. Ones not being used.”
Two lines formed between Eden’s eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”
Mercy formulated a reasonable lie. “Chad mentioned that someone had said they’d seen a lot of weapons, but he thinks they were lying. I’d hate for the other kids to find something like that.” She fixed an earnest expression on her face.
Eden still looked confused. “No. No one would leave out something like that.”
“But they might have them.”
Annoyance crossed her face. “You want to know if Pete has a bunch of weapons. Just say it.”
She was caught, but she couldn’t stop now.
Mercy sighed. �
�It makes me sound nosy and suspicious.”
“It does.”
“But what if the guy who told Chad wasn’t lying? Wouldn’t you want to know what was going on? This is supposed to be a safe place.”
“This is a fucked-up place,” Eden spit out. “Who lets Noah nearly die because of made-up principles?”
“I completely agree with you,” Mercy said quietly.
“Then why are you here?” Eden asked, her gaze earnest. “I’m here because my dad made me come—and now he might be unable to come back if the weather doesn’t let up!” Moisture started in her eyes.
Mercy pulled the teen in for a hug. “I’m sorry your family isn’t here.”
“I don’t want to be here!” Eden said, her face pressed into Mercy’s coat. “I hate it here. I don’t know why anyone would choose to come to this stupid camp.”
Temptation to tell the truth hovered like a storm cloud around Mercy. It was a need to comfort the girl and also unload her own burden of secrets to someone, anyone.
She rubbed Eden’s back and analyzed her situation. Again.
Chad was gone for a few days or possibly much longer. She hadn’t made friends who might take her into their confidence and disclose where weapons might be or more about Pete’s plan. All she’d accomplished was to rile up the commander and some of his associates.
And save Noah’s life.
There was nothing for her to do but sit tight and keep her ears open.
Eden pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I need gloves.”
“Yes, you do. And I won’t hide from Beckett.” Mercy lifted her chin. “If I can convince Pete to send Noah to the doctor, I can convince Beckett to part with some gloves.” They continued on to the supply depot.
Someone had shoveled a small clearing in front of the depot’s door. Fresh footprints indicated people had been there recently. Mercy knocked, and Beckett promptly opened the door. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth turned down.
“Eden needs gloves,” Mercy stated, keeping her tone pleasant.
His gaze went to the teen and softened slightly. “Give me a minute. Everybody wants gloves today. Not much left,” he said gruffly. He disappeared into the small building, and Mercy immediately followed, with Eden close behind. Last time he’d shut the door in Mercy’s face. Maybe she was moving up in the world.
A Merciful Promise Page 15
