“Gamble was interesting,” Mercy said as she flipped through pages. “He loves mind games and must be very bored in prison. He immediately tried to ruffle my feathers, but I was expecting it. He did manage to make me defensive at the end, and I essentially got nothing helpful from him, so he’s talented with words. The guard told me his favorite form of entertainment is to mentally mess with his fellow inmates and get them in trouble.”
“Well, that corresponds with this high school teacher’s note on Gamble,” Eddie said. “Sounds like he hasn’t changed in thirty years.”
The four known robbers had attended a Portland high school together and then moved on to the same local community college. They’d just started their second year at the school when the robbery occurred. Mercy wondered if Gamble had been so bored in college that he decided to dream up the perfect armored car robbery.
“Let me see.” Mercy leaned over Eddie’s shoulder to study the page.
The high school teacher appeared to have known the four young men quite well. He stated that Shane Gamble was the leader of the group, and that both Ellis Mull and Nathan May were quiet and focused on sports instead of schoolwork. Trevor Whipple was the fast talker, the charmer, and he flirted with the girls. The four were popular, but their grades were never more than average. This teacher said he’d suspected Gamble could easily get better grades but simply didn’t care. Gamble seemed more interested in embracing a variety of life experiences than in planning for the future with a solid education. The teacher was convinced Gamble had dragged the other students into the robbery.
What does Gamble think of his life experiences over the last thirty years?
Mercy tried to wrap her brain around the concept of people who didn’t prepare for the future. It was like a foreign language to her ears. How could a person not plan ahead? She studied the high school photos in the file, knowing that the men had been barely older than they were in these photos when they’d committed the crime. Not even old enough to drink.
They were children. It was a game to them.
The realizations ricocheted through her skull and combined with Eddie’s comment that Gamble hadn’t changed over the years. Gamble’s emotional growth had essentially stopped when he was incarcerated.
He still played games. Mind games.
She knew an FBI forensic psychologist who would love to pick apart Gamble’s words and actions.
Looking at the high school photos, she saw that Gamble, May, and Whipple sported big smiles, but Ellis Mull looked stern. He’d played football all through high school but wasn’t good enough to get a scholarship. He had the thick neck of someone who spent excess time in the weight room.
Did he feel lost when football was no longer part of his life?
Whipple had the hairstyle of a guy who paid close attention to his looks and grooming. Even from a photo, Mercy felt the flirtation from his eyes. He had that something that made a girl take a second look. And he knew it.
Nathan May ran cross-country and did track. He was lean and looked relaxed and confident in his picture.
The unknown fifth robber left a big void in the file. No one was certain his real name was Jerry. Previous investigators had looked into friends associated with the four, searching for that mystery person—high school friends, coworkers, college associates. No one else had disappeared like Whipple, May, and Mull after the robbery. The FBI had kept a careful watch on friends they believed most likely to have been the fifth man, but the suspicions had faded away as the men went on with normal lives.
“I can’t believe they split and never contacted their families again,” Eddie commented. “Mull had four sisters. How do you walk away from that?”
Mercy eyed Mull’s stern gaze in the photo. “Maybe they weren’t close. Two million dollars is a big reason to go silent.”
“Forever?” Eddie muttered. “My sister would kill me if I didn’t check in every few months.”
Or they all died right after the robbery.
Shane Gamble still looked like his high school photo. The hair was different, and he had a few lines on his face, but it was clearly the man she’d met that morning. In a way he’d been caught in some sort of time warp. Nearly thirty years behind bars with limited sun exposure must have preserved him.
“Do you look like your high school photo?” she asked Eddie.
He raised a brow at the random question. “You be the judge.” He tapped on his phone a few times and pulled up a photo from a Facebook page.
“We’re not supposed to have social media accounts.”
“It’s my sister’s page. She doesn’t use my name, and my senior picture is the most recent photo I’ve allowed her to post.”
“Holy crap,” Mercy exclaimed as she took the phone. “You haven’t changed at all. I look nothing like mine.”
“I look totally different now,” he protested.
Mercy studied him. “No. Those glasses don’t age you like you think they do. You’re still eighteen behind them.”
“Shit.” He snatched his phone back.
“Ask Melissa’s opinion. She’ll agree with me.”
“I’m busy working,” he stated, giving Mercy a side-eye. “Not reliving high school. Now . . . here are the interviews with their college professors.”
Mercy took the obvious hint to refocus. She scanned the short statements and scowled. “How can these teachers not know their students? Only one instructor says he remembers Mull, because he stood out in his weight lifting class.”
“College classes are often larger. You don’t spend the one-on-one time like you might with your teachers in high school.”
“True,” Mercy admitted. “And it’s possible that they rarely went to class. These statements are completely different from the high school teacher who gave his opinion. He knew them.”
“Average grades again in college,” Eddie added. “Maybe nothing made them stand out.” He opened a thick envelope of black-and-white robbery photos pulled from video. He shuffled through them and stopped on one. “This is Mull. He’s the beefiest guy of the four.”
“And I can tell from the long legs that the man to his right is Gamble,” Mercy said. “He’s tall. Even sitting across the table from him, I knew he would tower over me.”
“Whipple is definitely the smallest one. Nathan May must be the last.”
“What if Gamble hadn’t been shot at the last moment by the guard?” Mercy wondered out loud. “Would they all have escaped?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. Whatever their plan was for after the robbery sure worked out for the other four.”
“Except for the man whose remains Dr. Lockhart is examining.”
“If he’s even part of this robbery,” Eddie reminded her. “I know she was getting results on the dental comparisons today. Hopefully it’s one of them.”
Mercy couldn’t pull her gaze away from Whipple’s cheery grin in his senior photo. “What if they’re all dead? Maybe that’s why they’ve never been found. Dead men don’t talk.”
“One would still be alive. The one who killed the others.”
Eddie is right.
SIX
Ollie stepped through the door of the Coffee Café, and his heart sped up as he spotted Kaylie bustling behind the counter. Her aunt Pearl was also working in the coffeehouse, but Kaylie moved twice as fast. Kaylie handed a cup to one of the two customers at the cash register, giving him an intimate smile that made Ollie’s stomach feel as if it’d tumbled off a cliff.
Ollie recognized one of the tall men from the back. Cade. Kaylie’s on-again, off-again boyfriend.
Currently on again.
I have no business wishing they weren’t together. She’s like a sister to me.
He was pretty sure Kaylie felt the sibling vibe.
Cade was a solid guy, but Kaylie was . . . more than him. She had fire and curiosity for life. She constantly analyzed and asked questions, studied the world around her and immersed herself in it. Cade focused only on
what was right in front of him.
It wasn’t a bad thing. Ollie liked Cade; everyone liked Cade. He just wasn’t right for Kaylie.
Cade and the other man turned around to leave, and Cade’s face lit up as he spotted Ollie farther back in line. “Hey, Ollie. Fueling up?”
“Yeah.”
Cade gestured at the older man next to him. “Dad, this is Ollie. The guy who rescued Truman.”
Ollie wanted to shrink into his boots. He wasn’t a hero.
Cade’s father held out his hand, and Ollie shook it. “Call me Glenn. Let me know if you ever want a construction job somewhere.” Ollie had to look up at the tall man, but his eyes were kind, and he dressed like Cade. Carhartts. Work boots. Long-sleeved thermal shirt. Looking between him and his son, Ollie knew Cade would look exactly like Glenn in twenty years.
Glenn seemed just as nice as Cade. No doubt solid and hardworking. “Salt of the earth people,” Ollie had heard his grandmother say. He hadn’t understood what the term meant until he’d moved to Eagle’s Nest. Here he’d encountered many of them.
“Thank you, sir . . . Glenn.” Everyone in town had treated Ollie with kindness and respect, but Ollie knew it was because they cared about their police chief. One day he hoped the town would respect him for himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Ollie watched as Kaylie’s gaze followed the men to the door while she automatically waited on the next customer.
It’d become a habit to stop into Kaylie’s coffee shop several times a week during the afternoon when she was out of school. He’d never cared for coffee, but she’d introduced him to some sweet concoctions that were like drinking a dessert.
Ollie’s grandfather would shake his head at what was called coffee these days.
The first time Ollie had stopped in the shop, the scent had brought back memories of his grandfather’s old perking coffeepot. Ollie used to stare at the liquid bubbling in the clear knob, wondering what was happening inside that created the bitter drink his grandfather couldn’t start his day without.
“Hey, Ollie.” Kaylie flashed a smile at him as she grabbed a brownie for the customer in front of him. Her long, wavy ponytail fell over one shoulder, and he realized he missed the pink color. Now it was back to dark brown. His gaze stuck on the green sparkle of her nose stud. She changed the color every day.
His stomach did a bungee-jump thing.
Kaylie had introduced him to the modern teenage world. She’d told him what to do with his hair and what socks to wear with his tennis shoes, along with other instructions on practical things like digital books and streaming videos. No matter how stupid his questions, she never made fun of him. She was smart and kind and patient.
Pearl stepped into his field of vision, blocking his view of Kaylie. “I think my son and his friends are going to a movie this coming weekend. You should go with them.” She held his gaze, projecting her auntly concern. For weeks she’d been after him to do things with Kaylie’s cousin.
Ollie never knew what to say to Pearl’s son. The one time they had gotten together it’d been awkward, and they’d eyed each other as if they were from different planets. Ollie didn’t care to repeat the experience. He’d rather talk to Kaylie or Truman. Or Shep.
“I’m probably working. And I have a big test on Monday.”
Disappointment flitted across her face, and she nodded, accepting his answer. Ollie knew she meant well, but he didn’t need the companionship of guys his own age. They seemed like children to him. Foreign children.
“Did you want the caramel frappé, Ollie?” Kaylie called from behind the counter, the plastic cup already in her hand.
“Please.” He gave a silent sigh of relief as Pearl headed for the small back office beyond the counter.
“You just missed Lucas,” Kaylie told him as she worked on his drink. “His mom’s property was vandalized overnight. He said Truman checked it out.”
Concern for Bree overtook him. She’s such a tiny woman. “Was the damage bad?” Ollie asked as he watched Kaylie dart around. She had a swipe of chocolate on one cheek and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. For some reason he liked seeing it. It made her green eyes pop more than usual. She had the same eyes as her aunt Mercy, but Kaylie’s were relaxed. Mercy’s constantly studied her surroundings. When Mercy turned them to him, he felt as if she could see his exact thoughts.
When she looked at Truman, they softened.
Truman’s eyes did the same thing when he saw his fiancée.
Sometimes they forgot Ollie was in the room, they had their attention so focused on each other.
It wasn’t a bad thing. One day he hoped for that type of personal connection.
“Lucas was pretty steamed,” Kaylie answered. “None of the animals were hurt, but the damage to her truck could cost quite a bit.”
“That sucks. I really like Bree. She’s helped me a lot.” Ollie appreciated the tutoring time she’d spent with him. Especially with English. He’d had no idea that sentences were made of dozens of parts of speech, and he needed to learn to label each one. To him sentences were just strings of words that created pictures in his mind. She was also good with chemistry, which made his brain hurt. He frowned, thinking of Bree’s remote farm. The thought of her out there alone with someone harassing her angered him.
Kaylie handed him his drink, and their gazes met as he realized the gem in her nose matched her eyes.
Bungee jump.
Suddenly she looked past him, and her face lit up. “Truman.”
The loss of her eye contact left him hollow, but he turned and raised a hand to Truman.
The lines on Truman’s forehead looked deeper than usual, and stress lurked in his eyes. But he looked a million times better than when he’d been holed up in Ollie’s cabin, a fever racking his body.
Truman greeted both of them and accepted the cup of brewed coffee that Kaylie had pulled the moment he stepped inside.
“Got a second, Ollie?” Truman took a careful sip and held Ollie’s gaze.
Something’s wrong. His stomach lurched.
Truman tipped his head toward the side of the room, and Ollie followed him.
“What time did you finish up at Lake Ski and Sports last night?” Truman asked softly, his eyes dark.
Ollie frowned. “Ten, like always.”
“Did you go straight home?”
“Yes. I had an early class today.” Truman hadn’t been at the house last night. He’d been at Mercy’s.
Truman glanced around the empty café. “Do you ever drive out on Simpson Road?”
“Of course. When I have sessions at Bree’s place.” His palm sweated against his cold cup. “What happened?”
His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath and met Ollie’s gaze. “A truck like yours has been seen out there recently.”
“So? I just said I’ve been out there.”
Truman grimaced. “There’s been some vandalism in the area, so I had to ask.”
Ollie froze and felt his world crack. “You thought I did it?” His voice was too high. “Are you talking about the vandalism at Bree’s?”
He doesn’t trust me.
Truman’s gaze narrowed. “Yes. How did you know that?”
Ollie pointed at Kaylie, his mouth instantly dry. “She just told me. Lucas was in here.” Hot anger flashed, and he stared back at Truman. “I would never do anything like that.”
“I know that, Ollie, but I had to ask because your truck fit a description. I don’t deserve this job if I don’t follow up.”
“Lots of people have shitty trucks like mine.”
Truman’s expression went blank, and Ollie knew he’d gone too far. Truman had bought him the truck.
Bile rose in his throat. “It’s not shitty. Fuck. I’m sorry. I think it’s an awesome truck.” He really did. The powerful growl of the engine made him smile every time he started it. “I didn’t mean it,” he muttered, wanting to take back the last ten seconds.
“I know.” But the usual warmt
h in Truman’s eyes hadn’t returned. “I can’t be surprised that you reacted that way to my questions.”
“I’m sorry,” Ollie repeated and longed to vanish. Did Kaylie hear me be an ass?
Truman clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s over. Now I can look for other beat-up red trucks.”
Ollie tried to smile, but his facial muscles refused to cooperate. “I hope you find who did it.”
“Me too. I’ll see you at home later tonight.” Truman waved at Kaylie and made his exit.
Ollie looked back at Kaylie, who studied him from across the room, her hands on her hips, a small frown on her face. He felt two feet tall.
Did Truman really consider me a suspect?
“It’s Ellis Mull.” Dr. Natasha Lockhart’s dark eyes sparkled as she shared the news.
“Are you sure?” Mercy asked as her inner child cheered. She’d held her breath during most of the evening’s drive with Eddie to the medical examiner’s office, fingers crossed for an identification. The doctor had stated on the phone that she had information but wanted to share it in person.
“Sweet,” said Eddie with a grin. “The pieces are falling into place.”
The petite doctor nodded enthusiastically, looking as young as a first-year medical student, not like the experienced forensic pathologist she was. Mercy liked the smart and witty woman, who was dedicated to scientifically cutting up bodies for answers.
“I can’t believe we’re celebrating someone’s murder,” Mercy murmured, guilt swamping her excitement.
“You’re not,” said Dr. Lockhart firmly. “You’ve identified someone who’s been missing for a long time. His family can now have some closure.”
Mercy eyed the broken eye socket of the skull, where Mull had been shot. What will his family think of that?
A Merciful Fate Page 5
