Or so I’d read.
I was livid once I’d managed to force myself through the entire article.
When Miller sat down next to me, I handed the paper over.
He took it as if I’d handed him a brown paper bag of live snakes, tipping his sunglasses to the top of his head, and flipping it open out of the crumpled mass, and started reading.
His shoulders started to shake as he got to the part about her being ‘kicked out of her family home by her murdered son’s abusive wife.’
“Mrs. Moose pleads with the public to please help her. She further explains that it was all colossal misunderstanding that her son, Mitch Moose, 32, was shot earlier this year in a SWAT rescue,” Miller read in the caption under the main picture.
It was shot in front of the ‘family home,’ and Linda was holding a picture of Mitch.
I tasted bile in my mouth but chose not to look at the picture again.
“Mercy Shepherd. Miller Spurlock. Mr. Masterson will see you now,” I heard said from somewhere in front of me.
I looked up and smiled at the woman.
She was very pretty, even what I would call youthful, though she was in her fifties.
She had long blonde hair that was pulled back in a chignon at her nape, and her eyes were a very expressive green.
I stood and started following the woman.
She was dressed casually in light tan slacks and a simple black cotton shirt.
She smiled back at me as we walked. “You look really familiar.”
I winced. “Yeah, that’s because I was the center of attention a few weeks ago. I was raped, and the media filmed the whole thing while it happened.”
I tried to make my voice appear uncaring, but the emotion I felt refused to be bottled up.
It wasn’t Miller’s arm around me that had me starting, though. It was the woman’s.
“Although I’m sorry to hear that that happened to you, I’ve never been one to watch the news. I did hear about it, though, and I’m greatly sorry for what happened to you. I was thinking you were a friend of my daughter’s. Do you know Cheyenne Mackenzie?” she asked.
My brows furrowed. Although the name sounded vaguely familiar, I wasn’t placing a face with the name.
“You’re James’ mom?” Miller asked.
The woman smiled. “That’s me!”
“Daina,” a male’s deep voice said from the doorway we were heading toward. “Is there a reason you have to talk everyone’s ear off before they come back here? If I’d known you were such a talker, I would’ve never agreed to have you here as my secretary.”
The woman blushed, and I thought for sure there was something more in those words than what I’d heard.
Miller must’ve agreed, because he gave me wide eyes before we walked into the lawyer’s office.
***
Miller
“Can you tell me why you’re here?” the hard-ass lawyer asked.
He was built like a motherfuckin’ bull, and he could easily rival any man I knew size-wise. I knew he was in the military, I was just unsure what branch he’d been in.
He could easily have been a Navy SEAL.
Mercy leaned forward and handed over her stack of papers, starting first with the one that was most important to us.
The baby’s custody.
“You do know there’s an easy way to settle this if what you’re being adamant about is true, right?” the lawyer, Todd Masterson, asked slowly.
We both looked at him. “What?”
“A DNA test,” he said simply.
“No!” we both exploded at once.
He shook his head. “That really would be the easiest way. This could all be that easily rectified. No court battle, no court costs, no lawyer costs. All over that easily.”
He snapped his finger, startling Mercy.
I shook my head. “It isn’t fucking happening. Find another way.”
He looked at me, making sure he had a good read on me before he nodded in agreement. “Okay, that’s fine. I won’t force you to do it. There are other ways, of course, but there’s still a chance that the judge will require you to do it anyway.”
I shook my head. “No one’s touching my kid. They’re not getting anywhere near her.”
Mercy leaned her head against my bicep, her arm curled protectively around her barely-there belly, as she silently thanked me for the support.
“Then the first thing I would suggest is marriage,” Todd said slowly.
We both gaped.
It wasn’t that I’d never thought about marriage with Mercy.
In fact, I’d thought about it a lot. Especially in Vegas over the past week.
However, I didn’t want her to think I was moving too fast. I was giving her time to come to terms to what we were. It was more than obvious to me that she wasn’t ready.
She’d reacted on instinct to what my parents had said, what her thoughts were on me and our relationship.
Her first instinct had been to run away, and until I could get her to come to terms that there was an us, there wasn’t going to be any change in our relationship status.
But then she shocked the shit out of me by saying, “Okay, if we do this, what will that help?”
I inhaled rather loudly, bringing her attention away from Todd and straight to my face.
“What?” she asked. “We love each other. We have a kid on the way. If what you said this weekend is true, then I have nothing to worry about. Right?”
I blinked, and then nodded stupidly, shifting in my seat in surprise.
When I turned back to Todd, he started to explain. “The easiest way to do this is by getting Miller’s name on the birth certificate. You can do that without getting married, of course, but it’s easier to just have the same last name when the baby is born.”
I blinked. “Can she still try to get grandparent rights or something once the baby is born?”
He shook his head. “Not easily, no. Two parents who are married, happy, and have a stable home life, have no reason to share their child with the grandparents. The grandparents aren’t the mother or father. You both are. That easy. What’s the next thing?”
I just shook my head.
Was it that easy?
Surely it couldn’t be.
I chose to let it lie, for now.
The next item on the agenda was telling him about the murder of Faris Blue.
“Tell me about the murder. Why was Mercy a suspect?” Todd asked, trying to get all the information.
I began speaking, starting with the altercation at the WWE show we’d gone to, and finishing up with what Tony had said to us the morning before.
“Did they say how the man died?” Todd asked with furrowed brows.
“High heel through the groin, neck, torso, and face. There was a single contusion on the man’s head from what they think was a long, blunt object. Such as a flashlight, or nightstick. Possibly a board,” I explained, remembering the crime scene photos I’d looked at.
“Okay, I’ll get my investigator on it. He’s kind of pricey, but he does good work. Is that acceptable?” Todd asked.
I nodded, as did Mercy.
Grabbing her hand, I gestured to Todd. “Give him the last set.”
Todd grinned. “I don’t think there’s ever been a time I’ve had someone come in with so much work for me to do at once.”
Mercy grimaced as she handed over the last packet of papers.
Todd read them quietly, going through each and every one before he spoke next.
“So, did they give you a reason why these were called in?” Todd asked, lowering his glasses from his face and rubbing his eyes.
“No. Just that they were called in. I asked around, though, and was told that the week we were gone, Linda Moose spent quite a bit of time at the bank with the manager,” I growled.
He blinked.
“I’ve got a couple of people on my
payroll who can do a little digging. However, as of right now, this is all legally binding. They have the right to call the loan in at any time,” he said honestly.
“Fuck,” I hissed. “That fucking bitch.”
Mercy squeezed my hand, digging her fingernails into my skin. “Seriously? Stop cursing in front of people.”
Dually chastised, I smiled apologetically at the man in front of me. Even though I was sure Todd used those words on a daily basis, fancy suit or not.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a smile in my voice.
“As for what you do next, liquidate some assets. Sell your house so you can keep some of the money you’ve made on it over the two years you’ve had it. Get married, buy a new house that’s not through Kilgore Bank and Loan. Keep me updated on information, and let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” Todd said as he stood.
We stood, too, and I offered my hand to the man.
He took it, shaking my hand with genuine affection. “Marines.”
I laughed.
He’d known what I wanted to know.
Smart man.
Chapter 20
Most people sleep peaceably in their beds at night because there are men out there ready to do violence on their behalf.
-Coffee cup
Mercy
Two weeks later
“If you’d let me help you, this would all be unnecessary,” my mother said for the fifth time as we walked up the bank’s steps.
I turned to her and shook my head sadly. “I know you do, Mom. But I also know you have a lot of money in medical bills that you’re paying right now for Dad’s hospital stays and heart surgery. I don’t want to, nor will I add to your burdens. It’s fine, I promise.”
She had succeeded in calling in my business and home loans, making me have to choose which one I wanted to keep.
I went with my business loan and had pulled out just into the green since I’d started Second Chance four years ago, making me realize it was the right decision.
My house, however, had to be sold in order for me to do it. Her house, though, sat untouched and unoccupied while Miller and I shared his room at his apartment that he shared with Foster.
I’d had multiple offers of help, not just from Miller, but from the men in my employ, the members of Free, The Dixie Wardens, and all of the SWAT team, as well as other members of the community.
I didn’t take any of it, though. It’d been a bone of contention since we’d gotten back from Las Vegas and learned what she’d done.
I was now walking into the bank to cash in the check that would pay off the rest of my business loan.
Then I had an appointment at the house that I now owned.
My mother, however, thought I was making a very bad decision.
I didn’t. And I knew that, deep down, Miller didn’t either.
He may say he was mad, but he understood wanting to accomplish something on my own.
Which was why he was buying a house this afternoon himself.
I’d managed to stop him from buying my house, but only just barely.
He was a sneaky devil, though, and I wouldn’t put it past him to do it despite me pleading with him not to.
Not that’d he’d fucking care.
I hadn’t seen him more than an hour at the end of the night since I’d told him I was selling my house.
I’d spent more time with his brother this past week than I had with him.
“Mrs. Shepherd, Ms. Shepherd, how can I help you today?” the slimy bank manager asked cordially.
I wanted to punch him in the fucking nose.
“I’m here to pay off the business. I sold my house yesterday for a good amount more than I purchased it for, thanks for not asking. Here’s the check,” I said, handing it over to him.
His eyes bulged when he saw the amount. “You-you’re paying it all?”
I nodded. “You said, ‘Pay in Full’ on the papers. That’s what I’m doing.”
He nodded and took the check over to the computer nearest to the wall.
“Well, let’s just do that real quick.”
The bank manager I was dealing with was named Elbert Rommel.
He probably was an okay guy at one point in time, but as I’d learned just last night from the private detective my lawyer had hired, Elbert had a little gambling problem. Elbert liked to spend money that wasn’t his, and Linda had, somehow, found out.
The private detective was still narrowing down how Linda had found out, but he’d turned over all his information to the local PD detectives with the hopes that they’d do something about it.
Therefore disabling Linda’s avenue to do more harm to anyone else.
“Alright, Ms. Shepherd, I have you paid in full. The bank will be sending out the deeds in a few short weeks. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Instead of answering, I turned around and walked toward the door.
My mother had a few choice words for him, though, which was what saved me from getting a glass door to the face when it was shoved violently open from the other side.
“Everybody down,” a woman’s frantic voice said. “Everybody down and don’t stinkin’ move.”
Stinkin’?
Despite my thinking that the woman’s choice of words were childish, the gun she had in her hands was anything but childish.
I dove to the floor, moving toward the corner, as far as I could, since there was a popcorn machine in the way.
I was fairly well hidden, although my mother wasn’t.
The woman with the gun hadn’t spared her any mind, though, thank God.
“Everybody, I said get down!” the woman screamed once again.
I winced and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
Alarm shot through me as I frantically thought through my morning.
Did I put my phone on silent?
When it didn’t ring out, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I had.
Thank you, Jesus.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t answer it, though.
Who was on the other end?
Turns out, it was the loan coordinator… for the loan I’d just paid off.
After slowly slipping my phone out of my pocket, I grimaced as the same man who’d been calling me night and day for two weeks now started jabbering a mile a minute.
I wasted no time in hanging up on him, though.
Lifting my knees to my chest, I immediately dialed 911, with the phone in between my upraised knees and my chest.
I couldn’t tell you what the woman… or man… was saying.
All I could tell you, was that whoever was on the other end, had me on the line.
It helped that the crazy woman who started to sound more and more familiar continued her ranting.
“I want every single bit of cash out of each and every one of your drawers. Even the ones in the back. Speaking of which, close the windows down and close the curtains. Turn off all the open signs,” she screeched.
Bank robber. Got it.
She looked good, too.
She had on tight black pants, high-heeled boots that came up to her knees, and a black skin-tight turtleneck.
She was wearing a black and white wool scarf wrapped around her face, making the only thing I could see her eyes.
I couldn’t even tell her hair color, but if I could guess, it’d be blonde with lighter blonde highlights. That’s just what her voice made me think of.
Kilgore was a fairly tight-knit community, so it wasn’t every day that I didn’t know who someone was. Which was why it was nagging me to death that the name of whoever was behind the mask wasn’t coming to me, but it was right on the tip of my tongue.
Her hands were covered in black leather gloves, and the bag she held in her hand was a Dooney and Bourke.
So the woman needed money? Why?
My guess was that she spent it all on her wardrobe.
I bet she drove a Lexus.
“Now!” she screamed.
“Two minutes, two minutes, two minutes,” the woman repeated over and over.
By the thirtieth time she said it, I guessed she’d been there for going on five minutes. Making her goal of two minutes comically incorrect.
Curling into myself, as well as way beyond what my too tight jeans would allow, I hunched over the phone to see if I could hear the person on the line.
I wouldn’t be saying anything. I wasn’t one to bring the attention of a killer to me on purpose.
Vaguely I heard the words ‘hostages’ and ‘SWAT.’
Then my stomach tightened.
“Oh, shit,” I said softly. “You need to warn Miller.”
I said it so softly that I didn’t think the dispatcher would hear me, but she did.
“Miller?” I heard repeated.
“Boyfriend. On the force.”
That time I caught the attention of the crazy lady with the gun.
Her eyes swept behind her, totally missing me where I was wedged behind the popcorn maker.
It was one of those actual popcorn poppers, kind of like the ones at the movies, but shrunk into a more manageable size.
It was hot, too. The smell of popcorn was so tantalizing that my mouth was watering.
The butter was sitting in front of me, and the bags of pre-made, ready to melt in your mouth, popcorn were sitting only inches from my face.
“…Officer Spurlock. SWAT. Mercy?”
“Yes,” I confirmed once crazy lady turned back around.
“We don’t have any bags,” I heard said hesitantly from the front. “The armored vehicle just picked up our deposit, taking our bags with it.”
The woman screeched. “You’re telling me you don’t have any money, either?”
Oh, shit.
The woman’s hand, the one that was holding the gun, started to wobble.
Then a lone siren pierced the silence of the morning air, causing the woman to whip her head around and stare fearfully at the door.
“Someone, go lock that,” the woman urged quickly. “Now.”
Fuck me.
My God, my language lately was deplorable.
I really needed to figure out a way to stop using those words before the baby came.
Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set Page 76
