Fatal Frost

by Nancy Mehl

  Tally’s words were like a vise squeezing Mercy’s heart. She wanted to say something, but it was as if the words were stuck in her throat. How could he think about walking away? He was a cop through-and-through. This wasn’t the Tally she knew. He was the strongest person she’d ever met.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the boy she’d met in grade school. His mother had named him after one of her heroes, Booker T. Washington. Unfortunately, Mr. Washington’s middle name was Taliaferro. Tally’s real name was Booker Taliaferro Williams. Not a great name for a thin, geeky kid with a genius I.Q.

  But now he was a police lieutenant, respected by his fellow officers, a true leader. With a wonderful wife and two children, he’d made his dreams come true, not allowing his environment to shape him like so many of the young people in his old neighborhood. How could he consider walking away from the only thing he’d ever wanted to do with his life?

  “I don’t want to hear this,” she said, once she found a way past the lump in her throat. “You don’t mean it. You’re just having a bad day. You bleed blue. We both know that. You’ll never quit. It’s who you are.”

  “My blood is red, just like everyone else’s,” Tally said. “I can die. You can die. If something happens to me, what will become of my family? Annie is growing old before my eyes. Every time I leave the house, she’s never sure I’ll be back.”

  “It’s always been that way, Tally. We all know what the risks are. Besides, you’re not David Resnick.” She then paused before asking, “Did my getting shot enter into this?”

  “Of course it did,” he said gruffly. “I almost lost you.”

  “But you didn’t. You were there, and you saved my life. If it hadn’t been for you, Tally, I would have died. Do you understand what I’m saying? If you’d been fixing cars in Georgia, I would be dead today.”

  Tally snorted. “I won’t be fixing cars.”

  “Not my point,” Mercy said, pushing back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. What would she do without Tally? He was the only friend she had. The only person she could count on. “I don’t think you’d be happy working for your father-in-law. You were born to be in law enforcement.”

  “I was born to be Annie’s husband and Josh and Gracie’s father. They come first. Before the job.”

  “Sorry,” she spit out. “I thought I was family too.”

  “Mercy . . .” Tally said, his voice low. “Don’t make this tougher than it already is.”

  Mercy clamped her lips together and turned to stare out the windshield. The snow was coming down even heavier now, creating near whiteout conditions.

  Frankly, the rotten weather matched her mood. The flakes were so thick she wondered how Mark could see where they were going. A perfect description of how she felt about losing Tally. She couldn’t see a path that would allow her to survive without him—any more than she could see the road ahead in the middle of the storm.

  Chapter

  Nine

  Mercy was silent for a while as Mark struggled to keep the car on the road. Even with the headlights on high beam, they could only see a few feet in front of them. He was only able to drive a little over twenty miles per hour.

  “Do these shootings have something to do with why you’ve been following me around the past couple of weeks?” Mercy asked. Every time she’d stepped out the door of her house, Tally was there. It was really starting to annoy her, but she hadn’t said anything because she figured he was just being overprotective.

  “Maybe. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Well, if you leave St. Louis, you certainly won’t be able to keep me safe, will you?” she snapped. Immediately she was remorseful. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I know this is tough for you. Just please . . . don’t make a hasty decision. Think about this carefully.”

  “Of course I will, Merce.”

  Tally was the best cop Mercy had ever known. St. Louis needed more officers like him. She was searching for another argument when she realized it was best to leave him alone. Tally would never walk away from his dream. He was just blowing off steam. Pushing him now would only make him more stubborn, and he might not be able to back down. He didn’t like being challenged, even by her. The idea that he might leave St. Louis left her feeling more frightened than the night she was shot.

  “How’s your mom?” Mark asked, snapping Mercy back to the present.

  “I don’t know,” Mercy said. “She started acting really strange after I was shot.”

  Mark laughed. “Strange? With your mom, I don’t quite know what that means.”

  Mark had met her mom once while they were dating. Gina hadn’t been friendly toward him. It wasn’t personal. She hated men—all men. The meeting was more than awkward. It was embarrassing.

  “You know my mother’s never really gotten over my dad. Now that he’s dead, I’d hoped she’d be able to move on. She’s different . . . but I’m not sure what it means. Believe it or not, she’s joined a church.”

  “A church? I thought you were going to tell me she was talking to ghosts or something.”

  “I guess she is—”

  “The Holy Ghost,” Mark finished for her. “Sorry. I knew where you were going.”

  Mercy couldn’t hide a smile. When they were together, Mark had finished sentences for her more than once. No one had ever been able to read her thoughts the way he did. She missed that—and she missed him. The realization upset her. What was happening? She had to get it together.

  “Maybe going to church, getting to know the people there, will help her,” Mark said.

  Mercy shrugged and wiped the condensation off the window, trying not to look at him. “Maybe. But not everyone who goes to church is like you.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means.”

  “You’re not . . . I don’t know, judgmental.”

  “Well, thank you. I appreciate that. So what church is she attending?”

  “Some nondenominational place down the street from where she lives. She’s getting involved in a kind of recovery group. Can’t remember the name. I guess a bunch of sinners get together and share their terrible pasts.” She shook her head. “Sounds awful. Nothing worse than a group of people sitting around feeling sorry for themselves. Of course, my mom’s full of self-pity. She’ll fit right in.”

  “Actually, I think I know the group you’re talking about. A friend of mine is involved with them. They talk about their pasts, sure, but the idea is to deal with things and move on. Get stronger. Enjoy life.”

  Mercy snorted. “Oh, sure. The day my mother enjoys life is the day I crawl on my hands and knees down the aisle of that church and . . . become a nun!”

  “It doesn’t sound like a Catholic church, Mercy,” Mark said, grinning. “I don’t think they’d accept your request for nunship.”

  It was Mercy’s turn to smile. “I’ve never heard the word nunship. I think you made it up.”

  “And you would be right.”

  “My uncle is involved with that group.”

  Mercy was momentarily startled when Tally spoke. She’d almost forgotten he was in the backseat. “Which uncle?” she asked.

  “Curtis. You remember him. The pharmacist?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She’d met Tally’s uncle Curtis when she was in the fifth grade. He’d come to visit Tally’s mom and ended up staying for several months. He slept on the floor in the living room, and many times when Mercy went over to Tally’s house she’d find him there, snoring away. Even in the afternoons. He’d made Mercy uncomfortable. He always seemed strung out, not quite plugged into the world.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  “Pretty good. He’s been drug-free for almost two years. Working again. My mom’s over the moon about it.” He cleared his throat. “My church just started a recovery group.”

  Mercy twisted around in her seat to stare at him. “What do you mean your church?”

  Tally looked uncomfortable. “You know A
nnie and the kids go every Sunday.”

  “Yeah, I know. But you never do.”

  “I’ve gone.”

  “You’ve spent Sunday mornings at my house the past few weeks.”

  “I know. But after . . .” He cleared his throat again. Mercy could tell he was nervous.

  “After what?”

  “After . . . a while, I intend to start going with them.”

  Mercy turned back around to face the windshield again. Great. First Mark decides to get religion, and now Tally falls for the hype? She blamed it on Annie. Why did she have to shove her beliefs down Tally’s throat? If he started trying to save her . . .

  She felt Tally’s hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s not a disease. I’m not contagious. You can still be a glorious heathen if that’s what you want.”

  Unnerved by his ability to read her mind, she spit out, “I’m not a heathen.” Although she tried, she was unable to keep the annoyance she felt out of her voice.

  “Sorry.” Tally pulled his hand back.

  “Why do you get so angry when people bring God up in the conversation?” Mark asked.

  Mercy knew there was much more behind his seemingly innocent question. He’d asked her when they broke up why his new relationship with God threatened her so much. She didn’t have an answer then, and she didn’t have much of one now. “I . . . I don’t know,” she mumbled. But then a memory filtered into her mind. Something she’d totally forgotten. When her father walked out, she’d prayed. Prayed to a God she’d heard about but didn’t know. Asked Him to bring her dad home. He hadn’t answered that prayer. Her mother’s emotional breakdown only added to Mercy’s anger at this God who was supposed to be good and loving. Now she wanted nothing to do with Him. “I just don’t believe He exists,” she added, hoping that would end the uncomfortable conversation. “The idea of some heavenly puppet master pulling our strings is something I can’t accept.”

  “And that’s fine,” Mark said. “You have the right to believe whatever you want.”

  He didn’t seem upset at her response, and that puzzled Mercy. He’d been hurt when she ended their relationship, but he hadn’t gotten mad then either. She couldn’t quite figure out why.

  “That’s it?” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me I’m a sinner and that I need Jesus? That I’m going to hell unless I ask Jesus into my heart? Isn’t that the way you people say it?”

  Mark glanced over and grinned at her. “Not while you’re armed.”

  Tally’s belly laugh from the backseat made Mercy smile. “Okay. I hear you. Now, can we put this subject to rest?”

  “You got it.” Mark held his hand up over the vents on the dashboard. “The windshield keeps frosting up. I don’t know how much farther we can go. We may have to pull over until the storm passes.”

  Mercy checked the GPS. “That wouldn’t make much sense. We’re only a few miles away.”

  Mark gestured toward a motel on the side of the road. “That’s our last chance until Piedmont, and I’m not sure what’s available there. Are you guys certain you want to keep going?”

  “Sure,” Tally said. “We’ve got four-wheel drive. A little snow can’t hurt us.”

  “Why does the phrase famous last words come to mind?”

  Mercy reached over and switched on the radio. “Let’s see if we can get an update on the weather. Will that make you feel better?”

  “I guess so,” Mark said. “I checked it before we left. Snow ending early. I’m not sure what qualifies as early. It’s almost five o’clock.”

  Tally grunted. “Five? No wonder I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry,” Mercy responded. Tally could eat anyone under the table, but he never seemed to gain weight. It was annoying.

  “Sorry,” Mark said. “We could have stopped earlier for something. I didn’t think about it. Why didn’t someone speak up?”

  “I packed food,” Mercy said. “After I find a weather report, I’ll get out the sandwiches.”

  “You made sandwiches? I’m shocked.”

  “No,” Tally said, “Annie made them. Sent them with us.”

  Mark nodded. “I should have known. Mercy’s too cheap to buy food. About the only edible stuff I ever found in her apartment was out-of-date or had turned to penicillin.”

  “That’s the truth,” Tally said. “When I come over I’ve learned to bring something to eat with me. She buys enough to barely squeak by. I’d starve to death if I had to live at her place.”

  “When you’re raised the way I was, you protect yourself,” Mercy said sharply. “We never had two pennies to rub together. When my mother did get her hands on some money, she blew it on . . . stuff. Booze, restaurants, clothes, gifts. When it came to buying books for school, paying the electric bill or feeding her kids, there was never enough.” She stared out the window. “I still tense up when I go to the store. Mom used to take food to the cash register and not have enough money to pay for everything. Usually the cashier or someone in the line offered to pick up the balance. It was humiliating. My mom counted on the kindness of strangers to get us through.”

  “I’m sorry, Mercy,” Mark said softly.

  Mercy couldn’t understand why she’d shared that. Tally had gone through those times with her, but she’d never told Mark about it. Now she regretted saying anything. She hated feeling weak—especially around Mark.

  She’d broken up with Mark after he started going to church, but that wasn’t the real reason she’d ended the relationship. The truth was, she’d felt overwhelmed by Mark St. Laurent. As if she’d begun to disappear into him somehow, becoming only a shadow that followed after him. Fear of losing him—and of losing herself—drove her to do the only thing she could. Push him away before it was too late. When he’d told her about his newfound faith, Mercy realized she’d been handed the perfect excuse for calling it quits. She blamed it on that, and he appeared to believe her. At first she was relieved, but many nights, as she tried to drift off to sleep, those gray-blue eyes seemed to be staring into her soul, trying to pull her back. She glanced over at him. Being this close to him again left her feeling as if she were slipping back into an addiction. She wanted him—and she feared him. If only Batterson hadn’t sent them both on this assignment. She forced herself to focus on the radio, scanning stations until she found a man giving the weather forecast.

  “This storm has picked up moisture and power. When it hit a cold front moving through Missouri, snow began to turn to ice. This could be a very treacherous weather event. We’re advising everyone in the affected areas to stay off the roads. Being caught out in this monster could prove dangerous. If you’re already out, we hope you’re prepared. If you get stuck, don’t keep the car running. Turn off the engine for a while, then turn it back on occasionally for heat. Keep at least one window partly open when you’re running your heater. You should have food, water, blankets, and flares. Please, folks, be safe out there.”

  Even though she didn’t need to hear it, the forecaster mentioned the counties under the storm warning. They were right in the middle of it.

  “Maybe we should have stopped after all,” Mercy said.

  Mark sighed. “You think?” He switched off the radio. “I can try to turn around, or we can keep going. We’re about twenty minutes away from our destination. Hopefully this guy has a warm house, plenty of food, and someplace for us to sleep.”

  “Why can’t we grab a motel in Piedmont before we get to his place?” Tally asked.

  Mark shook his head. “He lives outside of town. We’ll hit his ranch before we get to the town. I really think we need to stop before . . .”

  He stopped talking as the sound of something hitting the car drowned out his voice.

  “It starts icing?” Mercy said.

  Mark didn’t respond, just nodded and set his jaw. Mercy recognized that look. Now he was concentrated on one thing and one thing only. He was determined to get them to safety. When Mark set his mind on something, he was li
ke a vicious dog with a bone. She kept quiet while he fought the car as it shimmied and skidded on the ice, but as the ice began to rain down with increased force, she became concerned.

  “Mark, maybe we should pull over for a while. We have food and water. Shouldn’t we try to wait it out?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said loudly, trying to be heard above the din of falling ice. Without warning their car began to spin wildly. “Hold on!” he shouted.

  Mercy covered her face with one hand and grabbed the handle above the window with the other. She heard Mark praying as the car slid across the road, headed for a line of trees. A sudden jolt drove her forward in her seat. Then she heard something like an explosion, and everything went black.

  Chapter

  Ten

  “Mercy? Mercy, can you hear me?”

  As she struggled to open her eyes, for just a moment Mercy expected to find herself waking up in her own bed, warm and comfortable. But that idea vanished as the cold seeped in and she became aware of the pain that wracked her body.

  “I . . . I’m hurt,” she mumbled.

  “I know. You’ll be all right.”

  Mark’s voice was comforting, but it seemed a long way off. She summoned all her strength to concentrate on his face, which was just a few inches from hers.

  “Between your seat belt and the airbag, you’ve been beaten up pretty bad. I can’t tell the extent of your injuries yet, although it doesn’t look too serious.”

  Mercy reached up and touched her face. It was tender and she cried out.

  “Sorry. We hit a tree, but you’ll be okay.”

  “What about you? Are you all right? Where’s Tally?”

  She squinted at Mark in the low light. He looked okay, but as he leaned toward her, she saw him cringe.

  “I’m fine. You know me. It takes a lot more than a tree to take me down.”

  “I’m okay too, Merce.”

  Mercy turned to see Tally leaning in through the open window. Thankfully he looked uninjured. She grabbed for his hand. “Where are we? What do we do now?”