Fatal Frost

by Nancy Mehl

  A hit had been planned on a local man who witnessed the murders of an elderly couple. Gang members had fired into their house, mistaking it for the residence of a rival drug dealer. The couple’s neighbor saw the whole thing and was able to describe the car. He also saw the shooter and picked him out in a lineup. Usually in situations like this, witnesses were afraid to testify, but this man was determined to see justice done. Mark and Mercy were just as determined to keep him alive until he could appear in court. Not only did their witness walk away unscathed, the shooters were convicted of first-degree murder. That case was especially satisfying since in several parts of St. Louis gangs ran rampant, and fear often kept residents quiet. Retaliation was a real threat to the safety of innocent citizens, and very few residents were brave enough to incur the wrath of local thugs.

  “I guess we’ve had some success,” she conceded.

  “I’d like to work together more,” Mark said as he stuck a K-Cup into the coffeemaker. “That is, if you’re game.”

  Mercy pondered this as he fixed their coffee. She really did like being partnered with Mark, but whenever she was near him, it seemed as if her emotions spiraled out of control. No matter how hard she tried to remain strictly professional, she found herself recalling those times they were together. His kisses, the words he’d whispered in her ear, his spontaneity, the times they laughed until she could hardly breathe. These memories tugged at her heart. But then he’d decided to get religious. After that, they had little in common except for their jobs. Mark’s newfound passion seemed to seep into everything. Especially their love life. Though she had blamed him for the split, there was actually a sense of relief when it ended. He’d gotten too close. She felt vulnerable around him, a feeling she couldn’t handle. Leaving herself that defenseless could never happen again. Never.

  An image of his face flashed in her mind. His expression when she broke it off. He looked as if she’d slapped him across the face. The memory caused her chest to hurt, only these bruises were inside—deeper than the pain caused by her seat belt. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head? And her heart?

  “I guess we could do that,” Mercy said at last, having a hard time getting the words out. “So long as you accept that nothing more can ever come of it. Nothing personal, I mean.”

  Mark was silent for a moment as he finished brewing their coffee. When he turned back around, he looked Mercy in the eyes and asked, “Is that really what you want?”

  His question caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. “I . . . I don’t know, Mark. We’re just too different. We want different things.”

  He sat her cup down on the counter and scooted it toward her. He’d just opened his mouth to say something when a loud noise shattered the peaceful atmosphere. Mark grabbed her and threw her to the floor. He covered her with his body as several more bullets smashed into the kitchen, right above their heads.

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  Mark waited until he was certain the gunfire had ceased before rolling off Mercy. As soon as he braced his arm against the floor, pain shot through him. Involuntarily he cried out.

  “I’m a U.S. Deputy Marshal,” Mercy said angrily. “You don’t need to protect me from . . .” Her expression then changed from resentment to concern. “Mark! Are you okay?” Still on her hands and knees, she began looking him over.

  “I think so,” Mark said thickly, “but I’m hit.”

  “You’ve been shot in the upper right arm,” she said. “Looks like the bullet passed right through. We need to stop the bleeding.” She crawled over to the refrigerator and pulled a dish towel from where it hung on the door handle. She wrapped the towel tightly around his arm just above the wound. “I’ll wrap it as tight as I can for now—I’ll do more as soon as I figure out what’s going on. Stay here.”

  Mark tried to sit up, but immediately he felt himself start to black out. He couldn’t protect Mercy if he was unconscious. He had no choice but to stay put. He watched as she slowly crawled across the floor. She needed to ascertain the shooter’s position so they’d know how to protect themselves. Mark prayed that the house hadn’t already been breached. He reached across his chest to his holster and pulled his gun out with his left hand. He wasn’t much of a shot with his weaker hand, but he could still shoot someone who got too close to them.

  He scooted around the corner of the kitchen cabinets so he wouldn’t lose sight of her. After getting to the couch, she waited a moment before coming around the side and putting herself out in the open. Though they’d turned off the main light in the living room, there was a lamp on a nearby table that gave off enough illumination to make it easy to see if someone was watching the room. There were no more gunshots as she approached the table and switched off the light. At least now she wasn’t such an obvious target.

  She got up and crept toward the front of the house, keeping her head down. The plywood they’d placed on the side of the door earlier was shredded now by bullets, the glass on both sides shattered. If anyone wanted to gain access to the house, it wouldn’t be difficult. Mercy glanced back at him. He’d pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning back against one of the kitchen cabinets. His head swam, yet he was able to stay conscious. He had to be awake to help her. Nothing else mattered.

  “Stay there,” she called out. “If you move around, you’ll lose more blood.”

  He nodded while keeping a tight grip on the gun in his left hand.

  Mercy peeked outside through the broken windows, her gun in front of her ready to fire. She turned back toward Mark. “These shots came from a distance,” she said. “I doubt the shooter knows he hit anyone. We have some time. First we need to take care of you, and then we need to fortify the front entrance.”

  “Tally and Jess must have heard the shots,” Mark said. “Turn the porch lights on so they can see who might be out there. If the shooter approaches the house, they can take him out.”

  “I hope you’re right. I don’t want to make them targets.”

  “We don’t have a choice. They know how to protect themselves.”

  Mercy found the light switch to the outside lights and flipped it on. She put her gun in its holster, pulled up the larger pieces of plywood, and tried to insert them into the open holes next to the door.

  “If I ever buy a house, remind me not to get one with glass next to the front door.”

  “I will.” It was a terrible design that made it easy for criminals to gain access to a home. Or, in this case, law-enforcement officials trying their best to stay alive.

  Once again Mercy crouched down and crawled back to Mark. As she approached him, he noticed blood seeping through her jeans. She’d cut her knees. When she reached out to him, he saw her hands were bleeding as well.

  “You’re hurt,” he said softly.

  “Well, you’re hurt too, so I guess we’re even.” She stared at him for a moment before saying, “Mark, I need to leave you for a while. I’ve got to check on Tally and Jess. Give them backup.”

  He shook his head. “No, Mercy. Stay here. They can take care of themselves.”

  She checked his arm. “You know better than that. You’d go out there if you could. I have to help them. And if they’re okay, we all need to be together. Separating us makes us easier targets.”

  He nodded, recognizing she was right. Even so, he was worried. “I don’t think I can go with you.”

  She put her hand on his cheek. “I’m aware of that. I’ve got some pain pills in my purse. I’m going to get them for you.”

  “No, I need to stay sharp.”

  “It’s up to you. I’ve taken them, and I don’t think they impaired me. I’m going to leave them here anyway. You take some if you need to.” Staying as close to the floor as she could, she made her way to the coffee table where her purse was. She grabbed the bottle of pills and hurried back to Mark. “Here they are,” she said, putting the bottle on the floor next to him. “Keep them nearby. I’ll be back as soon a
s I can. Why don’t you pray to that God of yours? We could sure use some help.”

  Maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was his concern for her, but Mark couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears. He put his gun down on his lap and covered her small hand with his. “Please be careful, Mercy. If anything happened to you . . .”

  She shook her head. “I know.” She leaned toward him and kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry. Sorry for hurting you. I’m just . . . messed up, Mark. But never doubt that I care for you.” She moved her hand and checked his wound again, then stood to her feet. “Keep your gun close. I’ll be back.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  She gave him a small smile, and even though it wasn’t an appropriate time for him to be moved by her beauty, he found that he was. In that moment he felt overwhelmed by love. It was stronger than the fear of losing her, stronger than the pain in his body. He’d never stopped loving Mercy. Was this the last moment they’d spend together? Was she going to her death? If someone entered the house, would he be able to defend himself? Realizing this might be the last chance he’d ever get, he took a deep breath. “I love you, Mercy,” he said quietly. “I always will. If we get another chance . . .” As he looked into her eyes, Mark saw the conflict there.

  “Just stay still, and don’t do anything stupid,” she said.

  He watched as she started to walk away. But then she hesitated and turned back toward him. “I love you too,” she whispered.

  A few seconds later, he heard the shattered front door open and shut. Mark slumped against the counter, his gun in his hand and a prayer on his lips. A prayer for the safety of his friends, and a prayer for the love of his life.

  Mercy had covered herself the best she could, but the cold struck her like a slap in the face. The snow had finally stopped falling, and now the wind whipped up what was already on the ground with intense fury. She could barely see where she was going. The shots had come from somewhere in front of the house. The shooter had to be across the road, hidden behind a high ridge of trees. Problem was, she couldn’t see the trees now—or even the road. But that meant he couldn’t see her either. It probably explained why his shots were so wild, and why there were so many. He’d been shooting blindly. For a moment the thought crossed her mind that perhaps he was close by, that he’d crossed the road. Pushing away panic, she hurried around to the side of the house and hid herself in a small alcove where she hoped she couldn’t be seen.

  Her first concern was to find Tally and Jess. Were they in trouble? Why hadn’t they come back? She waited for a couple of minutes, trying to watch for any movement in the blowing snow, but there was nothing. Finally she crept out of her hiding spot and continued around the side of the house, sweeping the area around her with her gun drawn. The quiet was disconcerting. All she could hear were gusts of wind. She wished she had something to cover her face. It stung every time the small crystals struck her exposed skin. She was already trying to ignore the pain in her knees and hands—now she had to disregard the discomfort from the raw skin on her face. Physically she’d never been so uncomfortable, but for now she had to overlook all of that and concentrate on her job.

  While she needed to stay focused on her goal—finding Tally and Jess—she couldn’t stop thinking about Mark. About the first time he’d said the words “I love you.” They’d attended a musical at the Muny, an outdoor theater in St. Louis’s Forest Park. Then they’d walked through the park to the Boathouse Restaurant and sat at an outdoor table near the water. It was the perfect evening. The sky was clear, and the moon full. Mark took her hand in his and said, “I’ve had a hole in my heart ever since Audrey died. But I realized this evening that it’s gone. You’ve not only filled it, you’ve healed it completely. I love you, Mercy.”

  She’d wanted to tell him she loved him too. In fact, she tried, but the words just wouldn’t come. Somehow he seemed to understand, and her reticence hadn’t ruined the moment. She realized that after that night, things began to change. She started to find fault with him—little things. Things that meant nothing. And now she might lose him forever. What was wrong with her? Why had she ruined the best thing she’d ever had? “Stop it!” she said out loud, as if her mind was something she couldn’t control. Feeling attacked on all fronts, she paused to gather her mental resources. She had to work through this. People she cared about were counting on her. Giving in to her emotions right now could make her unfocused. Unreliable. Love was making her indecisive. It was time to finish her mission and rescue her team. Summoning every bit of stamina she could, she redirected her thoughts to the task at hand, forcing everything else out of her head as she committed herself to saving her friends.

  Mercy kept moving around the large house, crouching behind bushes or corners of the building that offered protection. Eventually she made it to the backyard. Even with the lights on, it was hard to see anything. The blowing snow kept her surroundings hidden behind a curtain of white.

  She wanted to call out to Tally, but the wind would just cast her words back at her. Even if she could make herself heard, she would risk drawing unwanted attention.

  At that moment she wished the outside lights were off. Even with the snow cover, she felt exposed. She kept bracing herself for another round of bullets, but none came. It took a few minutes for her to reach the area under the deck. She collapsed behind a built-in storage unit and slid herself back as far as she could, trying to catch her breath and figure out her next move.

  Through the drifting snow she could see a faint light. It had to be coming from the barn. Could Tally and Jess have made it that far? While it wasn’t impossible, she doubted it. The snow was too deep for them to have gotten there so quickly.

  A sickening thought popped into her head. What if they were hurt and couldn’t get back to the house? She took several deep breaths to steady her nerves. Different scenarios ran through her mind as she plotted how to locate Tally and Jess. Whatever she did, she needed to be quick so she could get back to Mark.

  “Concentrate, Mercy,” she said out loud, reining in her racing thoughts. If God really existed, she sure could use some assistance. “If you’re real, God, help me,” she whispered. “Or at least help Mark. He’s one of yours.” She shook her head. She was really starting to lose it. She was talking to a nonexistent being, hoping for some kind of divine help.

  She decided to finish her trek around the house. It took a while to check the other side, but afterward she was confident that Tally and Jess weren’t anywhere near the house. That left the barn. She checked her watch. She’d been outside for almost an hour. Before trying to reach the barn and putting herself out where she might be seen, she needed to find out if the men had returned. She fought her way through the snow to the walkout basement door. It was locked. She glanced up at the deck. If she climbed the stairs, she could knock on the glass sliding door. Mark should be able to hear her and let her in. So long as he was still conscious, that is. But if she climbed those stairs, she could become a target. Making that move was a gamble. A big gamble.

  She stood there for a moment, weighing the risks.

  Get inside, a voice whispered. I’ll keep you safe.

  Mercy held her gun out in front of her and swung it around in an arc. Who was out there? Where were they? When she was certain she was alone, she laughed and shook her head. “Man, I really am losing it.” Chalking the odd experience up to stress, she decided to make the climb. With the snow blowing around her, she hoped she wouldn’t be visible to anyone who might be watching. If Tally and Jess weren’t back, she’d have to go out again. She’d have no choice but to try to reach the barn. Even though she had confidence in her training and ability, at that moment she wished Mark was at full strength. She could really use his help.

  “Okay, God, I need some cover,” she muttered. “If you want to keep me safe, I won’t turn it down. If not, we may soon be meeting face-to-face.” It occurred to her that this was the second time she’d ad
dressed a being she didn’t believe in. She shook her head. Mark was starting to get to her, and it was causing her to lose concentration, even hallucinate.

  She cleared her mind of everything except the stairs ahead. Stay down, scramble up as quickly as possible, lay flat on the deck when she reached the top—and hope Mark heard her knocking. She took a deep breath and started her ascent, but before she could reach the second step, someone grabbed her from behind.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  “Stop! It’s me!”

  Mercy’s first reaction after letting out a yelp was to fight her way free and train her gun on her attacker. But when she turned, she saw Jess’s stunned expression. She immediately felt silly. She should have seen him and she shouldn’t have screamed. It was a feeble response. Embarrassing.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” she said loudly to be heard over the wind’s roar. She glanced around. “Where’s Tally?”

  Jess didn’t answer, but instead pointed to the top of the deck. At first she refused to move, but when he started climbing the steps, she followed him. He kept himself as low as possible, his actions mirroring her previous intentions. When they reached the sliding door, Jess knocked on the glass. Just as she’d hoped, Mark came to the door. When he saw it was them, he quickly pulled on the handle and slid it open. Jess and Mercy tumbled in. When they were safely inside, Jess closed and locked the door, then pulled the drapes.

  Mercy removed her coat. “Where’s Tally?” she demanded.

  Jess winced in pain, and Mercy realized he was hurt.

  “What happened?” she asked as she helped him to a chair at the kitchen table. “Are you all right?”

  He tried to unzip his coat but didn’t seem to be able to raise his arm without considerable pain.