No Mercy

by Cheyenne McCray

  He started with the desk, his gaze drifting over the small gold globe of the world on the surface, the desk pad, a crystal eagle paperweight, and a framed professional wedding photograph of Salvatore and Christie. Dylan picked up the photograph. Christie looked so happy, her smile brilliant. Salvatore was smiling, too, but there was something in his eyes and on his expression as he looked at his new wife. A possessive look that was more than just a loving expression.

  Dylan looked at the back of the frame and opened the hinged back. Nothing was hidden in the frame. He picked up the globe, which appeared to be solid, and then the crystal eagle paperweight.

  He raised the lid of the humidor and the rich smell of expensive cigars drifted out. He’d never seen Salvatore smoke anything, but then he hadn’t been around the man much since high school. Dylan pushed aside the cigars. A hint of gold flashed and he took several of the cigars out and set them on the desk. A gold key rested at the bottom of the humidor.

  Dylan’s heart beat a little faster. The key had to be for something Salvatore had used for hiding important documents or items he didn’t want anyone to find. None of the desk drawers had locks on them. Dylan went through each drawer and checked for hidden compartments as well as skimming through documents in file drawers. He discovered nothing but copies of paperwork from the classic cars and real estate that Salvatore bought and sold. The originals were probably in his office in Old Bisbee. All of it looked legit, but the FBI would go through the documents.

  Other than those papers, he found only personal receipts for normal items, including groceries, art, furniture, and a few other more personal things. Salvatore and Christie’s marriage certificate was in the center drawer, encased in a plastic sleeve. He pulled it out and stared at it a few moments, thinking of the one line in a wedding ceremony that caused his stomach to churn with concern for Christie.

  Until death do us part.

  Would Salvatore kill her to keep whatever secrets he might have? What did she know?

  He shoved the certificate back where he’d found it and slammed the drawer.

  Dylan knelt to look beneath the desk, ducked in the kneehole, and ran his fingers along the underside of the desk in case there was a false compartment. He looked over his shoulder at Stillwater who was searching the office, her back to him. Other agents were also in the room now. “Do you happen to have a flashlight?” he asked Stillwater.

  She dug in her jacket pocket and handed him a small flashlight. “We haven’t found a safe behind any pictures or in the walls, or anywhere else we’ve looked so far.” Stillwater put her hands on her hips. “Bastards like this always have a safe in their office. Especially one as secure as this place was.”

  Dylan thought about it. “Maybe Salvatore has a safe in his office in Old Bisbee.”

  Stillwater nodded. “That’s where we’ll be heading next. We have a warrant to search his office as well.”

  “Good.” Dylan nodded. “I found a key in the humidor, but if there are any hidden drawers in this desk, they’re well hidden. I’m going to take another look.” He turned back to his task, clicking on the flashlight, shining the light, and searching the underside of the desk.

  Muscles tense with frustration, he started to get up when he noticed a trace of white powder on the floor. He touched it with his gloved finger. The floor was rough beneath his touch, as if Salvatore’s shoes had worn it down. Dylan raised his finger to his nose and sniffed the white substance before tasting it.

  “Cocaine.” He glanced at Stillwater who was watching him. “Looks like he spilled some beneath his desk.”

  “Interesting.” Stillwater walked over to Dylan. “We’ll have forensics analyze it.” She marked the spot he pointed to with a placard.

  “Almost finished here.” Dylan shone the flashlight around once again and saw nothing.

  He ducked out of the kneehole. Still in a crouch, he tried to think like Salvatore would, but considering he didn’t know the man well, it wasn’t easy.

  Dylan got to his feet and showed Stillwater the key that he’d left on top of the desk. “There are no locks on the desk, so this has to go somewhere else.”

  “I wonder what it goes to.” She pulled out an evidence bag and dropped the key into it before marking the bag. “We haven’t found anything that needs a key so far.”

  The office was searched section by section, but nothing that would provide clues to Christie’s whereabouts, or what Salvatore might be involved in, could be found.

  When they felt that they’d searched the office top to bottom, and nothing of importance had been found in the rest of the house, Stillwater, Dylan, Brooks, and Trace headed to Salvatore’s office in Old Bisbee to search it with another team of FBI agents.

  Dylan shook his head as he climbed into the SUV. It was the middle of the afternoon and it had already been one hell of a day.

  ~~*~~

  The office turned up nothing. No safe, no documents that showed anything illegal going on, nothing nefarious, and most importantly, no clues to where Christie might be. Stillwater still believed there had to be a safe somewhere, maybe a bank safe. Dylan had to agree.

  When he’d had enough of coming up empty handed, he headed outside alone to clear his thoughts. It was starting to turn dark as he stood in front of the coffee shop in the Copper Queen Plaza, where Salvatore’s office was located. It was just a few days ago that Dylan was in that office with Christie, Belle, and Salvatore. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  He couldn’t stop working everything over and over in his mind. He had to solve this. He had to figure out where to go next.

  From the start. He had to go back to the time this all began.

  His mind turned toward the day he’d gotten the call. It had been pouring rain, Joe barking in his kennel, Nate hanging from a noose tied to a beam in the shed.

  It was like a stab to Dylan’s gut all over again. He could almost smell the rain and the stench of death as the German shepherd barked nonstop. The sound echoed in his head. After talking with the detective, Dylan had gone to the house, rain pouring down and mud slick beneath his boots.

  He remembered the strangeness of the living room and his search there before going to Nate’s office and finding the postcard in the baseball book. That book had meant a lot to Nate when he was young and he’d held onto it for decades.

  Dylan frowned as he thought about the book. Could there have been more in the book than the postcard? Had it somehow meant more than just a place where Nate had stuck the postcard he’d never mailed?

  What could the connection between Nate and Salvatore be?

  Despite the fact that Dylan was tired and had no idea if his hunch was correct, he felt a surge of renewed energy. Maybe, just maybe, Nate had left more to go on than a bunch of postcards and a memory card.

  A cold evening breeze chilled his face and hands, but he didn’t let it bother him. He felt a strong desire to talk with Belle and make sure she was doing all right before he went to Nate’s house. He’d left her when he was furious at Driscoll, and she probably thought he was angry with her.

  God, he should have called her earlier in the day rather than letting Brooks and Trace update her. He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with Harvey Driscoll and Salvatore Reyes. He was frustrated with the fruitless searches. He was concerned about Christie.

  But mad at Belle? No.

  He pulled his phone out of its holster and dialed one of the two agents who had replaced Brooks and Trace in guarding Belle.

  When the agent answered, Dylan asked to speak with Belle. Moments later, her soft voice came on the line. “Hi, Dylan.”

  His throat felt like it was going to close off. “How are you holding up, precious?”

  A hesitation. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

  “No.” He began walking toward the SUV he’d borrowed from Trace. “The last thing I am is angry with you.”

  He heard the sob in her voice. “I thought you hated me.”

  “I could never
hate you.” His gut ached at the thought that he’d left her feeling that way. “I should have called sooner.”

  “Are you coming back soon?” She had a hopeful note in her voice.

  “No.” He let out a heavy breath as he reached the SUV. “I’m going to Nate’s house first to check on something. After that I’ll come back to the B & B.”

  “Take me with you.” A determined note was in Belle’s voice. “I might be able to help.” Her voice softened again. “I need to do something. Nate was my friend, too.”

  Dylan gripped the cold door handle of the SUV and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to see Belle. Would she be safe if he took her to Nate’s house?

  “I can’t take that chance.” Dylan opened his eyes and pressed the remote to unlock the SUV. “I don’t want anything happening to you.”

  “You’re not leaving me. Come get me.” It came out like a demand. “I swear, I’ll find a way out of this place. I want to help. I won’t let you shut me out.”

  She’d managed to disappear as a teenager, what if she found a way to do that again? He couldn’t and wouldn’t underestimate her. She was a woman with such great strength inside her.

  “I’ll come and get you.” He climbed into the SUV and started the vehicle. “But we’re taking the agents who are guarding you and you will do as I say. Got it?”

  “Just get here.”

  The B & B was five minutes away, but someone could be watching him, so he had to take his time and make sure he wasn’t followed.

  CHAPTER 22

  Thirty minutes after Dylan had called Belle, he arrived. She’d been worried that he had changed his mind, but she couldn’t imagine him saying something and not following through. He had always kept his promises when they were young. It was part of his honorable nature that had made her love him so much.

  The moment he walked into the suite, she threw her arms around him and pressed her body against his. It felt so good being in his embrace, feeling his heat and solidness.

  Her words were barely above a whisper. “I’m so glad you’re not angry with me.”

  “I can’t be angry with you.” He drew away and it tickled a little as he brushed hair from her cheek. “Your stepfather is the one I’m angry with. You carried a heavy burden all of these years.” She looked down but he put his finger under her chin and raised her face. “Don’t let his actions hurt you. What he did—you shouldn’t have had to bear the weight of it alone all of these years.”

  “Thank you.” Her throat ached and it wasn’t from nearly being strangled. It was from the lump that formed at his words. The fact that he understood and wasn’t angry with her made her feel teary.

  He hugged her to him. “I’m sorry I left like I did, and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I should have talked with you sooner.”

  She hugged him back, squeezing tight, wanting to tell him how much she loved him. Because she did, more than she could ever imagine loving anyone. She held back from saying the words. It needed to be a special moment, not a casual “I love you” when they were about to set out on a task.

  Joe nosed in and Belle smiled as she stepped back and looked down at the German shepherd.

  Dylan crouched to face the dog. “I suppose you want to come with us.”

  Joe barked once.

  “Then it’s settled.” Dylan scratched Joe behind his ears. “You’re good to have around while we figure this all out.” Dylan gave the dog a final stroke on his head before standing again.

  “Thank you for coming back to get me.” Belle smiled as he rested his hands on her upper arms. “Let’s go get whatever it is you need from Nate’s house.”

  Dylan lowered his head and gave her a long, slow kiss that nearly swept her off her feet and did take her breath away.

  “Let’s go.”

  After she put her jacket on, he took her by the hand and led her to the door before opening it and guiding her through. He looked at Joe and gave a nod to the open doorway and Joe padded past Dylan onto the landing between the two suites.

  Belle had met the two agents, Jim Heber and Clarice Lutz. Dylan explained to them that they were heading to Nate’s, and the two agents would accompany them.

  The five of them, including Joe, were soon on their way to Nate’s. It was dark and the houses were lit up on the hillsides of Old Bisbee.

  It had been years since Belle had been to the Saginaw area of Bisbee and Nate’s home, formerly his grandmother’s.

  At one time the homes in Saginaw had been in another part of town known as Jiggerville. Belle remembered from Bisbee history that somewhere near 1950, the copper mining company, Phelps Dodge, moved one hundred houses to a new settlement called Saginaw.

  Moving the houses was necessary when the powers that be decided to dig an open pit mine to reach the ore where Jiggerville was located. The mine became known as the Lavender Pit Mine. The mine closed down in the early 1970’s but the abandoned pit covered over three hundred acres and was over nine hundred feet deep.

  The town of Bisbee nearly died when the mines shut down, but hippies moved into Old Bisbee and revitalized the area, turning it into an artists’ community, and eventually a tourist attraction.

  Belle thought about the days when Bisbee could have become a ghost town. She’d been young back then and she and her friends hadn’t known how bad things were during those years. They’d just been like any other kids, living for the moment.

  When they arrived in front of Nate’s home and got out of the SUV, Belle gripped Joe’s leash. Even through the leash, she felt how tense he was and heard his low growl, as if he was seeing and remembering the bad things that had happened here.

  Dylan had grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment and now he used it to light their way through the metal chain link gate and up to the house. The two agents who had accompanied them stayed close and on guard.

  It was dark, but in the flashlight’s beam, Belle could make out a shed in the back and a dog run to the left, near the shed. Joe growled as he strained against his leash as if wanting to go to the shed.

  With Joe at her side, she followed Dylan up the steps to the door that was crisscrossed with yellow crime scene tape. He removed one of the pieces of tape, opened the door, and stepped through. He shined the flashlight over the interior before taking Belle’s hand and helping her inside the home.

  Joe followed and his growl deepened. She had a feeling something had happened here. Something bad.

  She shivered and a sharp pain in her midsection caused her to put her hand over her belly. Nate had lived and died here. She didn’t know exactly where he’d been hung, but she knew that it was on the property.

  Dylan and the agents used flashlights to illuminate the home. Nate’s home repeated in her mind. While Agents Heber and Lutz stayed in the hall, Dylan guided Belle and Joe to a room and pushed the door open. Once inside, Belle saw that it was an office.

  Dylan went straight to a bookcase where one book partially stuck out from a bookcase, and he pulled the book out. Belle recognized it at once. It was an old book on baseball that Nate had often carried with him. She’d forgotten about that book and how much it had meant to him. If she remembered correctly, Nate’s father had passed it down before he and Nate’s mother disappeared. She saw the title, Baseball, An Informal History. Yes, Nate had been obsessed with that book, even though it had been seriously outdated by the time it came into his possession.

  “Is that what you needed?” Belle felt like she had to whisper in the quiet of the room.

  “Yes.” Dylan gripped the book in one hand as he shone the flashlight on the cover. “The office has been combed through by the BPD and the DHS, but there might be something in this book that can help us that would mean nothing to them.” He turned from the bookcase to meet Belle’s gaze. “This was the book where I found the postcard Nate wrote to me.”

  The book had probably been one of the last things Nate had handled. Another shiver went through Belle as if his ghost was in the room with them
, trying to tell them something and they just had to listen.

  Dylan swept the light over the office and to the desk that probably once held Nate’s computer. Dylan confirmed her thought when he added, “I don’t know that there’s anything left here that will help us. Forensics has gone through his desktop computer and has found nothing that is out of the ordinary. If there were records, he kept them somewhere else.” Dylan frowned. “I’m sure Nate had a laptop, but one hasn’t been found. I have a feeling someone got to it first.”

  Belle rubbed her arms with her hands, feeling a chill that her jacket couldn’t keep out. “Are we leaving now?”

  He looked at the book in his hand, then nodded. “I have what I came for. It’s time to see what, if anything, this can tell us.”

  ~~*~~

  By the time they returned to the B & B with the other agents and Joe, Belle knew Dylan was flat out exhausted. Apparently after his confrontation with Harvey, he’d aided in the search of Salvatore and Christie’s home before tackling Salvatore’s office. Of course they’d also headed to Nate’s to retrieve the baseball book.

  She’d insisted they get some sleep before they tackled the book. He’d started to argue but relented and had gone to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  Now she watched him shrug into a black T-shirt and pull it over his head. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s time to get up.” She slid out of bed. “I want to help, not sleep.”

  He waited for her to pull on a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt. “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s get to work.”

  “I’ll ask Jim or Clarice to grab something from downstairs.” He left the bedroom of the suite and she followed.

  Joe’s ears perked forward and he rose from his sitting position as Belle and Dylan entered the front room.

  As Dylan spoke to Agents Heber and Lutz, Belle sat on the couch in front of the coffee table where Dylan had left the book titled Baseball, An Informal History, written by Douglass Wallop.

  The cover creaked as she opened it. She smiled, but it was a small smile, as she recognized Nate’s handwriting as a kid on the inside of the front cover. The scrawl was messy, the letters scrunched close together, but she could still read the fading ink.