Cry Mercy

by Mariah Stewart

  ���She faxed it over. She’ll have my recommendation by this time tomorrow.��� Steffie added, ���Maybe sooner, if no one gets shot between now and six o’clock today.���

  ���I hope my chance for future employment doesn’t really hang on that little detail.���

  ���Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. But she did seem really curious about the fact that you’d already resigned.���

  ���What did you tell her?���

  ���That she’d have to speak directly with you because there were some personal issues involved. I didn’t know what else to say.���

  ���That’s fine. I’m sure she’ll ask me. I’ll have something prepared.���

  ���By the way, how’s my baby girl doing?���

  ���She isn’t a very happy girl right now,��� Emme admitted. ���She misses school and her friends.���

  ���She’ll be okay. She’ll adjust as soon as you get settled and she has a new school. She’ll make new friends.���

  ���We can only hope.���

  ���She will. Think positively.���

  ���I’m trying to.���

  ���So what’s your plan from here?��� Stephanie asked.

  ���I’m hoping to get as far as Missouri today. Tomorrow, hopefully, Indiana. I’d like to be in Pennsylvania by Monday.���

  ���You should be able to make that.���

  ���The drive has been pretty hard on Chloe. She gets pretty fussy. I have to look for places to stop for lunch where there’s a playground or a park nearby so she can run some of it off. Then at night, we look for places that have indoor pools. It slows us down but we both need some exercise after sitting in the car for the entire day.���

  ���Flying would have been faster.���

  ���I hate to fly. Besides, I’ll need the car once we get out there.��� She walked to the window and peered out through the drapes. Even though she knew positively that they had not been followed, she suspected that she might never stop looking over her shoulder. ���Thanks, Stef, for everything. The reference, the credit card������

  ���We couldn’t have you leaving a paper trail from one state to the next. We don’t know what connections he has, or who he’s bribed. Using your own cards would have been the equivalent of dropping crumbs behind you as you trekked across the country.���

  ���No one’s ever had a better friend than you, Stef.���

  ���I could say the same to you. Emme.��� Stephanie laughed. ���God, that sounds so strange.���

  ���Imagine how I feel. I have to remind myself to think of myself as Emme. But it isn’t the first time I had to get used to a new name, so I’m okay with it. It’s just a word, when you get right down to it.���

  ���What are you going to tell Chloe?���

  ���I haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking maybe that we’ll make a game of it, a secret game between us. Not great, I know, but that’s all I’ve been able to come up with. The thing is, once she’s Chloe Caldwell, she has to remember that she’s Chloe Caldwell.���

  ���Chloe is a smart girl. She loves to play pretend. She’ll remember.��� Stephanie paused, then asked, ���Do you have enough cash?���

  ���I do, thanks. I’ve been saving for a rainy day for a long time. Somehow, I always knew that something like this would happen.��� She added, ���I’m not saying I foresaw this, just that I felt there was a good possibility I’d be pulling up stakes quickly at some point. Like I said before, as a kid I always needed to be able to leave at the drop of a hat. I’ve kept cash in the house for when I’d have to leave again, and I’ve been adding to the stash for years. So we’re good. We’ll be good for a while.���

  ���Do you think you should call this Mallory Russo before you get to Conroy? I don’t know if just popping up and saying ���Hi, just thought I’d drop in��� is the best way to deal with this. Russo sounded like she was all business on the phone.���

  ���I’m thinking if I’m already there, she’s more likely to give me an interview.���

  ���What are you going to do if you get there and she tells you that she’s already filled the job?���

  ���It’s hard to believe anyone could have acted faster than I have. And they did say they wanted to be fully staffed in less than a year, so they have to be looking for more than one investigator. If worse comes to worse, I’ll see if the local police have an opening. The one thing I won’t be doing is heading back to California. But we should be in Conroy by Monday night, so I’ll give her a call on Tuesday morning and see if she can fit me in.���

  ���Look, if she says no, we’ll think of something else. Over the past few years, I’ve met a lot of law enforcement people, other police chiefs, at conferences. I can make some calls, see who needs a good cop.��� Steffie paused before adding, ���A great cop.���

  ���Thanks, Stef. If this falls through, we’ll do that. But I have a good feeling about this. Like it’s meant to be.��� She walked to the window and looked out, ignoring the lump in her throat. Steffie had been kinder to her than anyone in her life ever had. Would she ever see her again? ���We’ll be okay. But thank you. You’ll never know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.���

  The lump was still in her throat after she quietly snapped shut her cell phone. She lifted one edge of the curtain and stared out on the busy highway where cars buzzed by and the lights from a dozen fast-food places and gas stations obscured the stars. She thought of all the nights she and Chloe had taken a blanket to the backyard and lay back, looking up, watching for shooting stars.

  Maybe in our new town, we’ll be able to see the stars, she told herself as she dropped the curtain and put the phone down on the bedside table.

  She tried to remember everything she’d read online about Conroy. Beyond the town proper, it had looked to be somewhat rural, so chances were good that they’d have a backyard again, and stars overhead at night.

  She finished in the bathroom and plugged in the little nightlight she’d brought with them so that Chloe wouldn’t be in total darkness if she woke up in the middle of the night. She carefully crawled into the bed next to her sleeping child and tucked the blanket around her before resting her head on her own pillow. She stared at the ceiling and tried to calm the doubts that plagued her when she was alone with her thoughts. She drew on that well of strength she’d drawn from since she was a child in foster care and moved from home to home. As an adult looking back on those days, she’d not been able to remember the number of times she’d been moved.

  And always, she’d been the girl without a name.

  Well, now she had a name, she reminded herself. Not one that had been chosen for her, but one she’d chosen for herself. Emme Caldwell.

  From this day forward, she would be Emme Caldwell.

  THREE

  So what’s eating you this morning?��� Trula bustled into Mallory’s office with a mug of coffee in one hand and a napkin wrapped around a freshly baked muffin in the other. With a slight hint of accusation, she added, ���You didn’t come for a second cup of coffee with Susanna and you didn’t follow your nose to the kitchen for a muffin.���

  Mallory forced a smile and reached out for the napkin and the mug. ���You didn’t have to do this, but I thank you.��� She sniffed the muffin. ���Ummm. You put pecans in these, didn’t you?���

  She turned the mug around to see which of Trula’s pithy sayings she’d gotten that morning. The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

  Amen to that.

  ���I did.��� Trula took a seat without waiting to be offered one. ���So��� I’m waiting.���

  ���For?����
��� Mallory took a bite of muffin and smiled. ���Delicious. You could package these and sell them and make big bucks, Trula.���

  ���Don’t change the subject. You know what for.���

  ���You don’t take no for an answer very often, do you.��� It wasn’t a question.

  ���Not if I can help it.���

  Mallory sighed, resigned.

  ���I got a call this morning from one of the applicants for the investigator job.���

  ���So? That’s what you wanted. That’s why we went through that whole press conference thing and did the website. What’s the problem? Is the applicant unqualified?���

  ���No. She appears to be as qualified as most, I guess. Some may be better, some may be not as. Her qualifications aren’t the problem.���

  ���So?���

  ���So she’s in Conroy and she wants an interview.���

  ���Again,��� Trula sighed, ���I say, so?���

  ���So she was a cop in California. She applied online the day the application was posted, quit her job, packed it all up, drove east, and is counting on us hiring her.���

  ���Do I have to repeat myself a fourth time?���

  ���So who does that?��� Mallory frowned. ���Who quits their job and drives across the country, demands an interview for a job she may not get?���

  ���Asked or demanded?���

  ���Asked. But I had the feeling if I’d said no, she’d have begged until I said I’d see her.���

  ���When is she coming in?���

  ���This afternoon. I told her I could see her around two.���

  ���Doesn’t give you much time to check her references.���

  ���I already did that. Actually, I do a preliminary check of the ones who look qualified as soon as I get the app. If I know up front that someone isn’t going to be a contender, that’s one less interview I have to arrange.���

  ���Did she check out?���

  Robert wandered in and took the chair next to Trula’s.

  ���Did who check out?��� he asked.

  Mallory filled him in on the conversation thus far.

  ���So did she?��� Trula repeated.

  ���She did. Actually, her former boss gave her a glowing reference.��� Mallory took a sip of coffee. ���It was as if she couldn’t say enough about her. I can’t explain why, but it just sounded��� I don’t know, too pat or something.���

  ���Why’s that?��� asked Susanna, who’d been listening at the doorway.

  ���You’re chief of police in a town not far from the Mexican border. One of your best officers quits the force with no notice-I mean, how much notice could she have given? The application just went online two weeks ago, and this woman is already here after having driven from California. And yet you still give her the highest possible recommendation? You never mention the fact that she left you high and dry and a man short?��� Mallory shook her head. ���Something about that just isn’t sitting right with me.���

  ���So maybe after you talk to her, you’ll have an idea why.��� Robert stood and stretched. ���I trust your instincts, Mal. It’s up to you whether or not to hire her.���

  ���Well, I’d sure like to have an opportunity to interview some of the competition.���

  ���There isn’t going to be a whole lot of time to deliberate. If it looks like she can’t cut it, cross her off the list and go on to the next one. We’re going to need staff pronto.���

  ���We’re going to need the right staff,��� Mallory reminded him. ���You want the best person for the job, not just any investigator.���

  ���True enough. But you can’t tell me that in that entire bunch of applicants you can’t find someone who fits the bill who can start really soon. We set the first of the month as our deadline to kick off that first case, and the first is closing in on us very quickly,��� he pointed out. ���Kevin will be here late this afternoon and we’ll be deciding which case gets the privilege of being number one.���

  ���I have it down to three,��� Mallory told him. ���The write-ups are on your desk.��� She turned to Susanna. ���Yours, too.���

  ���I already read through them. Interesting. A little something there for everyone,��� Susanna remarked.

  ���How many submissions did we get?��� Robert asked.

  ���Six hundred and twelve,��� Mallory told him.

  ���How did you cut them down to three?���

  ���Wasn’t easy.���

  ���I should go take a look.��� Robert stood. ���Did Kevin get copies, Mal?���

  ���I faxed them to the church office this morning.���

  ���Well, then, I’ll leave this other thing-the possibly overzealous applicant-in your hands,��� Robert said as he left the room.

  Mallory turned to Susanna, who shrugged and said, ���Like Robert said, it’s up to you. But we will need to hire someone soon. Over six hundred submissions in two weeks? Craziness.��� She followed Robert out the door.

  Mallory turned to Trula.

  ���Don’t look at me. I’m just the cook.���

  ���My ass.���

  Smiling, Trula stood and picked up the crumpled napkin and the empty mug.

  ���Lunch is in thirty minutes.���

  Emme stopped in front of the ornate iron gates that shut off Robert Magellan’s estate from the rest of the world. She put the car in park and stared at the guard who was walking toward her.

  ���Can I help you, miss?��� he asked.

  ���Is this Robert Magellan’s?������

  He nodded.

  ���I have an appointment with Mallory Russo.���

  ���Ms. Caldwell?���

  It took a split second for her to realize he was addressing her. ���Yes.���

  ���You’re expected.��� He smiled and returned to the small booth he’d been sitting in. ���Go on through and follow the drive to the circle on the right. You can leave your car there. Someone will meet you at the door.���

  ���Thanks.���

  More curious than ever, she drove through the opening gates.

  ���Mommy, is this a castle?��� Chloe asked from the backseat. ���Are we going to see a prince?���

  ���Sort of,��� Emme mumbled and followed the guard’s instructions to the front door.

  ���Who lives here, Mommy?���

  ���A very wealthy man who puts his money to good use to help people who have problems.���

  ���I have problems,��� Chloe told her. ���I don’t have a school.���

  ���Not that kind of problem, sweetie.���

  ���What kind?���

  ���He helps to find people who are lost.���

  ���Do you think he could help me find Bobo?��� One of Chloe’s favorite stuffed animals had been inadvertently left behind when her mother had grabbed a few cherished items from Chloe’s room.

  ���I think he only looks for people.���

  ���Bobo was people,��� she heard Chloe whisper.

  When they reached the circle, Emme parked and got out, and couldn’t help but stare at the Tudor mansion that seemed to go on forever.

  ���I bet a princess lives here too.��� Chloe unbuckled her seat belt and eagerly jumped from the car without waiting for assistance. ���Will I get to see her?���

  ���There’s no princess, sweetie,��� her mother said as she took her hand. Together they started toward the front door. />
  It opened almost immediately. A woman of indeterminable age stood at the threshold. She was dressed in a denim skirt that had faded from too many washings, a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a bright red apron dotted with spots of flour here and there. White tennis sneakers worn without socks were on her feet, her white hair was wrapped into a bun at the nape of her neck, and her glasses sat upon the very end of her nose.

  ���Come in, Emme Caldwell.��� She gestured with one hand. Seeing Chloe, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. ���And who might this be?���

  ���This is Chloe, my daughter.��� Emme’s words began to pour out in a rush. ���I’m sorry, I know it’s highly unusual to bring a child to an interview like this but we just arrived in town last night and I couldn’t leave her in the hotel. I probably should have mentioned it when I spoke with Ms. Russo. I promise she won’t be a bother to anyone. She’s very well behaved. She has a coloring book and her crayons and she can sit on the floor outside the office while I meet with Ms. Russo.���

  ���Nonsense.��� The woman shut the door behind them. ���Chloe can give me a hand in the kitchen. Do you like to bake, Chloe?���

  ���I baked cookies one time for Mr. Pendergast. He lived next door to us and he had his������ Chloe frowned and tugged on her mother’s hand. ���What did the doctor take out of his stomach?���

  ���His appendix.��� Emme stood in the vast entry and fought the urge to gape at the paintings that lined the walls. They all looked authentic.

  ���That.��� Chloe stared up at the woman in the apron. ���What’s your name?���

  ���Trula.���

  ���Like truly, only not?���

  ���Exactly.��� The woman smiled at Emme. ���Mallory knows you’re here. Her office is the third door down this hall on the left. Chloe and I will be in the kitchen when you’re finished. Don’t feel the need to rush. Cookies take time.���

  Emme prayed that Chloe would remember the conversation they’d had several nights ago-and every night since-about their new last name. Convincing Chloe that her name was now Caldwell, not Nolan, and that her mother’s first name was now Emme, not Ann, had not been as much as a trial as she’d feared.