A Merciful Secret

Guests?

Mercy asked Kaylie to show Morrigan her washing machine project in progress. Morrigan looked to her mother, and Salome nodded. A flicker flashed in the mother’s eye; she wasn’t entirely comfortable letting her daughter out of her sight. Kaylie took the young girl’s hand and they went out the back door. Salome stared at the wooden door after they left, as if wishing she could see through it.

There weren’t pretty glass French doors at the rear of Mercy’s home. Too easy to break through. Her doors were solid and heavily reinforced, and had multiple locks. She had high windows that let in the sun. Breakable but not easy to access.

Preparation.

Mercy caught Salome’s gaze. It was time for answers. “Where have you been?” She was proud that she didn’t yell the question at the woman.

“I’ve been staying with Christian,” Salome said quietly.

“Were those your Hummer tracks at her home after she vanished on us?” Mercy asked Christian.

“Yes, we went to get a few of her and Morrigan’s things.”

His calm tone didn’t help the frustration building in Mercy’s chest. “You know the FBI is looking for her, right? She’s a suspect in your father’s murder.” Mercy threw the words at Christian, not caring how harsh she sounded. The two of them had deliberately tied up the investigation, and Mercy was steamed.

“I didn’t kill Judge Lake.”

Mercy looked at Salome. Damn, she’s a cool customer. Not a hair ruffled.

“Why were you at his office the day he was murdered?”

Color rushed from Christian’s face, and he went very still.

Aha. News to him.

“I always see him when I’m in Portland.”

“You do?” Surprise rang in his voice as he turned toward her.

“You know Judge Lake?” Mercy asked.

“I’ve known him since I was small. My mother credits him for saving us from my father. They’ve kept in touch all these years, and I often have lunch with him when I’m in Portland.” She ducked her head. “I never told you, Christian, because I know how you dislike him, and my mother has always put him on a pedestal. He was important to her.”

“What did he tell you?” Christian choked out the words.

Mercy took control of the conversation. “If Salome didn’t kill the judge, who did?”

“When I first heard about my mother’s and the judge’s murder,” answered Salome, “I was positive my father had done it. He swore revenge against the judge who put him away and my mother for testifying against him. It’s why we’ve hid most of my life.”

“Antonio Ricci,” Mercy stated, pleased at the way Salome’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible. He’s currently sitting in prison.”

“I assumed he’d gotten out, and I immediately took Morrigan into hiding. I went to Christian, and he let me stay in one of the cabins on his property. I believed it was my father until yesterday when Gabriel shot at us.”

“What?” Shock locked Mercy’s muscles. Gabriel?

Christian nodded, his eyes despondent. “You didn’t hear what happened at my place yesterday?”

“No.” Mercy felt the interview slip out of her grasp again. “There’s no cell service or Internet here.”

He shared a story about the murder of Brent Rollins and Salome’s narrow escape.

Mercy couldn’t speak for a full ten seconds as her mind tried to process the violence. Brent had been killed while helping Salome and Morrigan? And Morrigan witnessed that? Most children would have been curled up in a ball, refusing to speak or move.

Mercy felt like doing that now.

“Why? Why would Gabriel try to kill you?” she asked Salome as Mercy tried to stay focused.

“I don’t know.”

She’s holding back.

“We won’t get anywhere if the two of you don’t tell me everything.” Mercy glared from Salome to Christian.

“She refused to go to the police, worried her father might still have some influence on the inside,” Christian said. “I’ve tried to get her to tell them for two days. Last night I convinced her that you would be safe to talk to.”

“Then talk.”

Salome solemnly met her gaze. “I think Christian knows more—”

An explosion shook the little cabin. For a split second the three of them stared at one another in shock. What happened? Mercy glanced up, thankful to see that her roof was still intact, and then dropped below the table, her ears ringing. Salome flew out of her chair, lunging for the door. “Morrigan!”

Christian tackled her, slamming her to the wood floor. She fought, kicking and slapping him. “Let me go!” she shrieked.

“You don’t know what’s out there!” he yelled in her ear.

Mercy scrambled out from under the table, grabbed her pistol and rifle, and darted to the side of a small reinforced window at the front of the house, risking a glance. The Hummer was in flames.

Her heart stopped. Kaylie?

A dozen yards beyond the Hummer, she spotted the grille of another vehicle on her lane. The rest of it was tucked out of sight around a curve.

Company.

Truman halted the ATV in the middle of the road and stared. A black cloud had rocketed up into the sky above the forest after the explosion. Sweat trickled down Truman’s back at the sight. That’s the direction of Mercy’s cabin.

I’m still miles away.

What if she’s hurt?

Or worse?

He’d found the ATV in the barn. It was child-size and didn’t move nearly as fast as it should because of his weight and the depth of the snow. At least it was something. He’d decided to walk the seven miles or so to Mercy’s cabin, but then he’d spotted the ATV.

Nausea swirled in his gut as he stared at the smoke. Whoever shot at me went to Mercy’s.

He checked his phone for the tenth time, and his heart leaped at the one bar of coverage. He requested police backup and an ambulance. Just in case. He tried Mercy’s cell phone and it went straight to voice mail. Her cheery voice asking him to leave a message made him want to yell into the phone and order her to answer and tell him she was okay.

Instead he hung up and wiped the moisture off his upper lip.

Keep going.

Truman increased his thumb’s pressure on the throttle.

THIRTY-SIX

Mercy burst into action.

She lowered all the shades and flipped open her laptop, then pulled up outside views of the property. Christian kept Salome pinned to the floor. She screeched and kicked at him, a mother desperate to get to her daughter. His terrified gaze met Mercy’s.

“Shut her up,” Mercy hissed.

She whipped the two-way radio out of her pocket. “Kaylie? Are you okay? Is Morrigan with you?”

Mercy waited.

The cabin went silent as Salome cut off her screams, her gaze locked on the small radio in Mercy’s hand. “Kaylie?” Mercy asked again.

“Morrigan and I are okay,” Kaylie’s voice whispered through the speaker.

Salome went limp under Christian’s hands and quietly sobbed.

Relief made Mercy want to do the same. She scanned the four views on her laptop. “Where are you?” she asked Kaylie. The Hummer smoked and burned. How? Blowing up a vehicle wasn’t easy; it took planning.

Her heart stopped as she spotted a man with a pistol in his hand opening the barn door. He paused and looked back at the house over his shoulder. Mercy leaned closer to the screen, her throat closing off as she recognized his face. No. The man vanished inside where her niece had taken Morrigan.