A Merciful Truth by Kendra Elliot

Table of Content

• 1. PRAISE FOR KENDRA ELLIOT “In Elliot’s latest gripping novel the mystery and suspense are top-notch, and the romance embedded within will quench love story junkies’ thirst, too. The author’s eye for detail makes this one play out more like a movie rather than a book. It can easily be read as a standalone but is obviously much better if the prior three are digested first.” —Romantic Times Book Reviews on Targeted, 4 stars “Elliot’s latest addition to her thrilling, edge-of-your-seat series, Bone Secrets, will scare the crap out of you, yet allow you to swoon over the building romantic setting, which provides quite the picturesque backdrop. Her novel contains thrills, chills, snow and . . . hey, you never know! The surprises and cliffhangers are satisfying, yet edgy enough to keep you feverishly flipping the pages.” —Romantic Times Book Reviews on Known, 4 stars “Elliot’s best work to date. The author’s talent is evident in the characters’ wit and smart dialogue. . . . One wouldn’t necess
• 2. Unnamed
• 3. ALSO BY KENDRA ELLIOT MERCY KILPATRICK NOVELS A Merciful Death BONE SECRETS NOVELS Hidden Chilled Buried Alone Known BONE SECRETS NOVELLAS Veiled CALLAHAN & MCLANE NOVELS PART OF THE BONE SECRETS WORLD Vanished Bridged Spiraled Targeted ROGUE RIVER NOVELLAS On Her Father’s Grave (Rogue River) Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River) Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter) Death and Her Devotion (Rogue Vows)
• 4. Unnamed
• 5. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Text copyright © 2017 Kendra Elliot All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781477848296 ISBN-10: 1477848290 Cover design by Eileen Carey
• 6. For Amelia. Everything is within your power.
• 7. CONTENTS ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR TWENTY-FIVE TWENTY-SIX TWENTY-SEVEN TWENTY-EIGHT TWENTY-NINE THIRTY THIRTY-ONE THIRTY-TWO ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR
• 8. ONE Police Chief Truman Daly slammed the door of his Tahoe and raised a hand to protect his face from the heat of the fire. He took a half step back, bumping into his vehicle. Flames had engulfed the old barn and were stretched high against the night’s black sky. A total loss. He’d believed he’d parked a safe distance from the fire, but the toasting of his cheeks caused second thoughts. He pulled down on the brim of his cowboy hat to cover his face, ignored the flooding memories of a past deadly fire, and jogged toward the two Deschutes County sheriff patrol vehicles that’d arrived before him. The two deputies stood behind their cars, talking on their radios, eyeing the towering flames. There was nothing they could do. A faint siren sounded in the distance, but Truman knew the fire department was too late. Its goal would be to keep the fire from spreading to the woods and neighboring ranches. “Hey, Chief,” one of the deputies shouted over the roar of the fire as he approached. Truman r
• 9. TWO Truman found Tilda Brass fascinating. He and Special Agent Jeff Garrison sat in the woman’s living room, waiting to ask her about the fire, since it’d occurred on her property. The eighty-year-old woman had answered the door dressed in men’s faded jeans and a denim shirt pinned closed with a half dozen safety pins. Her rubber boots looked far too big to be a woman’s size, but she wore them gracefully. She had long gray hair, and her manner was that of a society belle—quite at odds with her clothing and boots. Operating on two hours of sleep, Truman had felt his early-morning adrenaline rush fade away hours ago. The EMTs had applied something that numbed the burns on the back of his neck and then bandaged them, warning him of infection and ordering him to see his doctor as soon as possible. Truman didn’t have time. He took some Advil and pushed on. A doctor’s visit could wait. Now he was simply putting one foot in front of the other, running on sheer determination to get to the bott
• 10. THREE Truman could barely keep his eyes open as he rang Mercy’s doorbell. He’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours. He’d been burned, hit his head, and nearly died in an explosion, and he hadn’t seen Mercy in two weeks. He didn’t give a shit if Kaylie was here. He needed to feel Mercy against him. His heart and mind were stripped bare, and he felt raw and vulnerable. She would be a balm for his broken parts, and tonight he had a hell of a lot of them. He swayed as he waited at the door, aching to see the light of her at the end of this very long tunnel of a day. The door opened and he was in her arms. He loved her but had never told her. The occasional fear in her eyes made him keep those words to himself. Her anxiety reminded him of a nervous deer. Quivering in front of him, ready to dash away at the slightest wrong move. He kept his movements gentle and slow; he knew he’d win her with time. He sank against her, loving that she was nearly his height. “You still smell of smoke,” she w
• 11. FOUR Officer Ben Cooley was covering the night shift. To be fair, it wasn’t a night shift in the true sense. Usually that meant actually driving to a job with a crappy shift from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. Eagle’s Nest simply had one officer on call from midnight to 8:00 a.m. He didn’t mind taking the shift—they all had to cover it at least once a week—but usually he got to sleep in peace. Not much happened in the middle of the night in his quiet town, and getting paid for sleeping in his bed wasn’t a bad deal, but lately fires had been on everyone’s mind. Sure enough, at 4:00 a.m., a little more than twenty-four hours after the fire and shooting on Tilda Brass’s property, he got a call that suspicious persons were snooping around Jackson Hill’s outbuildings. Hill was out of town, but a neighbor had seen someone where there shouldn’t be any people. Nothing was on fire, but knowing a young prepper family had already lost supplies and that Jackson was a known prepper, Ben pulled his old bon
• 12. FIVE Mercy slept like the dead, opening her eyes only as Truman kissed her forehead. He was fully dressed and had deep circles under his eyes. She blinked. How did I not hear him get up? “What time is it?” she asked, squinting at her clock. “Almost five in the morning. Someone took a shot at Ben this morning.” His grim tone sped up her waking process. “Is he all right? What happened?” She sat up and shook the sleep out of her head. “He’s fine. Pissed but fine. He was responding to a prowler call and found a small fire. Then someone shot at him.” “Did he catch the shooter?” Truman sighed. “No. But they left behind a body. We don’t know who he is yet, but someone cut his throat.” Now she was fully awake. “Do you know anything about the body?” “I know he was murdered at the site moments before Ben found him, and Ben estimated the victim to be in his sixties. A big guy with a lot of graying facial hair.” “Ben didn’t know him? Ben knows everyone around here.” “Exactly,” Truman said. “Now I’
• 13. SIX “Hey, Mercy! Welcome back!” Mercy’s attitude improved at the sound of Lucas’s heartfelt welcome as she stepped inside the Eagle’s Nest police station. She’d grown fond of Truman’s police department manager. The giant young man had a gift for organization and telling people what to do. “Thanks, Lucas. Is your boss here?” His grin widened. “He’s in the back. He’s moving a bit slow this morning. I did make him change his clothes once I got a whiff of him. He’s been wearing the same thing since that big fire.” So much for Truman following her advice. She’d checked in at her own office first thing and then driven to the scene where Ben Cooley had been shot at. The body had been taken to the morgue by the time she arrived, but a small crime scene crew and the fire marshal were still present. She’d asked Bill Trek if this fire had any similarities to the fire at which the deputies had been shot. His answer hadn’t been helpful. According to his nose, they’d used the same accelerant as in t
• 14. SEVEN Mercy wrapped her hands around her hot coffee cup at the Bend FBI office but didn’t drink. She was coffeed out. Darby noticed and asked if she wanted some juice. Mercy turned down the intelligence analyst’s offer. She was tired of eating and drinking on the run. It was all she’d done at Quantico for the previous two weeks, and she hadn’t found time to grocery shop since she’d been back. Her body was rebelling against the unusual diet. I need a week of eating nothing but organic veggies and beef from happy, grass-fed cows. She’d never dreamed she’d be that consumer, the one who questioned the source of the chicken breast on her plate, but after she left home at eighteen, she’d noticed that food tasted different. She’d grown up on meat slaughtered by her father and vegetables grown by her family or by friends. After a few months of processed food, her body had revolted, and she’d learned to seek out local sources. She’d embarrassed Truman a time or two in restaurants with her quest
• 15. EIGHT Kaylie silently closed the door and tiptoed down the apartment stairs, excitement rushing through her veins. Freedom gave her a heady rush as anticipation about seeing Cade made her feet move faster. She hit the sidewalk and jogged through the dark night to their usual rendezvous spot, her breath creating big clouds in the cold air. Am I in love? No matter what this sensation was called, she felt fantastic. The energy bubbling through her was oblivious to the fact that it was one in the morning. She and Cade had been dating for over a month. He was three years older than she, and she’d known who he was for a long time, but they hadn’t spoken until she waited on him at the Coffee Café early one morning on his way to work. He came back three mornings in a row and finally asked her out. He’d been the best thing to happen to her since her father died. Aunt Mercy was great, but with Cade she felt beautiful and special. He’d bought her a gold necklace for her seventeenth birthday, less
• 16. NINE Mercy steamed as she drove to Eagle’s Nest hours later. Truman had called that morning before arriving at her apartment with Kaylie in tow, shocking her out of a dead sleep and gently breaking the news that he’d caught her wayward niece running wild in the middle of the night. When the two of them arrived, he’d given her a kiss, and Kaylie a thumbs-up, and then had nearly run down the stairs, leaving the girl in Mercy’s confused hands. Chicken. Her brain still spun with the story Truman had told. Alcohol? Guns? Mercy couldn’t get the image out of her head. And Kaylie was the only girl in a group with four guys? She shuddered. Kaylie had claimed the guys were her friends, but it didn’t calm Mercy’s nerves. “What if they’d decided to attack you?” she’d nearly shouted at the defensive teen. She’d amazed herself that she’d kept her voice even. “They wouldn’t do that. I know them.” “Well, I don’t know them. From now on I want to meet whoever you’re going out with. And I want to know wh
• 17. TEN Truman’s dress uniform felt unnatural on his body, as if he’d borrowed someone else’s clothes. He’d worn it three times since he’d taken the job as chief of police. Once for his swearing-in and the other two times for special events. Today was an event, but it wasn’t a good one. It was a necessity that he passionately wished didn’t exist. Two law enforcement officers would be put in the ground today. He’d spent half the day trying to get his stomach under control. Waves of nausea struck him at random times, bringing memories of the night the men had died. It could have been me. Twice he’d escaped death where other officers had died. In their entire career, most officers would never have to fire their weapon, let alone nearly die twice. Why did he feel as if his luck was about to run out? By the odds, he should be safe for the rest of his life. Instead he was antsy and anxious, as if death were waiting for him just around the corner, angry that it’d missed him twice. Beside him in t
• 18. ELEVEN He’d lost himself in Mercy last night. She’d opened herself to him in a way he’d never experienced. She didn’t talk; she spoke with her body and he’d found himself caught up in her emotions. After opening his heart to her on the couch, he’d been convinced he was too broken to function, and she’d shown him he still had something inside. Where had the energy and passion come from? Despite having been thinking of bed and sleep since noon yesterday, he’d found the energy to stay awake for another hour, satiating himself with her. It’d been hard to get out of bed this morning, and now he drove mindlessly around town, his brain still reliving the previous evening. His radio crackled and Lucas told him there was a domestic disturbance at Sandy’s Bed & Breakfast. Truman turned right at the next corner. “I’m a minute away. What’s going on?” “Sandy says one of her customers is beating on his wife behind her building.” He sped down a deserted street, leaving a wake of brightly colored fall
• 19. TWELVE Cade sank another nail into the board. The knot-filled wood wouldn’t have been his first choice to build the new bunkhouse, but he understood the wood was cheap, and it wasn’t his place to offer suggestions. Tom McDonald was the boss, and Cade was there to do as he was told. Tom paid well and had plenty of work for him, so Cade wasn’t about to rock the boat with something as unimportant as his opinion of lumber quality. At least it smelled good. This was much better than tending Tom’s cattle or pigs. Cade’s familiarity with framing had earned him a recommendation from one of his neighbors and gotten his foot in the door at Tom’s ranch. His savings were slowly building, and he’d soon be able to afford a payment on a newer truck. It was a bit embarrassing to pick up Kaylie in his current POS, but she didn’t seem to mind. A new truck should impress her. He slammed the palm of his hand against the board, pleased at the solid feel, and grabbed the next board to place. Chip stuck his
• 20. THIRTEEN Truman tried to focus on his email at his desktop. He yawned several times, even though he’d gotten a good six hours of sleep. Last night Mercy had been right. The olive oil ice cream was unique. He didn’t have an overwhelming urge to rush back to Portland and get some more, but it’d been an eye-opening experience. He wished he’d had the courage to try the flavor made with bone marrow and smoked cherries instead of settling for the sea salt and caramel, which had sounded safe. He’d watched Mercy indulge in her odd ice cream and had enjoyed the blissful look on her face. She was weird about food. Selective and particular in a way he’d only read about online or seen in movies. But when it came to ice cream, all her rules went out the window. He’d never seen her pass up the dessert. Someone tapped at his door and pushed it open. Mercy’s sister Pearl stepped in. “You got a moment?” she asked. Surprised, he stood and gestured at the chair in front of his desk. “Absolutely, Pearl. W
• 21. FOURTEEN “I heard Tom McDonald is out of town,” Jeff, Mercy’s supervisor, commented as she stopped in the doorway to his office. “I take it Eddie told you about our visit already?” Mercy asked. “I was stopping by to bring you up-to-date. What are you doing in the office on a weekend, anyway?” “When someone has murdered law enforcement officers, every day is Monday for me. Will McDonald call you when he gets back?” She raised a brow at him. “Didn’t think so. Continue to stop by his place until you talk to him.” “His ranch isn’t exactly on my way to work. Today’s trip took a big chunk of my day, but I’ll keep at it.” “Don’t go alone.” Jeff tapped at his keyboard, his gaze on his screen. Mercy’s hackles rose. “Would you say that if I was Eddie?” Jeff sighed and leaned back in his chair, bringing his hands together across his chest in a way that made her feel as if she were about to get a lecture from her father. “I would say that to Eddie. A remote location staffed with a bunch of redneck
• 22. FIFTEEN Mercy liked Tilda Brass on sight. She felt right at home with the elegant, mannered woman who wore men’s overalls and rubber boots and spoke in a kind voice. Tilda poured her a cup of tea and Mercy declined the milk, opting for a wedge of lemon. She’d asked Tilda to reschedule their tea to midmorning and Mercy was glad she’d already had her hit of caffeine for the day. Tea wasn’t her poison of choice. She’d woken with a stiff neck, but a hot shower and some ibuprofen had made short work of it. Eddie had picked her up, stopped at Starbucks, and then dropped her off at a rental agency, where she’d waited impatiently behind two groups of tourists who couldn’t decide what type of vehicle to rent. Each time the twentysomething clerk glanced aside and caught Mercy’s stare, he seemed to completely lose his concentration and had to ask the customers to repeat themselves. Forty minutes later she was on her way in a Ford SUV, feeling as if she were cheating on her Tahoe. Truman’s words f
• 23. SIXTEEN Can you meet me for lunch? Giddiness swept through Kaylie as she read Cade’s text. She immediately replied that she could, and then spent the next thirty minutes of third period staring at the clock, barely able to sit still and listen to Mr. Hausman drone on about the creepiest book she’d ever read, Lord of the Flies. How could she focus on child-aged murderers when Cade was coming? The bell finally rang, and she bypassed her locker and tore out the front door of the school, ready to make the most of her thirty-minute lunch. Her nerves tingled at the sight of Cade’s truck idling at the front of the school. I wish I was out of high school. It was hard to attend school each day when the man you loved did not. She opened the passenger door, hopped in, and slid across the bench seat, admiring the sight of him in jeans and leather coat. He pulled her close and kissed her deep. She melted. “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked once the kiss ended and he put the truck in gear. “I neede
• 24. SEVENTEEN Cade unloaded three pieces from the stack of lumber in the back of his truck and carried them into the shed where he’d found the dynamite the other day. It was gone. He stared at the empty spot, wondering if he’d imagined it. No. I know it was there. In a daze he walked back and forth, unloading more boards as he wondered where the dynamite had disappeared to. Did they move it so I wouldn’t find it? What are they planning to do with it? Why do I care? He repeated the last phrase ten times in his head. Whatever Tom McDonald did on his property was none of Cade’s business. He was here to work. He got paid well, and he enjoyed seeing the buildings slowly come together. It was rewarding to see the results of his labors. Chip had mentioned they’d pour the foundation for another bunkhouse next week. To Cade that was confirmation that they had more work for him. It was good money. More than he’d ever made, and he’d be damned if he was going to screw it up. He dropped a board into pl
• 25. EIGHTEEN Cade couldn’t sleep. Lying on his back, he tucked his arms under his head and stared at his ceiling in the dark. He kept reliving his conversation with Tom McDonald, wondering if he’d answered appropriately. Why do I care what he thinks? Because he needed the money from the job. Right now he was willing to look the other way and say whatever it took to keep the money coming in. Last week he’d put in ten hours of overtime at time and a half, and McDonald hadn’t even blinked. At this rate he’d have enough for a down payment on that new truck before Christmas. But what about Joshua Pence? Was it wrong to keep his mouth shut? Mercy Kilpatrick’s determined face at the McDonald ranch popped into his head. He didn’t have any information to help her case. He felt bad that Pence had died, but that didn’t mean he could help find who’d killed him. He sat up and threw off the covers. Standing up, he started to pace his room, nervous energy flowing through every nerve. An overwhelming urge
• 26. NINETEEN Could I see him shooting a cop? Hell yes. Mercy had been in the room with Landon Hecht for sixty seconds. The young man slouching in a chair across the table from Mercy gave off enough disdain to fill a football stadium. He was all sharp angles. Pointy elbows and chin and shoulders. Even his eyes seemed sharp—not in an intelligent way, but in an angry way. As if the world were out to get him and he was constantly on the edge of striking back. The contempt he directed at her and Truman told her he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed; most people at least pretended to give officers respect. Especially in an interview room. If he’d shot the deputies, he did it on a whim, she decided, not because he’d planned some elaborate scheme. He didn’t seem to be the type who thought further ahead than two hours. Or one. Truman had called her an hour ago and said he was delivering four subjects to the Deschutes County Sheriff’s Office for questioning. When she’d found out he’d caught them a
• 27. TWENTY Early the next morning Mercy watched the evidence techs remove the weapons from Landon’s house. Every registered weapon had been accounted for, and Mercy had half expected they’d find a few illegal weapons, but they did not. Landon’s mother leaned against a wall and smoked as her steely eyes watched every move. She’d known the officers were coming but had still given them a mouthful of grief when they arrived. Mercy saw her resemblance to Landon. His mom was incredibly skinny and looked as if she subsisted on cigarettes and dry toast. She worked at the grocery store in Bend, and it took Mercy a moment before she realized she’d rung up Mercy’s groceries several times. His mother wasn’t a service-with-a-smile checker, but she was fast and efficient and never had to look up the produce codes, which was more important to Mercy than a fake smile. No recognition had shone in her eyes as she met Mercy that morning. She’ll remember me after this morning. I’ll have to go through someone
• 28. TWENTY-ONE Tom McDonald watched the woman carry the coffee across the yard as if it were liquid gold, knowing he could easily meet her halfway, but not wanting to. Laurie handed him the mug, and Tom thanked her as if she’d handed him a hundred-dollar bill. Her eyes lit up and she whispered, “You’re welcome.” She dipped her head and dashed off the front porch of the farmhouse, headed back to the mess hall, where the scent of bacon still hovered outside. He took a sip of the coffee, watching as she hustled away. Laurie must have noticed that he’d missed breakfast. The drink was hot and dark and bitter. He smiled. He liked that the women on the ranch respected him and tried to anticipate his needs. They kept the mess hall clean and always had hot food ready when needed. The kitchen in his farmhouse had a small refrigerator and microwave, but no working stove or oven. He’d decided funds were best spent building one large, central kitchen. One day when he had more money, he’d get the house’
• 29. TWENTY-TWO Truman had nearly arrived back at his department when his phone rang. It was the Deschutes County Sheriff’s Office reporting that it had found an abandoned red pickup with some minor front-end damage. “Who’s the owner?” asked Truman. “The tags are long expired,” said the deputy. “But it’s registered to a Joshua Pence in Nevada.” “Crap.” The theory about Joshua’s truck having been used to run Mercy off the road appeared to be accurate. “Have you towed it yet?” “Nope. We’re waiting for the tow truck.” “Give me your location.” Truman took the next turn and floored his accelerator, wanting to get to the scene before the truck was moved. Nearly twenty minutes later he pulled up behind a county cruiser on a little-used side road and spotted the tail end of a truck in the brush off the side of the road. No tow truck in sight. “Did you touch anything?” he asked the deputy. “I opened the door and looked through the contents of the glove box. Once I radioed it in and heard about the B
• 30. TWENTY-THREE Truman’s desk phone rang and he snatched it up, crossing his fingers that it was the call he’d been waiting for. It was. Bonner County Deputy Chad Wheeler’s voice came booming through the line. “Truman? Chad here, returning your call. Did you want to beg for another fishing trip?” “You’ve got the best fishing in the Pacific Northwest.” “We do. But it’s too damn cold now. Where were you three months ago? I told you the guys were getting together.” Chad had attended high school with Truman. Truman had always assumed Chad would end up behind bars instead of on the law-abiding side. No one had been more surprised than Truman when he joined the police force. It’d been good for Chad, calming his wild ways and focusing his energy for good. Every few years they pulled together a few old classmates and fished in Chad’s backyard of northern Idaho. The same area Tom McDonald had left a year ago. “I wish I’d reached out to you about fishing, but I’ve got business I need to discuss.” “
• 31. TWENTY-FOUR Mercy was in her vehicle when Truman called. She pulled into a fast-food restaurant parking lot to give the call her full attention, and ignored the heavenly smell of frying beef. “I just had an interesting call with a buddy of mine in northern Idaho,” he started. He proceeded to lay out his theory that Tom McDonald wasn’t who he claimed to be. Mercy listened in shock, letting the concept sink into her brain. I’m glad I parked before I heard that bit of information. “I can see how you came to that conclusion,” Mercy admitted. “McDonald doesn’t look as old as he should. And the fact that he has absolutely no record? That tells me he’s been trying extra hard to stay clean over the years. Do you think his real past is hiding something horrible?” “I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” said Truman. “Let’s wait and hear what this officer in Idaho finds. We could be way off course.” “And does it really change what’s happened here?” she asked. “The deputies are still dead, and we d
• 32. TWENTY-FIVE Tom weighed his choices. Al and Deke would do whatever he said. No questions asked. And he trusted them to keep their mouths shut. They’d already proved themselves several times, so they were scheduled to handle the second part of today’s task. He eyed Owen Kilpatrick out of the corner of his eye. He wanted more from the man. He needed to know where Owen stood once and for all. No doubts. Pounding sounded on the front door. Tom waved off Deke as he got up and opened the door himself. Jack Howell stood on the front stoop, looking annoyed that he’d been summoned to the ranch. His timing is perfect. Usually the real estate agent acted as everyone’s best friend, but the FBI’s hounding had taken his level of enthusiasm for Tom’s friendship down a notch. But he was here; Jack was still hungry for the sale. “Let’s take a walk, Jack,” Tom suggested. “I need to get out of the house for a bit.” He glanced back at Owen. “Why don’t you come with us? I think this might interest you.” Ow
• 33. TWENTY-SIX Hours later and smelling of smoke, Mercy joined Eddie in her boss’s office. She glanced at the time, feeling her exhaustion down to the marrow in her bones, and considered calling Kaylie to cancel the late dinner for Mercy to officially meet Cade. Mercy knew it was important to all three of them that they get their relationships back on the right track. She needed to see how Cade acted around her niece instead of standing on a remote ranch with a couple of belligerent construction workers. And it would be a good time to question him about activities at that ranch. Mercy wished she’d grabbed a cup of the horrible office coffee before sitting in front of Jeff’s desk. Their primary concern was that no one could locate Jack Howell. “How many times did you call the Realtor?” Jeff asked her. “I don’t know. A half dozen? I was annoyed that he hadn’t called back when he said he would. But I left only two messages,” she pointed out. “So the rest of the calls were just harassment?” Je
• 34. TWENTY-SEVEN At 7:05 p.m., Kaylie texted Cade. WILL YOU BE LATE? At 7:10 p.m., she tried to call him and got his voice mail. As Mercy watched, she left a message asking what time he thought he’d arrive at dinner. At 7:30 p.m., she hid briefly in her room and shed a few tears. He didn’t mean to tell me he loved me, and now he’s staying away. Mercy knocked on her door and suggested they eat. By 7:45 p.m., dinner was over. More than two-thirds of the pizza that Kaylie had made from scratch and baked on her new pizza stone still sat on the table. Mercy stood and started to wrap up the pizza. To her credit she didn’t ask why Cade had stood them up. She didn’t seem too concerned about his absence. In fact, her aunt appeared extremely distracted. Kaylie wallowed in self-pity in her chair, tracing the pattern in the tablecloth as her aunt cleared the dishes, unable to bring herself to jump up and help. We’re over. I pushed too hard. She knew some guys were unable to break up with girls, so the
• 35. TWENTY-EIGHT Mercy sat in the dark next to Truman, her eyes straining to see through the night. Truman had stopped near the vehicles parked farthest from the buildings, not wanting to stick out by parking alone. The ranch was silent. They’d cracked their windows, and the lack of noise made her want to crawl up the inside walls of the vehicle. Truman sat quietly, his focus and calm keeping her nerves from leaping out of her limbs. No anxiety in him this evening. She could see a half dozen lights on different buildings. The brightest was on the farmhouse in the distance. It was after 9:00 p.m., and no silhouettes moved in the shadows. Is everyone in bed already? Her gaze traveled over the small bunkhouses. Cade had told Kaylie that McDonald planned to house more than a hundred men. The thought made her insides shudder. “What’s that?” Truman whispered. “Over there. By the king cab truck.” Mercy stared into the dark. Sure enough, she spotted the outline of a figure darting between the vehi
• 36. TWENTY-NINE Truman couldn’t stand still. “We need to wait for our backup,” Mercy argued as they watched the woman’s taillights disappear down the road from the ranch. “I vote we go in. We can’t wait. Waiting could mean Cade’s death. You saw how scared she was.” Truman’s muscles buzzed as if he’d had three hits of espresso. “But—” “If there was an active shooter, we’d already be in there.” “That’s different.” “Cade needs us to take action now. For all we know, we’re too late. You know I’m right.” He watched Mercy look back at the road, where they expected their backup to appear. “We’ve got good cause to go in. Now.” “Dammit. Get me a vest.” Truman opened the rear of his Tahoe and grabbed another vest as she updated her boss on their actions. “You should’ve already had one on,” Truman muttered as he handed it to her. His own vest suddenly felt heavy and too tight around his chest. Breathe slowly. He took a couple of deep breaths and fought off the claustrophobic feeling. How can I wear i
• 37. THIRTY Truman tried to catch his breath. The aftereffects of Owen’s body slam made it feel as if his ribs were poking into his lungs. The two men had darted away from the farmhouse and into the woods, circling back to a forested area far from the vehicles. Truman leaned against a tree, wrapped an arm around his rib cage, and tried to ignore the painful stabbing. Owen huddled behind a second tree, watching the flashlights hover around Truman’s truck and keeping a sharp eye out for followers. “When’s your backup getting here?” he hissed at Truman. “Any minute.” I hope. He pulled out his phone. No service. “I don’t have service.” “It’s nearly impossible to get a signal here.” Owen said, checking his own phone and shaking his head. Truman heard Tom McDonald shout his name and say something about Mercy. As McDonald’s threat penetrated the fog of pain around his brain, Truman numbly stepped out from behind his tree. “Get back!” Owen ordered. “He won’t hurt her.” Truman couldn’t meet Owen’s g
• 38. THIRTY-ONE He’s still alive! Truman silently jogged behind the two men, a sickening feeling in his stomach as they pulled Cade toward the woods. There were no other buildings in their path. Wherever they were taking the young man, it wasn’t to make him comfortable. Cade shouted and fought, but the men handled him with ease, ignoring his cries. Truman crept closer, trying to see if either man was armed. “When he said the woman, he meant the FBI agent,” said the man on Cade’s right. “But he didn’t say specifically that woman,” argued the other. “For all we know he was talking about that bitch Shelly. I’m telling you, when McDonald isn’t specific, it’s for a reason.” “Well, I don’t want anything to do with Shelly. Nearly every guy in this place has been between her legs.” “She’s not so bad.” “I want a chance at that fed woman. She’s hot, just like her blind sister. Too bad that blind bitch done got herself pregnant. But we made sure she paid for that.” “She had it coming,” added the secon
• 39. THIRTY-TWO Truman shoved his way through the throngs of deputies and McDonald followers. He’d been ordered to stay back as the SWAT team threw in flashbangs and then breached the mess hall. The abrupt attack, in conjunction with the confusion from the explosions, had brought the fighting inside to an immediate halt with no shots fired. A success. He spotted Mercy on her knees next to Tom McDonald’s prone form at the front of the hall. Two deputies administered aid as Mercy watched. She wasn’t hurt. Relief made his knees shake as he strode toward her, his gaze locked on the back of her dark head. What would I have done if she hadn’t . . . He refused to let his mind go there. “Mercy.” He stopped beside her, and his heart double-skipped as she looked up at him. Relief and joy shone in her eyes. He helped her to her feet and pulled her to him, hiding his face in her hair. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I know,” she answered against his neck. “What happened?” “The sheriff’s department got stopped
• 40. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Creating a book requires a firm foundation of wonderful people. I’m lucky that I have fabulous children, the best husband, and my closest writer-buddy, Melinda. My Montlake publishing team knows how to smoothly handle the curveballs I throw at them and the best ways to find new readership. Thank you, Jessica, Anh, and Meg, for your support and understanding, and thank you to Charlotte for making my books shine. Thank you to my readers for loving Mercy’s first book. I was nervous to start a new series while my fans were so enthusiastic about their enjoyment of my Bone Secrets and Callahan books. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for embracing this series too. You asked for a “colliding of worlds” between my series, so I gave Ava McLane a brief cameo. For the next two Mercy books, I will include more of your favorite characters from Bone Secrets and Callahan & McLane.
• 41. ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2016 Rebekah Jule Photography Inspired by classic female heroines such as Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls Wilder, Kendra Elliot has always been a voracious reader. Now a Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Kendra is a three-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Romantic Mystery/Suspense. She was also an International Thriller Writers finalist for Best Paperback Original and a Romantic Times finalist for Best Romantic Suspense. Kendra was born and raised in the rainy Pacific Northwest, where she still lives with her husband and three daughters, though she’s looking forward to the day when she can live in flip-flops. To learn more about the author and her work and to connect with her, visit www.KendraElliot.com.