In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (51 page)

I jumped from rock to rock and made it to the edge of the pool where I slipped and dropped the .22. I lunged for it on instinct and fell into a sluice. The water battered me against the rocks and wedged me between a small boulder and solid rock. Something gave way and a searing pain went through my ankle.
 

I popped out into the pool and was dragged under by the force of the current. I took a burning blow to my cheek that I thought was Tim, but when I came up I saw him and Lane going over another waterfall. Pick’s jaws were clamped on Tim’s arm and he was swept away with them. The water rammed me against rocks beside the waterfall. My nails dug into the algae as I tried to hold on. I went under and was carried away, shooting out into the air through the mist and pounding water. I landed in a great pool. Tim and Lane were on the other side, washed up on the rocky beach. I started swimming. One leg wouldn’t work. I was getting nowhere fast. My arms weren’t strong enough. I went under again and again. When I came up the third time, I saw Pick still had a hold of Tim’s arm, but in his free arm he had a jagged rock. Lane was lying face down in the water. Pick pulled back and Tim smashed him in the head. The poodle yelped and let go. Tim raised the rock above Lane’s head, Pick lunged, and two shots rang out. Tim’s back arched and then he pitched forward to land on Lane’s back, driving her face deep into the water. Pick jumped over Tim and clamped his jaws on Lane’s arm, trying to pull the limp girl away.
 

I kept swimming and a wave of water pushed me forward. I dragged myself up next to Tim and pushed him off Lane into the pool. Between Pick and I, we managed to drag Lane onto the beach. I rolled her over and cleared her airway. Her mouth was full of water so I rolled her on her side. A good amount flowed out and I began CPR. After a few reps, Lane convulsed and a huge spew of water flowed out of her mouth and nose. She hacked and coughed. Pick gave her a couple of encouraging slurps on the face and then shook, spraying me with an amazing amount of river water. I collapsed beside Lane and heard yelling behind me. I rolled over and saw Silver swimming through the pool. Blood streamed out of his nose, but otherwise he was doing better than me.
 

I sat up and he crawled up on the beach beside me. “You rock,” I said.
 

“Sorry. I couldn’t be more help,” he said, gasping.
 

“Are you kidding? You were great.”
 

We watched as Tim’s limp body was carried away downstream. It rolled over, revealing the ragged exit wounds in his throat. I kinda thought I should snag him, but my ankle said no way. Silver crawled to the other side of Lane and patted her shoulder as she coughed and wheezed. “You’re okay. She saved you. Dr. Watts will be here soon.”
 

Lane nodded and began a fresh fit of coughing.
 

I felt my ankle. It was already swelling and there was a large impact bruise on the side. Broken. Fantastic.
 

“I didn’t save her. I tried, but that was you,” I said.
 

“Me?” he asked.
 

“You shot him. Nice one by the way.”
 

“I didn’t shoot him. I thought you did.”
 

Oh crap.
 

My eyes traced the path of the bullet and there they were. Leslie and John stood on the bluff overlooking the pool. Leslie waved and John stared down at me. Of course. I should’ve known.
 

Pick shook again and licked me on the chin.
 

“You were almost shot twice in one day,” I said. “What would Chuck say?”

Chuck!

I yanked out my phone and my waterproof, shockproof case wasn’t so much. My phone had died a watery, cracked death. All evidence of Chuck’s call was gone, if it had happened at all. I lay down next to Lane and pressed my phone to my chest. The ranger stood over us, trying without success to get his walkie to work and then yelled up to John and Leslie about emergency airlift.
 

“We don’t need that,” I said. “John will find a way.”

“That ankle’s broken bad and you two are shaking to beat the band. We got to airlift you out. This is what we call an emergency.” Silver yelled up to Leslie and John about calling for help.

I looked at my dead phone again and then tossed it away on the rocks. Lane coughed hard and brought up some water. Her brown eyes were trained on me and her lips formed the words, “He told me Parker needed me. I shouldn’t have gone with him. I knew I shouldn’t. Sorry.”
 

I rolled over and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. “No worries.”

“I knew what my mom was doing.”
 

“You mean the blackmailing? She told you?”
 

“No. I kinda figured it out. I didn’t know what to do. Parker’s family was cheating and Taylor deserved the prize, but Enrique’s sister…they needed him to win for her. I let it all happen. I pretended it would be okay.”
 

“Parker left you that night in the barn, didn’t he?”
 

Lane coughed and nodded. “I woke up and he was gone. I didn’t think…it wasn’t very long.”

“Parker did hurt your mom, but he didn’t kill her. That was one of the Viper parents. It was about something that happened when she was in high school. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s not your fault, Lane.”

Her battered face screwed up and she began to cry between coughs. I pulled her cold, shaking body to mine and cried, too.
 

“Ah, hell,” said Silver. “The ladies are crying. Somebody get me a copter!”
 

We kept crying. Through it I could feel Tim’s body, all bodies, being washed farther and farther downriver.
 

Chapter Twenty-Three

NO COPTER CAME. We didn’t need it. Leslie carried Lane out over the rocks and John carried me. Sly Dog had worn himself out galloping up and down the trail while we were being bashed against rocks and was calm enough to carry us back to the castle. He got the good oats. Dr. Watts checked us out. Lane had a minor concussion and a multitude of cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious. My ankle was broken and hurt like hell. The only x-ray in town was in the basement of Flincher Funerals. Dr. Watts got it through a grant from a women’s health organization. I was surprised she didn’t have a MRI, but that grant was still under review. I guess being a retired Vietnam vet doing everything from stitches to autopsies in a rural Missouri town for free was pretty damn persuasive.

Dr. Watts herself was a force not to be denied. She told me to hush up and quit my moaning, gave me some hydrocodone, a temporary cast, and put me in Elizabeth I’s bed in the Tudor Tower with orders to go to sleep instantly. I obeyed. I was scared not to.

Three hours later, I woke up with a headache and an audience.
 

“Miss Watts,” said Silver, dried out but very rumpled with a dab of blood on his nose, “I thought you’d never wake up.”
 

“Has it been that long?”
 

“Long enough. Springfield will be here any moment and we have to get our story straight.”
 

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “What story?”
 

When I looked at him again I got it. Behind Silver stood John and Leslie, showered and in fresh suits. My grandmother would say that butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.
 

“Oh. You mean the story where I shot Cory in the butt and Tim in the neck,” I said.
 

Silver blew out a breath. “Good. That’s all settled. You dropped the gun in the river by the way.”

“Not in the right place. I dropped it when I slipped up in the rocks.” I went up on my elbows. “They’ll find it if they look.”
 

Leslie nodded. “It’s in the right place now.”
 

“They have to be the same caliber. Did John use a .22 on Tim?”
 

“Of course.”

“And let me guess. You already told Springfield that I shot Cory and Tim.”
 

“It was necessary,” said John.
 

“For you, not me,” I said.
 

Silver came to my bedside and stuck out his hand, “You’re a good man, taking one for the team.”
 

How do I get off this team?

I shook his hand and he left. John and Leslie stayed at the foot of my bed, still as stone.
 

“So we’re a team now?” I asked.
 

“You’ll be the face of this,” said Leslie.
 

“I never said I’d do it. You’re taking it for granted.”
 

“Naturally,” said John. “You owe us.”

“Not that much,” I said.
 

They stared at me.

I crossed my arms. “Are you saying I have no choice?”
 

“None whatsoever,” said John and he turned to go. “Your father would agree.”
 

“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “How come you didn’t end up in the water with me? Were you just standing on the bluff watching it all happen?”
 

Leslie smiled. “No. We came in at the end. You were too fast for us.”
 

“That doesn’t happen often,” said John. I couldn’t tell if he approved of my speed during the chase or not.
 

I laid back on my fluffy pillows. “I’m guessing you were made for stealth, not speed.”
 

“Innkeepers are multi-taskers,” said John.
 

“I’m a good accountant and a master distiller, for instance,” said Leslie.
 

I threw my hands up. “Oh for crying out loud. You’re spooks, retired spooks.”
 

They didn’t blink.
 

“You’ve been watching too much TV,” said John.

“Yeah, right. Morty can’t break through your firewall and the castle has better security than international airports.”
 

“That’s not saying much,” said Leslie.
 

“Fine. How about your backgrounds? They’re perfect, complete with speeding tickets and inaccurate medical histories.”
 

“Inaccurate?” asked John, showing a spark of interest.
 

“Your nose has never been broken, but you have had plastic surgery. That’s not in your history. And Leslie’s appendectomy didn’t happen in 1980.”

“Now how would you know that?”
 

“I glimpsed his abdomen and he didn’t have a significant scar. If he actually had an appendectomy, it was a laparoscopic procedure. Those weren’t used in ’80, so it was much later.”

They didn’t confirm or deny. So frustrating.
 

“Leslie already told me that he’s Shaun so obviously he didn’t play quarterback in high school in Pennsylvania to get a torn meniscus.”
 

He shrugged.
 

“You may as well tell me. You’re counting on me to tell the cops I shot two people for you,” I said. “You’re spooks. The truth will set you free.”
 

“The truth never set anyone free. Evidence maybe. The truth, never,” said John. “And no one uses the term spook. That’s a journalist’s invention.”
 

“What do you call yourselves then?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
 

Leslie smiled. “Innkeepers.”
 

“Oh my god!”
 

“Nothing,” said John.
 

“Nothing?” I asked.
 

“Nothing.”
 

“You have no name, no title?”
 

“No.”
 

“That’s disturbing,” I said, and it was. Presumably they worked for our country. They must be something.
 

“Names aren’t important,” said Leslie. “Only results. You should understand that.”
 

“I can’t separate myself from my name, but I agree on the results thing. So what did you two do to get stuck out here?”

“We survived,” said John.
 

I glanced around my sumptuous room. “And surviving comes with rewards.”
 

“And penalties.”
 

“Was it worth it? You can’t even use your skills anymore.”
 

Leslie gave me his most charming smile. “You mean like accounting.”
 

“Yeah like accounting,” I rolled my eyes, “and shooting—”
 

My door flew open and Uncle Morty stomped in with Pick. The poodle whined when he saw John and Leslie and then jumped on my bed, still damp and stinky. Uncle Morty tugged on his brand-new sweats blazoned with the Cairngorms Castle logo. “I mighta known I’d find you two in here like a couple of spiders with my girl in your web.” He dropped a plastic bag on my bed and paced. “You don’t have to do a damn thing that they say.”