No Mercy (17 page)

Dawson scowled. “No. Maybe once your head is clear and we fill out the incident report, something will click.”

My eyes went big as pie plates. “You’re filing a report?”

“Standard procedure. Don’t act so surprised.”

I was. Didn’t make sense. He’d drag his feet on tracking down a murderer, but he’d waste time trying to find out who’d played a game of chicken with me? A smart retort danced on my tongue, and I bit it back.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow morning with the paperwork. You look exhausted.” He casually swept a hank of hair that’d escaped from my ponytail. Rather than flinch at his touch, I had the strangest urge to purr and demand more.

“Anything you need before I go?”

“Would you grab the prescription bottle of Percocet from my bathroom upstairs?”

“Be right back.”

I’d about dozed off when I felt the warm weight of his hand on my shoulder. “Mercy?”

My eyes opened.

“Here are your pills and a bottle of water.”

I popped two and swallowed. Nestling my head back in the pillow, I said, “Thanks, Dawson. Would you shut the light off on your way out?”

“Even I can take a hint that broad.” He laughed softly. “Night. Sweet dreams.”

I jumped and was instantly awake. Disoriented by the darkness and the nightmare, my eyes frantically searched for something familiar. When my gaze caught the whir of the ceiling fan blades, I realized I was on the couch in the living room. My ankle throbbed, reminding me of the incident from the previous night.

I looked at my foot propped on the pillow. The ice pack on my ankle had melted. The one beneath my head felt like a water balloon. A leaky balloon.

I yelled, “Sophie?”

No answer.

Why hadn’t I heard her clattering around in the kitchen? I squinted at the grandfather clock. Six. That explained it. Sophie didn’t get here until after eight… unless she decided to come early. Or later. I didn’t make her punch a time clock.

I sat up and bent forward to check my ankle. The swelling was down. No bruising. I flexed and pointed. Still sore. It’d probably be all right if I didn’t put too much pressure on it. I swung both feet to the floor and put my weight on the arm of the couch so I could stand. I half limped/half hopped to the kitchen.

I glanced out the window over the sink. Didn’t see Jake’s truck. He was always here at the crack of dawn. I didn’t make him punch a time clock either. I hobbled to the door. Twisted the handle and the lock popped. I never locked the door. Dawson? Concerned for my safety last night? How… sweet.

I pushed on the screen door. It wouldn’t open all the way. What the hell? Did nothing in this place stay in one piece? Just another damn thing I’d have to fix. I pushed again. The bottom corner kept hitting something. I stuck my head out the top of the door, looked down, and froze.

Couldn’t be.

I blinked. My vision swam. I slammed my eyes shut and chanted:
please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream
. Slowly I peeled my lids open.

Still there.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t make my mouth move. I couldn’t work up enough spit to even swallow. My eyes kept straying to the horrific scene on my porch.

Black goo ran in a river down the steps. A large puddle had crusted over, looking stark against the white boards on the porch.

Not a nameless black substance. Blood.

Blood from the dead person blocking the door.

I curled my hands around the screen door until metal cut into my palms. The pain meant it was real. This wasn’t another bad dream.

Heartsick, I choked back the acid crawling up my throat and scrambled for the kitchen phone. Dialed 911. After I explained the situation to dispatch, I added, “Make sure you call Dawson and tell him I’ve got another body at my place.”

Only after I hung up did I allow myself to fall apart.

I could’ve closed my eyes. Or gazed at the pearly morning sky. Or focused on the red geraniums and pink petunias in the flower boxes. But I forced myself to look. To see what had been done to her.

She’d been placed on her left side with her knees drawn up, facing the steps. Her slender arms were bound behind her back with nylon rope. Blood coated her neck. Her teeth, clamped over a blue bandana serving as a gag, stuck out from beneath her swollen lips, giving her a feral look. Her long hair had been pulled away from her face and tied with a white bow, which matched the white gown she wore. The front of the dress, at least the part I could see, was discolored reddish brown.

Somehow I’d managed to keep myself somewhat together until my purposefully detached gaze landed on her bare feet. Her toenails were unpainted and unadorned except for a silver toe ring on the second toe of her right foot. A rainbow-colored braided friendship anklet was tied around her left ankle. Just like the bracelets Levi and I had made years ago.

I lost it again. What a waste. What an absolute fucking waste. I dropped my head to my knees and cried.

Even as I sobbed for Sue Anne, a cold fear invaded my soul. Had I played a part in getting her killed by forcing her to talk to me? How did I live with that? How could I possibly justify snooping around when it led to more deaths?

I kill for a living. There’s no PC way to say it. I’ve never tried to pretend I was an assassin with a heart of gold. I can’t afford to think of anything but the job when I’m on the job. Study intel, get in position, pull the trigger, get out. Repeat as necessary. Simple.

Do I have sleepless nights? Yes. Do I have regrets? Some. Not as many as I should. I’d ended more lives than what’s listed in my kill book. I hate having to document my assignments. Yes, it’s important to keep track of all the technical stuff, wind velocity, range ratios, and humidity. Build a better soldier by being better prepared. But to list names? Dates? Times? And methodology? That requirement bordered on psychotic bragging.

Terrorists deserved to die. Sue Anne didn’t. Some things really are black-and-white in my world.

The sirens snapped me out of the black hole I’d sunk into.

Baby-faced Deputy Jazinski crossed the yard and stood beside me. Nervous. Fidgety. Could’ve been his usual behavior since I didn’t know him. I’d heard Dawson hired Jazinski right before my father’s death with Dad’s blessing. Still, the kid gave me a weird vibe.

“Has anybody been through that door besides you, Miz Gunderson?”

“No. And I didn’t come out that door; I came out through the front.”

He asked me a bunch of questions. My response was nonsensical at best, curt at worst. By the time he’d finished, the second patrol car and ambulance arrived. As had Jake. At least he’d retained a clear head. Not only had he immediately tied up Shoonga behind the barn, he called Sophie to delay her coming to work. My brain was scrambled.

Photos were snapped. Distances measured. I would’ve stayed frozen in shock in that same spot until they loaded her body, but Jake forced me to the picnic table by the gazebo. He stayed with me, lending me his unspoken support until Dawson loped over.

Dawson crouched down and poked my ankle. “Looks better. How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yeah. Apparently I slept through someone dropping a dead girl on my doorstep.” I flinched. Dammit. I hadn’t meant to sound so callous.

He straightened and rubbed the back of his neck.

I recognized it as a sign of his agitation. “What?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Tell me what?”

No answer.

It hit me. “Jesus. Am I a
suspect
?”

“No.”

“Then what?” When he peered at me, I realized he wasn’t wearing his mirrored shades.

“Sue Anne wasn’t dead when she was dropped there. I would guess she was unconscious. But whoever killed her slit her throat right on your porch.”

I gaped at him. No wonder there’d been so much blood. “You’re serious? She bled to death here?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

I could scarcely find my voice. “How long had she been there?”

Dawson’s steely eyes seemed to soften. “You couldn’t have saved her, Mercy. The damage was too severe.”

“But, maybe—”

“No maybes. She was nearly decapitated. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

This had to be another nightmare. Please. Let this be another bad goddamn dream. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe when I opened them, I’d see the lace doilies decorating my dresser. At this point I’d take olive green canvas tent walls.

“Look, I feel guilty as hell, too. If I had stayed to keep an eye on you last night, maybe I would’ve heard something….”

My eyes flew open. “Did you see anything on your way home?”

“No.”

“Did you tell Jazinski you were here?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. So he thinks you and I are knocking boots.” Which meant within the hour everyone else in the county would hear the story. Dawson and me screwing like rabbits, while some psycho murderer took a hacksaw to an innocent teenage girl on my front porch.

“Wrong. If you and I were knocking boots, Mercy, I would’ve been here all night, not just until ten o’clock.”

The shout from the front of the house didn’t make a dent in the unwieldy silence between us.

He sighed. “Besides, Jazinski needed to know someone tried to make you a hood ornament last night. The paperwork is in my car. You feel up to answering some more questions?”

“No. Not now.”

“I understand.”

I wish he would’ve been a jerk and demanded I take the time now. It’d be easier to handle my anger than my sorrow. “Look, I don’t want to seem… cold and self-centered, but is there a chance I can get back into my house?”

“Sure. Soon as they’re done cataloguing the scene.”

I felt the need to explain. “I have to take a shower. Everything happened so fast this morning. I feel…”
Guilty. Grimy. Worn out
. I cleared my throat. “I still have dirt and grass stains all over from last night. I need to clean up.”

Even if I remained under the hot spray for hours, and scrubbed with lye soap until my skin bled, my soul would still feel dirty. How would I ever get clean?

Clean. I thought of Sue Anne’s bloodstains on the porch. Had those ugly black spots seeped into the wood? I couldn’t expect Sophie to scrub them off, and I sure as hell couldn’t do it.

“Hey.” Dawson hunkered down until he was right in my face. “After we’ve released the scene, why don’t you let Kiki’s sister Vivi take care of cleaning up? She does this sort of thing. I can call her.”

Spooky, how he’d known what I was thinking. “Okay.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. For a moment his sweet touch lingered on my cheek and I let myself be comforted by the fact he wanted to offer me solace.

“Sheriff?” Jazinski shouted. “Can I see you for a sec?”

“Be right there.” His hand dropped. He stood and slipped on his sunglasses before he jogged around the corner.

A few minutes later Kiki came by. “Sheriff said you can go inside now. I called Vivi. She’s on her way.”

“Thanks, Kiki. I don’t mind telling you I’m pretty sick of seeing you.”

She smiled sadly. “I hear that a lot. You need help getting upstairs?”

“I’ll manage.” Once I was inside, rather than use the cane, I crawled upstairs on my hands and knees straight into the bathroom and dry heaved. Repeatedly. No wonder. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything.

The shower helped my aches and pains, but not the images in my brain. Naked, I studied my limited wardrobe choices. Since I hadn’t done laundry for a week, I pulled on a denim skirt and buttoned a white sleeveless blouse over a navy blue camisole.

Sophie was sitting at the table snapping green beans when I hobbled downstairs. She looked as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Her wrinkled face looked troubled and sad. “You okay,
takoja
?”

Her calling me grandchild almost made me lose my hard-won emotional control again. “No. Not really.”

She nodded. “Didn’t think so. Maybe this is the last of it. Bad things always come in threes.”

“But counting my father’s death, finding Sue Anne would make this number four, not three.”

Her gnarled hands stilled.

“You think there’s more to come, don’t you?”

“I know you don’t believe in the woo-woo stuff, but—”

“You’re wrong. I’ve seen and heard too much to chalk it up to coincidence.” I paused. “John-John had a vision about me.”

“I know.”

“You do? Did he tell you about it?”

“No. The important thing is he told you.”

Rarely did Sophie act like the wise old Lakota woman, so when she did, I paid attention.

Snap snap snap.
The beans were tossed in the ceramic bowl.

She also had a flair for the dramatic.

Finally she asked, “How many of what he seen has come to pass?”

I thought back to John-John’s words. Red sky, red ground, red water. My mind flashed to the day I’d found Levi and how his blood stained the ground. “As far as I can decipher? Just one.”

She shook her head. Evidently she didn’t have any additional wise words to add.

I snatched a can of Coke from the fridge and drained it in three long swallows. I held back a burp and realized Sophie had been staring at me. “What?”

“You look nice. I like to see you dressing like a girl, hey.”

I scowled. “Don’t get used to it. I’m out of clean clothes.”

Snap snap snap
. “You know, you are paying me to do stuff like that. No shame in needing help now and again, Mercy. You want me to run a coupla loads today when you’re at the doctor’s office?”

“Sure, thanks. What time is Hope’s appointment?”

“Hope ain’t going to the doctor. You are.”

My eyes narrowed. “Did Dawson put you up to this? I’m fine. It’s just a mild sprain.”

“Don’t have nothing to do with your ankle. Your appointment is at the VA at two o’clock.”

“What?”

“That nurse kept calling, so I just had her make an appointment.” She frowned. “I know I told you about it last week.”

She probably had. With all that’d happened I’d blocked it out. “Well, I can’t go. Someone needs to stay with Hope.”

“I am here.”

“Dawson has paperwork for me to fill out. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“He’s gone. Said he’ll be in touch with you.”

I opened my mouth, but Sophie shook her finger at my pitiful attempt at another excuse.

“I ain’t gonna pry. I don’t know why you’re so scared to hear what them docs are gonna say. It’d be better to know what you’re facing instead of trying to hide from it, eh?”

Even I couldn’t argue with that.