No Mercy (31 page)

Hope hadn’t regained consciousness. The staff assured me she was fine, just under a self-imposed hypnotic sleep. I remembered the catatonic state Hope had lingered in for days after she’d shot Jenny Newsome, and I wasn’t surprised that’s how her body and mind dealt with trauma.

How did I deal with trauma? I paced.

Jake and Sophie showed up. Sophie clucked around me like a grandmother peahen. I let her. She volunteered to stay with Hope while Jake drove me to the sheriff’s office. The sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could get back to the hospital. And tell my sister I’d killed her lover. Yeah. I could hardly wait for that conversation.

On the ride back home I didn’t want to talk. Jake didn’t seem to care. “Did Theo tell you he killed Levi?”

I directed my attention out the window. Not that I could see anything beyond the wall of grayish-blue clouds and ribbons of silver drizzle trickling down the glass.

“Mercy?”

“He said he didn’t kill him.”

“And you believe him?”

“I don’t know. He admitted that he killed Sue Anne and that he’d set the fires, so I think he would’ve bragged if he’d killed Levi.” Theo’s words:
I wanted to make it look like the same person killed Sue Anne and Levi
taunted me. Theo hadn’t known how Levi had died. Hope had kept her promise.

“If he didn’t do it, then who did?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.” I told him everything Hiram and Theo had told me.

Jake’s jaw was so tight I expected it’d crack. “Do you think Kit might’ve done it?”

“Again, I don’t know.”

“What a piece of shit,” he said.

I didn’t know if he was talking about Theo or Kit since the description fit both of them. “Did you know about Hope and Theo?”

“No.” He sighed, rubbing the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, that ain’t true. I knew she was seeing somebody, but I wasn’t sure who.”

“Dad didn’t know?”

Jake shook his head. “As far as Wyatt knew…”

“What?”

“It ain’t my place to say.”

“Then whose is it?” I faced him. “Spit it out, Jake.”

He switched lanes to pass a rusted-out VW love wagon with Oregon plates. “First, I wanna know if you’ve hidden a gun in that sling.”

“The sheriff has my gun, remember?”

Jake shot me a sardonic look. “We both know you have more than one gun.”

“I’m unarmed for a change. Come on. Tell me.”

“A few weeks before Theo came into the picture, Hope and I had… gotten together again.”

I braced myself for my burst of anger. None came. Huh. Maybe the pain meds had mellowed me. Then his real meaning hit me. “The baby is yours?”

“Maybe. Hope had been feeling awful poorly, just like before with Levi. But I chalked it up to her being heartsick because of Wyatt dying. Then when
unci
told me Hope was pregnant…”

I hated that he never seemed to finish a sentence. “And?”

“And before I could talk to her about whether it was mine, Levi was killed. She had plenty of other things on her mind.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Wyatt knew I stuck around all these years because of Levi. He never understood why Hope wanted to keep it a secret, ’specially after Mario Arpel died, but he accepted her decision. Now I feel like it’s happening all over again.”

Jake had hovered on the outskirts like an obedient dog, abiding by Hope’s wishes, waiting for scraps, when he should’ve stood up to her and demanded his paternal rights. But that wasn’t Jake’s way. Which is why Jake and I were never a good match.

I thought back to the dance. Hope and Theo had been discreet. Theo hadn’t sat in the front pew with her at Levi’s funeral. He hadn’t horned his way into anything, besides his interest in the ranch. “You think anyone in the community knows Hope was with Theo?”

“Not many.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Then there’s no reason for you and Hope not to go public with the fact she’s carrying your child.”

Jake turned toward me so fast he jerked the wheel and the back end of the truck skidded out. “What are you talking about?”

“Hope needs someone to take care of her; we both know that. Since the odds are good that lump in her belly could be your child, she should turn to you.” I was spinning this so hard I made myself dizzy. “Secret lovers bonding over tragedy. People love that romantic claptrap.”

Jake’s wide-eyed gaze remained on me instead of on the road. “You’re plum crazy.”

“You get a second chance to raise a child with her, and you get to look like a hero not only in her eyes, but in the eyes of the community.”

His face might’ve held skepticism, but his body language read interest. “Got it all figured out, doncha?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Nope. But I’d sure like to know what kinda drugs they pumped into you at the hospital.” He cocked his head and nervously slid his hands up and down on the steering wheel. “Weren’t more’n a coupla days ago you threatened to pierce my forehead with lead because of my past with your sister. And you were convinced I’d do anything to get my hands on the ranch. Now it’s like you’re holding an invisible shotgun to my head and telling me I gotta fall in line with your plans. What gives?”

How did I explain? Could I? Without sounding like a sappy Hallmark greeting card?

“Since all this has happened…” Raindrops beaded on the window, zigzagging a random pewter path before the wind wicked it away. “I’m tired of fighting, Jake. War. The ranch. With everyone around me. With myself. At my age, it’s hard to swallow my pride and admit that even when I thought I hated this place, I’ve never really fit anywhere else.”

Jake didn’t comment, which wasn’t a big surprise. The rest of the drive was silent.

When we turned up the rutted driveway I’d traveled a million times, Jake looked over at me and said softly, “Welcome home, Mercy Gunderson.”

For once I was grateful for his stoicism as I blinked back my tears.

I debated on how I’d unhook the sling to get my clothes off without help, when I heard a car pull into the yard. Great. Maybe Dawson had come looking for me. I knocked back a mouthful of fortification before I shuffled back outside.

Iris Newsome lingered at the bottom of the steps, her wrinkled face pinched with concern.

After the day I’d had, the last thing I needed was to hear her boring-ass pitch about my responsibilities as a landowner as she waved a petition in my face.

“Good Lord, Mercy. I just heard what happened.”

I frowned. “Bad news travels fast.”

“Is Hope all right?” Iris peered over my shoulder before those sharp birdlike eyes pierced mine. “Is she here?”

“No. She’s at the hospital.”

“Oh. That’s good. Unless…” Her hand fluttered by her sagging chin. “Did she lose the baby?”

How had Iris known about the pregnancy? I knew for a fact Hope wasn’t babbling near and far. “They’re keeping her overnight for observation.”

“And you’re here? Instead of being at the hospital with your poor sister?”

Stung by her chiding tone, I found myself nodding. “Temporarily. I have to turn myself in to the sheriff for questioning.”

“Why?”

“Standard procedure.”

“Isn’t it a clear case of self-defense?”

Did I look as confused as I felt? I eased down the steps, giving my brain time to clear a path through the pain meds and the whiskey. I doubted Dawson had released the fact I’d shot and killed Theo to the general public, especially since I hadn’t been officially interviewed. So how did Iris know what’d gone down only a few hours ago?

Logic said she’d been listening to a police scanner. Still, my spidey sense tingled. I had to play this cool. “Well, Dawson is cautious.”

“Cautious? The man is a buffoon. You’d think he’d be more concerned with figuring out who put two bullets in Levi, rather than putting you and Hope through more hell.”

My stomach pitched, my vision went blurry. Dawson had insisted on keeping Levi’s manner of death under wraps. Only a handful of people knew how Levi had been executed.

Including the murderer.

My thoughts rewound to Levi telling me he had someone to talk to. Someone who understood what he was going through. Someone who knew that section of land, Levi’s brooding spot. Someone who lived close by with easy access.

Snippets of conversations popped up. When Levi had said “she,” I’d assumed he’d meant Sue Anne. But “she” was Iris Newsome. A trusted family friend. A woman who was no stranger to tragedy. A mother who’d been grieving for her child for years.

A psycho who’d bided her time to take retribution on the person who had killed that child, by killing
her
child.

If I’d felt murderous rage before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. But I was at a serious disadvantage to act on my violent impulse, unarmed, injured, and drugged up.

Before I could take action, Iris knocked me off balance, whipped me around, jerking my head back by my hair. A knife appeared in my peripheral vision.

“I’ll sign your stupid petition, okay? You don’t have to strong-arm me.”

“Don’t get cute with me, Mercy.”

“I’m not. What is going on? Why are you—”

“It’s too late to play dumb. Put your right hand in your front pocket.”

I got it halfway in. “That’s the farthest—”

“All the way.” She dug the knife deeper into my windpipe until my hand was completely buried in the pocket.

The knife tip gouged my throat with each jarring footstep. Blood ran and mixed with the rain as she frog-marched me through mud puddles to the fence.

“No one will believe I slit my own throat.”

“I’m not going to use the knife. You’re about to take a swim in the stock tank.” Iris clucked her tongue. “Such a pity. You lost your balance, bumped your head, and fell in. Not so unbelievable that you’d drown with an injured arm.”

“How long did you plan this?” I demanded.

“Drowning you? Spur of the moment.” Iris pulled my hair with enough force she ripped chunks out. “But I’ll enjoy watching Hope grieve over you, too. Move it.”

At this point I had nothing to lose by goading her. “God won’t condone you killing Levi because of Jenny’s death. That eye-for-an-eye stuff is bullshit. Aren’t you supposed to turn the other cheek?”

“I’d followed the Christian way and forgiven Hope… until
she
got knocked up. The little whore didn’t deserve a baby after I’d lost mine. Hope needed to suffer humility, just like I did, so she’d know what it’s like to be childless and alone.”

Iris’s comment from the day of Levi’s funeral floated back to me.
I see her, and it’s just not fair.
Iris hadn’t been talking about Hope grieving over Levi; she’d been talking about Hope being alive instead of Jenny.

She thrust me against the stock tank until the steel rim bit into my upper thighs.

It’d be impossible to fight her off without the use of my hands. Yet I wouldn’t let her drown me like a rat. If I kicked sideways and knocked her over, it’d give me a chance to run.

Iris yanked my head back. “Don’t fight it. I hear drowning is peaceful.”

“You vindictive bitch.”

She twisted the tip of the knife deeper into my flesh. “You have no idea. I
liked
that Levi always trusted me. I
liked
the look on Levi’s face as I shot him in the heart. I
liked
watching those big brown eyes widen with fear as I put the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. “

She’d described his last moment so vividly Levi’s terror beat in my blood. Gunpowder filled my nostrils. My heart stopped beating. My head pounded. I was suffocating. I was dying.

Mercy. Focus.

I shook off the shock and the muzzy feeling, bringing up my foot to deliver a snapping side kick to her knee.

A loud ringing clank echoed next to my ear. Then the knife dropped from my throat, the death grip in my hair loosened.

With both hands immobilized, I lost my balance and crashed sideways, but I managed to twist and land on my back, not my shoulder. The air left my lungs in a rush.

Through the blood rushing in my ears and another helping of excruciating pain, I heard
thwack thwack thwack.

Once I could breathe again, I focused on the rhythmic noises. I wiggled my hand out of my front pocket and rolled to my knees. Slowly, still fighting dizziness, I raised my head and saw Jake standing over Iris’s prone body wielding a flathead shovel.

Jake swung over and over. Smacking her in the head, taking chunks out wherever the steel edge hit: her arms, her legs, her back. Blood glistened on the steel. Red spatters smeared the wooden handle and covered Jake’s forearms.

I forced my gaze to Jake’s face and saw agony, rage, madness, and bloodlust. With every downstroke, a hitching wail broke forth from his mouth.

Bracing a hand on the lip of the stock tank, I stood on shaking legs. Jake didn’t miss a beat.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
I cleared my heart from my throat. I shouted, “Jake. Enough.”

He froze and looked over at me, the shovel stopping in midair.

I recognized that shell-shocked look. I’d seen it on soldiers. On civilians. In the mirror.

“Mercy? What? How…” He glanced at the body at his feet.

“Take a deep breath and put down the shovel.”

He swung the shovel again. The corner connected with the muddy ground next to Iris’ face. I admit, I cringed for a second, fearing he’d splice her head like a ripe cantaloupe.

“I-I heard her talking. When she said she liked killing him and how scared he was at the end… I-I lost it.”

“It’s okay, Jake.”

“No, it’s not!” He stared at Iris’s body, seeming to really see it, to really see what he’d done to her, for the first time. His face lost all color. “Oh God. I did that?”

The shovel slid from his blood-covered hands and clanked against the rim of the stock tank. He dropped to all fours and began to dry-heave.

We didn’t have time for him to have a crisis, even when it was justified. I hobbled over to him. “It’s over. You avenged Levi. You saved my life. No shame in that.”

“But look at what I did to her. Jesus. No. Don’t look. I can’t look….” More retching sounds, more keening sobs.

Iris’s body was seriously fucked up. Deep gashes cut through her clothing. She looked like… someone had beat her to death with a shovel. “Jake. Listen—”

“You don’t understand. I’m Indian. She’s white. When Dawson sees her like this, he ain’t buying it was self-defense.”

“He won’t find out.”

Jake lifted his face. “What did you say?”

“Pull yourself together because we have to get rid of this body right now. We’re planting Iris someplace else.”

He sputtered, “B-but that’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is she murdered your son. She was a malicious, bitter woman, and if you hadn’t killed her, I would have. And trust me, the way I planned to do it? No one would’ve mistaken it as self-defense.”

There was that look of fear I’d gloried in when I’d made my late-night visit. He’d fall in line. He had no choice.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Getting rid of her body?”

“No. Protecting me.”

“Besides that you’re indispensable to the ranch?” I locked my eyes to his. “Because whether I like it or not, you’re family, Jake. We take care of our own.”

A beat passed. Jake nodded once. “What now?”

“Get an old blanket and a tarp and bring the truck over here. Hurry.”

As Jake drove the rig around, I made sure Iris’s keys were in the ignition of her Honda. Jake and I rolled her up in the motheaten burlap tarp. Neither of us was particularly gentle with her remains; she didn’t deserve dignity.

With my bum arm I wasn’t any help loading her into the truck bed. I already knew a dead body is tough to maneuver. Jake was learning firsthand.

“Now what?” he panted.

“Take her to that ravine about two miles north, where the Newsome Ranch borders ours. It’s a ways out, which makes it perfect. Get on the rutted road that snakes down and dump her in the gully, but make sure she isn’t on our land, and make damn sure you leave nothing that can be traced back here. You’ll have to be really careful because I’ve heard those crazy religious freaks keep a close eye on things.”

“I know. What’ll you be doing?”

I grabbed the blanket and pointed to Iris’s car. “Halfway between here and their place I noticed the fence was down, so I’ll drive in as far as I can go. Then I’ll double-back across the field on foot.”

“You really think once someone finds the abandoned car they’ll believe she walked that far? By herself?”

“I don’t care because it won’t be our problem.”

Jake gave me a once-over. “You wearing that to the sheriff’s office?”

Mud covered my shirt. Every piece of my wet clothing clung to me. My boots squished. The last thing I wanted was Dawson grilling me on why I’d stopped home and cleaned up. Showing up gross and dirty at the sheriff’s department was a great alibi. “Yeah.” My gaze moved over him head to toe. “You have an extra set of clothes?”

“In the tack room.”

“Stop and change afterward. Wrap up those clothes in the tarp and stuff them in the grease barrel in the machine shed. We’ll burn them later. I’ll need gloves. Or rather, a glove.”

Jake rummaged around inside the cab. He waved a yellow cotton glove liner and held it out for me. “This ain’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”

A statement. Not a question that required an answer.