A Merciful Death (Mercy Kilpatrick #1)(24)

That statement didn’t match what Mercy suspected Ned owned. But the ax description was consistent.

She and Truman thanked Leighton for his time, and she handed him the wet towel. “Thank you for the towel.”

“I’m sorry I scared you into the mud.” He apologized with a small, gentlemanly bow.

Outside she asked Truman his opinion.

The chief walked another ten feet before replying, clearly organizing his thoughts. “I don’t know if we learned anything from him or not. The change in property lines because of the creek is interesting, but I don’t think it’s a motive for murder.”

“I agree.” Mercy waited for a moment, but he appeared to be done talking. “Is there really a town fund for personal emergencies?”

Truman winced. “Not really. But I’ll do what I can to keep him in his home. That’s how it starts, you know.”

“How what starts?”

“A lot of the antigovernment attitudes. It’s like a line of dominoes. Usually the first domino is tipped over by having their home foreclosed on. Something personal happened . . . either they got ill and racked up huge medical bills or they lost their job and couldn’t find another. They have to choose whether to feed their kids or pay the mortgage. Guess which is going to come first?”

Mercy knew he was right. She’d seen it happen over and over.

“Suddenly the home that’s been in their family for decades is ripped out from under them and their credit rating is destroyed. They need a place to live. They need a job and they need their pride restored. It’s a lot easier to stop the dominoes before they start tipping. If all Leighton needs is a bit of cash to tide him over, then we’ll make it happen.”

“Maybe he’s a gambler.” Mercy played the devil’s advocate. “Maybe he spends all his money on porn.”

“You can find every kind of porn for free on the Internet these days,” Truman replied dryly. “A guy who pays for it isn’t very bright, but I know what you’re saying. I’ll sit down and talk with Leighton to get an idea of how deep he’s in debt and why there’s a problem. Ina Smythe used to be the one who handled the logistics of our ‘private fund.’ I took it over because I didn’t think people wanted to talk to nineteen-year-old Lucas about their problems.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Mercy had always been partially terrified of Mrs. Smythe, but she suspected her teenage perspective of the woman as a tyrant hadn’t been very accurate. She wondered what else she’d been wrong about.

Truman shrugged. “People are willing to tell me stuff.”

Her opinion of the police chief was slowly coming together. He had a strong sense of honor about his residents. He was a listener. He wore his authority well and didn’t seem to need to feed his ego. All positive things in Mercy’s book. “Eddie is going to the Enoch Finch scene after he picks up the rental,” Mercy said. “Can we go back to your uncle’s home now? I’d like to see it in the daylight.”

The chief looked at his watch. “It’s time for lunch. You take time for lunch, don’t you?” He looked sideways at her.

Mercy knew the most convenient places to eat would be smack in the center of Eagle’s Nest. “I have something in my bag to tide me over. If you want to stop and grab something, I can meet you at the house.”

Truman stopped and turned toward her. She halted, meeting the chief’s brown gaze. A subtle challenge shone in his eyes. “Now, if you want to find out what’s going on around here, one of the best things you can do is be seen. Let people know the FBI is searching for a murderer. And I think it’s important for this town to see that the FBI isn’t a stiff fed hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and a dark suit. I think putting a personal face on the FBI will go a long way in getting some cooperation. You look approachable. You’re polite, and most of the men will think you’re harmless.”

“Harmless?” Mercy snapped.

“I didn’t say they’d be right.” Truman flashed another showstopping grin. “I know you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the best at what you do, but getting people to lower their defenses can only help us. If you’d rather sit in your vehicle and eat one of those high-protein bars made of powdered meat and daisies, go ahead.”

The challenge still glinted in his eyes.

Dammit. He was right.

Who would recognize her next?





ELEVEN


Truman picked the busiest restaurant for lunch.

If Special Agent Kilpatrick wanted to keep secrets from him, he’d make her squirm a bit. Her pride had flashed when he’d said the men in town would see her as harmless, but it was true and it’d work in her favor. He saw her waver for a moment, fighting her need to stay anonymous and wanting to do the best thing for her investigation. He’d known he’d win. In less than a day, he’d learned she was dedicated to her job.

He held open the diner door for her and removed his hat. Mercy stepped in and immediately moved to one side as she scanned the restaurant. Her hood was still up.

The diner was nearly empty.

Disappointment washed over Truman. One of these times someone was going to recognize Mercy Kilpatrick and he wanted to be there when it happened. If only to see her scramble. He grinned. Why am I so looking forward to it?