A Merciful Death (Mercy Kilpatrick #1)(48)

“I’ll keep that option in mind. Do you remember what happened to the mirrors in the crime scenes?”

Pearl covered her mouth with one hand. “I’d forgotten about that. They were all broken. It was odd.”

“Have you heard of anything else like that happening around here?”

She thought hard for a moment and slowly shook her head, her gaze unfocused. “I think I’d remember if something like that happened again. So many rumors were going around after their deaths . . . they said the killer was disfigured and couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. Or it was actually a woman who hated both Gwen and Jennifer because they were attractive.”

“They were raped.”

“Rumors don’t follow logic, and there are other methods of rape, you know.”

Mercy froze. Had penetration with a foreign object been considered? There’d been no semen. She needed to read the police reports again.

Pearl made a good point.

But I know a woman wasn’t there when Rose and I were attacked.

Doubt flooded through her. Mental images clashing with logic.

A woman could have been there. Or instigated the crimes.

She took several deep breaths, trying to rationally process the new possibility her sister had raised.

Could a woman have recently killed the three men? And stolen their weapons?

She kicked herself for allowing a sexual bias to cloud her thinking. Don’t discount women. They were capable of having done any of the crimes. The odds stated their killer or killers were male, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t consider a woman.

“Was there someone that jealous of Jennifer?”

Her sister took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know or won’t say?” Mercy asked carefully.

“Just because someone is a bitch, it doesn’t mean they’re capable of murder.”

“Very true. But if you have suspicions, you should speak up.”

“I didn’t have suspicions. There’s no way she would have done something like that.”

“Who?”

“Teresa Cooley. But just because she fought with Jennifer doesn’t mean she’d kill her. Or Gwen.”

Mercy couldn’t put a face with the name. It was slightly familiar. She scribbled it on her notepad, feeling as if she’d read the name recently. Perhaps in the police reports. Pearl might not have suggested the name years ago, but possibly someone else had.

Was a woman behind the attacks back then?

A small door to her memories tried to burst open. She mentally leaned against it, refusing to let its contents send her hiding under her covers. The memory of the attack didn’t need to resurface again. Once after her visit with Rose had been enough.

“Teresa went to school with you and Pearl?”

“And Gwen, who was two years behind us, but we didn’t know her that well. But seriously, Mercy. It was high school mean-girl stuff between Jennifer and Teresa. Jennifer grew out of it, but Teresa never did. I was married, for gosh sakes, and Teresa acted like I wanted to steal her boyfriend. We were twenty-four, but Teresa seemed to have gotten stuck on age eighteen.” Pearl tapped the table. “I’ll say it again: that doesn’t mean she killed anyone.”

“I know,” agreed Mercy. Exhaustion swamped her. She was operating on little sleep, and her conversation with her sister had taken emotional turns she hadn’t expected.

Mercy ran out of questions, but she wasn’t ready to leave. Something inside her made her want to linger. She wanted to see pictures of Pearl’s children—all twelve years of school photos—and hear what activities her kids loved to do. She wanted to enjoy her cup of tea and simply gossip, the way they used to.

She didn’t deserve it.

Mercy stood and put away her notepad. “That’s all I have. I need to get back to work.”

Pearl stood but didn’t say anything. Mercy avoided her gaze.

They walked to the front door, and Mercy finally looked at her sister. “I’m staying at Sandy’s Bed & Breakfast if you remember something about Jennifer that might be helpful.”

“How long are you staying in town?”

“Shouldn’t be long. Just until we get some answers.” She fiddled with her bag, unable to hold eye contact for longer than a few seconds. She sensed an opportunity rapidly fading, never to be offered again.

Then she was caught up in Pearl’s arms again. “Don’t be a stranger, Mercy. You’re welcome here.” Scents of home and family overwhelmed her, and she leaned into her sister’s embrace.

Mercy struggled to see the road as she drove back to town.





NINETEEN


Mercy parked in front of the Coffee Café.

Is this a bad idea?

Her conversation with Rose had made her certain she needed to talk to Levi. She needed to know that the man who’d attacked her and Rose was dead.

The image of the man’s bleeding body on her parents’ kitchen floor clogged her mind. She shuddered. The murder had always clung to her like a bad scent she couldn’t wash away. She knew no one else could smell it, but it always felt acutely evident. Some days it faded. She’d spend a few weeks without stress, and life would plod forward. She got up, she went to work, she came home.