A Merciful Death (Mercy Kilpatrick #1)(81)

“What?” Ben and Eddie spoke together.

Mercy threw up her hands. “You tell them,” she ordered Truman as she marched to the small room he’d loaned to her and Eddie.



Eddie had silently turned to Truman for an explanation after Lucas made his announcement about Mercy’s Tahoe.

He’d explained Mercy had stayed at his house after late working hours and exhaustion on her part. Without being specific, he said she’d suspected someone had been following her. He could tell Eddie knew he was holding back, but the FBI agent wouldn’t press with questions in front of Ben and Lucas.

Truman had later told her that the other men knew her virtue was still intact, and he’d received a sour look in return.

Four hours later Mercy’s restlessness was driving Truman crazy.

They’d been poring over the files of the four recent murders and occasionally dipping into the files of the women when something caught their eye. So far he felt as if they’d been spinning their wheels. Mercy was quiet but kept tapping her fingers, and he’d noticed the small half-moons her nails had left in her palms from clenching her fists.

He understood. They both felt as if they were incredibly close to their killer, and that the answer was right in front of them but they couldn’t see it.

Mercy didn’t look like a woman who’d slept in unexpected quarters last night. She looked refreshed and ready to work. He hadn’t been surprised when she grabbed a duffel bag containing clean clothes from her Tahoe last night. The woman was always prepared.

He liked that. He liked a lot of things about Mercy Kilpatrick.

Tell her.

He couldn’t. It would break every professional code he knew. He’d wanted to say something last night in his house, but it seemed wrong to bring it up when she was thoroughly rattled. He’d have to stick it out until this case was over.

Then she’ll leave.

Maybe she’ll work at the Bend office.

In his mind she was packing up, transferring jobs, and moving to Bend because he was interested in her.

And he hadn’t said a word.

Idiot.

He slammed Enoch Finch’s notebook shut. Mercy jumped and did a double take at the expression on his face, and he wondered what she saw. Determination? Infatuation?

“What is it?” She sat straight in her chair, her hands immobile on the papers she’d been flipping through. “Is everything okay?” Concern flooded her gaze.

Apparently I look sick, not determined.

He looked into her green eyes and chickened out. “We need to step away for an hour. It’s lunchtime and I’ve read the same page three times and still can’t tell you what it said.”

“I can always eat.”

“Let’s go. I need a change of scenery.”

Thirty minutes later Truman pulled into an angled parking space in front of a restaurant in Bend’s Old Mill District. The area was beautiful. Shops, restaurants, clean walkways, and footbridges over the Deschutes River. The district had been overhauled during the last few decades to provide a heart to the city and charm the tourists. Two women jogged by with strollers, couples roamed with cups of coffee, and Truman spotted exactly what he’d been craving. An outdoor table with a view of the water, right next to a heat lamp. The sky was clear blue, but there was a chill in the air. Mercy had protested when they drove out of Eagle’s Nest for food, but he’d noticed she relaxed into her seat and focused on the sights as he drove.

She’d gasped when he pulled into the Old Mill District. “This has completely changed since I left. It wasn’t like this at all.”

“It’s one of my favorite places,” Truman admitted. Even though it was geared toward tourists with the nearby hotels, wine tasting, and trendy shops, he felt his stress unwind whenever he visited. He wanted that for Mercy.

Her smile indicated he was on the right track.

They got a table on the patio and ordered food and coffee. She slipped on her sunglasses, leaned back in her chair, and turned her face to the sun. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, and he wished he could order a beer. The stress of their cases vanished, and he felt like a normal human without any responsibilities. The rain from the beginning of the week was a faint memory, and the latest forecast was full of sun for the next two weeks. As it should be. He was happy.

“Better?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

“I was going a bit crazy in that small room.”

Mercy nodded. “I get sucked in. When I’m on a case, I feel like any moment I’m not working on it is wasted time. But I know everyone works better when they step away for a break.”

“And you’re not getting enough sleep.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I sleep.” The waiter set their food down and vanished.

Truman attacked his burger.

“Do you think about when this case is finished?” he asked a few minutes later.

She looked down at her salad and moved her sunglasses to the top of her head. “All the time. I want to get it solved.”

He scooted his chair forward an inch. “That’s not what I mean.”

Her green gaze met his. He was lost in their color and her thick black lashes.

The sight stole his breath.

“What do you mean?” She wouldn’t make it easy on him.