A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(48)

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Truman answered, holding up his identification. “We’re following up on last night’s report. Are you Kim Fuller?”

Samuel’s report had been clear and concise. At 8:00 p.m. neighbors had reported a fight in the apartment above them. When Samuel responded, he’d found Fuller and Norris drunk and screaming at each other but with no apparent injuries. A disagreement about money was the source of the argument. He’d separated the two of them and talked to each individually, and it had been agreed that Norris would spend the rest of the night with a friend. At 9:00 p.m. Samuel had dropped off Norris at a home a mile away and watched him enter the house before leaving.

The friend’s house was Truman’s next stop.

“Yes, I’m Kim.” The blonde woman closed the door, removed the chain, and opened it wide, releasing a strong cigarette odor from the apartment. She was very thin and wore yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “I thought everything was over once the officer left,” she said, standing firmly in the doorway. “It wasn’t a big deal. The neighbors downstairs are a pain in the butt!” she shouted toward the floor.

“Do you mind if we come in and talk?” Truman asked.

She looked from Truman to Bolton. “What’s wrong with right here?”

I want to see inside your apartment.

“Nothing,” he agreed. She was already defensive, and he didn’t want to push her more. Yet. “The report says the argument started about money. What happened?”

“I told him he needs to get a job if he wants to go party every night. He hasn’t worked since June, and I’m tired of hustling my ass off to keep him in beer.”

“Where do you work?”

“Colonel’s in Bend.”

Truman knew the dive bar. He’d never been inside, but Samuel had gotten food poisoning there. Twice. When Truman asked why he’d gone back, he’d shrugged and said the burgers were worth the risk.

Nothing was worth food poisoning to Truman.

“Have you heard from Gerry since he left last night?” Bolton asked.

“Nah. I’m sure he’s still sleeping it off.” She leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms below her breasts and inspecting both men in a curious way that made Truman want to scratch his neck. She appeared to like what she saw in Bolton.

“The two of you argue a lot?” Truman asked.

“As much as anybody.”

“He ever get physical with you?”

She smirked. “No. He wouldn’t do that. I’m his bread and butter right now. He needs to keep me happy.” Her considering gaze roamed over Bolton again.

This is happy?

“Do you have a picture of both of you?” He didn’t want to ask for just a picture of Norris. She would know instantly something was wrong.

She scowled. “Why?”

“There weren’t any pictures with the report. Usually we take photos of who we’re dealing with,” he lied.

Her phone was tucked in the waist of her yoga pants, and she flashed more skin than necessary as she pulled it out. She held up the phone. The lock screen was a selfie of her and Norris.

Norris wore a cap. Again Truman couldn’t be certain he was the victim. He asked her to send the photo to him and excused himself and Bolton.

He led Bolton down the stairs. “Time to visit the friend’s place where Norris spent the night.”

Was Norris killed by his friend?





NINETEEN

By the next morning, another three inches of snow had fallen. The compound had transformed into a rustic winter wonderland, making Mercy miss the homey, secure feeling of her own cabin during the freezing months. Last night had been cold in the women’s building, its insulation lacking. The beautiful snow hid the fact that the facilities had been built for temporary summertime camping, not wintertime living.

Mercy was one of the first people in line for breakfast, a headache pounding in her skull from her thirty-six hours of no food and constant overnight analysis of the conversation she’d overheard yesterday. Her brain hadn’t stopped. Pete’s plan would kick off in twenty-four hours, and she hadn’t come up with a solution to stop them. She’d wandered the compound, checking for a way to get out. There was none. Even if she did escape, she still had to find a phone.

And hope there is decent wireless coverage.

She’d wait for Chad to return and send him to use the satellite phone.

A few men lined up behind her, and she covertly studied them, wondering if any were the two she’d overheard yesterday.

She got her food, spotted Eden at a table in the mess hall, and sat beside her, curious about what had happened to Noah in town. The girl nodded at Mercy’s greeting and continued to pick at her scrambled eggs, resting her head on one hand, her eyes red and swollen.

Clearly Eden hadn’t heard any news about Noah.

Mercy realized the teen must feel as alone as she did with Chad gone. Eden currently didn’t have a brother or father. Or mother. Mercy committed to keeping the teenager close and distracted from thoughts of her little brother. And maybe Eden’s presence would help Mercy forget how isolated and vulnerable she currently was in the compound. Mercy ate and, even with the mass of turmoil in her head, the breakfast was one of the most delicious meals she’d had in years. Amazing what supreme hunger could do.