A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(5)

Shock filled the room.

“Aw, shit,” mumbled Eddie, slumping back in his chair.

Images flashed in Mercy’s mind. Weapons. Explosives. Children. Bitter, suspicious adults.

A recipe for tragedy.

Mercy’s doubts were shattered by a crushing mantle of responsibility. “I’ll do it.”





THREE

The rest of the day was a whirlwind. Mercy felt as if she were cramming a semester’s worth of information into five hours and the final was tomorrow. The FBI conference room table was now cluttered with files, notebooks, and photos. Mercy had read and reread each one.

A dry-erase pen in hand, Mercy stood at the whiteboard as Carleen drilled her on the history the ATF had created for Jessica Polk.

“Where did you get your associate’s degree in nursing?”

Easy one. “Big Bend Community College. Moses Lake, Washington. Where I grew up,” she added.

“Work history,” Carleen requested.

“Uh . . .” Mercy turned to the board and made a list to keep it straight in her mind. “Three different nursing homes in Moses Lake. Good Heart, A Place to Rest, and Sally’s Home.” She emphatically underlined the last, pleased she hadn’t mixed up the names this time. “I worked at each one for about two years. I left Sally’s Home about six months ago and have been waitressing at the Lake Diner ever since.”

“Parents’ names and professions.”

“Douglas Polk. Plumber. Susan Polk. Housewife, but she also worked at the Dollar Tree. Both passed away in a car accident ten years ago.” She raised a brow at Carleen. “Convenient.”

“Just keeping it simple.”

“Nothing about this is simple.”

“Your college mascot?”

Mercy stared at Carleen, her mind blank. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she said calmly, suddenly transforming into every instructor Mercy had disliked in college.

The Avengers. “Thor—I mean, Vikings for Big Bend.”

“High school mascot?

“Something with feathers.”

Carleen made a face. “Chiefs.”

“Chiefs,” Mercy repeated as she slumped into the chair by Carleen. “This is ridiculous.” She picked up a photo of her “boyfriend,” Chad Finn. “Chad and I met two years ago at a Kenny Chesney concert in Seattle,” she muttered. Carleen wouldn’t tell her Chad’s real name, and Mercy was not to tell him hers. The man in the photo was clean-shaven and wore an ATF polo.

He looked like a Verizon cell phone salesman.

His fake backstory included ranching and work as a mechanic. Carleen said that in real life, Chad was one of those guys who always had his head under the hood of a car. He’d repaired a truck at the group’s camp and impressed them, and now he was in charge of their fleet—which was about five vehicles.

Supposedly Chad had convinced Mercy—Jessica—to leave her miserable waitressing job in Moses Lake and come live with him and his like-minded friends at the compound for a new beginning.

Every woman’s dream.

“Chad knows there’s been a change in girlfriends, right?” Mercy asked as she tossed his photo back on the table.

“No. We don’t have a way to get ahold of him.”

Mercy spun her chair toward the agent. “What?”

“I told you there were no cell phones. The arrangements to bring in Chad’s girlfriend were made on a pay phone in town two weeks ago.”

“I have to instantly convince Chad that I’m her replacement? Possibly with other people watching?” Mercy leveled a stare at Carleen, stunned at the lack of communication. She felt unprepared and untethered, as if she were floating high above the earth without a landing site. “I look a little like your agent, but we’re still different. What if they’ve seen pictures of her?”

“Fake Jessica’s social media is being altered as we speak. They’re doing a little Photoshop to the few pictures of her online.”

Mercy sighed. “Any other big things you haven’t told me? What does your agent do if he’s in trouble?”

“There is a satellite phone hidden outside the compound. He knows where it is. It’s for emergencies only. If he is caught with it, they’ll probably kill him.”

Mercy said nothing, searching Carleen’s brown gaze. She spotted a flicker of the woman’s concern for her agent before it vanished. Carleen was fully aware of the danger and the unknowns.

“We considered sending in a backup battery with you for the satellite phone. It has one, but another can’t hurt.” She grimaced. “I was voted down. Too risky if you’re caught.”

Great. “How did Chad use a pay phone?”

“A perk of being the guy in charge of maintaining the vehicles. He drives into town occasionally.”

Neal entered the office with an ancient duffel over his shoulder. “I added a heavier coat,” he said as he dropped the bag on the floor. “It can get cold at that elevation at night.”

Mercy stared at the ugly bag. “What is that?”

“Your belongings,” he answered, his hands on his hips. “No fancy polycarbonate hard-sided suitcase when you’re roughing it.”

“Oh no you don’t. I pack my own stuff.” Mercy was instantly on the ground, digging through the duffel.