A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(79)

Ten feet away, the tall man pointed a rifle at her back.

“Sean!” Eden exclaimed in relief at the familiar face. “I’m so glad—” Eden cut off her words with a gasp. Mercy swore she heard cogs grind in Eden’s brain as she processed that a man she knew had shot another in the head.

“Hello, Eden,” he said with a laugh, pointing the rifle at her.

The teenager’s mouth hung open.

Fighting an instinct to flee, Mercy said nothing, desperately searching for options.

There were none.

Although the temperature was freezing, sweat gathered on her upper lip.

The rifle swung back to Mercy. “Did you know you’re hanging out with an FBI agent, Eden?” he asked.

Pete told him.

“Yes.” Eden’s voice shook, but Mercy was proud of her for staying calm.

“Let’s go inside,” Sean said, indicating with the gun for them to rise. “And do everything I say. No fucking around. You run, you die. Either from my bullet in your back or from the cold.”

Eden pushed slowly to her feet, but Mercy couldn’t stand. Her adrenaline had vanished, leaving her weaker than before.

“Get up,” he snapped.

“She’s hurt,” Eden shot back as she bent to help.

“Yeah, I know. I heard about Pete’s punishment, and it’s been obvious over the last several hours.”

He followed us?

Mercy managed to get to her feet, facing Sean and leaning heavily on Eden, trying not to gasp for air as pain raced up her leg. Surprise lit his eyes as he studied her face.

“Wow. Pete was more pissed off than I realized. You look like hell.”

Self-conscious, Mercy looked away at his intense stare, and her gaze fell on the body in the snow. Her stomach curdled at the spray pattern of blood and brains. “Why him?”

“Nelson? Pete will appreciate that I got rid of the asshole. Now, inside!”

With Eden’s help, Mercy walked toward the door. A minute ago the open door had been a beacon promising warmth. Now it was a door to a prison.

What will he do with us?

She shuddered, and her hands clenched at the thought of returning to Pete. He’d kill her this time. I can’t let that happen.

The air inside the small cabin was heavenly on her icy cheeks. A woodstove in the corner churned out ample heat. The main room contained a small table, a chair, a bed, a rough sink with a single dripping faucet, and many shelves of canned and packaged food. A glimpse into a second tiny room revealed bins and food-grade buckets stacked to the ceiling.

Nelson was prepared for the winter.

He was Mercy’s kind of person.

He had been her kind of person.

She thrust the image of his shattered head out of her mind.

Sean gave Eden cuffs to lock Mercy to the bed frame. Her face pale, Eden secured Mercy’s wrists as Sean closely watched, snapping at her when she fumbled with the awkward cuffs. He held a pistol at her head, his rifle swapped for the gun.

Mercy shot a glance at the rifle leaning against the wall.

He saw her look and smirked. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Mercy sat on the floor and leaned against the mattress, assessing the bed. The frame was made of rough wood and bolted to the wall. She tugged at it and determined it wouldn’t budge.

Sean checked Eden’s work and then rapidly tied the teen to the other end of the bed with rope.

Once he was satisfied with the knots, he sat heavily in the chair and rubbed his face, exhaustion showing in the droop of his shoulders.

“What are you—” Eden began.

“Shut up,” he said coldly. “I don’t want to hear a word from either one of you.” He rose out of his chair and paced the length of the room several times, deep in thought, an intent look on his face as he mumbled under his breath. Mercy watched, wondering if he hadn’t thought ahead before shooting Nelson and taking the women hostage. Again his movements reminded her of a law enforcement officer’s. Or a soldier’s.

Eden leaned her head against the bed and silently mouthed to Mercy, “Now what?”

Mercy raised one shoulder and gave a slight shake of her head, feeling her brain and thoughts slow down. Her own exhaustion swelled and spread, taking over every limb. Now that she’d sat down, her body insisted on rest. She twisted to lie on the floor, her hands elevated by the cuffs, and closed her eyes, no longer caring what went on around her. She was warm, and both of them were alive.

For now.

She slept.





THIRTY-ONE

It took two more days to get a search canine on the scene.

The delay had worn Truman’s patience down to nothing. A car accident just outside Ukiah had halted the first dog who had been called out—the dog was fine, but his handler had a broken leg. After that, locating an available federal K9 team had been more difficult than expected. An ATF dog and handler were finally flown in from Seattle.

Two days lost.

Two days with Mercy somewhere.

Every agent and Truman were livid at the delay.

Another mystery had been raised by Noah Trotter’s mother. Her sixteen-year-old daughter had not been with the women who’d left the compound or found inside with the members who’d remained.

In the interviews, everyone stated Eden Trotter was part of their group and seemed confused as to why she was missing, although no one could specifically remember seeing her the day of the raid. The teenager was added to the search.