A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(86)

Truman offered her a protein bar, but she refused, saying she had her own. They ate in silence, Truman’s mind darting in a half dozen directions. He was thrilled the dog had scented something and had led them a long distance. To Truman it meant Mercy had walked out on her own. If someone had hurt her, she would have been found closer to the compound. But the southern direction wasn’t logical to Truman. There were no major roads south of the compound. To eventually find a major highway, she would have gone west. Even walking north would have made more sense, since Ukiah was in that direction.

Is she injured and confused?

Will we find her?

He was mentally exhausted.

But he had hope. He refused to give up hope.

A light snow had started and stopped several times as they continued. Eventually the ravine flattened out as they moved up a rise. Thor ran in wide circles, his nose in the air, and Rowan frowned.

Fear crawled up Truman’s spine. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s trying to find the scent again.”

Truman turned back into the ravine. “Did we go off course? Do we need to back up?”

“Maybe,” said Rowan. “We’ll see.” Patience and calm were etched in her features.

Truman watched Thor. “Could he have followed a wrong scent?”

Rowan’s brows came together, and she shot him a sharp look. “No.”

“Maybe he needs to smell Mercy’s shirt again.”

The woman sighed and turned to him. “Look, Chief Daly. I know this is hard on you, but you’ve got to back off and let us work.” Her eyes were hard. “We know what we’re doing.”

“You’re right, I apologize,” he muttered, stepping away.

Bolton slapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll find her. It’ll be okay,” he said with encouragement in his eyes.

Truman nodded and bent over to adjust a snowshoe that was just fine.

Inside him every nerve was stretched taut, vibrating with fear and hope. He knew Bolton meant well.

But his life might never be okay again.





THIRTY-FOUR

Three days earlier

When Mercy finally woke after arriving at Nelson’s cabin, the sun had gone down and the window in the cabin was black. Her hands were still cuffed to the bed. Every muscle screamed as she shifted to sit upright on the floor. Her body was stiff and sore, overworked and underfed. She tried to bend her damaged knee. The swelling was so advanced that her jeans stretched impossibly tight around the joint. She picked at the denim, wondering if it should be cut. Blinking as her focus ebbed and flowed, she rubbed her eyes against her arm to get rid of the blur, and pain shot through her head.

She held very still, scared to breathe, willing the ache to subside.

At the other end of the bed and also on the floor, Eden slept. Her relaxed face and slightly open mouth were those of a child, not a stubborn teen.

Mercy briefly closed her eyes.

We’re alive.

I’ve got to get us out of here.

Her body was in no condition to escape. She had been lucky to make it as far as she had, and another trek was out of the question. She had no choice but to sit tight until she was sufficiently healed.

I need to get rid of Sean.

Scanning the room, she realized he was gone. Did he abandon us? Hunger and thirst engulfed her as she tugged at her cuffed hands, imagining herself and Eden slowly starving to death. She squirmed uncomfortably as another bodily need made itself known.

“Dammit.”

She’d wished Sean gone, and now she wished him back.

The door swung open and cold air curled around Mercy. Sean stamped his feet, his arms full of firewood. He dropped it next to the stove and beat the snow off his hat and jacket. His gaze met hers. “It’s coming down again.”

She swallowed. “What time is it?”

“Dunno. I don’t wear a watch and don’t have a phone.” He put his hands on his hips as he studied her and Eden. “Thirsty?”

“Yes.” Her mouth was instantly dry.

He got her a glass of water at the sink adjacent to the stove and left the faucet dripping to help keep the pipe from freezing. “He’s got a good water setup. Don’t know what the source is, but it tastes okay.” He held the glass to her lips, and she drank, refusing to look him in the eye.

“I need the bathroom.”

Distaste crossed his face. “I figured. Wake her up, and I’ll take you to the outhouse together. Try anything, and I’ll shoot her in the head.”

His casual tone made Mercy’s skin crawl. She had no doubts he’d kill one of them.

Eden is a hostage to keep me in line.

Mercy would do anything to keep him from hurting the teen.

Anything.

She stretched and gently jiggled Eden with her boot. Confusion and then fear swept over Eden’s face as she instantly sat up. Her petrified gaze jumped from Mercy to Sean and then back again. “He’s taking us outside to the bathroom,” Mercy told her.

Sean knelt, untied the teen, ordered her to remove Mercy’s cuffs as he held the pistol on them, and then led them outdoors.

The path to the outhouse had been recently cleared, along with a trail around the huge covered woodpile. Sean wasn’t stupid. He saw the sense in maintenance during a storm. A few minutes later they were back inside, and she was thankful for the warmth.