A Merciful Promise (Mercy Kilpatrick #6)(88)

He was in and out of the cabin a lot over the next few days. Chopping wood. Stacking wood. Shoveling snow. They could hear the crack of an ax as he chopped. He paced the main room and rooted through the bins, but often he’d abruptly stride out the door, and the ax would sound again. Sometimes he just sat and stared at her or Eden.

Mercy didn’t want to know what was going through his head.

He found some books and magazines, but neither Mercy nor Eden could hold them and turn the pages with her hands secured. Mercy begged to have one hand free, although her hurting head probably wouldn’t let her focus on a page. He refused, told her to shut up again, and continued to pace.

He was antsy.

Their days alternated between utter boredom and cold fear.

On the third day he split Mercy’s lip again when he slapped her for asking too many questions about his plans. He’d raged at the two of them to be silent, and Mercy had pushed, seeking to know where he’d draw the line. She found it. She and Eden stayed silent for the rest of the day.

He was Jekyll and Hyde. One minute giving her more Advil and the next kicking her in her sore knee for requesting a trip to the outhouse.

She missed her family. Eden did too. The teen cried often, convinced she’d never see them again, and grieved that her mother had been gone for months. At least a hundred times she’d asked Mercy if she believed they’d get away from Sean.

Mercy always said yes.

But inside she had her doubts.

Sean was fraying. The calm and control that she’d witnessed at the compound was gone, and she worried for their safety. Several times she’d caught him staring at Eden with a hungry look, setting off shrill alarms in Mercy’s brain. He caught her watching him and looked away as if nothing had happened.

The focus on Eden disturbed her. Sean was no longer policed by society. It was just the three of them, and he held all the power. He could do as he pleased. His rules. No witnesses.

She and Eden both watched for opportunities. Mercy dreamed of grabbing his gun or a knife from the tiny kitchen area. When he boiled water, she saw her hands grab the pan and hurl the contents into his face. The crack of the ax outside made her itch to hold its handle.

But he was too careful.

I need him to make one mistake. That’s all.

They recited the directions back to the compound, pounding them into their memories. Mercy hated the thought of returning, but the compound was the only place that offered shelter—that they knew of. She was surprised how much of their trek she’d forgotten. Eden remembered landmarks that Mercy couldn’t recall.

There was no guarantee that they’d escape together.

And they might have to physically fight for their lives. They whispered about what they could use for weapons—the knives, his guns, a piece of firewood. Mercy lectured Eden on fear and how to set it aside, on being prepared to injure and attack. To kill.

If the opportunity arose, she feared the teenager would freeze.

Mercy gently flexed her knee and elevated it as much as possible. It had improved even with Sean’s continued abuse, her jeans no longer straining around it. The headache had nearly subsided, and now her vision stayed true. But the scabs on her face had dried, and they itched, and according to Eden, the tissues around her eyes were colorful palettes that changed every day.

She would kill for a shower.

Sometimes Mercy and Eden took turns distracting each other with happy stories, keeping their voices low as they talked about their lives back home. Sean had been silent a lot, but Mercy knew he listened to their conversations. She hoped their stories humanized the two of them, making him see that they weren’t expendable. Someone who could shoot Nelson in the head could also easily choose to eliminate them.

Eden spoke of her family, relating touching accounts of Noah and her mother. The teen now believed that Noah had survived, although she often broke into tears while speaking of him. Mercy told stories of her siblings, struggling to keep her voice from cracking as she pictured their faces. She shared stories of her job and was describing Eddie’s sense of humor when Sean finally spoke.

“You know your wonderful bureau has a rat,” he said abruptly.

Mercy froze, knowing he didn’t mean a rodent. “How do you know?”

He smiled, his hands clasped as he rested his forearms on his thighs, staring at them as usual, his eyes blazing with secrets.

Her mind raced. She had continually questioned how Pete had known her name and for whom she worked, and it suddenly made sense. Chad hadn’t known her identity, so someone else had told Pete. Someone outside.

Who?

“Pete planned to kill you when he found out you were FBI.” His voice was flat.

“Who told him?” He almost did kill me.

Sean shrugged. “Pete had sources.”

She sucked in a breath. How?

He tilted his head, studying Mercy. “You haven’t said a word about the federal gathering out in the sticks.”

Distracted, Mercy glanced at Eden. “What gathering?”

He examined her face thoroughly. “You don’t know,” he finally said with wonder. “How could you not know? Pete found out they were coming the day before they arrived.”

Mercy stiffened. Who? “I’ve had no contact with the outside.”

A single brow shot up. “Seriously?”

“When Chad left, I was incommunicado.”