A Merciful Silence (Mercy Kilpatrick #4)(21)

“Have you seen these?” Truman showed Owen and Brick the fake diplomatic license. “I’d like to find the supplier.”

Owen grinned. “You arrested the supplier the other day.”

“Joshua Forbes made it?” Truman was surprised.

“Yep. Sells them too,” said Brick. “Makes a pretty penny, I believe.”

Truman nudged Ryan with his boot. “Is that who your brother got this from? Joshua Forbes?”

Ryan wobbled and nearly tipped over. “I don’t know where he got it. He doesn’t tell me shit, and he’s an idiot for carrying it around.”

Truman scowled, wondering if he could get forgery added to the charges against Joshua Forbes. “Glad to hear you weren’t sucked into this scam, Owen.”

Mercy’s brother looked grim. “I stay away from big talkers now. Besides, everyone knows those aren’t legal. Well, everyone but the sovereign citizens who want to believe.”

“Good.”

Ryan suddenly fell to one side and moaned. Truman jumped backward as the man vomited where Truman’s boots had been a split second earlier.

Truman’s stomach heaved at the odor, and Brick cursed like the professional wrestler he’d been.

Better here than in my vehicle.





TEN

Two miles away from the scene at the Hartlage house, Mercy parked at the closest neighbor’s home. Kenneth Forbes’s house strongly resembled the Hartlages’, but there was a long ramp to the front door. An ancient sedan without license plates sat beside the home, weeds growing around its tires.

Does he live alone?

Earlier a deputy had briefly visited Kenneth Forbes, returned to the Hartlage crime scene, and reported that Forbes believed Corrine Hartlage’s brother had lived in the home with the family, but didn’t know his name.

“What else did he tell you?” Mercy had asked the deputy. “When did Mr. Forbes see them last? Has he been by the farm recently?”

The deputy had looked at his feet and shuffled them. “He wasn’t very cooperative, ma’am. And he’s disabled. I didn’t want to pressure him.”

Mercy had exchanged a look with Detective Bolton. The deputy was very young. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Forbes,” Mercy stated.

Still in her vehicle, Mercy looked at the cat, who’d curled up on the passenger seat and gone immediately to sleep. I thought cats hated cars.

Should I stop at a pet shelter?

If a Hartlage relative wanted the cat, leaving it at a shelter could lead to a hot mess. Mercy decided she’d keep it until they heard if anyone was interested in it.

I’ll tell Kaylie up front that it might leave.

As Mercy got out of her vehicle, the front door opened, and a man in a wheelchair appeared.

“Mr. Forbes?” Mercy stopped ten feet from the ramp.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick. I’m investigating your missing neighbors and could really use your help.”

The man gave a short laugh. “Help? Do I look like I can help anyone? You’re just here to ask more questions. I already told that other policeman all I know.”

Kenneth Forbes appeared to be in his midfifties. His short hair was salt and pepper, and his face was well weathered and lined. Even at this distance, Mercy could see his eyes were a piercing blue. Anger radiated from him.

“Did you know the girls, Alison and Amy? There’s a lot of blood in their room, and it appears they’ve been missing for months.” Mercy lobbed the loaded question at the man. If missing children didn’t affect him, he wasn’t human.

He was silent for five seconds. “Blood?”

“Yes. In all the bedrooms. The house hasn’t been lived in for a long time, but their belongings are still there.”

His cheeks tightened as he flexed his jaw, and he spun his wheelchair around. “Come in then,” he said over his shoulder.

It wasn’t the welcome she’d hoped for, but she’d take it.

The home was extremely plain inside, with wide paths for his wheelchair. He motioned for her to sit in an old easy chair by the front door. He maneuvered his wheelchair so he could face her, crossed his hands in his lap, and looked at her expectantly, his eyes still hard. “What do you need to know?”

No coffee. No tea. No small talk.

“When did you see any of them last?”

He grimaced. “I’m not sure. Last summer, I guess. And that was just passing them on the road.”

“But they’re your closest neighbor.”

“No, I’m their closest neighbor. My son lives a quarter mile away from me.” He frowned. “Just because I live near someone doesn’t make us friends. I didn’t need anything from them, so I rarely interacted with them. Are they dead?”

Mercy blinked at his bluntness. “We don’t know.”

“You said there was blood.”

“I did. But we didn’t find any bodies there.”

“Why does the FBI care about a missing family? Shouldn’t this be handled by the sheriff?”

“Missing children are always our business,” Mercy stated firmly. “Did you know the children?”

“I’ve seen them.”

Mercy waited.