A Merciful Silence (Mercy Kilpatrick #4)(50)

Royce Gibson had immediately hugged her, and the young cop had whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” as his voice cracked.

Ben Cooley patted her on the back, a grandfatherly look on his face that made her want to curl up in his lap and hide.

Samuel was his usual resolute self, standing strong, his arms crossed on his chest, determination filling his gaze. No hugs; that wasn’t his style. Lucas was working the phone and held up a hand to her as he spoke into his headset.

This is Truman’s family.

She’d locked her emotions behind a tiny door deep in her mind during the drive to Eagle’s Nest, but being among these concerned men who loved their boss nearly broke that door down. Her eyes burned, and she struggled to stay in control.

“We’ve got county and state on board. County offered a detective, and he should be here soon,” Samuel stated. His tone told her the experienced cop had taken the lead among the men. “All their patrols are keeping an eye out for Truman’s vehicle. I suspect he went off the road.” The other men looked to him and nodded hopefully. “We’ve all been driving the roads for a few hours, and we’ll get back out there, but we wanted to be here when you arrived.”

Samuel’s face blurred in her vision.

“Thank you,” she choked out. “You guys are too kind.”

Lucas got up from his desk. The young man slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. It was like being hugged by a huge bodybuilder. Lucas planted a kiss on her temple. “The two of you matter to us,” he said hoarsely. “He’ll turn up.”

She wouldn’t lose hope.

And she refused to think about her last discussion with Truman. When she learned she’d disappointed him by forgetting to include him in the cabin decisions.

I’m so sorry, Truman.

“I want to see the scene.” Mercy felt as if she could verify Truman’s blood by looking at it. He’s a physical part of me.

Stupid thought.

“How about photos?” Ben suggested.

“To start with,” she said reluctantly, wondering if the men were protecting her from seeing something. “Did you go in his house?”

“I did,” said Ben. “Everything looks perfectly normal—no blood inside. No evidence that he hurt himself in the house or cleaned up a cut in the sinks or shower. His cat was acting weird, though . . . it was like she knew something was up. I fed her.”

She followed Ben to a computer screen. The photos were already up. She studied each one. Ben was right. The blood was on the driver’s side of where Truman usually parked. She zoomed in on the largest pool of blood, taking heart because it wasn’t big enough to indicate someone had bled out. In fact, if the spots had fully dried, no one would have noticed them unless they specifically looked.

She focused on the big spot, her mind probing for Truman as if she could mentally speak with him.

Truman?

No one answered.

I’d know deep inside if something horrible had happened, right?

“What’s he worked on in the last twenty-four hours?” she asked, keeping her thoughts from spinning off into drain-circling pessimism. Focus.

“Last night he and I responded to a missing persons case,” Samuel told her. “Clint Moody, age twenty-eight. His brother found blood in his bed and couldn’t locate Clint or his vehicle. He’s still missing.”

Mercy stared at him, her heart sinking. “Like Truman? Blood left behind and a missing vehicle?”

Samuel scowled. “There are similarities. Truman had told me he’d originally wondered if Clint’s case was related to yours. He said the patterning of the blood left behind in the bedroom resembled your cases. But this wasn’t a family, no body was left behind . . . and the vehicle was missing.”

“Truman didn’t tell me about that case.” He didn’t have a chance to.

“Ryan Moody, Clint’s brother, came in this morning. Said Truman had set up the time to talk to him about his brother,” added Lucas. “He waited around awhile and I finally told him I’d have Truman call to reschedule.”

“How was Ryan?” Samuel asked. “He was a mess last night.”

“He said he didn’t sleep at all last night. His eyes looked like it.”

“Did you contact Truman to tell him Ryan was waiting?” Mercy asked.

“I shot him a text and then forgot about it,” said Lucas. “I checked it later and it didn’t indicate it’d been read.”

Same with my texts to Truman. “What time did you text him?”

“Nine-oh-seven.”

“His phone was probably off by then.”

“We checked with our wireless provider. Truman hasn’t used his phone at all today.”

That’s not good.

Mercy sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s start a timeline.” Ben nodded and headed to the back of the building. He returned a minute later with a large whiteboard and marker.

“What else has he handled? What did he do today?” Mercy asked, looking from man to man.

“He was here by seven,” Lucas told her. “He was in his office most of the morning and then said he was going to talk to Nick Walker at the lumberyard. He left around eight thirty.”

“I talked to Nick,” said Ben. “He said Truman wasn’t there more than ten minutes.” Ben made notes on the board.