A Merciful Silence (Mercy Kilpatrick #4)(51)

“What time was he supposed to talk with Ryan Moody?” she asked Lucas.

“Nine.”

“Was Ryan on time?”

“Yes.”

“Where did Truman go earlier in the day yesterday?”

Lucas sat back down at his computer and tapped the keys. “Domestic dispute call. The Dalrymples.” The other three officers sighed and nodded. “A monthly occurrence. Usually whoever responds just talks to them for a while and they cool down. He also issued two speeding tickets—Neil Herrera and Gordon Pittman.”

“Can you follow up on the tickets, Royce?” Mercy asked. The young cop nodded. “And Ben on the Dalrymples?”

“I already went to the Dalrymples’,” said Samuel. “They said Truman did the usual. Put them in different rooms and talked with them. Said he was there about a half hour. I gathered they’re both pretty fond of Truman. Said he’s always patient.”

Mercy looked at Lucas to indicate he should continue. “Minnie Neal reported her lawn mower had been stolen,” he said.

“It’s been raining for weeks,” Mercy pointed out. “She wanted to mow?”

“Beats me,” said Lucas. “In Truman’s report it says she noticed her shed door was ajar and that appeared to be the only thing missing. She acknowledged it could have happened months ago.”

“Ben?” Mercy asked.

“I’ll talk to Minnie,” he agreed.

“That’s it for yesterday,” said Lucas. “Pretty normal day except for the Moody case.”

“Two missing vehicles. Two missing men,” stated Mercy. “Let’s focus there,” she said.

The door opened, and Deschutes County Detective Evan Bolton stepped inside, brushing the rain off his sleeves.

Goose bumps rose on Mercy’s arms as she remembered her previous thought about Bolton being the Angel of Death.

No.

Ben and Royce left to check on their assigned people and resume searching for Truman’s Tahoe. Mercy and Samuel brought Bolton up to speed.

This additional set of sympathetic male eyes was about to push her over the edge. She steeled her core and concentrated on covering every angle.

No case tunnel vision allowed.

“What about that letter he received from the sovereign citizen?” Mercy asked. “He sent me a copy, but I haven’t looked at it yet. He told me that supposedly that guy is selling the diplomatic licenses. Has anything else come of that?”

Lucas scratched his head as he exchanged a glance with Samuel. Both shook their heads. “Not that we’ve heard of.”

“What is this?” Bolton asked.

Mercy told him about the letter demanding $3 million and then described the fake diplomatic licenses and license plates.

“You know,” Samuel said, “Truman broke up a bar fight between the Moody brothers a few days ago. One of them had one of those stupid licenses—I don’t remember which brother.”

“I’ll check,” said Lucas.

Mercy’s spine tingled as she felt a few pieces of the case fall into place. “That can’t be a coincidence. One of those brothers and Truman both missing.”

“Clint Moody was the brother with the fake ID, according to Truman’s report,” said Lucas. “Truman mentions in his report that someone in the bar told him Joshua Forbes was making them. The sovereign citizen who sent Truman the letter.”

Mercy and Bolton looked at each other, agreement flowing between them. “Did Truman get too close to something?” Bolton asked. “Where’s Joshua Forbes right now?”

“In the county jail,” reported Lucas. “Truman and Royce went to his arraignment two days ago.”

“I’ll call and get us in to see him tonight,” said Bolton, pulling out his phone and stepping away from the group.

“Where do you want me?” asked Samuel.

“Scouring the roads for Truman’s Tahoe and Clint Moody’s vehicle.”

Samuel gave her a casual salute and disappeared out the door.

He’s a good officer. Respectful and dependable. She hadn’t missed the concern for Truman in his eyes, despite his stiff stance. It was the most emotion she’d ever seen in the tough cop.

“Joshua Forbes got out on bail today,” stated Bolton as he returned.

“What time?”

“Noonish.”

“Too late to have anything to do with Truman’s disappearance—assuming something happened to him before he was scheduled to meet with Ryan Moody at nine.”

“Never assume,” Bolton recited.

“I try not to.”

“I have Joshua Forbes’s address.”

“What are we waiting for?”





TWENTY-FIVE

Mercy parked behind Detective Bolton’s vehicle, a strong sense of déjà vu affecting her.

I was just near this area.

The Hartlage home with the missing family was two miles away. Bolton had been there with her.

Memories of the sad, empty home and the small skull filled her thoughts. Alison and Amy. Mercy was no closer to finding their killer.

She got out of her car, pulled up her hood against the rain, and joined Bolton. The mobile home in front of them was dark.