A Merciful Secret (Mercy Kilpatrick #3)(16)

“I might have beat her to town. Once I heard the investigation was shifting to Bend, I left.”

“Are we done, then?” Mercy asked.

“You didn’t say why you were at the scene this morning. If you weren’t there as investigator, then why were you there?”

She gave her own lazy grin.

“Hmph,” said Brody with a twist of his lips. “I’m not scared of a challenge.”

Neither was Mercy.





SEVEN

Mercy stopped at Special Agent Eddie Peterson’s office. “Is Ava here?”

Eddie jumped. He’d been deep in thought, frowning at his computer screen. “Hello, Eddie,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Nice to see you today, Eddie.”

“Sorry. Good morn—afternoon, and I don’t sound like that at all. Is Ava here?” she repeated, moving to stand in front of his desk.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze studying her through his thick-framed glasses. The young agent hadn’t changed one bit since he’d transferred to Bend from Portland at the same time as Mercy. He stuck out in the suburban office with his slim-cut slacks and skinny tie. During the weekends he wore plaid shirts, cuffed jeans, and a brown knit hat that looked identical to one Mercy had had when she was ten. It was a hipster-lumberjack look that suited him.

“McLane? Why would Ava be here?” he asked.

“I heard she was coming to investigate . . . the death I was at this morning.” Abruptly the crime scene flashed in her mind, and her tongue stumbled through the words.

“Why? That has nothing—”

“You didn’t have to come in this afternoon,” Mercy’s supervisor, Jeff Garrison, said from the doorway. “I know you were up all night.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t sleep.”

“Understandable. I’m sorry you were there during her death,” said Jeff, his brown eyes sympathetic. Her boss was a good guy and a pro at making people relax, but he was married to his job. Mercy suspected he’d be snatched up by a bigger office soon. He was moving steadily up the government’s ladder.

“I’m glad I was there, otherwise she would have died alone. And Morrigan could have gotten lost trying to find help.” Mercy doubted her last statement. Morrigan was completely at home in the woods.

Jeff slapped the file in his hand. “I’ve got news.” His tone shifted from sympathy to business. “We’ve been notified that the murder of Judge Malcolm Lake in Portland yesterday strongly resembles Olivia Sabin’s death.”

One point for Brody’s sources. Mercy kept her face carefully blank. “Who made the connection?”

“The medical examiner. This morning Dr. Lockhart heard a few details from Judge Lake’s autopsy and she immediately contacted the state’s head examiner, stating she’d seen a similar case just this morning. Comparison of the injuries shows they are nearly identical.”

“Where was the judge killed?” Mercy asked. “I didn’t hear about it since I was out of the office yesterday.”

“In his Portland home, right in his own bed. His housekeeper found him yesterday morning.”

“We’re over three hours away from Portland. Maybe even over four because of the crappy roads,” Eddie pointed out. “Why cross the Cascade mountain range to murder an old woman in the woods?”

“Dr. Lockhart cleared her schedule and did the autopsy late this morning. According to her, the similarities can’t be ignored. The Portland special agent working Judge Lake’s murder is coming sometime today.”

Two points for Brody.

Eddie shot a narrow glance at Mercy. “Ava McLane?” he asked Jeff.

Jeff glanced at the file. “Yes.” He scowled. “How did you know?”

“Ask Mercy. Somehow she knew before both of us.”

The two men stared at her.

“Five minutes ago I ran into a reporter outside. He told me.”

Jeff pursed his lips. “That’s not good. But with Judge Lake’s death, I’m not surprised it’s getting media coverage. Was he local?”

“Portland. The Oregonian.”

“Refer any media to me,” Jeff said. “Eddie, you’re to work with the Portland agent . . .” He looked at his file again. “McLane.”

“I’d like to be kept in the loop,” Mercy said; she knew Jeff would never assign her a case in which she was a witness, but she had to keep her finger in this pot. Olivia’s face was imprinted on her memory.

“Unofficially,” said Jeff. “I don’t need the complication of a witness involved in the investigation.” He placed the file on Eddie’s desk.

“Understood.” Mercy would follow his rules, but finding Olivia’s killer had shifted to priority level in her brain.

Her boss disappeared, and she raised a brow at Eddie.

“This is my case,” Eddie stated. “Go away.”

“I think you need to interview your primary witness: me,” she pointed out. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“True—hey, there’s Ava.” He gestured out his window at the parking lot. Mercy took two steps to get a view. Her friend had just been stopped in the lot by the same tall reporter.

“That’s the reporter,” she told Eddie. “He claimed to be a friend of Ava’s.” Mercy laughed as the dark-haired woman waved her finger in the man’s face, clearly upset at something he’d said. “It looks like she doesn’t appreciate his nosiness. I knew he was full of crap when he said she was—oh!”