A Merciful Secret (Mercy Kilpatrick #3)(34)

“You bought the sporting goods stores,” Eddie stated.

Christian’s smile was strained. “I found the struggling store here in Bend and saw it as the stepping stone to my dream. My father said I would go bankrupt.”

“And you remained estranged because your father didn’t agree with your goals?” Mercy sympathized, her father’s face prominent in her mind.

“He’s rather stubborn,” stated Christian. “I guess I am too.”

Touché.

“It got to the point where we were both simply acting out of pride.” A sheepish look crossed his face. “My determination to make the stores successful and prove him wrong was one of my biggest motivations. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t been driven by his lack of confidence.”

Mercy nodded, wondering if she would have gone into law enforcement if her father hadn’t been so antigovernment.

I didn’t select my career to shove it in his face.

She was proud of who she’d become. Part of her was also pleased to show him that she hadn’t grown horns while working for the FBI.

“Where were you the night your father was murdered?” Ava asked.

Christian took a deep breath. “I fully expected you to ask that question, but I’ve got to say . . . even being prepared, it still hits me in the chest like a bullet.” He looked straight at Ava. “I was here. I haven’t left Bend in two weeks. Next you’ll want an alibi?”

Ava nodded.

Christian winced. “All I have for an alibi is Brent Rollins. He lives on the grounds and manages the estate. I didn’t see him that night, but he’s usually aware of my comings and goings. Ask him.”

“He lives in this house?” Eddie asked.

“No, he lives in one of the cabins about a hundred yards east of here. They’re blocked by the trees, so he may have not seen that I was home that night.”

Ava made a notation on her pad. “I know you said you’re estranged, but do you have any idea who’d kill your father?”

The son shook his head. “I don’t. When I heard about it, I assumed it was a random break-in or else related to one of his cases. I haven’t talked to him about his cases in a long time, but I know he’s put away some very angry people. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall any specifics.”

“We’re looking into his cases,” Eddie said.

“Do you know Olivia Sabin?” Ava asked.

“No, I don’t think I know the name,” Christian answered, his gaze holding Ava’s.

He hesitated. Mercy swore a small flash of surprise had lit his eyes. He knows who she is.

“Why?” he asked. “Is she a suspect?”

“No,” Ava stated. “She was murdered the night after your father. In a very similar manner.”

There’s that flash again.

“That’s horrible.” Christian looked nauseated. “Was she a neighbor or a friend of his?”

“Neither.” Ava didn’t expand.

Silence filled the room. Christian looked expectantly from Ava to Eddie and finally to Mercy. She bit her tongue, knowing Ava had a reason for her questions and explanations.

“But you think it’s related to my father’s death,” Christian finally stated.

“We’re considering that possibility.” Ava’s answer was vague.

“Is there evidence from her death that could help find my father’s killer?” he asked.

“We’re still collecting and examining the evidence.” Another noncommittal reply.

Frustration briefly filled his features. “I hope you can find who did this.” The look in his eyes told Mercy he knew the FBI was deliberately not giving him clear answers. “It doesn’t matter that we parted on bad terms. That was a horrible way to die. I don’t wish that on anyone.”





THIRTEEN

Truman strode from his office to the pizza parlor, his stomach growling. He’d offered to pick up a pizza and meet for dinner at Mercy’s apartment. It was just past five o’clock and he glared into the dark sky. He was ready for the sun to stick around longer each day. The early darkness made him crave his bed by 7:00 p.m., and then he still had to drive to work in the dark the next morning. But the idea of hot and melty pizza with Mercy and Kaylie cheered him up.

Eagle’s Nest was quiet. A few cars cruised through the city, no doubt heading home, their drivers thinking about dinner just as he was. The only open shops were the pizza parlor and the diner. Just ahead of him a car turned into the pizza place’s parking lot. He automatically looked at the rear of the vehicle, reading the plate and the make of the car.

Subaru. It was dark green.

Bolton had told him Salome Sabin drove a green Subaru Forester.

The car pulled into a space under a light in the lot and parked. The driver opened her door but stayed seated for a moment, focused on something in her lap.

His heart pounding, he crossed the lot, unable to look away from the car, worried that it would drive off before he got there. He walked around the rear of the vehicle and stopped several feet from the driver’s open door, not wanting to spook the woman. “Excuse me?” he asked. “Do you need help with something?”

The startled woman glanced at him and grabbed her door to yank it shut, but then she spotted the cloth police badge on the front of his winter coat and froze. Her gaze went to his cowboy hat, back to the badge, and then to his face. Her expression cleared as she decided he wasn’t a threat.