A Merciful Secret Page 11

  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.

  Salome Sabin stepped out of the green car. She was dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and a black jacket with a wide fur collar. Her long hair rested on her shoulders, nearly as dark as the fur. The sultry gaze from his memories blazed in front of him. She was older than he remembered and still as beautiful. A mesmerizing power radiated from her confidence and the angle of her chin. “I’m fine, Officer. I don’t need anything.” She tilted her head, her gaze traveling up his body, a small smile curving her lips.

  “Are you Salome Sabin?” he asked, knowing the answer.

  Caution shut down her confidence, and she drew back, dark eyes suspicious. “Why?”

  “Have you been home today?”

  “Why? Why would you ask me that?”

  Truman searched for a gentle way to break the news to her. There wasn’t one. “There was an incident at your home yesterday. Your mother was murdered.”

  Her hand went to her neck. “Morrigan?” she croaked, stepping back and bumping into her car.

  “Your daughter wasn’t hurt. She’s absolutely fine.” Truman cursed himself for not stating that immediately.

  “What happened?” she whispered. Panic had replaced her assurance, and her breaths deepened. She swallowed multiple times, trying to keep her control.

  “We’re not sure.” I shouldn’t be the one informing her. He moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, his heart splitting at the devastation on her face. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Useless words.

  “Where is she? Where’s Morrigan?” Tears started down her cheeks. “Where’s my mother?” She grabbed the front of his jacket, terror stiffening her posture.

  “Morrigan is staying with a foster family—”

  “No! I want her with me.” Anger blazed in her eyes. “Not strangers!”

  “It’s a good place,” Truman started. “One of the FBI agents went and—”

  “FBI? Why the FBI?”

  He paused, rattled and scrambling for the right words. “Your mother’s death resembles the murder of a Portland judge—”

  “Who?”

  “Judge Malcolm Lake, he’s—”

  Salome whirled away and bent over. Her hands clutched her abdomen and she dry heaved, her long hair hiding her face. The retching sounds froze Truman in place. I fucked this up. He should have delivered the news in a softer way. And not blurted out the name of another victim.

  Stupid.

  He carefully placed a hand on her back, uncomfortable with touching the distraught woman, and his brain blank of words of comfort. “Let me try to get you in to see Morrigan tonight.” It was the first option he could think of to calm her.

  Turning back to him, Salome brushed her hair out of her face and wiped her dry mouth. Her eyes were wet and angry. Very angry. “She’s my daughter. You damned well will let me see her! I want her out of there tonight! She should be home with me!” Her face paled. “My home . . .”

  “You should find a hotel tonight.” Truman glanced at her car. “The investigators have been trying to reach you. Where have you been?”

  Salome briefly closed her eyes, regret speeding across her features. “I lost my Goddamned phone. Fuck! I thought I’d be okay without it for a few days.” She turned a fierce gaze on him, her shoulders squared.

  “Get me to my daughter. Now.”

  A series of lengthy calls to Mercy, Ava, and the foster mom landed Truman the address of Morrigan’s foster home.

  “She has the right to see her daughter,” he’d argued to Ava when she stated she wanted to interview Salome first. The protective heat in Salome’s eyes had reminded him of Mercy’s attitude about her niece. You don’t get between a mother and her child.

  “Fine,” Ava finally said. “But we’re going to meet you there. I want to talk to Salome tonight.”

  Truman wondered how the FBI would interview Salome with her daughter present, but it wasn’t his problem. Right now his goal was to reunite the mother with Morrigan. Salome was beside herself, agitated that her daughter was not in her sight. She couldn’t hold still, pacing in the parking lot, monitoring his conversations, and alternating between tears and anger.

  Between his phone calls, she had peppered him with questions about Olivia’s death, unhappy with his lack of knowledge. He’d offered to drive her to the foster home, believing she shouldn’t be behind the wheel at that emotional moment, but Salome had surprised him. She abruptly locked down her emotions and turned her energy to reun
iting with her daughter. “What’s done is done,” she’d stated. “I’ll get details about my mother later. Right now the only thing I can change is my daughter’s location. And you can be damned sure that is happening tonight.”

  The drive to the home took fifteen minutes. He parked in front of the foster home and checked his rearview mirror. Salome’s car was right behind him.

  She darted out of her vehicle and raced up the driveway before Truman could open his door. Shit!

  She rang the doorbell and beat on the door several times. He caught up and grasped her upper arm, stopping the pounding. “Hang on. You’re going to terrify the mother. Not to mention the kids.”

  “Don’t put your hands on me!” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and he backed up, both hands in the air.

  “Sorry! I’m just trying to slow you down.”

  Outrage flamed on her face. “Don’t touch me again!”

  “Yell at me all you want, but have some respect for the family watching your daughter,” he snapped. “These are good people. They don’t deserve your anger.”

  She froze, staring at him, and her expression cleared as she looked away. “I don’t like people touching me,” she said in a calmer voice.

  “Understood.”

  The door opened two inches, stopped by a chain, and a woman’s cautious eyes studied them. Truman pulled out his badge. “Hannah? I spoke to you on the phone. I’m Chief Daly. Sorry about the pounding.”

  She closed the door and released the chain. Opening it wider, she sized up Salome with one hard look. “You’re lucky my toddler wasn’t sleeping.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Salome said, trying to look over the woman’s shoulder. “I need to see Morrigan.”

  “Mama?”

  Hannah was pushed aside as Morrigan darted out the door and flung herself at her mother, wrapping her arms around her waist. Salome exhaled as she held her daughter, closing her eyes and burying her face in her daughter’s hair, murmuring words of comfort over and over. Hannah watched the pair with a small smile on her lips, but her eyes were sad.

  Truman understood. He was relieved to reunite the pair, but there were a lot of questions to be answered and the murder of Olivia to face. The next few days wouldn’t be easy for the two of them. Maybe even months.

  Three car doors slammed behind them. Salome was caught up in her daughter and didn’t turn around.

  But Truman did. His heart sped up at the sight of Mercy but faltered as he spotted the determined look on Agent McLane’s face. Nothing would get in the way of her questioning the mother.

  Salome didn’t answer when I asked where she’d been.

  Will she tell the FBI?

  Two minutes later he had his answer. Salome refused an interview, stating she needed to be alone with her daughter and demanding to contact her lawyer first. The three FBI agents weren’t happy.

  “We’re trying to find out who murdered your mother.” Eddie tried to reason with her.

  “I know. But nothing I tell you tonight is going to make any difference. She’s dead.” Salome glanced down with a guilty look, seeing Morrigan, who was listening and watching. “Right now I want to find a hotel room. Tomorrow I’ll tell you everything you want.”

  “Mama, that lady was with Grandma.” Morrigan pointed at Mercy.

  Salome gave Mercy a sharp look. “What do you mean?” she asked her daughter.

  “I was there the night your mother died,” Mercy said softly.

  Truman shifted his feet. This wasn’t a conversation to have on a front porch. With a child present.

  “What do you mean you were there?” Salome’s focus zoomed in on Mercy. “What were you doing in my home?”

  “She helped me. And she helped Grandma.” Morrigan’s voice quivered as she shot anxious looks between her mother and Mercy.

  “Let’s do this somewhere else,” stated Ava.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Truman knew nothing would change Salome’s mind. Her chin was up, her voice full of steel.

  Silence hung over the porch.

  Hannah broke the tension. “I’ll get Morrigan’s things.” She closed the door behind her, leaving the tense group outside in the cold.

  Truman didn’t blame her.

  “All right,” Ava agreed. “Let’s get you into a hotel and then meet first thing in the morning.”

  Salome nodded. “Agreed.”

  Suspicion prickled at the base of Truman’s skull. I don’t believe she’ll be helpful. He glanced at Mercy, who was studying the woman, her lips pressed together.

  She didn’t either.

  FOURTEEN

  Eddie marched into Mercy’s office the next morning. “They’re gone.”

  She didn’t need to ask who he meant. “Completely gone?”

  “Her car’s gone and the hotel room is empty. Ava is furious.”

  “I suspected Salome wouldn’t answer any questions, but I didn’t know she’d split,” admitted Mercy. “I thought she’d lawyer up.”

  “We put out another BOLO on her car. We’ll find her.”

  “I don’t understand why she’d leave when we need her help to find out who killed her mother,” began Mercy. “Does she suspect someone? Why not tell us? What are we missing?”

  “We’re missing everything because we haven’t found any damned answers!” Eddie paced in front of her desk. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or angry that she took Morrigan.”

  “She won’t harm her daughter.”

  “She’s making things worse for herself. No judge is going to appreciate her taking the child,” Eddie muttered.

  “It’s her kid,” Mercy pointed out. “And Salome wasn’t under arrest.”

  “Still pisses me off. Two people are dead and Salome was the best lead we’ve had.”

  “I saw a desperate mother last night,” Mercy told him. “Whatever is going on, she believes she’s doing the right thing for Morrigan.”

  “The right thing is to help us solve her mother’s murder. This doesn’t put her in a good light.”

  Mercy agreed. By running, Salome made herself look guilty. “I can’t believe she’d kill her mother.”

  “Make no assumptions.”

  He was right.

  Eddie’s phone rang. “How come Truman calls me more than you these days?” he asked before taking the call.

  Mercy watched with interest as he answered.

  “Mercy’s here too,” Eddie said into the phone. “Can I put you on speaker?” He touched the screen of his phone and moved closer to her desk, holding out the phone so she could hear.

  “Hey, darling.” Truman’s voice was warm, sending good shivers up her spine. He’d stayed the night with her and left before the sun came up. She’d woken in an empty bed, the scent of him on the pillow next to her.

  “I thought this was a business call,” drawled Eddie, giving Mercy a meaningful look.

  “It is.” Truman switched to his all-business voice. “David Aguirre reported a break-in at the church last night.”

  “Was anything stolen?” asked Mercy.

  “He doesn’t think so. He’s still looking. Frankly, I don’t think there’s much worth stealing in there.”

  “Then how did he know there was a break-in?”

  “Broken window. Open door.”

  “Why are you telling us this, Truman?” Eddie asked.

  “Because a neighbor reported that they saw a dark-green vehicle at the church around two a.m. And they swear it was driven by a woman with long, dark hair. The description reminded me of Salome Sabin.”

  Eddie and Mercy stared at each other. Why would Salome break into a church?

  “Did you know Salome took off overnight?” Eddie asked.

  Truman’s curse was loud. “Did she take Morrigan?”

  “Yes,” Mercy said. “But why would she stop at the church? That sounds like a big risk to take. Did you tell David that the driver might be Salome?”

  “No, I kept that to myself. I called Ed
die so he could include it in her interview this morning, but I guess that won’t be happening.”

  “This makes no sense,” complained Eddie. “Why the church?”

  “Oh . . .” Truman started to speak and then stopped.

  “What is it?” Mercy asked.

  “I talked with David Aguirre yesterday. I was looking for some information on . . . witchcraft.” Embarrassment filled his tone. “David told me Olivia Sabin came to see him several years ago.”

  Amused by Truman’s interest in an unusual element of the case, Mercy leaned across her desk, wanting to be closer to the phone. “And?”

  “Olivia was worried about Salome. She didn’t like the way her daughter was behaving.”

  Ava strode into Mercy’s office. “What’s this about Salome?” She’d adopted the Bend office’s casual dress code, wearing jeans, a thick sweater, and boots.

  Although Eddie had described Ava as furious, she projected a perfect image of calm control. Eddie brought Ava up to speed on Truman’s phone call.

  Her eyes turned thoughtful as she weighed the new information. “I think it’s time I see the Sabins’ home. I had Deschutes County go check on the house once I found out Salome had split, but no one was there. They’ve watched the home part of the time, but they couldn’t keep someone there nonstop. She might have stopped in before she left.” She studied Mercy. “I want you to come with us. Walk Eddie and me through what happened out there the night of the murder.”

  “No problem,” Mercy replied as she swallowed hard, visions of Olivia’s death rushing her thoughts.

  Am I ready to return to the place where I watched a woman die?

  Mercy drove her Tahoe with Ava in the seat next to her and Eddie in the back. The sun had risen in the southeast against a brilliant blue sky, and Ava couldn’t pull her gaze from the landscape, raving several times about the snow-covered trees and pristine white fields. Unease sat low in Mercy’s stomach, twisting and turning. As they drew closer to the turnoff to the Sabins’ home, she felt as if she’d been called to the principal’s office.

  She abruptly realized her anxiety wasn’t from returning to the crime scene. It was from the fact that they were close to her own cabin. Eddie and Ava both knew she owned a cabin, but they didn’t know what she did there. They didn’t know she could live there indefinitely if the nation’s power, water, and food supplies vanished. They didn’t know she spent all her free time stocking supplies and expanding her resources.