Ollie.

Truman wondered what else the teen had discussed with Tabitha. Could it have been related to what got her killed?

Is there danger to Ollie? Or Mercy?

Both were approached by the reporter.

Dread settled in his lungs, and he counted to ten. He watched as Mercy bent over to look through the car window, the bulge of a weapon at her side. Her lips moved as she pointed and spoke with a deputy. She was a good investigator and capable of taking care of herself.

Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to care.

He joined her at the car. “I poked around a bit for her phone and didn’t find it.”

Mercy grimaced. “Not surprising. We’ll get her cellular records from her provider and see who she talked to recently. I’ve already put a call in to her boss at the Voice. I’d like to hear his version of what she was doing up here.” Her gaze went past Truman. “Uh-oh.”

He turned. Fifty yards away, two local news vans had stopped, blocked by Royce’s patrol unit. The young cop was already approaching the drivers. “Ben!” Truman waved over the older cop. “Go make sure they don’t con their way past Royce.” Ben immediately jogged toward the vans. Royce was the most gullible man Truman had met. He put in a good day’s work and had a huge heart, but an experienced reporter would dip him in batter, deep-fry him, and then eat him for dinner.

Truman had turned away reporters yesterday. Sure enough, they’d been following up on the Voice story. Truman had directed them to the FBI, stating the Eagle’s Nest PD was not involved in the investigation of the remains found on Christian Lake’s property.

Now they were back. Two men shouldered cameras and pointed them in the direction of the car. One of the crime scene techs spotted the cameras and pulled a collapsible screen out of her unit and set it up between the car and cameras. Good.

Ignoring the press, Mercy spoke into her phone, circling the car and studying the inside. She gestured at a tech and pointed into the back seat as she continued her phone call. The tech understood and took several photos. Curiosity got the better of Truman.

“Find anything?” he asked Mercy as she hung up her phone.

“Did you notice the notebook on the floor of the back seat?”

“No.” Truman took a look. The notebook was mostly hidden under the front seat.

She picked up the book with gloved hands and flipped through it. “It’s packed full of scribblings. Looks like notes for her articles.”

“Sounds helpful. Maybe it will show what she’s been up to for the last two days.”

I hope.

“I called in the request for her cell records. We should have them by tonight.”

Truman looked at the little car. “This is a rental, so I bet she used the GPS system to get around. That will give you some of her destinations, and then ask the rental company if the car has a tracking device. Hopefully her phone will turn up. Possibly she uses apps that track where she’s been.”

“Crossing my fingers you’re smarter than whoever dumped her here. I doubt they considered the GPS might tell us where she met him,” said Mercy, handing the notebook to the tech for evidence collection. “You mentioned you talked to her?”

“Caught her watching Kaylie and me yesterday morning . . . Well, I assume that’s what she was doing. She claimed to be getting coffee.”

Mercy wrote something in her notebook. “What time?”

“About ten a.m.”

“Did Kaylie notice?” Her voice hitched on her niece’s name.

“No. She’d already headed back to work when I spotted Tabitha parked on the street.”

“You had words?” She lifted a brow.

“A few.”

Mercy waited, her pencil poised over her notebook.

“I told her I knew what she had written the night before about you. Told her to stay away from my family and the kids. She had some snarky comeback about Ollie being eighteen. Then I might have told her not to mess with Ollie and Kaylie.”

“Did you say it as politely as that?” Mercy asked, a knowing tone in her question.

“No.”

“Are you saying you threatened her, Truman?”

“Hell no. I was . . . firm.”

Mercy nodded.

I didn’t say anything wrong to her.

But seeing the dead young woman made him feel as if he had.

SEVENTEEN

“I need more people on the Gamble-Helmet Heist,” Mercy stated for the third time as she stood before Jeff’s desk.

“I know. Believe me, I know,” Jeff answered. “But with Eddie’s injury and Art’s shooting investigation, the whole office is straining to keep up.”

“Art didn’t even count. He was a lucky bonus for the robbery case,” Mercy complained. “I can’t do this by myself, and I’m being pulled in a half dozen directions. This is a high-profile investigation, and I know the media interest is getting deeper.”

“I’m setting some things aside so I can help you,” Jeff said, eyeing his cluttered desk.

Mercy folded her arms and cocked her head to the side.

“I’m the best you’ve got right now.”

“Find me some more help.”

He looked sharply at her. “You mean ask Portland for more agents? You do know we have a budget, right?”

“You do know this is one of the biggest cases we’ve ever had, right?” she threw back at him. She understood part of his job description was to control costs, but she also knew he could get more money for a case like this one.

Mercy was encouraged by the speculation in Jeff’s eyes. “Let me know what the Portland office says.” She gave him a sugary smile and tapped a finger on his desk phone. Call now.

“Go talk to Tabitha Huff’s boss,” Jeff ordered. He picked up his receiver but didn’t push any buttons.

Good enough. “On my way.”

Mercy strode back to her office. The editor of the Midnight Voice. Victor Diehl’s phone calls. Autopsy report for Tabitha Huff. New interview with Shane Gamble. Deciding which took priority was driving her crazy. Every task needed to be done now.

She dropped into her desk chair and wiggled her mouse to activate her computer. A photo of her and Truman hiking filled her screen and transported her back to that mountain and the wonderful feeling of lack of responsibility. No murders. No phone calls. No government bosses. The two of them had stood on a peak in the Cascade mountain range, and Truman had extended a long arm to snap a selfie of them with Mount Bachelor in the background. A clump of her long hair had blown into Truman’s mouth, and happiness radiated from them. Truman had taken another without her hair in his mouth, but this was her favorite.

Her heart ached for the lightness of that moment.

The past week had been all work. Every time she and Truman spoke it was about work. At this very second, that carefree mountain moment felt light-years away. And the expectation of another day like it was drastically low.

We should be planning a wedding.

Each time she sat down to browse venues or dresses she was interrupted. At this rate they’d marry at city hall, and she’d be in her usual black garb.

Rose has a wedding to plan too.

Mercy realized she could kill two birds with one stone and pulled out her phone to dial her sister.

“Hi, Mercy.”

The sound of Rose’s voice instantly relaxed Mercy. Her sister spread peace through her presence even over the phone.

“I only have a minute, Rose,” Mercy said. “I’m swamped here—”

“I heard about Eddie,” Rose cut in. “I’m so sorry, Mercy. And I heard about the reporter who died too. Is that case yours also?”

“We think it might be related to something I’m working on.”

“That poor girl. So young.” Rose coughed.

Mercy frowned. Rose sounded horrible. “Are you sick?”

“A little. Lots of bugs going around the preschool.”

Mild alarm slid into Mercy’s thoughts. “Maybe you shouldn’t be working there . . . with the pregnancy.”

Rose laughed. “I stayed home today, but it’s a little late to avoid germs while I’m pregnant.”

“It can’t be good for the baby to have you sick. You can’t take any medication, can you?”

“My doctor says I can take some things, but I’d rather not. I can stick it out.”

Mercy’s inner mama bear stepped forward. “What are your symptoms?”

“I’m fine, Mercy, really—”

“Symptoms, Rose.”

Her sister sighed. “Okay. You heard the cough. I’ve got a sore throat and fever. Nothing big.”

Mercy knew it was big if Rose had stayed home from work. “Body aches?”

“I’m pregnant, Mercy.” Amusement rang in her voice. “Everything always aches. Especially my feet. Don’t get me started on trying to find a comfortable position to sleep.”

“Does Mom know you’re sick?”

“I can’t get her off my back.”

Good.

“Say . . . can you give me Dad’s cell number?”

Rose was silent for a long moment. “Are you reaching out? That’s good, but maybe talking to him in person—”

“No, I have a question for him,” Mercy hedged. “It’s about a case.”

Rose rattled off a number, and Mercy’s fingers grew icy as she scribbled it down.

It’s the same number as in Victor Diehl’s phone.

“I don’t know if calling him is the best idea, Mercy. He’s not one to say much on the phone.”

Mercy wasn’t surprised. A phone conversation with him would be awkward. “I’d rather talk to him in person.”

“Well, I know he has a doctor’s appointment today at one. You could probably catch him after that.”

“Same doctor?”

“Do you really think he’d see anyone else?”

Mercy smiled in spite of herself. Her father was still a creature of habit.