Rage flashed on his face.

I pushed too hard.

She braced for his shot.

But the rage vanished, and his features sagged, turning him into an old man.

His transformation staggered her. The confident FBI agent was no more.

“I’m sorry, Mercy.” He lowered the weapon, and Sandy noisily exhaled behind her.

He looks ready to fall apart. His weapon rose a few degrees and turned toward his head.

“Art! Don’t!” she ordered. He met her gaze, and she silently pleaded with him. His hand halted, but his face filled with regret.

Mercy didn’t relax and kept her eyes locked on him. “It’s going to be okay, Art. You don’t need to do that. Everything will be fine,” she said automatically.

He knows it will never be fine again.

“Toss your gun back here,” Truman commanded. “And then remove the rifle.”

Art stretched out his arms and let the pistol dangle from one finger. He raised his chin, his eye contact staying with Mercy, looking ready for a crucifixion.

“Thank you, Art,” she said, exhaling some of her tension.

He has a long road ahead of him.

He slowly rotated ninety degrees to his left, stopping to look out over the endless view.

“Your gun,” Truman reminded him.

Art didn’t move.

Mercy backed out of Truman’s line of fire, dragging Trevor with her.

If Art fires at Truman, I won’t hold back.

Art tossed the gun aside toward Truman, his arms still outstretched. He removed the rifle and flung it in the same direction.

Thank God.

Art looked back at Mercy, remorse in his gaze.

She said nothing. It was over. Art would never be a free man again.

He sacrificed—

Art darted two steps and leaped off the cliff.

Mercy couldn’t breathe. Screams sounded in her head.

He didn’t.

Art . . .

Truman lunged toward the ridge, his desperate act too late. He stumbled, landed on his chest, and slid partway over the edge. His head and arms dangled off the cliff, as he looked straight down hundreds of feet. Sandy shrieked and grabbed Mercy’s shoulder, nearly knocking her over.

“Truman!” Mercy started to release Trevor to grab Truman, but loud thumps made her spin to her left. Samuel sprinted toward Truman. He grabbed the man’s boots and hauled him back.

Truman rolled onto his back, staring at the sky, his chest heaving. “Holy fuck.”

“No shit,” answered Samuel. The officer took a tentative step to look over the edge and stepped back immediately.

“I didn’t see him,” said Samuel in a stunned voice. “No way he survived that.”

“No,” Truman agreed, still lying on his back. He turned his head and met Mercy’s gaze.

Did that just happen?

Art is dead.

She couldn’t speak. Her knees shook.

Art is dead. The phrase echoed in her mind.

Samuel took Trevor from her chokehold, and her arm’s muscles protested as she straightened it. Samuel rapidly searched and cuffed Trevor.

“Oh my God,” Sandy said, covering her face with her hands. “I’m going to see that for the rest of my life.”

“Me too,” Mercy said hoarsely. “Are you okay?”

“My scalp is burning, but I’m fine.” Sandy dropped to the dirt and sat cross-legged, her shoulders slumping. “I just need to sit down.”

Mercy did too. Truman sat up as she walked over. She took one of his hands and lowered herself heavily beside him. “I don’t think anyone’s legs feel very strong at the moment.” She breathed hard as she looked off in the distance. The stunning vista felt tainted.

Could I have stopped him?

Truman awkwardly pulled her into his lap. “I need a moment,” he said, burying his face in her neck.

She held her lips to his temple. “You’re not the only one.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Don’t talk about it right now,” she ordered. The sight of Art leaping off the ridge would haunt her forever. It flashed on constant replay in her head.

They were silent for several seconds, each simply breathing and taking strength from the other.

“I love you,” he stated.

She pressed her face harder into his rough stubble. “I love you more.”

Samuel cleared his throat. “It’s getting late. Can we take this asshole back to the station?”

Trevor glared at him.

Mercy didn’t unwrap her arms from Truman’s shoulders. “That’s Trevor Whipple,” she said. “He admitted torturing Bree to get her to tell him the location of the money left over from the robbery.”

Truman started under her tight grip. “He’s one of the original thieves?” He looked at the man. “Where the hell have you been for thirty years?”

Trevor was silent.

“We were right about Bree. She was the driver for the robbery.” Mercy turned to Sandy, who still sat on the ground, the shovel across her lap. “Sandy . . . is the money really in a safety-deposit box?”

She slowly shook her head. “I lied,” she whispered.

I knew it.

“I thought if they believed the money was in a bank, they would drag us back to town and not shoot us right here.” Sandy’s face crinkled, and tears threatened. “I’m sorry . . . I don’t know anything about the money. Bree never told me. I was stupid to think she might have hid it up here.”

“I guess we’ll have to ask Bree when she wakes,” stated Truman.

If she wakes.

Truman jerked in her arms. “Rose is in labor,” he blurted. “I forgot to tell you.”

Joy radiated through Mercy. A month early . . . that’s not too bad. “We were a little busy, so I’ll let it go this time.” She kissed Truman’s rough cheek but then frowned at the concern on his face. “What is it?”

“The baby is breech, and Rose is dehydrated from the flu. Everyone was rushing to the hospital when we left.”

Worry for her sister made her crawl out of Truman’s lap, her anxiety spiking. “We need to go.” Babies are breech all the time.

But this is my sister.

“Your dad nearly went to the hospital instead of coming with us.”

“My dad? He’s here?” Surprise made Mercy search the area.

“He’s not here, but he brought us his horses and provided directions to get here.” He met Mercy’s eyes. “He had to choose between going to Rose or helping you. He chose you.”

He chose me.

Her head swam, and she felt as if she were peering over the cliff again.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The sky was just starting to darken as the group headed home. Knowing Rose was in labor made Mercy want to gallop her horse back.

But she stayed with the group.

They agreed to ride back to Bree’s farm. Her barn had room for the two extra horses until Karl could come get them. Truman drove the ATV with Trevor cuffed behind him, and Samuel led Truman’s horse. Trevor mouthed off several times. Truman finally threatened to tie him over a horse on his stomach, and he stayed quiet after that.

Mercy checked for cell phone reception two dozen times.

They were nearly to Bree’s when she finally reached Pearl on the phone. She pelted her sister with a dozen questions.

“Slow down,” Pearl ordered. “I can’t answer everything at once. Kaylie’s resting comfortably. The doctors are breathing a little easier because it’s been twenty-four hours without a sign of infection.”

Relief swamped Mercy.

“She’s complaining that she can’t see Rose even though they’re in the same hospital,” said Pearl.

Mercy couldn’t help but smile. That’s my girl. A good sign that Kaylie was on the mend.

“And Rose?” Mercy held her breath.

“She had a C-section. They couldn’t turn the baby. The doctor preferred the surgery instead of attempting a vaginal birth, and Rose didn’t have strength left for any kind of birth. The flu was really hard on her.”

“Is the baby at risk from the flu?” Mercy whispered.

“They talked about separating Rose from the baby—”

“Oh no,” Mercy gasped.

“But Rose’s fever has been under control, and her lungs are clear. They don’t believe she’s contagious any longer, just wiped out and dehydrated, so they’ll let the baby be with her if she wears a mask and washes her hands nonstop.”

“When can we see her?”

“She’s in recovery right now. Nick said she’ll be in her room in about an hour.”

“What did she have?” Mercy blurted.

Pearl laughed. “I wondered when you would ask. She had a boy, but I’ll let Rose tell you the name when you see her.”

“Ohhh. Darn you! That’s going to drive me nuts.”

“Dad said Truman was worried you were in some sort of danger,” Pearl stated with a question in her tone.

“It’s all good,” Mercy said, too tired to tell the story. “We’ll be at the hospital in a few hours. Tell Rose we’re coming.”

“She asked about you several times while she was in labor.”

Guilt punched her in the chest. “I promised her I’d be there,” Mercy said. “I told her she could count on me if no one else was available, and I let her down.”

Pearl snorted. “Well, everyone was available except for you. I’d say you’re off the hook.”

“I wanted to be there,” she said softly.

“We’ve been sitting in a waiting room for hours. No one was allowed in the surgery but Nick. You haven’t missed anything.”

The words didn’t comfort her.

It was midnight when Mercy and Truman finally reached the hospital.

Truman sent a text to Nick, who replied that they were currently awake, and then met them at the nurses’ station to okay their visit. The tall man looked exhausted but ecstatic. Even though Nick had spent hours at the hospital and probably been sanitized from head to toe, Mercy smelled his usual scent of fresh-cut lumber. She and Truman followed him through security doors and down a hallway. Outside Rose’s door, he pointed at the hand sanitizer on the wall, and both cleaned their hands. The lights were low as they entered Rose’s room, and she turned her face toward Mercy.