Mercy had been assigned to wash the pots and pans from lunch. She suspected she’d been given the duty to enhance the misery of her norations punishment. Nothing like being around food and unable to eat it. Two other women helped to dry the dishes and clean up the mess hall.

Mercy plunged a sticky pot into the tepid water. Her drying partner had criticized her for using too much soap and demonstrated how a single drop of liquid detergent was to be used for a huge pot. Clearly the bottle of detergent had already been watered down.

Mercy was almost glad for her punishment. The level of kitchen cleanliness did not meet her standards, and the duty gave her a chance to tackle it. But she was hungry. Lunch had been peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with lentil soup. Her mouth still watered from the smell of the soup. She’d be grateful when she could eat breakfast tomorrow morning.

Chad and Jason had left for their trip. He’d hugged her goodbye. “Stay out of trouble,” he’d whispered. Now that he was gone, she felt at sea, abandoned. All too aware that she couldn’t contact anyone.

She handed her partner the last pot to dry and let the water drain from the huge sink.

“Jessica!”

Eden appeared in the kitchen doorway, panic on her face. “It’s Noah. He’s bad off.”

Mercy hung her washrag on the edge of the sink. “What happened?”

Eden grabbed her hand and towed her out of the kitchen. “His fever’s back. He won’t open his eyes.”

Shit.

She followed the girl, who ran off at full speed, and she was besieged by memories of that sick little boy long ago whom her mother couldn’t help.

Not on my watch.

“When was his last dose?” she huffed as she pursued the teen.

“Last night.”

“You didn’t give him more?”

“Beckett wouldn’t give me any. He said Pete said no more.”

I’m going to kill both of them.

They reached the children’s cabin. Mercy took the stairs in one leap and pulled open the door. Her heart stopped. It smelled like her memories.

Pork. Cabbage.

Noah was motionless on the floor. Sadie looked up as she dabbed Noah’s forehead with a wet rag. “I don’t know what to do,” she choked out. “He’s so hot.”

Mercy knelt beside the pallet on the floor, her heart in her throat. I will not be too late. “Noah.” She gently shook his shoulder as she felt his forehead and temples. “Noah. Look at me.” His hairline was wet, but she didn’t know if it was sweat or water from Sadie’s cloth. She repeated her command, and the boy’s eyes opened into slits.

“There you are.” Relief swamped her. “Does your ear still hurt?”

He closed his eyes, but he seemed to nod the tiniest bit.

Sadie twisted the cloth in her hands. “What can we do?” Her eyes pleaded with Mercy.

Not sit here and do nothing.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to talk to Pete.” She got to her feet, strode to the cabin door, and then stopped, an idea percolating. Returning to Noah, she bent and scooped up the boy in her arms. “Wrap that blanket around him,” she ordered Sadie, who jumped to obey. They struggled with the limp boy, but finally he was tightly bundled. The heat from his head burned through the shoulder of her jacket.

“Now I’ll talk to Pete.”

With Eden trailing behind her, Mercy took a slight detour to the supply building. Medicine first. She told Eden to knock. No answer. She had her try the handle. Locked.

“Beat harder on the door,” Mercy suggested, wondering if Beckett had chosen to be away from the building, suspecting she might come. Or maybe he was inside, listening and laughing.

No answer.

Mercy resumed her trek to the command center, evil thoughts about Beckett bouncing around her brain. Eden was silent, no doubt picking up that Mercy was furious.

Her boots were loud on the stairs, and she jerked her head for Eden to open the door. No one was inside the main room. The door to Pete’s office was closed.

“Pete!” she shouted. She didn’t care if he took away her food again.

To her relief, footsteps sounded in Pete’s office. He opened his door, surprise in his eyes.

“Jessica?” He frowned at the boy she held tightly against her shoulder. “What happened?”

“Noah needs a doctor. Now.”

Pete’s face cleared. “I told—” he started in a patient voice.

“Now, Pete. Or by the time Jason returns, his boy is going to be dead.” She pinned him with a grim stare. “Do you want to be the one to inform Jason his boy died because you wouldn’t get him a doctor? Because I don’t.”

Behind her, Eden softly gasped. Mercy wished to comfort her, but Pete was her focus.

“What will the other parents think when this boy dies because you wouldn’t act? Do you think they’ll be understanding?”

Eden muffled a sob.

If that teenager’s sound of grief didn’t change the asshole’s mind, Mercy didn’t know what would.

“A doctor. We’re almost out of time,” she urged. She turned Noah’s face so Pete could see the lethargic boy.

Indecision flickered in Pete’s eyes, but he nodded. “Sean can drive him to the urgent care center.”

“Good.” If she hadn’t been so angry, her knees would have given way in relief.

“Sean’s at the construction site,” he told Eden. “Go get him.”

Eden dashed out of the room.

“I’ll go with him to town,” Mercy stated.

“No. Sean and another lieutenant can handle this.”

“But—”

Pete held up his hand, his eyes hard. “You’re getting your wish. Don’t push it.”

Mercy clamped her jaw shut, biting back another plea. Her arms locked around the boy as if her determination could keep him alive. It would be a struggle to release him to Sean. She and Pete stood silent, neither dropping the other’s gaze.

“Thank you,” she finally said. She was thanking him for crumbs again.

“I’m not without feelings.” His words were stiff. “I want what’s best for everyone.”

“I know.” She wanted to say a hell of a lot more, but she’d get at least another thirty-six hours without food. She’d plowed through several boundaries and knew Pete’s patience was wearing thin.

Dictators didn’t like agitators.

And since her first day, against all her good intentions, she’d rocked the boat.

Fifteen minutes later, a small crowd had gathered and watched as Sean and another man drove away with Noah. People whispered among themselves, and Mercy could feel their eyes on her back.

Will I be ostracized or lauded?

She didn’t care.

Mercy’s arms felt unbearably empty, missing the weight of the boy. She set a hand on Eden’s shoulder. The teen hadn’t left her side since she had returned with Sean.

“Will he be okay?” Eden whispered.

“I think he’ll be fine.” She leaned closer to the teen, feeling horrible that she’d mentioned Noah’s possible death in front of her. “I’m sorry if I upset you. It was the only way to let Pete know how serious the situation was and to get him to act.”

“I’m just scared for Noah.”

Me too.

The girl tipped her head against Mercy as they watched the taillights disappear in the murky gray afternoon. Mercy shook her head and blinked, trying to clear her eyes. Little things were floating in her vision.

It’s not my eyes.

Tiny bits of snow were falling, gently winding their way to the ground, where she focused on the delicate white sparkles on the dirt. She willed the crystals to melt. They didn’t, and icy foreboding crawled up her spine. Winter in the mountains had arrived.

Hurry back, Chad.

SEVENTEEN

Mercy helped another woman stack wood while several men chopped. The snow had let up after two inches had fallen, but she suspected more was coming. The stacked wood was covered with tarps, which annoyed Mercy. Unless someone was assigned to remove snow from the top and around the covered stacks every day, everyone would have to dig to get to the wood. It was best stored under a roof.

She’d mentioned the problem to the men chopping wood. They’d ignored her.

“Jessica.” Mercy spun around at Vera’s voice. Vera’s skin looked more yellow than usual against the snowy-white background. But her eyes and the force of her stare were as tough as ever. “You’re needed in the kitchen.”

The other woman stacking wood stopped and scowled. “I need her.”

Vera looked down her nose at the woman. “This is important. And I’ve been watching you for a full minute. You’re moving as slow as possible to make Jessica do most of the work.”

Mercy had noticed her partner slacking off but hadn’t cared. She had nervous energy to burn. Since Chad had left, she’d felt wound tighter and tighter by the hour.

“What do you need?” Mercy asked as she followed Vera through the snow, kicking the fluff out of her way.

“Cindy burned her hand,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I decided you should at least look at it.”

“How bad is it?” Mercy wondered if the other kitchen women had insisted on medical care. Vera didn’t seem happy to be fetching her.

“Covers most of her palm and fingers. Some blisters. Sort of a chalky white in spots.”

Alarm shot through Mercy. The chalky white could mean a third-degree burn.

And Vera had watched her stack wood for a full minute before saying anything?

Power trip.

“How bad is the pain?” Mercy crossed her fingers, hoping the shock and pain wouldn’t send Cindy into labor.

“Pretty bad. That’s why I came.”