Chapter 27 MERCY

Chapter 27

MERCY

Neal Talbot's apartment building looked new and well cared for. The landscaping was perfectly manicured, and someone had put thought into paint colors for the apartments, using a palette of grays, greens, and blues. As Mercy and Bree got out of the car, they heard children splashing and shouting in a pool.

"Nice place," said Mercy.

"It's not very old," said Bree. "One of the more expensive complexes around here."

It wasn't where Mercy expected a man to live who had been convicted of domestic assault and appeared on the sex registry.

Don't assume.

They went up an open stairwell to the second floor and found the right apartment. Mercy tapped her vest, reassuring herself that it was in place. Even Bree was scanning their surroundings more than usual, her jaw set. "We decided to come here," Mercy said softly as they stepped to the side of the door. "No one directed us here."

Bree gave a sharp nod and knocked on the door.

A few seconds later it was opened by a young woman in shorts and a tank top who appeared to be in her twenties. Her dark hair was cut short in a pixie cut that perfectly framed her face. Her smile faltered as she took in Bree's uniform and Mercy's vest emblazoned with SHERIFF. She wrinkled her forehead. "Can I help you, officers?"

"We need to speak with Neal Talbot," said Bree.

Something flashed in the woman's eyes, and her chin rose the smallest bit. "May I ask what this is about?"

"It's about his daughter, Tisha," said Mercy.

The woman's perfect brows shot up. "Is she OK?" She looked from Mercy to Bree, concern in her gaze.

"Is Neal here?" asked Bree.

"Yes. Come in." She stepped back and waved them toward a nice sectional in the living room. She moved to the base of a stairway that led to the upper level of the apartment. "Neal? Can you come down? The police are here and want to ask you about Tisha."

"Coming," came the faint reply.

"What's your name?" Mercy asked, studying the woman. "Do you live here?"

"Colleen Bell. And yes, I do." The slightly defensive expression returned.

Protective. Is she a girlfriend? Relative?

Mercy couldn't remember if Neal Talbot had other family.

Feet thudded on the stairs, and Neal came into view. Mercy did a double take, and noticed Bree had sat up straighter at his appearance.

Neal Talbot barely resembled his booking photos. The porn stache was gone, replaced by a neatly trimmed goatee, and his face was lean. He'd lost the roundness from the pictures. He looked like a healthy and relaxed fifty-year-old. He no longer had anger in his eyes, only concern.

"What's happened to Tisha?" he asked as he entered the room. Colleen moved to stand next to him, as if she knew he would soon need support.

"Can you sit down, Mr. Talbot?" asked Bree. "We need to talk."

The couple sat. Mercy noted Colleen took Neal's hand and her leg pressed against his.

Definitely girlfriend.

She wondered about the age difference. It had to be at least twenty years.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Talbot. And there is no way to break this easily, but Tisha was murdered about a month ago. Her remains were found just this week."

Neal's face fell and he exhaled, his shoulders drooping. Colleen rubbed his upper arm. "I'm so sorry, sweetie." She turned to the women. "Are you sure it's her?"

"She was identified through dental records," said Mercy. "There is no doubt."

"What happened?" asked Colleen.

"We'll get to that in a moment," said Bree.

Neal buried his face in his hands. "I told her," he blurted, his face hidden. "I warned her so many times that she needed to put it all behind her."

Mercy exchanged a glance with Bree.

"Put what behind her, sir?" Bree asked. "If you could give us some background on Tisha, we'd appreciate it. We are looking for the person who did this."

He blew out a breath and raised his head, meeting their gazes. "The drugs. The alcohol. Her life rotated around them. I told her it'd come to no good." His face crumpled. "And now it happened."

"When did you see her last?" asked Mercy.

He wiped his nose and looked at Colleen. "Two, three months ago?"

Colleen nodded. "Nearly three months. It was the day before my birthday when she came here." Distaste flickered in her gaze.

He turned back to the women. "She wanted money. That was the only reason she ever came around. She looked like hell and I could tell she was high. She threw a fit when I said no, yelling and screaming at both of us."

"You didn't think it odd that you hadn't seen her since then?" asked Bree. "What about a phone call or text?"

"Not odd at all," said Neal, pulling a phone out of his pocket. "She'd come begging, I'd send her away, and she'd vanish for weeks at a time." He scrolled on his phone. "No calls. That's normal. And the last text was two days before she came here. Asking for money, of course."

"May I see that?" asked Mercy, holding out a hand. He gave her the phone, and Bree leaned to look. The last text was from Tisha, calling him an asshole and rapist. The conversation before that was her asking for money and Neal refusing. She noted the date and gave the phone back.

"Rapist?" asked Bree.

Neal sighed, resignation in his eyes. "I assume you know my past."

"Maybe we should talk to you alone," said Mercy, eyeing Colleen. Neal might not want her to hear certain things and would hold back information.

He shook his head. "Colleen knows everything. Everything," he emphasized. "She knows about my record and prison time and the fact that I'm on the sex offender registry. I have no secrets from her."

Point for Neal.

"I assume you know too," he said. "But I'm a different man now. I've been in recovery for two years. Once I gave up alcohol, my life changed—all for the better. It's been a bitch, but I've done it. Day by day."

Colleen squeezed his hand. Mercy didn't know what to think of the look of pride on Colleen's face. Given Neal's past and what he'd done to other women, it was hard to believe she had chosen to stand by him.

Has she been manipulated? Brainwashed?

Even serial killers in prison attracted attention from women. Seemingly normal middle-class women who wrote them love letters and sent money. It was a state of mind that Mercy couldn't comprehend.

"What happened to Tisha?" he asked, his voice breaking on her name.

"Did you see the news about two murdered women found alongside a rural road this week?" Bree asked gently.

He shook his head. "I don't watch the news. Or read much of it either. I may have my head in the sand, but it helps keep me steady. What I see on the news ... can anger me," he admitted. "And when I'm angry, I want a drink."

Colleen nodded. "I pay attention. I tell him if there's anything newsworthy that he should know. I heard something about two women and suitcases?"

"That's correct," said Mercy. "Sadly, Tisha and a woman named Vanessa Mullen were murdered, packed in suitcases, and left along Echo Road."

Neal blanched. "Jesus Christ." He swallowed hard and rubbed a hand across his mouth. "Who would do that?" he whispered.

"Do either of you know Vanessa Mullen?" asked Bree, showing them a photo on her phone. Both shook their heads.

"Did you physically harm Tisha at one point?" asked Mercy, closely watching his face.

Guilt flashed. "I did," he said quietly. "It was before I quit and I was drunk at the time—which is no excuse for what I did. I take full responsibility for my actions that day, and I've asked Tisha's forgiveness for it. She was high, and we got into an argument. She'd accused me of some things I didn't do. She swung at me and I grabbed her arm, wrenching it behind her back." He shuddered. "I can still hear her scream. I bruised her arm pretty badly and pulled something in her shoulder. She threatened to call the police, but I managed to talk her out of it." He met Mercy's gaze. "How did you know about it?"

"She told one of her friends. But also told her friend a police report had been filed."

"Tisha probably thought the friend would be angry if she didn't file a report. So she lied about it," said Colleen, giving Neal a questioning glance.

"Probably." He looked grim.

"You'd heard before how he'd hurt her arm?" Bree asked Colleen.

"Yes. He's not that man anymore."

"How long have you been together?" Mercy asked.

Colleen tipped her head, thinking. "Nine months. I moved in two months ago. We both work at Home Depot."

"Just to confirm," said Bree. "Neither of you have heard from Tisha in three months."

Both nodded.

"Do you know of anyone who would do this to her?" asked Bree.

Mercy watched their eyes. "Do you know where she was living?" she asked Neal. "Or who she was hanging out with?"

"No. I haven't been a part of her life in a long time." He met Mercy's gaze. "I assumed she hung around with people like herself, but I don't know who they are or where she's been. As far as I know, I'm the only person who physically hurt her. Until now." His gaze was steady, but Mercy heard pain and regret in his voice. "Has her mother been told?" he asked.

"Probably not yet," said Bree. "I've asked her local PD to notify her in person. I plan to talk to her later." She stood and Mercy joined her. "We'll be going. Here are our cards if you think of anything we should know." They accepted the cards and a minute later the women were headed down the outdoor stairwell.

After they got in Bree's SUV, she asked, "Believe him?"

Mercy took a deep breath. "I don't know. I hate to admit I prejudged him before we met. I like to think I approach people unbiased."

"Hard to not be biased after reading his record," said Bree. "Do you believe he's turned over a new leaf or not? And what is with Colleen? The man is made of red flags. Most women would be headed for the hills."

"I don't know," said Mercy. "I don't understand her thinking, and I don't know if I believe everything he said." Her brain was spinning with doubt.

Bree's phone rang, and she sighed loudly. Mercy glanced at the screen. "Cruella again?" She wasn't a fan after the county administrator had announced the reward without first discussing it with law enforcement.

Bree touched the screen, answering the phone on speaker. "Sheriff Taggert."

"There you are," said Madeline Jager.

"What do you need, Ms. Jager?"

"I wanted you to know I've organized a town hall. A gathering where our residents can express their safety concerns in an orderly fashion. I expect you to be there. And that FBI agent too."

Mercy doubted any town hall about a serial killer would be orderly. According to Bree's expression, she'd had the same thought.

"Are you sure that's—"

"It's in one hour," announced Madeline, cutting her off. "I'll see you there." She ended the call.

Bree blew out a breath. "Why the fuck does she do shit like that?"

"Sounds like an interesting evening," said Mercy.

"You have no idea."