Chapter 33 MERCY

Chapter 33

MERCY

Mercy paced around the table in the conference room. Ever since the kidnapping hours ago, she and Bree had been working nonstop, but all the tasks were slow and tedious. The nonglamorous side of police work.

A number of Scarlet Falls PD officers and county deputies were reviewing video of the dozens of indoor mall cameras, seeking a glimpse of the woman with the long ponytail in denim shorts. So far there had been no results. Bree had pulled a list of white Audi registrations in a fifty-mile radius. Mercy had wanted to look at a wider area, but Bree's report already listed more than three hundred vehicles. Mercy had scanned the list.

I don't know what I'm looking for. John Q. Kidnapper?

The BOLO had resulted in two white Audis being pulled over. The first had four teenagers in it and the second was a young mom with a toddler in a car seat.

"Do you think he picked the woman beforehand?" asked Bree, scanning more video from the mall. "Or had rolled the dice, hoping the right woman walked into his trap?"

Mercy mulled it over. "He knocked out three cameras ahead of time. He would have had to hang around that area for quite a while before the right person appeared at an opportune moment. Doesn't sound like our man. I think he had picked her out beforehand, which most likely means she had a predictable routine."

"She's an employee at the mall," stated Bree. "She has to be. She must regularly use those doors and take that bus. And he knew it."

"The footage from the bus company hasn't helped."

"They need to go back, not just look at today's," said Bree. "Check footage for that bus at that time of day for several days. I bet she walks that route a few times a week when she gets off work. Maybe she doesn't ride the bus to work, so that's why she's not showing up in their review. Maybe she gets a ride to work."

"We need to get word to the officers canvassing the stores," said Mercy. "Employers need to account for all of their female employees with long brunette hair."

Bree picked up the phone to contact the sergeant heading the canvass. "What about her clothes? It didn't sound like she was dressed for retail work."

"Maybe she changed after work," suggested Mercy. "It's stupid hot out. She put on shorts for the bus ride home." Bree nodded and made her call.

Mercy turned to their list of suspects on the board, her gaze going to the booking photo of Jimmie Elkins. Jimmie still hadn't turned up since getting out on bail.

Jimmie wasn't blond. The mall security guard had been positive about the suspect's hair color.

Jimmie didn't drive an Audi either.

He could have bleached his hair and borrowed or stolen a vehicle.

But she couldn't see scrawny Jimmie wrestling a woman into a trunk.

She sighed and looked at the next photo. Rick Mullen. Vanessa's ex-husband. Blond.

"We need to go talk to Rick Mullen," said Mercy as Bree hung up the phone. "Find out where he was when the kidnapping happened—even though there is no Audi registered to him. I wonder if the security guard got the car make wrong."

"He pays attention to detail," said Bree. "He gave us a good description of the victim. I lean toward him having the correct car—but let's not take it as set in stone."

"Definitely," said Mercy. "We still need to ask Rick about the life insurance policy he has on Vanessa too."

"I agree," said Bree.

Mercy looked at her, hearing the doubt in Bree's tone. "You don't feel him for this."

"I'm trying not to make any assumptions," said Bree. "I suspect seeing him with those kids makes me hope he's not capable of this."

"I need to get out of this room," said Mercy. She'd been staring at her computer screen for hours since the kidnapping, looking at video and car registrations. "Let's take a drive to the Mullens' home."

The day was becoming another scorcher, the sky hazy instead of the clear blue from earlier in the week, and possible thunderstorms were in the forecast. Judging by the browning of Rick's lawn, rain was sorely needed. Twenty minutes later, Mercy knocked on Rick Mullen's door. One of the children was wailing inside. Bree frowned and stepped farther to the side of the door. A few seconds later the door was opened by the neighbor woman who'd taken the kids the first time they'd visited and who they'd seen supporting Rick at the town hall.

They looked like a couple at that meeting.

She looked frazzled. The youngest was on her hip, his face red and his cheeks soaked with tears. Recognition flashed in her eyes as she took in Mercy and Bree. "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Rick," said Bree. "Is he home?"

"No, he had to go into the office for a meeting today."

"Juuuuulia! My game is stuck!" hollered Rick's daughter from somewhere in the house.

"I'll be there in a minute," the woman yelled back.

"Are you expecting him back soon?" asked Mercy. "We have some follow-up questions."

"Have you found his ex-wife's killer yet?" She bounced the boy, who had shoved a fist in his mouth as he stared at the women with sad eyes.

"Not yet." Mercy paused. "I'm sorry, what's your name? You live across the street, right? I know you help watch the kids sometimes."

The woman's gaze narrowed. "My name's Julia. And since I know you're wondering, Rick and I are in a relationship. He and Vanessa haven't been together for years," she added defensively. "And I thought he'd be home by now. I expected him closer to lunch."

We'll go pay a visit.

They knew where Rick worked from his background check.

"Thank you for your help," said Bree, handing Julia a card. "Have him give us a call when he's back."

She and Mercy walked away. "Time for a pop-in?" asked Mercy.

"Absolutely."

Rick Mullen hadn't shown up for his meeting.

The receptionist at the small accounting firm had been very cooperative after Mercy and Bree showed their IDs. She said they'd called Rick when he didn't show up for his meeting but had reached his voice mail. The meeting had been that morning from nine to one. Lunch included.

"It's not like him," the woman had said. "I figured something was up with one of his kids."

"Do we talk to Julia again?" asked Mercy as they got in Bree's SUV to leave.

"She seemed convinced he was at the meeting," said Bree. "Do you think she was lying?"

"Lying to law enforcement?" Mercy grinned. "Never."

"You noticed Julia fits the killer's type, right?"

"I did."

"I don't really want to wait around until he returns," said Bree. "We could be here a long time and we have stuff to do."

Bree's radio crackled. "All units. Report of shots fired at the Shady Acres Motel."

Mercy met Bree's gaze. The sheriff was already starting the vehicle. "10-4, Taggert responding."

"Maybe Jimmie showed up," said Mercy.

They arrived at the motel and saw the deputies hovering outside one room. During the drive over, the dispatcher had informed Bree that there was one DOA on the property. No injuries and no suspect.

"That's Jimmie's room," said Bree as they got out of her vehicle.

Shit.

Civilians were grouped at one end of the lot, deputies taking notes as they spoke with them one on one. Mercy spotted the motel clerk with a Big Gulp in hand. Bree headed to Jimmie's room, and Mercy pulled the clerk aside.

"Thought you were told to let the police know when Jimmie showed up."

"Haven't seen Jimmie." His gaze darted to one side.

"When did he come back?" asked Mercy.

"Said I didn't see him."

Mercy said nothing.

"I heard one shot and called 911 without looking outside. I saw nothing." Sweat started beading on his temples.

"You didn't check if anyone needed help?"

"Fuck no. Someone had a gun. I'm not getting shot for this job."

"You see anyone after?"

"No. I was on the floor behind the counter until I heard the police show up."

"Cameras?"

He stared at her, an are you kidding look on his face.

I didn't think so.

She walked away and was surprised to see the medical examiner, Dr. Jones, pull in. "You must have gotten the call immediately," Mercy said.

"I was in my car headed home. The call came through and I figured I'd get it out of the way. You been in there already?"

"Not yet. I'll follow you."

A minute later Mercy didn't know what to say as she, Dr. Jones, and Bree stared at Jimmie Elkins.

Jimmie was in his motel bathroom, propped between the side of the toilet and wall, a gunshot wound above his right temple. A revolver near his hand. The wall was a colorful pattern of blood, skull fragments, and hair. Mercy carefully stepped forward and took a closer look at the revolver.

"Charter Arms," she muttered. "Cheap gun."

She glanced back at Bree, who had been quiet since they entered the bathroom, and Mercy did a double take. "You good?" The sheriff was white. Bree didn't meet her gaze and spun around and left.

Mercy glanced at the ME, who shrugged. She looked back at Jimmie.

I've seen worse. I'm sure Bree has too.

She backed out of the way and let the ME take a closer look.

"Hmmm," said Dr. Jones under her breath. "Did you shoot yourself?"

Mercy eyed the gun and obvious entry wound with heavy stippling. Assuming Jimmie was right-handed, suicide was a definite option. "Shell's behind the toilet," she said, spotting the brass among the grime.

Mercy snapped a pic of the shell, and then turned it slightly with her pen so she could read the end. "Thirty-eight plus P."

"That so?" said Dr. Jones. "Lotta power there." She turned Jimmie's head. "Exit wound is low. If that's the through and through I suspect it is, there's no way Jimmie could shoot himself at that angle." She easily slid a pinkie into both wounds, the gruesome sight making Mercy look away. "Yeah, unless he had rubber arms, he couldn't achieve this angle. Someone had to be standing above him and shooting down. Don't quote me yet," she said with a glance at Mercy. "I'll confirm on my table. Unless you've got a long, thin poker handy for me to run through the wound."

"I don't need to see that right now," said Mercy.

It was enough to know that Jimmie had most likely been murdered.

Who'd you piss off, Jimmie?

Mercy studied the bathroom, remembering all the drugs that had been floating in the toilet a few days before. She wondered if there were more drugs to be found in the room.

Is someone upset that Jimmie didn't have money for the stash we confiscated?

Her thoughts went to Vanessa.

Or is this related to her?

She wondered what had happened to Bree. Mercy left the medical examiner to her musings and stepped out of the bathroom. Bree wasn't in the motel room.

Mercy moved to the doorway and spotted Bree standing alone behind her SUV with a water bottle.

Something's up.