Chapter 53 MERCY

Chapter 53

MERCY

Day 9

Don Dutton was dead.

Mercy was glad. She, Bree, and Paige had almost died. Instead, justice had been served.

Paige had shaken and cried for the longest time as the women comforted her on the shore. They'd tried to keep her from seeing Don's body, but she'd insisted. In fact, she'd limped over to look at him a few times as they waited, saying she needed to be certain he was dead. Her injured feet had looked like raw meat.

As they'd waited in the smoky air, watching the forest burn across the river and wearing the wet respirators, which had survived the soaking in Bree's pocket, Mercy had told Paige how she'd followed a lead across the country to find her.

Paige had been racked with guilt, sobbing about hurting her family. "My dad doesn't need this," she'd said as tears streamed down her face. "He's important. My stupidity might keep him from being reelected. He's going to be so angry."

Mercy had hugged her tighter, wincing at the pain in her ribs. "Believe me, your father does not care about that at all. He just wants you back safe."

Paige had choked out a few stories as they waited. She shared how she'd tried to escape, not caring that she was naked, and he'd pulled her back into the house by her hair. And another about finding a woman in the refrigerator. "He said there were others," she whispered.

"If that's true, we'll find them," Bree had told her.

Would there be more bodies?

Helicopters working the fire had spotted them on the riverbank, and the women waited only a few hours before a truck of firefighters showed up to rescue them.

They had eventually arrived at the hospital. The struggles in the river had left Bree with a broken wrist that needed to be set and Mercy with a concussion and broken ribs—which she'd known were broken, but they were hurting much worse now, and yes, she'd like pain medication.

Lots of pain medication.

Paige's cut feet had to be treated. The hospital staff had told them that she would be OK.

Mercy had known that wasn't quite true. Paige's physical wounds would heal, but her psychological wounds would affect her for years.

After their injuries were addressed in the emergency room, Mercy and Bree had spent a loopy, drugged night in a shared hospital room. Mercy had jerked awake several times with terror in her soul as Don shot her in her dreams.

"You saved my life," she told Bree during a painkiller-fueled, tear-filled moment at two a.m., as the shock of the previous day set in.

"You'd already done the same for me." Bree had held up her bandaged hand, and Mercy flashed back to that moment underwater when she'd jerked Bree's hand free from between the rocks.

I didn't think I'd succeed.

Bree could be as dead as Don.

Her drug-affected emotions overtaking her, Mercy had cried again, and Bree joined her.

This morning Mercy's brain was still foggy from the drugs, and exhaustion was heavy in her limbs as she lay in her hospital bed. Bree said she felt as if she'd never be able to get out of bed. Their conversations wandered off on odd tangents as both struggled to focus and stay awake. They gave up trying to act coherent and blearily watched TV, agreeing on Ted Lasso, both desperately needing a happy distraction.

Mercy had to constantly remind herself that the fire and peril were over. They'd rescued Paige, and Don Dutton was dead. As they lay in their white and clean hospital room, it felt as if they'd been magically transported from yesterday's fiery and dangerous hell to a different world. A quiet, safe world of peace.

Bree's chief deputy, Todd Harvey, stopped by and told them that the fire was 80 percent contained, and so far there didn't appear to have been any deaths.

We were almost that death statistic.

Mercy knew she'd have nightmares about being trapped in the fire.

The deputy also told them that ballistics had linked a drug supplier's gun to Jimmie Elkins's murder. "Probably killed him because we confiscated the drugs Jimmie was supposed to sell," Bree had said, slightly slurring her words and looking sad. "Too bad for Jimmie." Her voice cracked, and she started to cry.

Mercy had nodded, feeling sorry and tearing up for the man who'd made too many bad decisions.

Deputy Harvey stared in disbelief at Bree and then at Mercy as they sniffed and wiped their eyes about murdered Jimmie Elkins. "How much pain medication did they give you two?"

The deputy confirmed that the woman in the fridge had been identified as Missy Star—whose real name was Elizabeth Stewart, the woman Shelly Fox had nervously reported as missing. Missy had lived on the streets for so long, her family hadn't even realized she was gone.

Bree fell asleep while he was talking. The deputy shook his head at his tired boss and then said goodbye to Mercy. She promised to update Bree when she woke.

But she fell asleep too.

"Mercy."

Sounds like Truman.

"Mercy. Wake up."

Her eyes flew open. Truman was sitting on the side of her bed, a worried look in his brown gaze. She lunged up, squawked in pain, and then threw her arms around her husband, ignoring the fire in her ribs and the pain lighting up her skull.

He came.

"Careful," he said, hugging her gingerly. "There's a reason they kept you overnight in the hospital."

"You're here!" she said, burying her nose in his neck and inhaling the scent of him as happiness flooded her. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

"I got an earlier flight. I couldn't stand it anymore." He pulled back and looked her up and down. "You look like you've been beat up." He started to touch a bruise on her forehead but pulled back.

"You should see the rest of me."

"Eventually," he said, a promise in his gaze. He pushed her back onto the pillows. "I love you so much. You have no idea how much I've missed you." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly.

"I love you too." She sighed, soaking in the feel of him and the sight of his face.

"We were told what you two went through," said Truman. "My God, Mercy. Both of you should be dead. And Paige too." Pride filled his eyes. "But you did it. You found the girl and got her out safe. I'm so fucking proud of you." He touched her cheek—one of the few places on her body that didn't hurt.

"I couldn't stop until we found her," Mercy admitted. Then she realized someone else was speaking in the room. A man was talking to Bree. Like Truman, he sat on Bree's bed, concern in his gaze as they spoke in quiet tones. "That must be Matt."

"It is," said Truman. "I met him outside your room. He seems like a good guy. Left whatever he was doing to come to her."

Mercy studied Matt, curious what type of man he was. It wasn't easy to be with someone in law enforcement.

Does he know what he has in her?

The look on his face said he did, and she figured Bree knew what she was doing.

Paige suddenly appeared at their room's door. Her hair in a neat ponytail, she wore a summer dress and leaned on crutches. It took Mercy a full second to recognize the cleaned-up girl, and then she realized that Paige's parents were right behind her. The senator strode across the room, his hand out to Mercy. "Agent Kilpatrick, I—I can't thank you enough."

Mercy took his hand. In the week since she'd seen him, he'd lost a lot of weight. But the haggard and guilty look in his eyes was gone. He'd found peace.

"Yes, Agent Kilpatrick—" started Denise.

"Call me Mercy, please. And this is my husband, Chief Daly."

Paige's mother's eyes were red rimmed, and she had one arm tight around Paige's shoulders. "Thank you for saving our daughter. I'm so thankful she is safe. We came so close to losing her."

"I glad she's safe too. That's Sheriff Taggert," Mercy said, gesturing at the next bed. "Bree, this is Senator Holcroft and Denise Holcroft."

The parents immediately approached Bree, who held out her left hand to shake. Mercy studied Paige as her parents fervently thanked Bree. The young woman had dark circles under her eyes, but there was a calm aura around her that hadn't been there yesterday. Mercy waved Paige over, and the girl slipped out from under her mother's arm. She sat on the other side of Mercy's bed and gave Truman a shy smile.

"How did it go with your parents?" Mercy asked in a low voice, referring to Paige's concern that they would be angry with her.

"Good." Her eyes lightened, knowing what Mercy meant. "You were right. They're just happy I'm back."

"I'm glad to hear it." She eyed the bandages on Paige's knees and feet. "The hospital's letting you leave?"

"Yes. They were worried about a concussion, but I'm fine. Just cuts and bruises. I need to stay off the foot with the huge gash for a while. When we leave here, we're heading to the airport. And the first thing I'm going to do when I get home is find someone to remove this tattoo." Paige shuddered, gently touching her chest where the chain-link heart hid under the dress. "I don't need more memories."

"The memories will get more manageable. Time makes it easier, gives you distance, but it will never completely go away. Maybe you could have a different tattoo put over that one? One that represents something you love?"

"Maybe." She looked at her hands and then at Mercy, uncertainty in her gaze. "Could we have coffee when you get back? I'd like to talk more."

"Of course." Mercy didn't know how mentally healthy it would be for Paige to connect with her—a link to Don Dutton—but meeting once shouldn't hurt. Her mother left Bree's bedside and gently told Paige that it was time to leave. The young woman gave Mercy a very careful but lingering hug. The parents gave emotional goodbyes, and the trio left to return to Oregon and what would hopefully be a normal life.

"That's a lucky family," said Bree. "The other victims' families had horribly sad endings." She squeezed Matt's hand, holding his gaze as she tipped her head at Mercy. "Matt, that's Mercy. She knows her shit."

Mercy and Truman both snorted. "Right back at you," said Mercy. "And nice to meet you, Matt. I would trust Bree to watch my back anytime." Mercy leaned deeper into the pillow, tired out by the small amount of socializing. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she gave in.

Truman squeezed her hand. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

She smiled, her eyes still closed. "I know."