Lori Armstrong - Merciless

“No. I’m good.” Rather than make small talk about the weather or ask if he regularly took over the tribal police chief’s office, I said, “So I understand from Special Agent Turnbull that you want a status report on your niece’s case?”

“Only in how it relates to the other young woman found murdered this morning.”

I felt Turnbull’s quizzical gaze but didn’t acknowledge it. “To be honest, sir, I’ve barely had time to catch my breath this morning, let alone look at the possible correlations between the cases.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was under the impression there was already a suspect in the Dupris case.”

I didn’t bother to mask my reaction. “Your impression-your information-is wrong. We’ve brought no one in for questioning. And we just informed Verline Dupris’s next of kin of her death. So I’m suggesting you allow us at least a couple of days to proceed with this investigation before we start checking to see if there are similarities.”

He leveled a cool gaze on me. Expecting I’d crack under the weight of his disapproving stare? I’d have been offended if his puffed-up attempt at intimidation wasn’t so laughable-and predictable. I studied him with equal aloofness.

Latimer Elk Thunder dressed to impress. His hair was neatly trimmed, his face mostly smooth, save for the wrinkles on his forehead and bracketing his mouth. I might call him a distinguished elder, but that seemed premature. Far as I knew, he’d done nothing to earn that honor.

“Well, Agent Gunderson. I’ll admit I’m disappointed in your verbal report. I’d hoped bringing the FBI in on this would result in much quicker… results. But I appreciate your taking the time to explain the reason why there’s been little to no progress.”

For fuck’s sake, Mercy, bite your goddamn tongue.

“Let my secretary know when you have new information, and she’ll schedule an appointment.”

Dismissed. Thank God. I booked it out of the room, Turnbull on my heels. I didn’t stop moving until I pushed through the door to the stairs. When I looked at Shay, he was grinning in a way that annoyed me. “What?”

“Well done, grasshopper.”

“I’ve been dressed down by generals. I know how to placate the brass on the fly, even if it’s not what they want to hear.”

“Good to know.” He rested one shoulder against the wall. “Anything notable happen at the Dupris residence?”

“Not really. I told them to come in for questioning today and threatened a warrant if they didn’t show, so we’ll see if they do.”

“Not a bad morning’s work. Now if you’d only gotten to pull your gun.”

“It ain’t quitting time yet.”

He laughed.

“Glad I amuse you.” I held my hand to my stomach when it growled. I didn’t feel like eating, but my body didn’t care. “I’m gonna grab some coffee. Do a little research over at the tribal HQ. Ping me when Rollie and the Dupris family arrives.” I squinted at him. “I am sitting in on the interviews, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is Carsten?”

He scowled. “Yes.”

“What’s your problem with her?”

“Why would I have a problem with a privileged, know-it-all white girl who landed a job with the FBI because she wants to right the wrongs inflicted upon Native American people?”

“She said that?”

“No, but that’s her attitude, and it pisses me the fuck off.”

“With all due respect, sir, I hope you don’t expect me to play referee between you two.”

Shay bristled. “I can handle Carsten just fine.”

I suspected that might be part of the problem. He’d like to handle the very attractive VS in a wholly different and unofficial manner.

I headed down the stairs and out the back door. So much for thinking that cutting behind the buildings was easier than going through the front entrance. I’d never realized how spread out the buildings were; the angle from the front created the illusion they were closer together. Plus, being built on top of a hill, entrances were actually on the second floor, not the first floor.

Since this was the first time I’d been at this vantage point, I’d never noticed the first level of the tribal HQ had an asphalt driveway running behind it like it’d once been used as a loading dock.

Steel doors bookended each corner. I wandered closer to the first door. It appeared to have been painted shut. Dead weeds lined the cracks in the faded blacktop. The width of the building was more than I’d initially gauged when I reached the second door. This one had been opened recently. I tried the handle, on the off chance that it was open and it’d save me a trip around the front of the building.

But it was locked.

I started around the corner and hoofed it up the hill, reminding myself to ask Sheldon about the back doors and what they were used for.

At the front entrance, I took the stairs down to the first floor and rang the intercom.

“May I help you?”

“It’s Agent Gunderson.”

The buzzer went off, and I opened the door.

Sheldon greeted me. “Mercy, I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here, either, but I’ve got a break, so I figured I might as well tie up some loose ends. Mind if I have coffee?”

“Help yourself.”

I poured a cup and let it warm my hands as I inhaled the aroma.

“So you’ve been released from your punishment and the drudgery of research?”

“No official word from the higher-ups, but I’ve been involved in fieldwork.”

“That’s what all agents want, right? To be out doing something instead of shuffling paperwork inside?”

“That’s what I thought I wanted,” I muttered.

Sheldon refilled his cup. “I heard another body was found.”

I lifted a brow. “Bad news travels fast.”

“Yes, the rumors reach into the bowels of the basement.” He blew across his cup. “Are the rumors true?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t imagine preferring finding dead bodies to sitting behind a desk, Agent Gunderson.”

“It’s worse when you know the victim.”

“I imagine it is. Sounds like your week has already started out on a sour note.”

I exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

“Has the victim’s name been released?”

“Verline Dupris.”

His eyes widened beneath his thick glasses. “I knew Verline. Well, I didn’t know her, but I knew who she was. Wasn’t that long ago she’d registered her baby with the tribe.” He sipped his coffee. “Such a shame. She was so young. Do you have any suspects?”

That direct question earned him an abrupt subject change. “Not only was I unprepared for fieldwork first thing this morning, but I left my notebook with my research notes at home. I hate to be a pain, but do you have paper and a pen I could borrow?”

“Of course, I’ll set it in the police case files archive room for you.”

I gulped my coffee and poured another cup in his absence. When he returned, I said, “Thanks, Sheldon.”

“Just doing my job.” He shuffled back to his desk, his gait slow and measured, as if he was in pain.

I felt like a jerk for being so brusque. For the most part, the man worked by himself day in, day out. It wouldn’t kill me to visit with him for a bit. I wandered over to his desk. “Been a rough day all around.”

He seemed surprised I was talking to him. “I can’t imagine dealing with all you do in the FBI.”

“So far it’s not nearly as bad as what I dealt with in the army.”

“Your dad mentioned you were in the military. The man was awful proud of you.”

“How’d my military service come up in conversation?” I asked suspiciously.

“He saw my military certificates.” He pointed to his desk. “I was full time in the National Guard.”