Lori Armstrong - Mercy Kill

Two weeks had passed, and I hadn’t figured out who’d killed J-Hawk. Until last night, I’d wondered if instead of choosing the death-by-cop form of suicide, J-Hawk had chosen the death-by-drug-lord type of suicide. Murder beat waiting for cancer to consume him. It beat dealing with the fake sympathy he’d get from family. Double-crossing violent drug dealers assured that he exited this world in a sensational manner, not wasting away riddled with cancer like an average joe. It would’ve been a mercy kill.

But I didn’t buy that hypothesis any longer. Sure, Saro could’ve been lying to me when he’d said they weren’t responsible. But I suspected he’d told the truth that they’d used the circumstances of J-Hawk’s murder for gain.

Another angle I hadn’t considered. Had J-Hawk’s wife ordered the hit? Hired someone to kill him while he was on the road, working for Titan Oil? Maybe she’d discovered her husband was selling drugs and decided to save herself the humiliation of his getting busted. It’d be a win-win situation for her. The husband she loathed would be dead, and the potential for lawsuits against Titan Oil and Clementine’s would be very much alive.

I’d lain in the dark for hours last night. Berating myself. Saro. Victor. Cherelle. Turnbull. Anna. J-Hawk. Geneva. Rollie. Kit. Kiki.

But strangely enough, not Dawson.

More persistent knocking. I’d geared up to scream “go away” when the lock tumbled and the door opened.

What the hell? Who was breaking into my room and invading my privacy? I threw back the quilt, brushed my hair from my eyes, and saw John-John shooing both Sophie and Hope away before he slammed the door in their faces.

“What are you doing here?”

“ Unci asked me to come by.”

“Damn meddling old woman. Why’d she call you?”

“Because you’ve freaked her out, as well as your sister; you’ve locked yourself in your room, and they know you’re heavily armed.”

I fell back into the pillows. “Were they worried I’d backslid into my drunken ways?”

“Not even close.”

“That’s something. Look. It’s no big deal. I just wanted alone time to mentally prep for the election stuff today. Tell them everything is fine. Tell them I’m not armed and dangerous.”

“For a change.” He sat on the bed. “So this alone time? That includes avoiding Geneva, your campaign manager, and lying in bed?”

“Can’t get nothin’ past you.”

“Can’t get nothin’ past your sister either.” John-John dangled a burp cloth in front of my face. The one I’d used last night to pick up Joy. “Now do you understand why they’re worried about you?”

Seeing the dirt and blood smears sullying the cloth, dotted with happy little pastel teddy bears, brought my fears from last night racing back. “I had to make sure she was all right.”

“Why wouldn’t Joy be all right?”

Because of me.

John-John leaned in when I didn’t answer. “No one here but us, doll. Talk to me.” His gaze roved over my face, down my neck, and stopped. “What the fuck… are those… knife cuts?”

I turned my head toward the window in total shame.

But he was having none of it. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “What happened last night? Who did this to you?”

“Saro.”

“Did you call the sheriff after it happened?”

“No.”

“Goddammit, Mercy. What is wrong with you? Whatever is going on personally between you and Dawson doesn’t change the fact he needs to know that a citizen was brutally attacked in his jurisdiction.” Still muttering, he reached in his front shirt pocket for his cell phone.

I batted it out of his hand. “It’s way more complicated than that. Saro attacked me last night here, after I came home from the forum. That was after he’d already been in the house, John-John.”

The blood drained from his face.

“After Saro finished trying to extract information from me with his tanto blade, he hinted he’d already taken care of Hope and Jake. Then he showed me Joy’s teddy bear with its head sliced off…” My voice caught. “Bastard used a pressure point trick on me and knocked me out cold. When I came to… I ran into the house, not knowing what I’d find. Joy was in her crib, and I had to pick her up, just to make sure she wasn’t…” I swallowed the lump of fear still clogged my throat. “The baby was fine. Hope and Jake were fine. But me? Not so fine.”

John-John threaded his fingers through mine and squeezed.

“That’s exactly the type of terror Saro evokes. He wanted to prove that he could get to any member of my family any time he wanted.”

“Did he warn you not to contact the cops before he knocked you out?”

I shook my head. “That’s where it gets complicated. Saro counted on me not calling the sheriff’s department last night, because how would it look? The other candidate for sheriff can’t handle her own issues? She has to summon help from Sheriff Dawson on the eve of the election? The very night I’d touted my qualifications to the entire community? He knew just where to strike and strike hard.

“And it doesn’t help it’d be my word against Saro’s. He’s supposedly holed up on the reservation, grieving Victor. I’m already on the feds’ shit list because they believe I screwed up their investigation by having direct contact with Victor and Saro. So even calling Agent Turnbull wasn’t an option.”

John-John’s brow wrinkled. “Agent Turnbull? The hot guy is a fed?”

“Yeah. Ain’t that a kick in the ass? Of course, no one told me anything about J-Hawk’s murder being a federal investigation, and I went ahead and jumped headfirst into the sheriff’s race, fucking up any chance of a relationship with Dawson, because in my wisdom I’ve repeatedly questioned his method of investigating on every fucking homicide case that’s crossed his desk since I’ve been home. But the ‘look who’s an idiot’ tag is taped to my back because I’m no closer to knowing who killed Jason Hawley than I was the night I found his body.

“That was my sole reason for getting involved in any of this. I owed him. Except now, in trying to pay back a debt I only imagined, I’ve garnered the interest of the biggest psychopath I’ve ever met. He’s looking at retaliating against my family because somebody retaliated against his.”

His jaw practically hung to the mattress when I finished.

“So see? Complicated.”

“Okay, I get it. But I really think the case solved itself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rumor has it that Saro’s group is taking credit for killing Jason Hawley. They’re claiming he double-crossed them. The rumor has legs, since details on the murder are vague. Hawley is used as an example of what happens when people change the details of deals with Saro.”

My breath stalled. Saro had mentioned seeing a “business opportunity.”

“Where’d you hear this?”

“At Clementine’s. I’m surprised you didn’t know, but you haven’t been in much.” He cocked his head. “Didn’t Anna tell you?”

“No. We’ve each been doing our own thing. But how could she’ve forgotten to mention that?”

“I dunno. I thought it was kinda… strange that Cherelle called you to look for Victor, especially when she and Anna were chummy.”

Anna and Cherelle were chummy? I remembered Dawson questioning Anna about her friendship with Cherelle, and she’d blown him off. “When did that start?”

“Right after Anna got into town. She’d come into Clementine’s and hang out. I figured you had campaign stuff to do and she was bored. She and Cherelle played pool. Drank in the back room. But then Victor and Saro musta jerked a knot in Cherelle’s leash because she stopped coming in. Then Anna did, too.” John-John frowned. “Huh. Anna didn’t tell you none of this?”