Lori Armstrong - Mercy Kill

I shook my head because I couldn’t speak. Shock expanded in my chest and cut off my air supply.

I knew who’d killed Victor. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Anna.

John-John squeezed my hand. “You all right?”

No. But I couldn’t get the word past my tight lips. I feared it’d come out as a scream.

“Doll, you’re scaring me.”

I managed to swallow. I even offered John-John a wan smile. “Sorry. Delayed reaction to remembering how scared I really was last night.”

“You sure? You’re pale as snow.”

“I do feel light-headed.”

John-John stood. “You oughta lie back down. Didn’t mean to push you, Mercy, but I’m glad you told me.”

“Don’t tell Sophie and Hope anything about this. Please.”

“I won’t.”

“Just tell them I’m nervous about the election and I had a restless night. I’ll be fine if I can crash for a bit longer.”

“No problem.” After he tucked the star quilt around my shoulders, he kissed my forehead and left me alone.

As soon as he was gone, I tossed back the covers. My body felt like it was on fire, and the quilt only increased my feeling of suffocation. I walked to the window and pulled the shade.

Bright, beautiful sunlight streamed in. Another glorious spring day. The trees lining the driveway were leafing out. In my mother’s flower garden, little red spikes of peonies poked through the dirt. Colors exploded like an artist had created them from a special palette. Emerald leaves. Cerulean sky. Shades of pewter on the tree bark. I opened the window, needing the familiar scents of home to ground me. Dust, manure, hay. Instead, the scent of lilacs wafted in. Even my favorite scent in the world couldn’t offer me respite from the awful truth bouncing around in my brain like a possessed Ping-Pong ball.

Anna had killed Victor. Anna had killed Victor.

Why are you surprised? Anna is a killer.

So am I.

Not anymore.

Yes, Anna was still a merc. She got paid to kill bad guys.

Had Anna told Cherelle how she made her living? Had Cherelle offered to pay Anna to eliminate the man who’d tormented her for years?

No, I didn’t see Cherelle acting so blatantly, taking the chance her offer would somehow get back to Saro. The better option, the smarter move, would be for Cherelle to let it “slip” that Victor had killed J-Hawk. If Cherelle was as shrewd a judge of character as I suspected, she’d know immediately that Anna was out for revenge, and Victor would wind up dead.

Problem solved, right? Cherelle is freed from Victor’s control. Anna avenges her lover.

So why would Cherelle call me? To throw suspicion away from herself? Extra insurance? She expected I’d call the cops. I’d have to go on record as saying Cherelle had called me… as a concerned girlfriend because Saro scared her to death.

I realized that Anna had alibied herself when Dawson stopped by the cabin the other night, asking where I’d been. She’d told him we were at home, watching TV, for two nights. So in alibiing me, she’d alibied herself.

But Anna hadn’t been around. She’d been conspicuously absent in the mornings, and some nights she hadn’t come home at all.

Now that the pieces were clicking into place, one detail bothered me. Anna Rodriguez wasn’t easily played. If she’d been hanging out in Clementine’s, listening to the rumors fly, she’d arrived at her own conclusion about who’d killed J-Hawk. She’d used Cherelle’s ramblings to get information on Victor, so she’d strike the right chord in setting up a meeting with him.

I wondered how she’d lured Victor out to Mulligan’s. Sex? Money? Drugs? Teasing him that she had information on the OxyContin that J-Hawk had been peddling? Once she’d gotten him out there, had she scared a confession out of him?

Or was that when she realized she had the wrong guy? Had Victor told her the same story that Saro had told me? None of them could’ve killed J-Hawk, but they’d all seen him dead and done nothing about it.

That would send her into a killing rage.

More raps sounded on the door. What the hell was with my bedroom turning into Grand Central Station today? Cursing, I dove under the covers, intending to continue my exhaustion charade.

“Mercy?” Sophie called out. “You have a visitor.”

Before I could ask who, Anna walked in.

“Hey, Gunny.”

Speak of the devil. “A-Rod. What’s up?”

“You didn’t come back to the cabin after the debate last night.” Anna smiled and propped a hip next to mine. “You still in bed this time of day when you’re not hungover means something’s up.”

“Just exhausted.” I let my gaze roam over her face. Anna wasn’t traditionally pretty, but there was something compelling about her. Compelling and deadly.

“Can’t blame me for worrying with all this craziness going on.”

Craziness that you caused by killing Victor Bad Wound?

“Anyway, I know it’s a big day for you, but I wanted to touch base and let you know I’m taking off tomorrow morning.”

“Places to go, people to kill?” I said only half jokingly.

“Yeah, some stuff’s come up. And I think I might’ve overstayed my welcome.”

I didn’t deny it.

Her gaze winged around the room. “I can see why you’d rather sleep here. Does Sophie serve you breakfast in bed, too?”

“Screw you. Sophie would whap me upside the head if I even suggested it.”

Anna smiled. “I know, Gunny, I was just trying to lighten things up.”

When she reached over to squeeze my arm, I flinched.

She froze.

Smooth, Mercy. “Sorry. Habit when I’m nervous.”

“Understood. I’ll see you tonight.”

Anna’s body language changed, as did her expression. I backtracked and became contrite-hard as it was. “You’re coming tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said brightly.

“I’m glad.” I sighed. “Look, Anna, I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t the type of visit you had in mind, with me being busy with election stuff. It sucks we didn’t get to hang out more… especially with what you’re going through. But I’d like to make it up to you. Yes, I’ll be busy tonight, but we should plan on breakfast tomorrow morning before you leave.”

She relaxed. “Great, meet you at the diner? Ten o’clock?”

“It’s a date.”

I hauled my ass out of bed and faced the day.

Election night in Eagle River County was as laid-back as any other night. No ringing banks of phones. No media demanding real-time interviews. No one obsessing about exit-poll numbers. The polls were closed. The county election workers were tallying votes in the courthouse basement. We’d know the outcome of the election the same time as the Rapid City TV stations announced the winners.

The Gunderson campaign committee was headquartered in the basement of Leo Harvey’s Coast-to-Coast hardware store. I’d suggested Clementine’s. No one had taken me seriously. Or maybe they had, and that’s why we were here.

I looked at the people who’d shown up to support me. Hope with Joy. Jake. Sophie. John-John. Geneva and her brood. Kit. Rollie. Anna. My neighbors. Community members I’d known my entire life. A few people were absent. Muskrat was holding down the fort at Clementine’s with Winona. Kiki was on duty tonight since Dawson and his campaign crew were at the Blackbird Diner, just a block down the street from us. Tempting, to sneak out and peek in the diner windows to see Dawson’s supporters.

Anna had wedged a folding chair into a corner and rested her head against the wall. She appeared to be sleeping, and several people sent disapproving looks her way.