A Merciful Fate Page 40
“I don’t know. I heard a gunshot and she went down.”
Mercy froze and scanned their surroundings, her gaze hard, ready to kill for her niece.
“Ambulance is on its way,” said the other woman.
“Darby, keep pushing on this,” Mercy ordered. She leaned closer to Kaylie, taking her face in both hands and staring into the girl’s wide eyes. “Stay with me, Kaylie. You’re going to be fine.”
“Hurts,” Kaylie whispered. “Am I going to die?” Her gaze flew from Mercy to Darby and then to Ollie.
I don’t know what to say. His tongue was as frozen as the rest of his body.
“Fuck no!” Mercy informed the trembling girl. “We’ll get you to the hospital.” She turned to Ollie, dug a remote out of her pocket, and pressed it into his shaking hand. “In the back of my Tahoe, there’s a medical kit . . . Dammit! I already used it!” Her face went white, and she struggled to speak. “I haven’t restocked. Get the bag anyway,” she finally said. “I’ll improvise.”
Ollie sprinted in the direction she pointed, recognizing her SUV. He clicked UNLOCK on the remote and flung open the rear hatch. He grabbed the medical bag and slammed the hatch closed, ignoring the bloody handprint he left on her vehicle. The sound of squealing tires made him halt and spin toward the noise. Trees blocked his view of the road, but he followed the sound of an engine as it sped away. A flash of silver was all he saw.
Someone’s in a hurry.
Sirens sounded in the distance. They need to know about that vehicle. He ran back to Mercy and dropped the bag next to her, and she immediately unzipped it. “The cops need to know a silver vehicle just sped away,” he told Darby. “I couldn’t see what it was, but it was definitely silver.”
“Hold this,” Darby ordered, and Ollie applied pressure on his balled-up shirt again. But now it was soaked, and more blood covered his hands.
Kaylie’s eyes closed, but she moaned, her lips pale.
Is she going to die?
He looked from Mercy to Darby, his heart in his throat, unable to ask the question out loud. Mercy had her head close to Kaylie’s, speaking rapidly, but Ollie couldn’t hear the words. Darby was on her phone again, her lips pressed together, her eyes grim.
They look terrified.
Not good.
I have to go with her.
“No, ma’am! I’m sorry, ma’am!” The EMT unclasped Mercy’s fingers from the handle of the ambulance door. “Meet us at the hospital. You can’t ride inside.”
Mercy barely heard him, her gaze locked on Kaylie through the small windows in the rear doors. Another EMT rapidly worked on her niece, ripping open sterile packets and injecting something into her IV.
She’s not going to make it.
Why didn’t I immediately restock my kit?
The EMT who had dislodged Mercy’s hands dashed for the driver’s door of the ambulance, and the vehicle sped away, lights flashing. As he pulled out of the parking lot, the sirens began to wail. Bend Police Department cars started to flood the parking lot, their lights flashing and their sirens drowning out the ambulance.
Don’t just stand here. She touched the pocket where she kept the remote to her Tahoe. Empty. “Ollie! Give me the key!” The teenager stared at her. His eyes were huge and his hands bloody. Smudges of blood marked his bare stomach, and his shirt was in a bloody heap on the ground where the EMTs had dumped it. He didn’t appear to have heard her.
“Ollie!” Mercy took three long steps and grabbed his arm. “Where’s my key?”
He jerked and ripped his arm away as if she’d cut him. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Hang on.” Darby put a hand on Mercy’s shoulder. “You’re not driving anywhere right now.”
Fury raged through her, and she spun toward Darby, knocking her hand away. “I need to get to the hospital!” Her vision blurred, and she angrily wiped away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Her lungs hurt, her brain throbbed, and her heart was shredded. “I need to go!”
“I’ll drive you,” said Darby. “Now calm the fuck down.”
Red clouded her gaze. “Do not tell me to calm down,” she said with deadly intent, feeling fire burn in her eyes.
Amazingly, Darby didn’t turn to ash. Instead she took a deep breath and held up her hands. “I know. I know.” She pointed across the lot. “Go wait at my car. I’ll be right there.” She ran back to the office.
Her heart pounding, Mercy watched her leave. She took several deep breaths and looked at the ground. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
Kaylie’s blood was everywhere. Pieces of packaging and red-stained gauze dotted the ground.
Something bad happened here.
I need to protect the scene.
I need to get to Kaylie.
Thinking clearly felt far beyond her grasp. She needed to do everything at once. More police cars arrived. Officers in dark uniforms streamed her way.
“Mercy.”
She barely heard Ollie’s whisper, but she saw him shiver in the warm air, bumps covering his bare skin. “Sit down,” she ordered, her brain snapping back online. She helped lower him to the ground and pushed his head between his knees.
“Is she going to die?” It was the voice of a seven-year-old.
“Of course not,” she told him. She wrapped her arms around the lost boy, rubbing her hands up and down his back to warm him. “She’s tough.”
“I know . . .” A huge shudder racked him.
Poor kid watched it happen.
“Ollie. You’re going to talk to the police. They need to know what you saw.” She lifted his head, making him look her in the eye. “Tell them about the car you saw too.”
Glancing behind her, she saw Darby dash back out of the office. “I need to go. I’ll call Truman on my way and have him meet you here, okay?”
He nodded, his eyes unseeing.
Ollie had filled out a lot in the two months he’d lived with Truman. He no longer looked three years younger than his eighteen years. But right now Mercy saw a terrified teenager who’d been alone for too long. The thought of leaving him to sit in a parking lot crime scene killed her.
“You did good, Ollie. That was quick thinking to get pressure on her stomach.”
“There was so much blood,” he whispered.
“The best thing you can do now is tell them what happened. We need to catch who did this.”
His chin lifted as cognizance entered his eyes. “I’ll kill him.”
The bleak tone stabbed deep in her chest. “Get in line,” she whispered.
She looked up as a patrol officer approached. Standing, she showed him her badge, handed him a business card, and pointed at Ollie. “There’s your witness. He saw the shooting and a car that sped away. The victim is on the way to the hospital, and I’m following. Tell your detective to call me when he gets here.” The officer had a few years on him and appeared competent. He nodded and immediately started to direct the other officers to protect the scene.
She squatted by Ollie. “Stay tough.” His eyes widened as he looked past her. Mercy looked over her shoulder and saw Melissa approaching, a spare jacket in her hands for Ollie.
Good.
“I’ll call you,” she told him. He nodded, his nervous gaze still on Melissa.
Darby was at her car, the door open as she watched and waited for Mercy.
Mercy sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to walk away from Ollie.
It was tougher than she’d expected.
I’m coming, Kaylie.
TWENTY-NINE
Truman’s initial phone call from Mercy had been abrupt and short. Kaylie shot. Ollie waiting at the scene. Mercy following ambulance. He could tell from her tone that she was in survival mode. No time for lengthy explanations or emotional breakdowns.
That would come later.
He understood where she was; he’d been there.
But a halting break in the cadence of her words told him she was near the edge of reason, and the slightest misstep would push her over. The only way he could help was by acting.
After asking Samuel to find more details of the shooting and fill him in on the way, he’d sped toward the Bend FBI office. Samuel’s news hadn’t been good. Kaylie was seriously injured, and the police were looking for a small silver sedan. Ollie had watched it happen, and both he and Mercy had tried to stop the bleeding. The prognosis for Kaylie was unknown.
The unknown was ripping Truman apart.
Will she live?
When Truman arrived, part of the parking lot was taped off, and a few officers kept people and press away. Truman parked, signed his name in the scene log, and headed toward a small group of people. A crime scene tech took photos as two plainclothes detectives talked to an officer. Bloody clothing and ripped medical supply packaging were strewn not far from their feet. Truman lost his breath and looked away.
He shuddered, struggling to keep his professional composure.
This isn’t the crime scene of a stranger; it’s Kaylie’s.
Our Kaylie.
Ollie sat in the back of a nearby squad car with the door open and his feet on the pavement. He wore a navy windbreaker with FBI stamped above his heart.
Truman embraced the boy and looked firmly in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
What a fucking week for this kid.
For all of us.
Ollie was slightly shaky on his feet, and his eyes were swollen and red. His hands had been washed, but something dark was still under most of his fingernails. Something that hadn’t been there when Truman saw him at breakfast.
“I heard you did good,” Truman told him, wanting to erase the despondent look in the teen’s eyes.
Instead Ollie’s face crumpled.
“Ah, jeez.” Truman pulled him close again. His heart cracked as the boy shuddered in his embrace.
“They don’t know if she’s going to live.” Ollie’s words were wet and low.
What would we do without her? Mercy . . . me . . . Ollie too.