A Merciful Silence Page 27
“No. He texted me early this morning, but I’ve been on the go all day.” She tightened her grip on the phone. “What happened?”
“Well, we don’t rightly know,” Ben said slowly, reluctance in his voice.
“What do you know?” she asked firmly. Get to it, Ben!
“No one’s heard or seen him since around nine this morning. He even missed an interview he’d scheduled for this morning. That’s not like him. I’ve followed his steps best I could, but I hit a dead end.”
“It’s nearly four o’clock.” Mercy forced her lungs to work properly. “How can you just be calling me now? I would think I’d be one of your first calls.”
Ben was silent on his end.
“Ben? What happened?”
“We wanted to check all possibilities first because we didn’t want you worried.”
“Well, now I’m definitely worried. What possibilities?” She wanted to reach through the line and shake the older man to get him to talk faster.
“I found human blood in his driveway on the driver’s side next to where he usually parks. It was fresh.”
Mercy leaned on one hand on the desk, dizziness threatening. Her tongue stopped functioning and her mouth went bone-dry.
“His phone is going straight to voice mail,” Ben continued. “His wireless carrier says his last location was his home. We checked the hospitals and clinics before calling you. We’ve put out a BOLO on his vehicle, and all the guys have clocked in to do patrols, looking for his Tahoe. We’ll find him,” he said in a caring tone.
Blood?
“His SUV is missing?” she whispered.
“Yes. He couldn’t have been too hurt if he managed to drive away.”
If he was the one driving.
“I’ll be there in forty minutes.” She ended the call. Sweat had bloomed under her arms and dampened her lower back. This wasn’t like Truman. Panic exploded in her head and chest, making her legs shake. She shut it down. Panic doesn’t help anyone.
“I have to go,” she said out loud to her empty office.
Her brain shifted into get-shit-done mode.
I’ll tell Jeff I’m leaving for the day and then follow up on Truman’s recent calls.
Hold tight, Truman.
She refused to consider that it might be too late.
TWENTY-FOUR
The stress and concern in the Eagle’s Nest Police Department were palpable.
When Mercy had stepped through the door, the four men inside had turned toward her as one.
Royce Gibson had immediately hugged her, and the young cop had whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” as his voice cracked.
Ben Cooley patted her on the back, a grandfatherly look on his face that made her want to curl up in his lap and hide.
Samuel was his usual resolute self, standing strong, his arms crossed on his chest, determination filling his gaze. No hugs; that wasn’t his style. Lucas was working the phone and held up a hand to her as he spoke into his headset.
This is Truman’s family.
She’d locked her emotions behind a tiny door deep in her mind during the drive to Eagle’s Nest, but being among these concerned men who loved their boss nearly broke that door down. Her eyes burned, and she struggled to stay in control.
“We’ve got county and state on board. County offered a detective, and he should be here soon,” Samuel stated. His tone told her the experienced cop had taken the lead among the men. “All their patrols are keeping an eye out for Truman’s vehicle. I suspect he went off the road.” The other men looked to him and nodded hopefully. “We’ve all been driving the roads for a few hours, and we’ll get back out there, but we wanted to be here when you arrived.”
Samuel’s face blurred in her vision.
“Thank you,” she choked out. “You guys are too kind.”
Lucas got up from his desk. The young man slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. It was like being hugged by a huge bodybuilder. Lucas planted a kiss on her temple. “The two of you matter to us,” he said hoarsely. “He’ll turn up.”
She wouldn’t lose hope.
And she refused to think about her last discussion with Truman. When she learned she’d disappointed him by forgetting to include him in the cabin decisions.
I’m so sorry, Truman.
“I want to see the scene.” Mercy felt as if she could verify Truman’s blood by looking at it. He’s a physical part of me.
Stupid thought.
“How about photos?” Ben suggested.
“To start with,” she said reluctantly, wondering if the men were protecting her from seeing something. “Did you go in his house?”
“I did,” said Ben. “Everything looks perfectly normal—no blood inside. No evidence that he hurt himself in the house or cleaned up a cut in the sinks or shower. His cat was acting weird, though . . . it was like she knew something was up. I fed her.”
She followed Ben to a computer screen. The photos were already up. She studied each one. Ben was right. The blood was on the driver’s side of where Truman usually parked. She zoomed in on the largest pool of blood, taking heart because it wasn’t big enough to indicate someone had bled out. In fact, if the spots had fully dried, no one would have noticed them unless they specifically looked.
She focused on the big spot, her mind probing for Truman as if she could mentally speak with him.
Truman?
No one answered.
I’d know deep inside if something horrible had happened, right?
“What’s he worked on in the last twenty-four hours?” she asked, keeping her thoughts from spinning off into drain-circling pessimism. Focus.
“Last night he and I responded to a missing persons case,” Samuel told her. “Clint Moody, age twenty-eight. His brother found blood in his bed and couldn’t locate Clint or his vehicle. He’s still missing.”
Mercy stared at him, her heart sinking. “Like Truman? Blood left behind and a missing vehicle?”
Samuel scowled. “There are similarities. Truman had told me he’d originally wondered if Clint’s case was related to yours. He said the patterning of the blood left behind in the bedroom resembled your cases. But this wasn’t a family, no body was left behind . . . and the vehicle was missing.”
“Truman didn’t tell me about that case.” He didn’t have a chance to.
“Ryan Moody, Clint’s brother, came in this morning. Said Truman had set up the time to talk to him about his brother,” added Lucas. “He waited around awhile and I finally told him I’d have Truman call to reschedule.”
“How was Ryan?” Samuel asked. “He was a mess last night.”
“He said he didn’t sleep at all last night. His eyes looked like it.”
“Did you contact Truman to tell him Ryan was waiting?” Mercy asked.
“I shot him a text and then forgot about it,” said Lucas. “I checked it later and it didn’t indicate it’d been read.”
Same with my texts to Truman. “What time did you text him?”
“Nine-oh-seven.”
“His phone was probably off by then.”
“We checked with our wireless provider. Truman hasn’t used his phone at all today.”
That’s not good.
Mercy sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s start a timeline.” Ben nodded and headed to the back of the building. He returned a minute later with a large whiteboard and marker.
“What else has he handled? What did he do today?” Mercy asked, looking from man to man.
“He was here by seven,” Lucas told her. “He was in his office most of the morning and then said he was going to talk to Nick Walker at the lumberyard. He left around eight thirty.”
“I talked to Nick,” said Ben. “He said Truman wasn’t there more than ten minutes.” Ben made notes on the board.
“What time was he supposed to talk with Ryan Moody?” she asked Lucas.
“Nine.”
“Was Ryan on time?”
“Yes.”
“Where did Truman go earlier in the day yesterday?”
Lucas sat back down at his computer and tapped the keys. “Domestic dispute call. The Dalrymples.” The other three officers sighed and nodded. “A monthly occurrence. Usually whoever responds just talks to them for a while and they cool down. He also issued two speeding tickets—Neil Herrera and Gordon Pittman.”
“Can you follow up on the tickets, Royce?” Mercy asked. The young cop nodded. “And Ben on the Dalrymples?”
“I already went to the Dalrymples’,” said Samuel. “They said Truman did the usual. Put them in different rooms and talked with them. Said he was there about a half hour. I gathered they’re both pretty fond of Truman. Said he’s always patient.”
Mercy looked at Lucas to indicate he should continue. “Minnie Neal reported her lawn mower had been stolen,” he said.
“It’s been raining for weeks,” Mercy pointed out. “She wanted to mow?”
“Beats me,” said Lucas. “In Truman’s report it says she noticed her shed door was ajar and that appeared to be the only thing missing. She acknowledged it could have happened months ago.”
“Ben?” Mercy asked.
“I’ll talk to Minnie,” he agreed.
“That’s it for yesterday,” said Lucas. “Pretty normal day except for the Moody case.”
“Two missing vehicles. Two missing men,” stated Mercy. “Let’s focus there,” she said.
The door opened, and Deschutes County Detective Evan Bolton stepped inside, brushing the rain off his sleeves.
Goose bumps rose on Mercy’s arms as she remembered her previous thought about Bolton being the Angel of Death.
No.
Ben and Royce left to check on their assigned people and resume searching for Truman’s Tahoe. Mercy and Samuel brought Bolton up to speed.