His chin dropped. “I don’t trust them,” he mumbled.
“Why not?”
Joshua didn’t answer and stared at the tabletop.
“Where’s Truman?” Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But two days ago I heard a rumor that he’d escaped—but I swear I didn’t know they had him in the first place.”
“The people who head up your forgery business took Truman?” She glanced over at Samuel, who hadn’t blinked an eye. How can he be so calm? She was ready to dash out the door.
“I think they did. All I know is that I overheard a couple of guys talking about the cop who got away.”
“When? When did he get away?” She stood up, planted her hands on the table, and leaned toward Joshua, trying to hide her shaking arms.
“It was at least five days ago.”
Mercy froze. Five days? She slowly sat back down. “Then where is he?”
Joshua looked tormented. “I don’t know. I didn’t know who they were talking about until I heard something about the missing police chief on the radio. As soon as I realized that the guy who’d arrested me was missing, I knew that’s who they were talking about.”
“When did you figure this out?”
“Maybe a day or two ago. I didn’t know if I should do something or not. I didn’t want to get in more trouble with them, but . . .”
“But what?” Mercy wanted to shake him. This story was taking forever to come out.
“I know what they do,” he whispered. He slowly lifted his gaze back to hers. “They’ve killed people who wanted to get out of their organization.”
“Were they going to kill Truman?”
“If they were keeping him where I think they were, they were definitely planning to.”
“Where is it?”
Joshua told her about a remote property where one of the members of the forgery ring lived. It had an outbuilding where they’d locked up men before.
“What are we waiting for?” she snapped at Samuel, getting to her feet again.
“We’re waiting for a warrant and support,” Samuel said firmly. “I’m not rushing into a remote situation where armed banjo-playing bumpkins are running their own mini prison. County is pulling together their SWAT team for us.” He checked the time. “That takes some time. It’s going to be dark out there by then, Mercy. You need to be prepared that SWAT might want to wait and go in during the daylight.”
Mercy turned back to Joshua. “Are you sure he escaped? Would they spread that rumor if they’d killed him?” Bile rose in her throat.
“I don’t know,” he said miserably, looking ready to fall apart. “I don’t know anything else. I thought these people were my family.”
“Who have they killed in the past?” she asked.
“An old guy. He was a good artist . . . really knew how to make things look professional. He wanted out, and they were afraid he’d talk. They took a vote and put him down.”
Like a dog?
“Would they have taken a vote on Truman?” A chill spread over her skin.
He lifted one shoulder. “Probably.”
“If this place is as remote as you say, he could be lost in the woods. Is it above the snow line?”
“No.”
His answer gave little comfort. The weather had been miserably cold and wet for weeks.
“Samuel, we need to move our searchers to the forest around that place.” Her heart fell at the time that’d slipped away. By the time their search parties moved, it’d be too dark.
“County has their search-and-rescue team gearing up too. They’ll be ready to head out at first light tomorrow,” he told her. “I had the same thought about Truman in the woods.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come forward sooner,” Joshua admitted. “But . . .”
Damn you for not coming sooner.
We might be too late.
“I know how you’ve been raised,” Mercy told him, thinking of his sovereign citizen upbringing and attempting to keep the anger out of her voice. “It’s hard to go against everything that’s been ingrained in you since childhood.”
I’ve been there many times.
“But deep inside we all know when the right thing has to be done. If what you’ve been taught hurts others, there’s something very, very wrong.”
His posture drooped. “Yeah,” he said softly.
Tick tick tick.
THIRTY-FIVE
Mercy stood with Samuel on a remote side road a few miles from the property the SWAT team was about to invade. It was pitch-dark, and the temperature was rapidly falling, but at least it wasn’t pouring rain. By the time they’d received the warrant and the SWAT team had organized and made their plan, it was nearly nine at night. A few yards away, the team was reviewing last-minute instructions, their tank-looking armored personnel carrier ready to roll.
“I hope this gets us somewhere,” Mercy muttered to Samuel. She was petrified to allow hope into her heart; it’d been shattered too many times recently.
The SWAT team leader had been more than happy to enter the property in the dark.
“Less chance they’ll see us coming, but we’ll see them just fine.” He’d tapped his night vision gear.
The leader was currently conferring over a satellite photo of the area a second time with Joshua Forbes. Joshua had agreed that no structures had changed on the property and stated that up to six men could be in the house. Mercy had already studied the satellite photo, and bile had filled her stomach as she stared at the tiny square Joshua had claimed was the outbuilding most likely to have housed Truman.
She stepped right behind Joshua and spoke in a low voice to the back of his head. “If I find out that you’re lying about anything regarding this location, I’ll personally skin you alive. I’ll go all Game of Thrones on your ass.”
His face blanched as he turned to her. “I’m not lying.”
The team leader gave a big grin. He’d heard her threat. “Let’s load up!” he told his men.
Frustration filled Mercy as she watched them leave. She had no role to play. Her job was to stand back and wait.
I’ve been waiting for nearly two weeks.
Fifteen minutes later, she and Samuel got the call to come in. They left Joshua with a county deputy, knowing it was best if the men in his organization didn’t connect him with their raid.
The property was less than impressive. A single-wide mobile home with a large barn and a smaller shed to one side. Mercy tore her gaze away from the shed as she strode to the front of the home. That’s the place. The shed’s door was wide open, and the team leader had said it was empty.
Inside the home three men lay on the floor, their hands bound in zip ties behind their backs.
No broken door. No broken windows. No shots. No one injured.
A successful operation.
Two SWAT members stood near the bound men, their weapons ready.
The suspects looked up as she and Samuel entered. Mercy stopped in shock as she recognized one and scanned the room for a certain item. Then she pointedly checked all three men’s muddy shoes, went directly to the man in the middle, and squatted next to his head. “Aren’t you clever.”
Kenneth Forbes turned his face away from her.
“Do you collect disability pay from the government?” Fury shot through her at how easily she’d been conned into believing that he was disabled and reliant on his wheelchair. Why didn’t Joshua say his father was one of the men?
Then she remembered Joshua’s morose statement that he’d thought this was his family.
Did his father put out a contract to kill him?
And Mercy had believed her father was an ass.
It didn’t matter. Joshua was upright and breathing. Truman was her concern.
“Where’s Truman Daly?” she asked.
No one answered her.
She sighed. “You know his prints will be found in that shithole outside. Don’t you want a judge to hear that you cooperated when asked?”