Bend was an outdoor enthusiast’s paradise. Prime skiing in the mountains, white-water rafting on the rivers, miles of biking and running trails. The high desert climate was usually dry with cool nights, sunny days, and some snow in the winter. Typically Bend had a lovely Indian summer in late September, but she and Eddie had arrived at the tail end of a storm. The forecast was sunny for the rest of the week.
She closed the heavy drapes and then explored every nook and cranny of the room, looking under the bed and checking every drawer. Once she’d seen everything in the tiny room, she sat on the bed with a sigh and opened her almond butter, attacking it with her celery. The salt, crunch, and oil hit her tongue, making her close her eyes in happiness. They’d stopped at a drive-through in Bend, where Eddie had ordered a burger, but she’d claimed not to be hungry. In truth she’d been starving and craving her own real food.
While she crunched she opened her laptop and checked the local news websites. Ned Fahey’s murder wasn’t mentioned. Then she checked national headlines and the stock market’s performance, and moved on to international headlines.
Nothing troubling jumped out at her. It was more of the same old, same old, day-to-day rotation of the world.
She could sleep tonight.
She paired her jerky and celery and took a bite, reviewing the day in her mind as she leaned against the headboard.
She’d been gone from Eagle’s Nest for fifteen years. During the trip from Portland, she’d mentally steeled herself to run into family, but she hadn’t expected it within two minutes of arriving. Levi had aged, but she’d known her brother instantly. His refusal to acknowledge her had cut deep, but she’d emotionally slapped a bandage on it. In the quiet of the hotel room, she slowly peeled back the bandage, waiting for the rush of pain.
It didn’t come.
She frowned and tore off a bite of jerky, focusing on the small twinge of loss. Had she matured and gotten a handle on her family’s rejection? Levi had been closest to her in age. He’d been the one who’d played hide-and-seek in the barn, built a tree house, and swum in the creek with her. He’d been her primary playmate until he was fourteen and his friends pressured him to leave behind his twelve-year-old sister.
What is Kaylie like?
Levi’s daughter had been a one-year-old when Mercy left town. She’d been born outside of marriage, to the delight of all the wagging tongues in town. His girlfriend’s parents had supported their daughter’s desire to avoid Levi, claiming the young man was a hellion and would never amount to anything. Mercy’s parents had also been furious, but their reasons had been different.
Pressing her ear to their bedroom door one night, she’d heard them verbally tear nineteen-year-old Levi apart.
“How do you plan to feed a child when you don’t have a steady job?”
“God made birth control for a reason!”
“You are now responsible for the livelihood of a child. Be a man.”
They didn’t care if the woman didn’t want to see Levi, but they expected him to provide for his child. Somehow.
Family first, community second.
Mercy’s parents, Karl and Deborah, lived and breathed by that credo and had built a small, tight community circle within the population of Eagle’s Nest. Everyone pulled their own weight and brought something useful to the Kilpatrick community. If you were a leech or unreliable, eventually your invitations to barbecues and picnics faded away. Karl surrounded himself with men and families who had a singular purpose: to survive whatever the world threw their way. They believed in preparation, personal health, and learning. Her parents’ mantras echoed in her head.
Seek doers, not talkers.
Choose friends wisely.
Be frugal.
Family first.
Except when it comes to me.
He sat in his vehicle outside the roadside motel, watching a skinny beam of light that shone between the curtains in room 232. Two hours ago Mercy Kilpatrick had arrived with the other agent. They’d talked for a few minutes outside her door, and then the male agent had gone to his own room. Mercy had briefly left her room to grab a bag out of her SUV, but he’d seen neither of them since then.
He’d idly wondered if the man would return to her room, but his room’s light had turned off an hour ago. An inconsistent faint flicker on the curtains told him the male agent was watching TV.
Eleven o’clock. Why am I still here? He shifted in his seat, flexing his toes in his boots, trying to warm them. It was fucking freezing, and he didn’t dare turn on his engine to warm up the vehicle.
Mercy’s light went off.
He stared at the large window covered by draperies. Is she going to sleep? Should I leave?
Then it happened.
Her door opened and she stepped out. Not in pajamas and a robe, ready to knock on her partner’s door for a rendezvous. She was dressed in black, with a small bag in hand. She closed her door and stood silently on the outdoor walkway, looking and listening.
He didn’t move, feeling as if she could see directly into his vehicle. He’d parked in the shadows, avoiding the hotel parking lot lights.