“And then Levi took his side,” Mercy said bitterly. “There’s a strong patriarchal core in my family. Levi stood against me when I threatened to go tell on my own. My father said I’d destroy the family if I went to Joziah with accusations of a possible attacker working on his ranch. And my father was right. Every male in my family begged me to let it go and then turned their backs on me when I said I couldn’t. And the women stuck with them.”
“You couldn’t see your family every day and forget about it.”
“No. And I couldn’t live with such outdated rules. Levi may have been part of the ‘protect our wimminfolk’ philosophy back then, but now he’s over it, thank goodness. I can’t say the same for Owen. He still won’t talk to me. I think my sisters have gotten past most of it.”
“Essentially your father’s refusal to do something that might have protected other women from being killed was the last straw for you,” Truman said. “But Mercy, if you felt so strongly, why didn’t you go report it yourself?” he asked again.
“I was also afraid what I said would reveal that a man had died. I didn’t want the police to come investigate a possible attack and discover evidence that Levi and I had shot someone,” she whispered.
“Understandable. But hard to live with.”
“Yes. I was ashamed when I left town, and I watched the news for months afterward, expecting to hear of more women murdered, but nothing happened, and I was relieved. Maybe the death of the first attacker was enough to stop all the attacks.”
“That’s possible,” said Truman.
“I’d been toying with the idea of leaving Eagle’s Nest for a while. After the attacks my father cracked down on me, told me to forget any plans for college. He told me to find a husband and even made a few suggestions of men he thought would take good care of me.”
Truman snorted. If there ever was a woman who didn’t need taking care of . . .
“Right?” Her mouth curved up on one side.
“Didn’t your father know you at all?”
“I’m not the same person I was back then. I was a good girl for a long time. I did what they wanted and followed their rules. But then I started to see what was outside of the tight circle I was raised in. I wanted to make my own decisions.”
“Leads you to hell every time.”
“My family feared so.”
“Are you sorry you told me?” Truman asked. Guilt still weighed on him for pressuring her to bare her secret.
She considered him for a long moment. “No. I feel relieved.”
“You think the second person who was at your attack might be the one who followed you—possibly twice this week.”
Her shoulders tensed again. “It’s a possibility, but it seems like a slim one. On the other hand, I don’t have any enemies in town that I know of. But I can’t imagine that someone involved in those murders would stick around Eagle’s Nest for fifteen years.”
“It’s a town that few people seem to leave.” Truman glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. It was nearly two a.m. “Crap. I need to get up in three hours.”
Mercy didn’t move. He’d expected her to make a beeline for the door, but he noticed her green eyes were calm for the first time in several hours. “I don’t want to go back to my room right now . . . ,” she said slowly. “I can’t be alone. Do you care if I sleep on your couch for a few hours?”
His mind shot to several places, but he heard himself say, “No problem. It makes sense considering you might have been followed tonight—by someone other than me. You sure that’s what you want?”
She relaxed and smiled. “Yes. Give me a blanket and I’ll be asleep in two minutes.”
He got her a blanket and showed her the guest bath. If he’d purchased a bed for his guest room, she could have slept there. But it held a treadmill and a weight bench. The couch was all he had to offer.
He handed her a pillow. “Need anything else?”
“No. I’m so tired, I could sleep standing up. I guess confession is exhausting.”
“You’ve been carrying that around for a long time by yourself.” He couldn’t imagine.
“I got used to it, but it’s been worse since I came back here. There are visual reminders everywhere. Back in Portland, I can forget. Mostly.”
He told her good night.
As he crawled into his own bed minutes later, he wondered if he’d be able to sleep knowing Mercy Kilpatrick was asleep under his roof. He spent ten minutes reviewing his day and thinking on her dilemma.
She’d dumped a lot of information on him in the last few hours, and none of it changed his perspective of her. Mercy was still a fiercely independent woman and an experienced, sharp agent. If anything, he admired her more.
He wanted to help her; it was what he did. But his goal felt different this time. It wasn’t solely about helping her; he had an additional motive.
He wanted to be with her.
THIRTY-ONE
“What the hell?” Mercy circled her vehicle again. Sure enough. All four tires were flat.
Who?
Truman stepped out of his house and locked the door, and she glanced up in time to see a big smile on his face. He’d been grinning since he’d discovered her in his kitchen with a spoon in his peanut butter. She’d woken up starving.
“What the fuck?” He came to a halt and his grin vanished as his gaze went from her face to her tires. “All of them?” he asked in a grim tone.
“Yep. Cameras?”
“No.” He glanced across the street. “None of my neighbors have them either.”