Does she feel the same?
“I can’t just stand around here,” Mercy said, pushing herself off the rail. She started to stride across the porch, as she had paced the night before. “I need to do something.”
“Garrison won’t let you be involved.”
“Then he won’t care if we go for a drive. We can at least look for Craig’s truck. Maybe he went back to the cave at Owlie Lake.”
“The one picked apart by evidence teams?”
She stopped and looked at him, her hands on her hips. “Get me out of here, Truman.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
An hour later Mercy stared out her window, unable to get something Truman had said yesterday out of her mind. They’d driven down every street in Eagle’s Nest, stopped for coffee, and argued over which highway to search next. Truman had won, and they drove, checking every passing truck to see if it was Craig’s Chevy.
“Whose death did you cause?” she kept her voice low, her face to the window, but she saw his reflection stiffen.
“Another cop. I hesitated when I should have acted. And then I made the wrong choice when I did act. A woman—maybe two—died because I hesitated.”
He haltingly told a story of a burning car that made her want to cry.
“I think you made the right decision in a very stressful moment. The fire extinguisher might have put out the fire.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I’m sure you’ve relived it with dozens of different scenarios.”
“Knowing that my lack of action led to someone’s death put me out of commission for a while. I believed I was done with law enforcement. I’d entered the field wanting to help people and I’d done the opposite—”
“Truman—”
“Let me get this out.” He kept his eyes on the road. “This job in Eagle’s Nest opened a door that I believed had been slammed firmly shut. Now I pray every day that I make the right decision if that type of situation ever arises again.”
“I’m sorry, Truman,” she whispered. Survivor’s guilt. Doubting his decisions. She understood.
Am I doing the right thing by keeping my secret?
His phone rang through the speakers of the Tahoe. He hit a button on his steering wheel. “Daly.”
“Chief Daly?”
“Yes. You’re on speaker and I have Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick with me. Who is this?”
“This is Sharon Cox. I’m Toby’s mom.”
Mercy came to attention at the name of the witness she’d interviewed days ago.
“Yes, Sharon. Is everything okay with Toby?” Truman asked with concern.
“Well, not really. He’s been up all night and is extremely upset. I’ve never seen him like this.” She paused. “He insisted I phone you. He’s been pacing and crying and I can’t get him to relax. I’m only calling because I need him to settle down and—”
“What’s he want you to tell me?” Truman said sharply.
The woman’s deep breath sounded over the speakers. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but he says he saw a ghost at Ned Fahey’s home yesterday.”
Mercy smiled, remembering Toby’s fear of ghosts. But Truman scowled and abruptly pulled the Tahoe over onto the red gravel lining the highway. Mercy grabbed her door handle to keep her balance.
Truman stared intently at his dashboard as if he could see Sharon Cox. “Can Toby describe this ghost? Can I talk to Toby?”
“Well,” Sharon said reluctantly. “I guess so. If you don’t mind. I really didn’t want him to bother you, but he’s really getting on my—”
“Put him on the phone,” Truman ordered.
They heard Sharon holler for Toby.
“You think someone’s been in Ned’s house,” Mercy whispered. Would Craig take Rose there?
“I think Toby saw something. He wouldn’t be so upset if he hadn’t. Could be nothing, but it’s worth taking a look.” He checked both directions on the two-lane highway and pulled a U-turn.
“Chief Daly?” Toby’s voice boomed through the speakers, and Truman turned down the volume.
“Yes, Toby. Mercy from the FBI can hear you too. What’s going on?”
“I heard Ned’s ghost! You were wrong that his ghost left!”
“Where did you hear it, Toby?”
“I went in his house,” Toby said slowly. “I know I’m not supposed to, but I wanted to see if his body was really gone.”
“It’s gone. Mercy and I told you that. What did you see in there?”
“I didn’t make it to his bedroom. I heard his voice—he sounded like he was hurt!”
“Did you look for him?” Truman asked. He pushed the Tahoe up to seventy-five, heading in Ned Fahey’s direction.
“No! I got out of there as fast as I could!”
“Could you make out any words?” Mercy spoke up.
“I think he asked me to help him.” Toby’s voice dissolved into hiccups. “Should I have helped him? I was so scared. I just had to get out of there.”
“You did the right thing,” Truman reassured him. “Toby, wasn’t the house locked up? Do you have a key?”
“I don’t have a key. Ned would never give out his keys to anyone.” His voice wavered. “He’s going to be so mad at me.”
“Toby,” Mercy said firmly. “How’d you get in the house?”