Mercy’s love for Rose’s unborn baby was rapidly growing. What she’d once believed would be a burden she now saw as a blessing. Any child would be lucky to have Rose as their mother.
When she dropped off Rose after their chats, Mercy’s mother occasionally came to the door and waved. It was awkward, but less awkward than meeting Mercy’s father face-to-face. Her mother had shown some spine when it came to their third daughter. She’d even met with Mercy a time or two for an infusion of caffeine. Her mother was careful in their conversations . . . never discussing Mercy’s father or anything from the past.
It was better than nothing.
A single light bulb shone over the door of the Parkers’ home, casting a small cone of light that barely lit their stairs. Mercy sat in her vehicle for a long moment, straining her vision to see the rest of their property in the dark. It was difficult. She could make out the faintest outline of what appeared to be a small stable and paddock beyond the house, but she had no idea where the shed that had caught fire had stood.
She slid out of her SUV and made her way to the house, thinking about the location in relation to the other fires. She’d already stared at a map, searching for a pattern among all five of the incidents, but she’d come up with nothing. She knocked. The front door opened, and a very pregnant young woman greeted her.
“Agent Kilpatrick?” Julia Parker had impossibly straight blonde hair that hung nearly to her waist. She looked too young to be pregnant, although Mercy already knew she was twenty-two.
Still too young.
A toddler appeared and hugged her mother’s leg, frowning at the approaching stranger. Her hair matched her mother’s, and her blue eyes were as round as marbles.
Mercy held out her hand. “Call me Mercy.” She grinned at the tiny girl, who ducked her face into her mother’s pants.
“This is Winslet.” Julia patted the top of the toddler’s head and ran a supporting hand below her own huge belly as she grimaced. “This elephant will soon be Lola.”
“Two girls,” Mercy commented. “How lovely.” I never know what to say to pregnant women. Or toddlers.
Julia led her into the cramped home. She pushed aside a high chair and gestured for Mercy to take a seat at the kitchenette table. Three ceramic Thanksgiving turkeys stood in the center of the table in the middle of a wreath woven from dried leaves. The house had little room to maneuver in, but Julia’s personal touches gave it a homey air. Winslet demanded to be on her mother’s lap, and Mercy held her breath as Julia lifted her up. Please don’t go into labor. Julia deftly balanced the girl on the minuscule amount of lap she had beyond her belly. Winslet turned suspicious eyes on Mercy.
She’s darling. But the intense stare unnerved her.
“Steve will be in soon. He’s finishing up some things in the barn. Oh!” She started to move Winslet off her lap. “I didn’t offer you anything to drink.”
Mercy held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t get up. I’m fine. I just came from a long meeting where I held a cup of coffee and didn’t drink a sip of it.”
Julia settled back in her chair, looking relieved, and Winslet leaned against her mother’s tummy and stroked it with a tiny hand as if it were a kitten. A door at the back of the home opened and Steve Parker came in, removing his boots just inside the door and greeting Mercy in stocking feet. He looked nearly as young as Julia and had a baby face with full pink cheeks. He took Winslet off Julia’s lap and sat with the toddler in another chair, giving Winslet a plastic book to play with. “I’m glad to hear that the police aren’t done with our fire,” he said. “We had a lot of work stored up in that shed. Not that finding the arsonist can replace it, but it’d make me feel a heck of a lot better.”
“I completely understand,” said Mercy. “I know you haven’t lived here that long, but have you met the Kilpatricks down the highway? They’re my parents.”
Understanding crossed his face and his eyes lit up.
Bingo. We have something in common.
“We lost a year’s worth of canning,” Steve said. “Along with bins of medical supplies and garden seeds.” He placed a kiss on the top of Winslet’s head. “It hurts when you sink hard work and money into preparing for your children and someone destroys it.”
“I’m so sorry.” The tender way he looked at his daughter and pregnant wife ripped at her heart. Is that how my father felt about his preparations? That they were primarily about his family?
Guilt was bitter on her tongue. She’d never thought about it that way. Her father’s obsession had always felt a bit self-centered to her.
She turned to Julia. “I read in the police report that you spotted the fire around one a.m. from a window?”
“Yes. I saw the flames out the window above the kitchen sink.” A sheepish look crossed her face. “I was getting something for heartburn. Either heartburn or my bladder interrupts my sleep nearly every night now.”
“When are you due?” Mercy asked.
“Four weeks.”
“A Christmas baby?”
“We hope. That would be really special.” Julia and Steve exchanged a look that made Mercy feel like an intruder.
“You told the police you didn’t hear or see anything before the fire, correct?” Mercy asked.
Steve looked to his wife as Julia frowned. She said, “I didn’t say anything at the time, but I swear I heard children laughing.”
Mercy stared at the pregnant woman. Children?
“But it was before the heartburn woke me . . . I think I was dreaming. I swear I’ve had the weirdest dreams while I’ve been pregnant with this one. But it felt so real at the time.”
“So there’s a possibility you heard laughter outside,” Mercy said as her brain tried to digest this new bit of news. Clyde Jenkins had heard laughter, so Julia’s story wasn’t that odd.
“Maybe. I know that’s not very helpful, but I wanted to tell everything. I should have mentioned it to the police chief when he was here, but it felt ridiculous talking about a dream.”
“Not ridiculous,” said Mercy. “Please share everything.”
“Well, that’s the only new thing that’s occurred to me.” Julia rested her arms on her belly.
“Would you show me where the fire was?”
“I’ve cleaned up most of the debris,” Steve said. “There’s just a concrete pad and some boards left.”
“I’d still like to look around.”
He stood, handed off Winslet to Julia, and gestured for Mercy to follow. He stopped at a cabinet in the kitchen and grabbed two flashlights, handing her a black one and keeping the Minnie Mouse one for himself.