Mercy had received a call from Truman to tell her that Joshua Pence had been seen in town with Tom McDonald over the past few months, so she immediately found his address and recruited Eddie for the ride out to the McDonald ranch. Eddie had been supervising the evidence processing from all the fires, which he stated primarily involved a lot of emails and phone calls begging people to speed up their work.
Following her GPS, Mercy turned off a highway, and her Tahoe bounced through deep ruts on a dirt road.
“Are you sure this is right?” Eddie grabbed the “oh shit” handle above his door. “It looks like no one has driven here in a few months.”
“I suspect that’s exactly how he wants it to appear.” Sure enough, after a minute the rough road was replaced by a well-tended gravel road. “Maybe there’s a back way in that gets used more often.”
“Why does everyone out here spend so much effort trying to avoid people?” Eddie muttered.
Mercy grinned. “I don’t have an answer for you.”
“They’ve got too much time on their hands,” Eddie mused. “And I think they watch too much conspiracy TV.”
“Maybe.”
They drove between two buttes as they climbed in elevation. The vegetation around them was dry and scarce, giving the area a dull beige tone amid the rocky landscape, typical of the Deschutes County high desert. The road took a sharp turn and Mercy drove into a large level area of several dozen acres. A small old farmhouse sat far off to one side, looking as if it’d been lonely since the 1950s. Barbed-wire fences surrounded multiple pastures. Fresh lumber framed several outbuildings, and a dozen pickups indicated that humans were around somewhere.
Mercy parked next to the pickups and hopped out, studying the new construction. A few older buildings sat beyond the new ones, looking as old as the farmhouse. Mercy glanced at the farmhouse and then back at the buttes they’d driven past, feeling a sense of déjà vu.
She was positive she’d never driven out to the ranch before, but it had the same aura of another place she’d visited. She continued to scan the buildings, searching her memories for the connection and waiting to see who’d greet her and Eddie.
My uncles’ ranch.
That was it. Satisfaction curled through her. Her mother’s five brothers had owned a similar ranch in southeast Oregon. Three of the uncles had passed away over the years. Two had died from heart problems, and the youngest had been killed in the eruption of Mount St. Helens back in 1980. The two remaining uncles now lived somewhere in eastern Washington, and Mercy hadn’t given them a passing thought since she’d left home fifteen years ago.
She remembered long car trips from her childhood that had ended at her uncles’ ranch on the far side of the state. She and her siblings had been let loose to explore the property while the adults talked for hours. Thinking hard, she figured their last trip had occurred before she turned twelve. She wasn’t certain why the trips had stopped, but once two of the brothers had died, she knew the others agreed it was time to sell and go their separate ways.
Her memories were of a property dominated by men. With so many uncles and their numerous ranch hands, that was understandable. She couldn’t remember much interaction with her aunts outside of helping with cooking and chores. Her remaining uncles’ contact with her mother seemed to dissolve once they moved to Washington, and Mercy suddenly wondered if there’d been a falling out on that side of the family that she’d been blissfully unaware of.
A perk of being a child.
“This reminds me a lot of my uncles’ ranch,” she told Eddie. “I used to visit it when I was a kid. A great place for playing hide-and-seek with my siblings.”
“Was it this remote?”
“More so.”
The look on Eddie’s face said he wasn’t surprised.
Someone stepped out of the closest new construction building. The young man was wearing a tool belt and glanced around as if looking for someone more senior to take charge of the visitors. Mercy took pity on him and strode over, deciding to make the first move.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Special Agent Kilpatrick and this is Special Agent Peterson.”
The young man stared at her for a moment and then blanched as he ducked his chin. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” His words tumbled over one another.
“Excuse me?” Mercy was lost. He was a good-looking kid who had clearly misunderstood the reason for their visit. She saw Eddie stifle a grin out of the corner of her eye.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Eddie asked in a serious tone.
Mercy wanted to elbow him for harassing the man.
The young man straightened and turned to Mercy, meeting her gaze directly this time. “I really like Kaylie,” he said with a quiver in his voice, and nervously licked his lips. “I’m sorry I talked her into sneaking out at night. That was on me, not her.”
Comprehension dawned. “You’re Cade?” Mercy exclaimed, as she realized this was the young man she’d seen exchange a brief look with Kaylie at the memorial service. She didn’t know whether to give him a piece of her mind or admire his guts for standing up to her.
He blinked rapidly. “Ummm . . . yes. Isn’t that why you’re here? To talk to me? Kaylie told me you wanted to meet me.”
“Well, yes, but I imagined it’d be over dinner somewhere,” Mercy managed to say. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
Cade looked from her to Eddie in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re here to talk to Tom McDonald,” Eddie told him. “Not you.” He turned to Mercy. “This is the guy who Kaylie snuck out with?” He gave Cade an evil eye. “How old are you?”
“I-I-I’m twenty.”
“She’s in high school,” Eddie pointed out, still using his tough-cop voice.
“Stop it,” Mercy interjected. “This isn’t the time or place. Is Tom around?”
“What’s going on? Everything okay, Cade?” A new voice spoke as two men came around the building. Like Cade, they wore tool belts, but they were at least a decade or two older. One was short and wiry, while the other was a few inches taller and hung back, looking slightly uncomfortable at the sight of visitors.
Mercy immediately disliked the shorter man who’d spoken. His eyes were mean and squinty. “We’re looking for Tom,” she said pleasantly.
“Who’s looking?” said the jerk as he crossed his arms and challenged her with those eyes.
“The FBI.” She smiled, showing all her teeth, as she introduced herself and Eddie.
“Tom’s not here,” answered Squinty Eyes.
“He went to Salem,” added the second man in a friendlier voice. “He said he might not come back today.” He received a glare from Squinty for sharing the extra information. Or for being helpful.
Eddie held out the photo they’d lifted from Joshua Pence’s old DMV records. Mercy estimated he weighed quite a bit less in the photo, but the hair and beard looked about right. “Know this guy?”
Squinty glanced at the photo and looked away. “Nope. Never seen him before.”