Merciless (36 page)

Again, I’d written down that I hadn’t found any lab reports in any of the individual
case files. It was as if the tribal cops had looked at the body, made an assessment
about it being a drug-related death, and closed the case.

“Did you find something?” Naomi asked.

“I’m not entirely sure, but there seems to be . . . a common thread linking some other
cases around that time.” I looked at her. “Did the police tell you they ran postmortem
drug tests on your mom?”

She shook her head. “She’d been busted for drug possession so many times, they knew
her drug of choice was smack. They assumed that’s what killed her.” She couldn’t contain
the hope in her voice: “Do you think the cops were wrong?”

I searched her eyes. “Why is this so important to you?”

“It’s not important to me. Well, okay, it is. Like I said, my mom had been clean for
the first time in her life. It’d mean a lot to my grandma to know that my mom hadn’t
been lying to us. That she’d really started to change.” Her brown eyes were surprisingly
defiant. “It ain’t like we’re gonna sue the cops or nothin’. We’d just like to know
the truth.”

That’s when I did a dumb thing, even though it’d probably come back
to bite me in the ass. “Here’s the deal. I’ll tell you what I suspect, but if you
tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it. Just between you and your
unci,
okay? I think someone killed your mom and made it look like an overdose.” I expected
tears. Or outrage. Not a sad nod of acceptance.

“Thank you. That’s what I thought, or maybe what I’d hoped . . .” She cleared her
throat and glanced at my notebook as I shut it. “That’s the type of research you’re
doing?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of depressing.”

“I’ll bet Sheldon was a big help. He knows everything.”

Again with the familiar use of
Sheldon.
“Does he help you with research?”

“He’s usually super-busy, but there’s a lot more reference materials for history projects
here than there are at the high school. Arlette came down here all the time.”

Why hadn’t Sheldon mentioned that to me?

“She and Sheldon talked books. So after she quit hanging out with me, I started coming
down here because I was missing her. I thought maybe . . .” She blushed. “I thought
maybe Sheldon would discuss vampire books with me like he had with Arlette. He’s easy
to talk to, even if he does talk a lot.”

How well I knew that.

“And man, didja ever notice he asks a ton of questions?”

“I had noticed that.” I paused, not wanting to seem too eager. “What kind of questions
does he ask you?”

“What questions
didn’t
he ask me?” she half complained. “But it is kinda cool because no one at school cares
what I think.”

“High school pretty much sucks ass. That’s why I couldn’t wait to leave and join the
army.”

“Really? That’s what I wanna do, too! Since Sheldon served in the military, he’s been
telling me what branch of the service I should apply to.”

“I’d definitely tell you to join the army.” I smirked. “What did he say?”

“Any branch besides the National Guard if I wanted to see any real action. With the
way he kept grilling me about my interview with the police, I figured he’d probably
been a military cop, so I was surprised when he said he was in communications. He
wanted to know if I’d heard anything. If the tribal police had possible suspects.”

That was really weird. Why would he care? To get a scoop on gossip?

“Come to think of it”—Naomi squinted at me—“he asked a lot of questions about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“I dunno. He thinks the tribal cops are idiots, too. He said he was interested in
how the big guns do it.”

It was unnerving to hear that Sheldon had used my favorite phrase. How closely had
he been monitoring me when I’d been working in the archives?

Paranoid much, Gunderson?

I stood. “Well, this big gun is gonna get in big trouble if she doesn’t get something
done today.”

“I think I’ll wait a little longer to see if he shows up.”

“You don’t wanna go back to school?”

She wrinkled her nose. “My next class is algebra.”

“Keep your grades up,” I warned. “The military recruiters look at things like attendance,
and academic records. It’ll help them choose where to place you after you’re through
boot camp.”

“Oh, okay.” She looked at me strangely, almost shyly. “Would you be willing to talk
to me sometime about what it’s really like being in the army?”

“Sure. And if you promise me you won’t skip class anymore, I’ll see if I can’t put
in a good word for you with the recruiter.”

“That’d be so awesome!” Naomi scribbled in her notebook, ripped out a piece of paper,
and handed it to me. “I won’t call you because I know you’re busy, but I got a new
cell number, so you can call me when you get time.”

“Why the new number?”

Another scowl. “Because Mackenzie posted my old one in the computer lab with a note
that I was a snitch.”

“Doing the right thing doesn’t make you a snitch.” I put the paper in my notebook.
“Now get to class and balance some equations.” Her laughter followed me up the stairs.

Lost in thought, I literally ran into Officer Ferguson when I walked through the front
door.

“Agent Gunderson. What are you doing over here? Hanging out with your boyfriend?”
she joked. Then her face paled. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I forgot the sheriff is in the
hospital. Sometimes I just open my mouth and don’t—”

“It’s okay.” I paused. “But I’m curious: Who’d you mean by my ‘boyfriend’?”

“Sheldon. In the archives department. I think he’s got a thing for you.”

I frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“He always asks about you.”

“You have lots of occasions to talk to Mr. War Bonnet, Officer Ferguson?”

She shrugged defensively. “I usually bring boxes of case reports over. Sheldon and
I shoot the shit.” Fergie looked over her shoulder and then leaned in closer. “I’ve
got a crush on him, okay? Not that I’d ever act on it.”

“Really?” I didn’t want to say eww, but . . . eww.

“I know what you’re thinking. But last year we had about thirty boxes to transfer
here, and I wasn’t sure if Sheldon wanted me to load them in the elevator or bring
them around back to the loading bay. When I got down here, I found the outer door
open, which never happens on days the archives are closed. I poked my head in before
I announced myself and saw Sheldon hefting huge boxes over his head. Then he climbed
up to the top of the shelving unit like a monkey. He was wearing one of those wifebeater-type
shirts, and it rode up.” She released a soft whistle. “I thought six-pack abs were
a myth, but Sheldon has them. Man, and his arms are completely ripped. In fact, his
upper body is really toned. It’s a shame he keeps it hidden under such baggy clothes.”

Why would Sheldon hide his physique? I’d always seen him as a doughy guy. Something
Shay had said about Rollie jumped into my head.
Did you see how he shuffled out of here like an old man? Trying to leave the impression
that he’s harmless and helpless?

But it made no sense why Sheldon would want people to think he was gimped up. For
sympathy? So people would assume it was from an injury he’d sustained in the service?

Fergie’s voice pulled me out of those thoughts. “I didn’t want to get caught gawking
at him, so I ducked around the corner and waited a few minutes. Then I yelled real
loud when I came in.”

“Did he stand on a ladder so you could admire him in all his sweaty, muscled glory?”

She chuckled. “No, he’d put on a long-sleeved shirt at least one size too big. I assumed
it was a hand-me-down from his uncle.”

“Do you know his uncle?”

“He was in charge of the archives when I first started as a cop. Then Sheldon moved
back to care for him and to take over the archives job. Harold is a sweet guy. Quiet.”

“Do you ever see him?”

Fergie looked thoughtful. “No, he has health issues. But Sheldon talks about him.
Harold is lucky that Sheldon lives with him so he didn’t end up in a nursing home.
Anyway, I have more boxes for him. I’ve been trying to dump them off for the last
month, but he keeps telling me the storage area by the loading bay is full. I’m tired
of getting my butt chewed by the police chief because we’ve got sensitive case files
stacked in the hallway.”

“How full can it be back there? What else does he use the loading bay for?”

“Between us? Nothing. I saw a cot back there one time, but I never let on that I noticed
his little R and R corner. So what if he’s made a little nesting spot to take naps?
I don’t care. I just want him to quit stalling and take these boxes off my hands.”

Now that I’d thought about it, I’d never asked him about the locked
door in the far back room. “Well, Sheldon isn’t here today. Maybe he’s taking his
uncle to the doctor or something.”

“Could be. He’ll be pleased to hear you’re concerned about him.” She nudged me with
her shoulder and grinned. “Sheldon is crushing on you big time, Mercy.”

“Maybe the tribal PD should start drug testing, because obviously you’ve been smoking
crack.”

“Ha-ha. Seriously you wouldn’t see it. Bet you also don’t know your partner—I mean,
your
coworker,
Agent Turnbull—has a big-time crush on you, too. As does
my
coworker, Officer Orson. Even Nancy in the jail told me you’re da bomb.”

What a load of horseshit. “I think you’re mixing up annoyance and affection, Officer
Fergalicious, at least when it comes to my coworker,” I said dryly.

“Think what you want. But I know that Sheldon is mighty interested in you and your
contribution to the cases. He’s asked me everything, from what you say about your
military service, to how good you are on the shooting range, to your family connections,
to your relationship with Sheriff Dawson, to your hobbies.”

Based on my former military position and the need to keep a low profile, a feeling
of wrongness churned in my gut. “Huh. Well, I’m really not that interesting.”

“Tell that to the guy who’s carrying around a lock of your hair.”

I went very still. “Excuse me?”

“Kidding, Gunderson. But I wouldn’t put it past him to steal something of yours just
so he’d have an excuse to ask if you lost it and could give it back.”

“I hope you didn’t give him my address.”

“
You
would’ve given him your address when you enrolled in the tribe.”

I remembered the day I’d registered as a member of the tribe, as I’d been suffering
from a particularly vicious hangover. Hope was snippy with me because I’d insisted
she and Joy come along to enroll. I’d had a
sense of resentment that I couldn’t put my real occupation in the army on my application.

My face flushed with mortification. Had I really written “insurgent removal specialist”—aka
sniper—on my tribal enrollment form?

Holy shit. Holy, holy, shit. I’d be in huge fucking trouble if the army ever found
out.

No wonder Sheldon showed interest in me. Question was—how much interest? Who else
had he told? My gaze zoomed back to Officer Ferguson. “I gotta admit, I was really
hungover the day I applied for tribal membership. I might’ve written down all sorts
of lies and stuff.”

“Whatever you wrote was fascinating enough that Sheldon asked a bunch of questions
when you lost the election and took a job with the FBI.”

“Maybe I should pay Sheldon a visit. See if he’s all right. See if he’ll let me write
a retraction statement on certain areas of my tribal enrollment form, due to my, ah,
liquid creativity.” I paused when she laughed. “Do you know where he lives?”

A guilty look crossed her face.

I tried to keep it light. “Come on, Fergalicious, you already said you had a tiny
crush on him. I’d think it was weird if you
didn’t
know.”

Fergie flashed me a sheepish grin. “When you put it that way . . . he lives about
three miles out of town toward Crested Buttes. There’s an owl sitting on top of his
mailbox, and the entrance to his place is through a gate. I’ve never seen the house
because it’s behind a bunch of trees.” She paused. “You really thinking of going out
there?”

“Nah. Just yanking your chain, trying to make you jealous that
your
crush has a crush on me.” I forced a smile. “I’ve got too much to do. The FBI is
running me ragged trying to put something together on these cases.”

“Good luck with that. I’ll see you around.”

H
alfway to Sheldon’s house I considered whipping a U-turn and heading back to the VS
office.

But that little voice in my head and that gut feeling the FBI advised me to discount . . . were
clamoring for attention. I had nothing else to do but fret about Mason, or count the
hours until Lex was dismissed from school.

Or I could find a quiet corner in Stillwell’s and drink.

Nah.

I drove past Sheldon’s slowly, staking out the place, but with no traffic, it really
didn’t matter who saw what I was doing. Thirty yards from the turnoff was a steel
gate. The front entrance was secured with a heavy chain and a lock. Talk about overkill.
Usually, a security system around here was a neon sign to robbers.
We have something of worth that needs protection, please rob us.

What valuables did Sheldon have that required such security measures?

Then I remembered he lived with an elderly uncle. If the man suffered from Alzheimer’s,
then I understood the need for extra precautions. I scanned the fence line. Sturdy
fencing.
KEEP OUT
and
NO HUNTING
and
NO TRESPASSING
signs were attached at random intervals.

There wasn’t a gravel road running along the backside of the property, so I turned
around, debating my next move. Park at the gate and wander up the driveway, claiming
I was worried when he hadn’t shown up in the archives department?