No Mercy (5 page)

them were like
The Breakfast Club
in some ways.

During fourth grade at Greenway Elementary, Mr. Norton, the evilest of the evil teachers, had

always had it in for them for one reason or another. Only God knew why. Mr. Norton had constantly

sent the seven of them to the principal, who had been vile, too. Mr. Johnson had pulled down their

underpants to expose their bare bottoms before paddling them. Now she knew it had been perverted

and child abuse, but that was back when teachers and principals got away with it.

Mr. Johnson had drilled holes into the paddle so it hurt worse when it smacked their skin. After

hitting them, he had made them sit together on the steps outside, during recess, their bottoms

stinging and their cheeks burning with humiliation. The seven of them hadn’t been allowed to move,

but they had talked and talked when Mr. Johnson wasn’t checking on them.

They began to call themselves the Circle of Seven and had forged a friendship that had

withstood so much over time. Over the years, everything they went through individually also

continued to strengthen the group.

At Bisbee Middle School the school mascot had been the Cobras, the colors purple and gold.

When they’d graduated, they’d gone to Bisbee High and had become the Pumas with red and gray

as their school colors.

Belle had been a cheerleader at BMS and BHS. Once she left Bisbee, she’d fallen into the

restaurant business. Over the years, she’d worked her way up from bottle washer to making a decent

living in restaurant management.

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***

three of the original seven had children.

Tom had excelled in various high school organizations, as well as being class president and the

class valedictorian. He’d divorced recently and had transferred from Tucson Medical Center to take

a position at Copper Queen Hospital as a physician. He had joint custody of his son, but only had

the boy in the summer because his ex still lived in Tucson.

Leon had been a football hero who now had a wife and three children, and they owned a water

well drilling business. He lived a little ways from Bisbee, close to Sierra Vista.

Marta had played varsity basketball. These days she lived with her wife, Nancy, and their

fraternal twin sons who had been conceived with donor sperm. Marta had been a stay at home mom

with their boys.

Christie had played flute in the band, and had been quiet but popular. After marrying Salvatore,

she started working in his office. They’d attempted to have children but they had been unable to get

pregnant.

Dylan was a cowboy and had worked on his father’s ranch when he wasn’t at school or spending

time with the CoS. Now he was in federal law enforcement, and had never married. She swallowed

and had to push thoughts of Dylan away because thinking about him was too painful. No one had

ever made her feel the way Dylan had.

Nate had never had a thing for organized activities or labels. He’d driven a hot rod and had been

a girl magnet. Even though he’d dated, he hadn’t seemed to realize so many girls had a thing for

him.

A smile touched Belle’s lips as she thought about Nate as he had been then. Despite his outward

appearance and the souped-up Charger he drove, he’d been the quietest of the group. He would

interject comments and jokes when they were together that would crack up all of them. He might

have been the least talkative, but he’d had an awesome sense of humor and he’d been something

of a prankster. They’d always been able to count on him for a little levity.

Like the time when they’d seen their English teacher, Mr. Bishop, smoking pot off campus on

the last day of school their freshman year. Marta and Christie were so against any kind of drugs that

they’d been upset to see their favorite teacher with a joint.

Nate had cracked a joke, which had them all laughing, even Marta and Christie. They’d headed

to the Puma Den, determined to put aside what they’d seen. Who were they to judge?

That one memory of Nate and the CoS shifted to a memory she’d hidden deep for so many

years. She swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel tight, unable to stop her mind from going

back to that night.

After they’d left the pizza place, Belle and Dylan had taken off in his truck and had driven up to

the Divide. It had been the most precious thing in her life, nearly wiping away the pain of the

22

***

She’d lost her virginity to Dylan that night. It had been something beautiful that she’d held onto

until she had ended up running away.

When her stepfather had begun to abuse her months later, at least he hadn’t been able to take

that part of her innocence.

One memory bled into another.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered how her mother, Mary, had died from a drug

overdose that summer, leaving Belle alone with her stepfather. One form of abuse had ended with

her mother’s death. But a far worse abuse had fol owed when her stepfather had come home drunk

and forced himself on her not long after her mother’s death.

She had taken her mother’s place in her stepfather’s bed whenever he dragged her into his

bedroom. The shame and guilt had changed her forever. She had dropped out of cheerleading and

had been withdrawn with her CoS friends. She had still hung out with them, still dated Dylan, but

she’d had to force herself to participate in conversations and struggled to smile moment by moment.

The emotions crashing down on her were overwhelming. The blare of a horn snapped her back

to the present and she realized she’d started to drift into another lane. Heart thudding, she swerved

back into the correct lane. She braked and pulled off the freeway, into the emergency lane, and

parked on the side of the road.

Her breaths came hard and fast and she realized she was hyperventilating. She pressed the

button for her emergency flashers and put her forehead against the steering wheel as she tried to

slow her breathing.

When she finally regained her composure, she leaned back in her seat to take a few more

moments to make sure she was calm enough to drive. After another five minutes she switched off

the flashers, waited for traffic to clear, and pulled back onto the highway.

The one thing she knew was that going back to Bisbee was the second hardest thing she’d ever

done. The first had been leaving.

***

***

Rain fell from the sky like tears. Dylan slammed his truck door and shoved his hands in the

pockets of his leather jacket. Drops hit his Stetson and rolled off the brim as he headed past five

other vehicles, toward a small group gathered on a ridge in the Mule Mountains.

The clearing on the ridge had been one of the CoS’s favorite places to hang out when they were

in high school and needed some kind of escape.

Dylan couldn’t help the churning in his mind or his gut as he trod over wet earth and past scraggly

bushes and cacti.

Detective Jensen had called Dylan and confirmed his suspicions that the spatter on the

baseboard in Nate’s living room was blood. Not only was it blood, but according to DNA tests it

belonged to Edmund Salcido, a suspected bookkeeper for the Jimenez Cartel. Edmund had been

convicted embezzlement in the past, so they were fortunate to have his DNA in the database.

Dylan’s boot slipped in mud as he closed in on the five figures. Al wore jeans and jackets, a

couple with raincoats. This was not a place or a time for formality. He almost smiled but didn’t when

he thought of how Nate would have laughed if they had dressed formally and in black.

His chest tightened when he let himself acknowledge that one of those standing on the ridge

had to be Belle.

According to Jensen, the BPD had attempted to find Salcido, but individuals who knew the man

hadn’t seen him for days. Finding Salcido’s blood and evidence of his possible disappearance had

changed the game. Because of the man’s ties to the cartel, DHS had taken over the case. DHS

would still work closely with the BPD until potential ties to the cartel were confirmed.

Because of all of the questions in the air, the DHS had arranged to keep Nate’s body. The

autopsy showed nothing beyond Nate dying of asphyxiation; however, the police wouldn’t release

the body until the DHS was positive no foul play had been involved. Dylan’s gut told him that holding

onto Nate’s body had been the right thing to do, even though it meant the funeral itself would be

delayed.

DHS agents were currently tearing apart Nate’s house, combing through it for clues to a

suspected murder. If Dylan’s own suspicions were correct, they’d be looking for proof of two murders

that would suggest Nate had
not
committed suicide. If it weren’t for Nate’s memorial, Dylan would

be at Nate’s house now conducting his own investigation.

Dylan would have bet anything that Nate hadn’t taken his own life. Dylan thought once again of

the strange note Nate had scribbled to him but hadn’t mailed. Maybe he hadn’t had time to mail the

postcard and had stuck it in the book at the last minute to hide it. But why would he need to hide it?

When Dylan reached the group, everyone faced him. Christie was the closest, so his gaze met

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***

pale skin, her long red hair drenched.

“Hi, Dylan.” Her voice trembled as she went to him and slid her arms around his waist.

He hugged her, then went to each of the remaining friends in the broken circle.

Tom’s expression was sorrowful as he gave Dylan a quick hug. “Good to see you.”

Marta’s throat worked when Dylan moved to her. “I’m sorry it’s for something like this,” she said

before she hugged him.

Leon gave Dylan a quick hug and a slap on the back before releasing him. “We should be getting

together now
with
Nate, not at his damned memorial.”

Dylan stepped back and his gaze final y met Belle’s, and it was like a punch to his gut. She was

older now and had grown into a mature beauty. Her expression was stricken, her wide violet eyes

showing the depth of her grief. She’d pul ed her dark hair away from her face and her pale skin

glistened in the rain. The urge to hold her, to comfort her was strong, but it felt awkward, like he had

no idea what to do.

She held a small bouquet of daisies, which trembled, telling him she was shaking. “Hi, Dylan.”

Her voice was as low and sweet as it had been on the phone, just as he remembered it being when

they were young.

“Hi, Belle.” It was all he could think to say in return as he went to her.

She lowered her hands to her sides, holding the daisy stems in one fist. When he brought her

into his arms and hugged her, she hugged him in return. A knife of pain cut through his heart. Her

scent was so familiar, the feel of her body natural against his. She sobbed close to his ear and he

gave her a tight squeeze before releasing her.

It took a moment before he could tear his gaze from hers. He moved aside to look at the ridge

in front of them. For a long time they were all quiet, the rain pattering on the wet earth and making

plopping sounds when they hit puddles that had formed on the ridge.

“We should each say something.” He turned his gaze on Christie, who was now across from

him.

She cleared her throat. “One of my favorite memories of Nate was the time he stood up for me

in elementary school. Three older boys were bullying me and Nate tore into them. He came out of it

with a bloody nose and a black eye, but none of the other boys were standing.”

“I remember that.” Dylan couldn’t help a little smile. “When we heard what happened, it was one

of the things that sealed the Circle.”

“Nate was always rescuing animals and people.” Belle’s smile was soft as Dylan looked at her.

“He had a good heart.”

“G.I. Joe was a rescue.” Dylan glanced at Leon. “Thanks for giving him a good home.”

“It’s only been a couple of days, but Joe is already becoming part of the family.” Leon sounded