Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (ebook reader with built in dictionary txt) 📕

the name of our campground and the spot number being used by the Winnebago. When he asks for my name, I say, “Oh, I-I-I don’t really want to be involved. Just passing on what I saw.”

“I understand, sir. But it would be helpful if—”

I hang up.

He calls back. (FYI, if someone calls one of my faux numbers, it gets routed back to my phone, with a notation on my screen so I know what number was called. Helps me keep my lies straight.) Since I have nothing else to say to the man, I send the call to a voicemail that will greet him with a generic outgoing message.

Now we wait.

A quarter hour passes before we see headlights turn onto the road that runs by our camping spot. When the vehicle reaches the Winnebago’s site, it stops. I raise the binoculars. As I suspected, it’s the park police. The officer turns off his headlights but leaves his engine running, then climbs out of the driver’s seat. His partner, a woman, exits the other side.

I swing the binoculars over to the Winnebago, expecting to see Evan’s dad come barreling out, but the RV remains quiet.

The cops walk up to the front end of the campsite, where the woman turns on a flashlight and points it toward the embers of the now almost dead fire. When the beam lands on Evan, it stops moving.

For a moment or two, the cops seem unsure what to do. Then they approach Evan.

I know the exact moment they spot the fishing line attached to his leg, from the way the woman moves her light from Evan to the picnic table and back. She leans down and shakes his shoulder.

The way Evan jerks in surprise makes me think he dozed off. Either that or he’s good at faking it, which, given the apparent relationship he has with his father, wouldn’t shock me.

The officers talk to him for several seconds before the male cop walks back to the Winnebago. It looks like he’s going to knock on the door, but then he turns his head back toward the fire as if he’s been called.

Evan, who’s sitting up now—carefully, to not break the fishing line—is looking at him, his mouth moving.

The officer turns back to the RV. Instead of knocking on the door, he moves up to the front passenger window and raises his hand to tap on the glass. He pauses and leans in closer.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

For a beat, everything is quiet and calm. Then the cop whips out his pistol and barks something back at his partner.

He’s seen the rifle.

The woman pulls out her own gun at the same moment she raises her radio with her free hand and speaks into it.

All the commotion must have finally woken Evan’s dad, because the cop near him raises his gun high enough to be seen and probably barks something at the window, though I can’t tell for sure since the cop’s back is now turned to me.

I should have placed an audio bug in the area so we can hear what’s going on. But I am on vacation so I guess I can excuse myself for not thinking of everything.

I’m wondering how the cops are going to play this since it’s only the two of them. I get my answer about a minute later when the Winnebago’s side door opens, and a woman about the same age as Evan’s father steps outside. She has that scared and confused look of someone who’s been unexpectedly woken from a dead sleep. She’s wearing a robe, and her hair’s in a loose, chaotic halo around her head. Exiting behind her is a preteen boy. Ten, maybe? Twelve? Hard to tell from where I am.

The female cop has them stand against the side of the RV, facing her. The boy moves close to his mom (I’m assuming that’s who she is) and leans against her. He’s holding something in his hand. A stuffed animal, I think. It looks like the tiger Evan was clutching when we pulled him off the ledge.

For the next four minutes, not much of anything happens. Then I see the lights of three vehicles coming down the campground road, at a much faster pace than how the first sedan arrived.

Two of the vehicles are park police, while the third belongs to the ranger service, bringing seven new people in all. The two rangers stay back by the road while the cops hurry over to where the woman cop is standing.

She’s clearly the one in charge. She directs two of the new arrivals to join the first cop at the window to watch Evan’s father, then she and two of the others enter the Winnebago. The final officer stays outside to watch Evan, the woman in the robe, and the other boy.

I can’t see what they’re doing inside because of the curtains over most of the windows. But when the cops outside the front passenger window step away and lower their guns, I know the officers inside have removed Dad from his seat.

Soon, they exit the side door with him, the rifle being carried by one of the officers.

What happens next is a whole lot of nothing, at least from Jar’s and my point of view. Conversations are had, and two of the cops go back into the Winnebago—to search it, I assume. To us, it just looks like a bunch of milling about.

Again, I can’t help but be annoyed I didn’t plant an audio bug over there.

In the end, the entire family is split between police cars and driven away, Dad the only one in handcuffs.

Am I pleased with our endeavors tonight?

Not as much as I’d like.

Unless Dad ends up in jail for several years starting tonight, I’m under no illusion this will stop him from mistreating his son. All we’ve done is put a finger bandage on a gaping wound. At least Evan won’t be spending the entire evening out in the cold.

The