Fatal Mercy by Dan Padavona (hot novels to read .txt) 📕

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Wednesday, July 15th

4:15 p.m.

Raven tapped her nails on the steering wheel and blew out a flustered breath. The interior of the Rogue had to be ninety degrees, even though she’d opened the windows.

Where the hell was Damian Ramos? The boy toy finished work at four, but he never exited the building with his workmates. After running into Damian at the food truck, Raven had located a second-hand clothing shop down the road from the trading firm. While Damian traded, or whatever market analysts did all day, Raven purchased a baseball cap, a mauve v-neck t-shirt, and a skort. Then she drove into a grocery store parking lot and changed her clothes. If Damian spotted Raven again, he wouldn’t recognize her after the outfit change.

Her legs drummed with anxiousness. As she stuck the keys into the ignition, about to give up for the day, Damian pushed through the glass doors and strode down the sidewalk. Raven fired the engine and swung the Rogue into traffic, drawing an angry horn. She stomped the gas and trailed him to the parking garage. When he pulled open the steel door and climbed the concrete stairs, she muscled the Rogue between two curbside hatchbacks and crossed the road.

Raven kept one eye glued to Damian, Sadie’s fiance visible behind the windows as he climbed to the top floor. A second door rested on the opposite end of the parking garage. Raven chose the alternate stairway and sprinted up the steps. She opened the door to the upper level and stepped inside the garage. Half the spaces were unoccupied. A thick oil and gas scent tickled her nose.

Footsteps scuffled across the blacktop. Raven threw herself behind a concrete pillar as water dripped from the roof and wet her shoulder. Leaning her head around the pillar, she spotted Damian a dozen parking spaces away. The black Audi beeped when he unlocked the car. After he tossed his jacket over the seat, he set the briefcase down and paused. He turned his head toward Raven. She swung around the pillar, back pressed against the concrete as the breath flew in and out of her chest.

The parking lot went silent. Just the drip, drip, drip off the ceiling. Horns honked on the street below.

More footsteps. Raven prayed Damian hadn’t seen her. She concocted stories in her head, excuses for why she’d followed him into the parking garage. None held water. Unless she pretended she was interested in him. Yeah, a conceited creep like Damian would believe that story.

Damian paced the parking garage, as if canvassing the area. He stopped behind the Audi and popped the trunk as Raven crept out of hiding. She knelt behind a Subaru Outback and peered around the bumper. Silent as a windless night, Damian glanced up and down the garage. Then he lifted the briefcase and set it inside the trunk.

Moving on cat’s paws, Raven removed her camera and photographed Damian. Her eyes widened. Two spools of rope and a roll of duct tape lay in the trunk. Nothing else beside the briefcase. What was a market analyst doing with rope and duct tape? She couldn’t think of a home project which required both. Except kidnapping.

Raven leaped behind the Outback when Damian slammed the trunk.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Thursday, July 16th

9:35 a.m.

Thomas set the tray of eggs, toast, and bacon inside Garrick Tillery’s cell. The groggy drunk barely flinched when Thomas stepped through the cage. As Thomas set the utensils on the tray, Garrick groaned and placed a hand over his eyes, shying from the light like a dying vampire. The Broken Yolk provided breakfast to prisoners, not that the Nightshade County jail saw many visitors. Sheriff Gray supported Ruth’s business. It wasn’t a secret the Broken Yolk was close to going under, the younger crowd favoring vegetarian and vegan options available in the village center, the older, loyal customers dying off or moving.

Garrick swung his legs off the cot and stared hazy-eyed at the tray. Next, he gazed around the cell as though seeing it for the first time. He hadn’t requested a lawyer, hadn’t pounded his fists against the bars and demanded release. He seemed content to stay as long as Gray gave him a free room. That might suggest innocence, except Thomas had witnessed murderers shutting down and giving up, overcome with guilt.

“Eat your breakfast before it turns cold.”

Garrick scrubbed his face. For the first time, Thomas noted the scratches on the prisoner’s arms. They were mirror images of the cuts covering Cecilia Bond’s arms and face—shallow and angry, not deep enough to draw blood.

“How did you get those scratches, Mr. Tillery?”

Garrick shuffled to the tray and carried it back to the cot. He set the tray in his lap, lathered the scrambled eggs in ketchup, and spooned a heap into his mouth. He chewed with his mouth open, the eggs tinged red by the bloody ketchup.

“Mr. Tillery? The scratches?”

He set the spoon down and raised each arm, studying the pink and red markings.

“Got ’em trimming Suzanne’s rose bushes. The bitch grows them all over the yard, and the village won’t take the cuttings. I gotta cut them every few weeks and burn the trimmings in the fire pit. Otherwise, I’ll be up to my ass in prickers.”

“You spend much time in the woods?”

“The woods?”

“Hiking, hunting, taking a walk to clear your head.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Were you in the woods Tuesday evening?”

Garrick swiveled his head toward Thomas, the first signs of intelligence glimmering in the drunk’s eyes.

“You can’t fish in the woods, genius. Let me eat in peace. When do I get out of here? You can’t hold me forever.”

“Take it up with the sheriff. That’s not my decision to make.”

Garrick cursed under his breath and shoveled another scoop of eggs into his mouth as Thomas locked the cage behind him. Gray emerged from his office when Thomas passed by.

“Duncan Bond will arrive in fifteen minutes. I’d like you to sit in on the