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

I don’t recognize any of them so I move on. There are four additional teens on the dock, and three more on shore sitting on the grass. Sawyer is still there, and still alone. He’s looking at what appears to be a magazine and definitely listening to something over earbuds. I can see the white cord dangling down the front of his torso into a shirt pocket.

One of the teens sitting on the grass catches my eye. No question—he was in the sedan last night. No one else rings a bell.

After taking pictures of everyone, I reposition to a spot that gives me a better view of the bigger crowd by the barbecues.

Conversations are being had everywhere, many with an animated quality probably being helped along by beer or whatever alcohol is in the Solo cups a lot of people are holding. If I had a directional microphone with me, I could listen in. Jar and I have one but it’s back home in California, as I did not anticipate needing it on vacation.

I find Kate talking with a different group of people from the last time I spotted her. She looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her, which I attribute to the fact Chuckie is nowhere near her.

Huh.

I don’t actually see Chuckie anywhere.

I scan the crowd again. Nope. He’s not there. Maybe he’s beyond the crowd, walking around the edge of the lake. Hard for me to see that area through everyone.

I look over to the parking area. A couple of guys are standing next to the open tailgate of a pickup, but neither of them is Chuckie. When my scan reaches the Winnebago, I stop. While I see no one standing outside it, I pick up movement through the window near the side door.

I increase magnification.

Someone is definitely inside the RV. The interior is too dark for me to make out who it is, but I assume it’s Chuckie. I know where the rest of his family is, and I can’t imagine he’s the kind of guy who would let someone else go inside the Winnebago without supervision.

Four minutes later, my guess is confirmed when the side door opens and Chuckie and two other men exit the vehicle.

The man in front looks to be in his sixties and is husky in that former athlete gone to seed kind of way. He’s also bald and trying to make up for the lack of hair on top with a goatee and mustache that have both been dyed black. From his wrinkles, I’m guessing he’s trying to look younger than he really is. The other guy is probably about twenty years the bald man’s junior and the same height as Chuckie, but in better shape. Like go to the gym every day good shape. He still has all his hair, too, though it’s kept military tight.

All of them, including Chuckie, are wearing shorts. Mr. In Shape is wearing a green polo shirt, while Goatee and Chuckie are both wearing Hawaiian shirts. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but a lot of people at the party are wearing Hawaiian shirts. Must be a theme.

I’m curious what Chuckie and his friends were doing inside. Lucky for me, we have the vehicle bugged. And unless Jar has accidentally deactivated the auto-record feature, whatever they talked about should’ve been uploaded to the cloud.

Check that, will be uploaded. The relay needs a signal, and that won’t happen until the Winnebago is back in range of a cell network. Which means I can’t listen to Chuckie and his friends right now.

I take pictures of the two men I don’t know, in case the conversation turns out to be interesting.

The men stand next to the RV for a few minutes, finishing their conversation. By the way they’re leaning toward one another, and the occasional glances both Chuckie and In Shape give the area around them, I get the sense they don’t want anyone else to know what they’re discussing.

Well, well, well. My interest has been piqued.

When they finish, Chuckie gestures to his friends in a way that says go on, I’ll be right there. He then goes to one of the RV’s back storage doors and opens it. From inside, he pulls out a couple of folding chairs, shuts the door, and heads back to the barbecue, a chair under each arm.

I watch the party for another thirty minutes and take pictures of as many of the participants as possible. When I finish, I know I’ve done pretty much all I can here, short of going out and mingling with the crowd, which is definitely not going to happen.

I walk back through the trees the way I came. Before I return to the Winnebago, I check in with Jar. She’s finished bugging the house and is apparently sitting on a stool in the windowless pantry, watching The Umbrella Academy on Netflix. Which, she points out, I am interrupting.

After reassuring each other that everything is fine with our respective situations, I sneak to the RV and crawl back into my hiding space.

Around 7:45 p.m., I start hearing car doors opening and closing and engines starting. The party is coming to an end.

When I hear someone approaching the Winnebago, I think, Finally, I get to go home. But the person gets into the vehicle to the RV’s right and leaves. The next time it happens, my reaction is a bit more subdued, which pays off because this time it’s the Tahoe that drives off.

I’m beginning to wonder if the Prices are planning to be the last to leave when I hear Chuckie’s voice yelling, “You bet! I’ll give you a call next week. Have a good night!”

Something bumps against the Winnebago’s side, then I hear the jangle of keys, followed by the side door being unlocked.

“Let’s go. I’m tired,” Chuckie says.

The first to enter does so with light steps. Sawyer, probably.

“Don’t forget the chairs,” Kate says from near the door, then enters.

“Catch,” Chuckie says. I