Dangerous Mercy: A Novel (35 page)

CHAPTER 37

Adele opened the door, slid out of Murray’s truck, and stood clutching the door with both hands. She stretched her back, her arthritic shoulder throbbing. How much longer could she just sit there without moving around?

She spotted Murray sitting on a fallen log a few yards away. He hadn’t said anything in over an hour. He ignored her questions, including whether or not he had anything for pain. She wanted to sing a hymn. Singing hymns always helped her on bad days. Maybe if she sang a different song that didn’t remind him of his grandmother, he wouldn’t get angry. She turned around, her back to Murray, and began singing softly.

I come to the garden alone,

While the dew is still on the roses,

And the voice I hear falling on my ear,

The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own;

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known.

She stopped and listened carefully. Murray didn’t say anything. He didn’t stir. Adele closed her eyes and poured out her heart to the Lord:

I’d stay in the garden with Him,

Though the night around me be fall—

“Stop it!”

Adele’s eyes flew open.

Murray grabbed her arm and set the footstool on the ground. “Get back in the truck. I don’t want to hear any more of this garbage! Do you understand? Enough!”

Adele blinked quickly to clear the stinging from her eyes. “I … I didn’t mean to upset you, hon. I’m just in a lot of pain, and singing hymns helps me forget about it.”

She reached inside and got her cane, then she climbed into the truck with great difficulty. She forced herself not to cry out in pain, but there was no way to hide it.

“There’s some Tylenol in my toolbox,” he said.

Murray walked back to the bed of the truck and returned with a bottle of water and a packet of four Extra Strength Tylenol. “Make it last. That’s all there is.”

Was he talking about just the Tylenol—or the water, too? She was afraid to ask when he seemed so angry.

She tore open the packet and popped two of the pills, then took a big sip of water and handed him the bottle.

“Keep it. That’s yours.” He handed her the cap. “When it’s gone, it’s gone.”

He pushed the button on his watch, and the face lit up. “The news is on.”

Murray walked around to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. He turned the key a click and then turned on the radio and played with the dial.

She recognized the music that preceded the news on the local FM channel.

“It’s eleven p.m. This is Hal Prudhomme, reporting tonight with breaking news. Authorities in Les Barbes have identified the man they believe to be the Bathtub Killer who has terrorized residents here for the past ten days. Thirty-year-old Murray Hamelin is currently at large and may be holding an elderly woman hostage.

“Sheriff Jude Prejean and FBI Special Agent Kyle Duffy followed a lead earlier this evening, which resulted in their obtaining a warrant to search Hamelin’s room at Haven House, a local halfway house for the homeless. Sufficient evidence was discovered among Hamelin’s personal items for an arrest warrant to be issued.

“Before Hamelin could be apprehended, he disappeared with an eighty-six-year-old woman, Adele Woodmore, a resident of Lafayette Gardens in Les Barbes. It’s unknown whether Woodmore left with Hamelin voluntarily or was coerced. A source close to the story told the sheriff that Hamelin had done odd jobs for Woodmore, and that the woman had befriended him against the counsel of friends who were concerned for her safety.

“An APB was put out on Hamelin’s white 2001 Ford F-150, and authorities from three branches of law enforcement are now searching for the suspect. Anyone with information on Hamelin’s whereabouts or any information that might assist authorities in the case is asked to call either the Saint Catherine Parish Sheriff’s Department or the Les Barbes Police Department.

“In other news tonight—”

Murray turned off the radio and seemed deep in thought.

Adele felt sick all over. Hearing it on the news made it seem more real. Murray was in so much trouble. Was there anything she could do to help him now? What was he going to do with her?

“Well, there you have it,” Murray finally said. “I’m officially a fugitive. And a kidnapper. Only I killed five people, not four. They’re bound to figure out I killed Flynn, even though I didn’t use the same MO.”

Adele cringed. Was he actually bragging? “Why did you kill Flynn? He wasn’t part of your painful past.”

“He was a pain in the present. The guy had no respect for Father Vince or what he was trying to do. Nobody cared if he lived or died—including him. And I figured it would keep the authorities looking at Noah and not at me—just until I finished what I’d started.”

“Noah was your friend, Murray.”

“They can’t pin the murder on him. They don’t have any proof.”

Adele sighed. “Why did Noah tell the sheriff he saw you asleep in your bunk between eleven and one, when Flynn was murdered?”

“Because I stuck pillows under my covers to make it look that way. I snuck out and went to the Den, knowing that’s where Flynn would end up. I grabbed him in the parking lot, strangled him, and then put him in my truck and dumped him in the Langleys’ bayou. I knew the cops would suspect Noah.”

Adele didn’t know what to say. Could this really be the same young man she had grown so fond of?

Murray stared at his hands. “I’ve been trying to make it up to Noah. I gave him my painting jobs, and I bought the supplies he’ll need. He’ll be all right. His name will be cleared. I made sure of it.”

“Made sure of it
how?”

“Let me worry about that.”

“There are others to consider,” Adele said. “It’s taken a terrible toll at Langley Manor. They’ve had multiple cancellations. I’m not even sure they can recover.”

“They’ll be fine. I took care of that, too.”

“How?”

“I just did, all right? I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Well, I do.” Adele was shocked at what came out of her mouth and surprised when Murray didn’t argue. “Do you realize how many people you’ve hurt, young man?”

“The people I killed deserved it.”

“Did their spouses and children deserve it too?” Adele shook her head. “Dear, dear Murray. You’ve been so wounded. I can see now that you were lashing out at those you blame for your pain.”

“They ruined my life.”

“No one has the power to do that but you.”

“Is that so?” Murray turned to her, his face contorted.

She listened as he rattled off a litany of grievances against the coldhearted CEO who fired his father, the uncaring bank president who foreclosed on his parents’ home, the unsympathetic boss who fired him when the bottom was falling out of his life—and the fiancée who said she loved him and yet broke the engagement and left him when he needed her most.

“Yes, I killed them!” Murray said. “They got what they deserved!”

“And who suffered in the long run? Certainly not the victims, but their families. Can’t you see what you’ve done? You left a whole string of
living
victims, just like you. Family members who did nothing to deserve the grief you saddled them with.”

“The people I eliminated didn’t care about anyone but themselves. I don’t believe anyone will miss them. I did the world a favor. Les Barbes is a better place because of me. People should be thanking me!”

Adele decided not to dignify Murray’s rant by commenting further.

“Don’t sit over there and judge me,” Murray said. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me?”

“You won’t like it,” Adele said.

“I said,
tell
me!”

Adele shuddered at Murray’s tone but tried not to show any reaction.
Lord, what do I say to him? I’m frightened.

“Come on, tell me what a loser I am. I know you’re thinking it.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” she said. “I’m afraid for you, Murray. I don’t want to see you self-destruct.”

“Too late for that.”

“It’s never too late to find purpose in life. But you can’t do it without God.”

“I don’t want God.”

“I know you don’t, hon. But that’s what I’m thinking.”

“God’s against me. He always has been.”

“Oh, forevermore, Murray. That’s a lie straight from the Devil himself!”

He looked over at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. “The Devil?”

“I see you find that amusing,” she said. “It’s really not a laughing matter. He’s playing you.”

“No one is playing me. I’m in control.”

“Of what—an old woman? I’d like to know what it is you think you’re in control of. You’ve done unspeakable acts and tried to justify them. But now you’re backed into a corner, and the very freedom you hoped to gain is lost. The Devil is playing you. And he plays for keeps.”

“I don’t believe there’s a Devil.”

Adele sighed. “That’s why his lies are so effective. You asked what I was thinking. And now I’ve told you.”

Murray folded his arms across his chest, his profile taut, his lips pursed.

“I wonder what your grandma Sophie would say, if she were here.”

Murray hit his palms on the steering wheel. “She’s not here,” he shouted. “So leave her out of this! Not another word, or so help me, I’ll …”

Kill you.
Adele filled in the words in the privacy of her thoughts. There was nothing she could do to save herself.

CHAPTER 38

Zoe pushed open the French doors in her bedroom, the panes of glass dripping with condensation, and walked onto the gallery that jutted out above Zoe B’s. She squeezed past the wrought-iron table and stood at the railing where she had placed her red begonias into carefully spaced pots that could be seen from the street.

She looked out over
rue Madeline
. All activity had ceased. Was she the only person in Les Barbes awake at 3:00 a.m.?

She could hear the
drip drip drip
of condensation falling from the roof onto the flowers. A slight breeze had cooled the temperature to tolerable.

How was she going to accept it if something horrible happened to Adele? Why hadn’t she taken Pierce’s cautions more seriously and insisted that Adele reconsider her friendship—or whatever it was she had—with Murray?

Lord, I can’t lose Adele. I just can’t. Please protect her. Don’t let him hurt her.

Zoe blinked away the image of Adele in a coffin and friends filing by her lifeless body. It wasn’t fair that she should die a statistic. That she should be murdered. Was there anyone more giving? More caring? More filled with love and goodness and mercy? Anyone less deserving of dying at the hands of Murray Hamelin?

Zoe wiped a tear off her cheek. What might her life be like now, had Adele not chosen to forgive her for stealing from her? Had Adele not chosen the high road, not only by forgiving, but also by canceling the debt so she and Pierce wouldn’t be saddled with paying her a thousand dollars a month for thirty months? And what if Adele hadn’t told her about the King of Kings and Lord of Lords? Would she still be “playing church” and missing the personal relationship with God that had enriched her life?

Adele had touched her on so many levels. Zoe wasn’t ready yet to let her go. And not in such a horrible way.

She heard the living room door slide open and close. Vanessa coughed and then came to the railing and stood next to her.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Vanessa said.

“You should be home with Ethan and Carter, not babysitting me.”

Vanessa linked arms with her. “You’re my best friend, Zoe. I’m right where I need to be. No one loves Adele more than we do.”

“I know I shouldn’t be thinking of the worst possible scenarios, but I am.”

“It’s hard not to think about what could happen. But Adele’s not alone, Zoe. We both know that. We have to trust the Lord. Look how He brought us through the ordeal when Cowen was after you. Noah showed up out of nowhere. We’d probably be dead if it weren’t for him.”

Zoe ran her fingers along the tacky metal railing. “Unless someone can prove it, I’ll never believe he had anything to do with Flynn Gillis’s death.”

“Neither will I.”

Zoe looked up at the summer sky, the stars indistinct in the haze. “Murray doesn’t seem to care who he hurts. What’s to stop him from getting rid of an eighty-six-year-old woman who’s probably going to slow him down? She’s defenseless against him.”

“She has angels with her.”

“So does he. Only his are fallen.”

Vanessa sighed. “This isn’t helping. Let’s go inside and I’ll make my special tea. It should help us fall asleep. Maybe by morning, the sheriff will have gotten Adele back and put Murray behind bars.”

Adele lay across the seat in Murray’s truck, wide awake and longing for her pillow-top mattress. It was kind of Murray to let her stretch out, but it was anything but comfortable, and the vinyl seat stuck to her skin. At least the insect repellent was working.

Just before she lay down, an eerie hissing sound sent chills up her spine. Murray told her that sound came from an alligator that wasn’t too happy about something. How far from the water would the hungry beast go if it smelled them? Of all times not to know the first thing about alligators. She wanted to slip out of the truck and stretch her back again. But what if it was out there waiting? What if it went for her ankles? She shuddered at the thought.

Lord, I’m frightened. I don’t want to die by Murray’s hand or become dinner for some wild beast.

Adele curled up on the seat. She was trapped. Who would have ever thought that Murray’s truck—the avenue to their adventures—would become a prison? And perhaps the place where she would die?

She remembered what Paul and Silas did in that dank, dark prison. She so wanted—needed—to sing to the Lord. And why couldn’t she? How could Murray stop the music from playing in her head?

She closed her eyes and sang with all her heart, mouthing the words that resounded only in her soul:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His wonderful face,

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.

O soul, are you weary and troubled?

No light in the darkness you see?

There’s light for a look at the Savior,

And life more abundant and free!

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His wonderful face,

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.

She continued singing the verses in her mind, picturing Jesus’ face and thinking about His mercy and grace to her. How blessed she was. What a glorious future awaited her.

She heard footsteps approaching the truck. Murray must be back.

The driver’s-side door opened. “Adele, you need to sit up now. The news is on.”

She sat up and scooted over next to the other door.

Murray got in and turned on the radio and listened to the lead story, which was almost identical to the half dozen he had listened to previously. He turned off the radio and sat back in the seat.

“You’ve had lots of time to think about this, Murray. What are you going to do?”

“As soon as it’s light enough to see, I need to go find us a different vehicle. We need to get out of the state.”

“I can’t leave the state, hon. I don’t have my medication.”

“Don’t worry. I can get you more Tylenol.”

“It barely takes the edge off the pain. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. I take two prescriptions for pain. And one for high blood pressure. And the instructions from the pharmacy said not to stop taking any of them suddenly.”

Murray swatted the air. “Baloney. They put all those cautions on there to cover their tails on the off chance there’s a problem. It’s not going to hurt you to miss them for a couple days. Tylenol will take the edge off.”

“Besides, I won’t be around much longer. Right?”

Murray didn’t answer.

“I think we both know that you’ll have no use for an old woman,” she said, “once you’ve made your escape.”

Murray got out of the truck and shut the door, then leaned on the sill of the open window.

“When the time comes, Adele, I promise I’ll make it painless. I never meant for this to happen. But I don’t have another choice. You know about my dad’s layoff and our house foreclosure. You know I worked for Aubry and got fired. That I was engaged to Jeanette—and I admitted to you that I’m the Bathtub Killer
and
that I killed Flynn. Your testimony could get me the death penalty.”

“The authorities already have enough evidence to put out a warrant for your arrest, hon. I doubt they need me.”

“Are you kidding?” Murray reached inside the truck and took the keys out of the ignition. “You know the story of my life. Add that to whatever they already know, and I’m a dead man.”

“I would never reveal what you told me in confidence.”

“You won’t have a choice. They’ll subpoena you and put you under oath. There’s no way you’d lie after you swore on the Bible to tell the truth. And if you refused to answer, they’d hold you in contempt and throw
you
in jail.”

Adele considered what he said and just listened.

“Look, I know you see me as this nice kid trying to get back on his feet. Don’t forget I planned to murder four people and succeeded—and killed a fifth because he was a smart mouth. Believe me, the authorities will get you to tell them everything you know.”

“It hurts me to think of you running from the law for the rest of your life.” Adele sighed. “If you turn yourself in, accept responsibility for what you did, and cooperate with authorities, maybe the jury will have some compassion for what drove you to kill those people who hurt you.”

“They won’t when I show no remorse. I’ll either get the death penalty or life without parole. Either is unacceptable. But I couldn’t stand to be in prison.”

“My young friend, you’re already in prison, regardless of whether you end up in jail or manage to elude authorities.”

“What are you talking about?”

Adele turned to him and met his gaze. “You already know the answer.”

Murray backed away from the window. “As long as I’m not stuck behind bars, I’m free.”

“You shall know the truth, and the
truth
shall set you free,” she said. “Nothing else will.”

“Don’t quote the Bible to me! I don’t believe any of it has anything to do with me.”

“You knew it was from the Bible,” Adele said. “I’m impressed.”

“Nice try. But you’re not going to rope me into talking about it.”

“But we’re already talking about it.”

“No,
you’re
talking about it. Knock yourself out. I’m going where I can find some peace and quiet.” Murray turned and started walking into the shadows.

“You say you have no remorse,” Adele said. “But I see a soul wrestling with guilt.”

Murray threw his hands in the air and shouted, “Don’t presume to know what I’m thinking—because you
don’t
.”

Jude sat in a vinyl lounge chair on his back patio, his hands clasped behind his head. The sleeping pill he took two hours ago seemed to have had the opposite effect. All he needed was to face the day exhausted.

The back door opened, and Colette stepped outside, carrying something in her right hand.

“I brought you some herb tea,” she said. “It’s supposed to help you sleep.”

He smiled. “So then I’ll be up using the bathroom.”

“The only solution I see for your insomnia is getting out of law enforcement, which isn’t going to happen.”