Merciless (38 page)

When had this gone beyond crush behavior? Sheldon had always been too . . . earnest
and helpful. And now I realized it hadn’t been a coincidence when he’d shown up that
night at Stillwell’s, or when he’d just happened to be walking past my truck yesterday.
He’d broken in and left an envelope of disturbing images, then he’d hung around to
see my reaction. Why? In hopes that I’d confide my fears in him?

Fuck that. Fuck him.

I gathered all the pictures, methodically searching every nook and cranny for more.
On the very bottom shelf, I found a photo printer with a memory card still in it.
I took the memory card and the camera hidden behind the printer.

I’d really believed that Latimer Elk Thunder had left those pictures as a warning.
If I was that far off base with him, how far off base had I been with everything else?
What else was Sheldon capable of?

Maybe you don’t want to know.

But I’d gone this far. I pulled back the heavy plastic curtain and stepped to the
other side of the garage.

My gaze scanned the wall. A whole lot of dried herbs hung from hooks in the ceiling.
How had I forgotten Sheldon had told me he was an herbalist? I had no idea what foxglove
looked like, but I’d bet the ranch it was up there.

I squinted at the rafters and froze. Those hooks. I recognized them. It was the exact
same type of hook used on Penny Pretty Horses. Yes, they were common hunting tools
around here . . . but coupled with
the herbs . . . I spun around and saw a collapsible cot. Leather restraints hung from
both sides, top and the bottom. Bloodied restraints. Bloodied ropes.

Oh God. Oh sweet Jesus.

Freaked out by what I was seeing, I stumbled back into the shelving, knocking bottles
loose, sending them crashing to the cement like glass bombs.

Clapping my hand over my mouth, I attempted to calm myself. But any chance at calmness
fled when I noticed dark black blotches on the plastic curtain.

I knew what blood spatters looked like when they dried.

Just. Like. That.

I bit the inside of my lips to hold the bile down when I realized I’d stumbled into
Sheldon War Bonnet’s House of Horrors.

The floor had dark stains. Could be from oil, but I doubted it. The bloodstains on
the plastic tarp could be from an animal kill, but I doubted it.

The entire hideous scenario flashed through my brain. Sheldon dragging the victim
from his car, stripping her, and strapping her to the gurney. Letting her get thirsty
and then offering a drink of digitalis-laced water. He could leave her out here for
a day or two while he made his demented plans. That’s why he’d planned the murders
in the fall months. Not only was it hunting season, there’d be less chance of the
body bloating in summertime heat, gathering insects and interest.

Sheldon War Bonnet was a serial killer.

I had no feeling of pride I’d found this information. Pure dumb luck on my part.

I had no feeling of accomplishment that this discovery would provide closure for the
victim’s families.

Right now, I didn’t care.

Because someone in my family was next on his list.

W
hen I reached my truck, I realized two hours had passed during my B&E at Sheldon’s
house.

I checked the camera for a memory card. Finding none, I threw the expensive camera
out the window as I headed home.

Two things occurred to me: When Sheldon saw his house had been broken into, he wouldn’t
call the cops. But he’d know exactly who had done it when he saw the ceramic mushroom
and the pictures were missing.

He could torch his house and his garage, erasing evidence of his psychotic ways. But
he’d still be gunning for me.

I just had to outgun him. And that was something I was very, very good at.

On my way to the ranch, I called Jake. “Listen carefully. You need to pick Lex up
from the bus stop and keep him at your house overnight. Tell him that the hospital
called and said his dad can’t have visitors tonight and that urgent FBI business came
up and I’m away on a case. Take extra precautions with Hope and Joy. Do not trust
anyone with information about me, except for Shay Turnbull. Do not let anyone in your
house. Not even anyone you know. Hunker down until I give you the all clear. Okay?”

“Okay. What else?”

“Can you get your hands on a gun?”

“I’ve got one.”

“Good. Keep it with you at all times.”

“I won’t ask what’s goin’ on, but I will tell you to be careful.”

“Thanks.” I lingered on the line, half wanting to say something
sentimental for him to pass on just in case . . . but I slammed a lid on that mind-set
and hung up.

•   •   •

I picked a hidden vantage point beyond where the bus dropped Lex off to make sure
Jake didn’t run into any problems when picking him up. I’d texted Lex an apology,
an update from the nurse on his dad’s condition—no change—and the promise we’d go
to the hospital first thing tomorrow.

Lex’s response? “’kay.”

Daylight had started to dim when I pulled up to the house.

I rolled the pictures and shoved them and the memory card in my purse. I’d stashed
the Carhartt behind the seat. In my haste to get home I hadn’t put my other coat back
on, so I shivered as I hustled up the porch steps.

In the kitchen I ducked down and put the pictures and the memory card in the oatmeal
container, shoving it onto the back of the lazy Susan.

I grabbed a Coke out of the fridge. I turned around when a phone on the kitchen table,
a phone I’d never seen before, started to ring. I went on full alert and answered
it. “Hello?”

“Mercy. I hoped you’d be the type to pick up a ringing phone.”

Sheldon War Bonnet was on the other end of this call.

Play it cool.
“Sheldon? Why would your phone be in my house?”

“After I heard about the sheriff, I felt so bad for you and the boy that I dropped
off some cookies. No one was around, and I assumed you were sleeping, so I just left
them on the table. I only realized today that I must’ve left my phone there.” He laughed.
“Sort of pitiful, isn’t it? That no one ever calls me and I just noticed it was missing . . . five
days later?”

Such a liar. Did he really believe I wouldn’t notice a cell phone on my kitchen table
for almost a week? “Do you want to meet someplace so I can give it back to you? I’m
not doing anything right now.”

He said, “I know.” But then amended it to, “But I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

My guts twisted when I realized he’d known exactly when I’d gotten home. He had to
be someplace close by. “No, I insist. As a matter of fact, why don’t you come out
to the ranch and get it?”

Silence.

Then he sighed. “I hear the distrust in your tone.”

“Well, it does appear you broke into my house. If you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve
just called the house phone, rather than using this type of ploy.”

“Technically, it wasn’t breaking in since you didn’t lock your door.” He tsk-tsked.
“Too bad you don’t lock everything up as tight as your gun safe.”

The bastard had been in my bedroom.

Before I could retort, he said, “Speaking of safe . . . have you checked in with your
family? You know they’re all alive, and well, and accounted for?”

A spike of fear lodged in my soul.

“Well, you know the sheriff is buttoned up tight in room four oh six at the hospital.
Last I checked, roughly a half hour ago, your sister Hope and your niece were snug
in their trailer. Along with the sheriff’s son. Jake will return from feeding cattle
soon. That takes care of the Red Leaf family. At least, that branch of the Red Leaf
family. Have you talked to John-John lately? Probably not. I heard that bit of nastiness
he said to you that night at Stillwell’s about his stupid vision. He really is such
a flaming faggot, you’re better off without his friendship.”

Faggot.
I hated that word. “Sheldon, what do you want?”

A noise clunked against the receiver; then, “How about Sophie Red Leaf? When was the
last time you spoke to her? When was the last time
anyone
saw her?”

Hope had told me yesterday she couldn’t get ahold of Sophie. I’d intended to call
her today, but I’d gotten sidetracked. Still, she was safe. Devlin and John-John were
constantly around her, all of them grieving together.

“Mercy?” he asked with a sharper edge. “When was the last time you saw Sophie?”

“Last week.”

“That long?” He tsk-tsked again. “Isn’t the woman almost a mother to you? I’ll bet
if you called her right now, she wouldn’t pick up. I’ll bet if you marched up to her
front door right now, she wouldn’t answer. I’ll bet if you broke the door down, you
wouldn’t find her at home. Where do you think she could be?” Sheldon laughed. “Ooh.
I know exactly where she is.”

Fear, outrage, and more fear built inside me—I was done playing dumb. “What the hell
have you done with her? She’s an eighty-year-old woman, you fucking sick bastard.”

“Ah, ah, ah. I’d curb that tongue if I were you. Don’t give me a reason to take out
my frustration with you . . . on poor Sophie.”

“Why are you doing this? She’s done nothing to you.”

“But she means something to you, doesn’t she? I’ll bet she means
everything
to you. I’ll bet you’ll do anything to get her back.”

I paced. My heart raced, but my mind seemed sluggish. How the hell had he gotten to
Sophie? “Tell me where she is.”

“Tell you what. I’ll give you a chance to win her freedom.” Sheldon’s tone mellowed
to that of a lover. “But first, let’s get to know each other better. Seems our talks
were always interrupted. I hated that. Didn’t you?”

That stopped me from pacing. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“Because you’re a fascinating woman. But before you do anything stupid, like try to
use your house phone to ring up your federal pals, be aware that I cut the phone line.
This is between you and me. No using your cell phone during our conversation. If I
find out you’ve talked to anyone besides me or signaled them in any way . . . I will
gut Sophie slowly and pull out her entrails while you listen. So continuing this conversation
is entirely up to you. I’ll give you a minute to think on it.”

I had déjà vu for the second time today. This reminded me of the phone call from Theo
the morning he’d taken Hope. The little jerk-off had called me, warning me about all
the horrible things he planned to do to my pregnant sister if I didn’t follow his
instructions.

Oh, I’d followed his instructions. And then I’d killed him.

Did Sheldon know that, no matter how tough he played this, he was
just as dead as Theo? No one threatened my family and got away with it.
No one.

I looked around. When had he put my house under surveillance? I doubted he’d installed
cameras in here—too obvious, too much money, and too time-consuming. Which meant right
now, he was close enough to see into the house. I suppressed a shudder and steeled
myself for a conversation with a madman. “Fine, Sheldon. I’m listening.”

“Good. But I want you to ask me questions.”

What the fuck was with psycho killers wanting to keep a running dialogue with me?
Theo. Iris. Saro. Sheldon. Did I give off some trust-me-with-your-twisted-secrets
vibe?

Maybe it’s because like recognizes like.

No. No. No. I was not like any of them. Not at all. “What kind of questions?”

“Like how long I’ve been involved in this sideline?”

“I’m betting . . . about five years, since you first realized you could get away with
killing women and making their deaths look like accidents.”

“You really were doing your research in my archives, weren’t you? I’m impressed. But
you didn’t know I was the one you were looking for, did you?”

“No. You had everyone fooled.” I paced. “So why change now and kill Arlette in such
a public way? No one knew what you were doing. You could’ve gotten away with it for
many more years.”

“I got bored. There’s very little premeditated murder on the rez. Usually, it’s one
Indian killing another in a drunken fit at three o’clock in the morning. So I wanted
to up the stakes. The death of the new tribal president’s niece carried an air of
political intrigue.”

Political intrigue. In South Dakota? “So Arlette wasn’t in the wrong place at the
wrong time?”

“Give me a little credit,” he said tersely. “One time I asked her about a book she
carried around, so she assumed I was interested in her reading habits. She went on
and on about the stupid world of vampires. Staking her was my own little slice of
irony.”

I ground my teeth at the pride in his voice. “How did you abduct her?”

“I didn’t have to. That was the beauty of it. She’d skipped school to do a research
paper. I knocked her out, put her in a big garbage bag, then drove up to the back
door and loaded the garbage into my car. Even if anyone had been watching me, they’d
never have suspected because I dump the garbage once a week.”

“Handy. I wondered how often you used the doors. So with the political-intrigue angle,
you intended for Rollie to take the blame for Arlette’s and Verline’s murders.”

“Yes. Arlette went on about Junior. But I suspected something was going on between
Verline and Junior when they came in to register the baby. What a sick love triangle,
with father and son. Anyway, Verline was easy to get to.”

“Why cut off her hand?”

“I figured that would send the FBI profilers into a tailspin.” He sighed. “I overheard
a phone conversation when you were in the archives, and I was very disappointed that
you considered Saro a suspect. That man is a common thug. He has no imagination whatsoever.”

“That’s what you call what you did to Penny? Using your imagination?”

“Of course. I hadn’t intended on Penny Pretty Horses to be part of this, but her valiant
struggle with cancer and her going against her family’s wishes to live on her own
terms touched me. I had to do something to end her suffering. I picked her up on my
lunch break when she was out walking. Instead of fading from people’s memory as just
another cancer victim, Penny Pretty Horses will be remembered a lot differently.”