Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [100]
The IED didn’t significantly damage the Humvee, nor did A-Rod sustain anything but superficial injuries. She didn’t say a word when Thrasher and his commanding officer chewed my ass up one side and down the other.
I’d convinced myself I was doing A-Rod a favor by letting her drive, but the truth was, I needed to feel the stinging sand and scorching rays on my face to burn away my shame.
For years after that incident, I never faltered in my responsibilities. I pulled the trigger—literally and figuratively—every single time.
Until I’d run across that lioness.
I’d never let sentimentality affect my judgment again. Never.
“Mercy? You still with me?” Anna said.
“Yeah.” I put a bullet on top of the casing and pushed the ram down, seating the bullet to the proper depth. “Just reliving that fun time when I realized I’d fucked up and nearly got us all blown up.” I looked at Anna. “Has it ever happened to you?”
“What? Freezing up to the point that I didn’t take out my target?”
I nodded.
She took a drink of beer as she measured me. “Nope. Not ever. Not when I was enlisted, not now that I’m a private contractor. Then again, we’re different, Gunny.”
“How so?”
“You follow orders. I follow my gut instinct. Sometimes, doing what’s wrong is the only thing that feels right.”
A chill ran down my spine that didn’t have a damn thing to do with the cool breeze blowing in.
Three raps sounded, and Sheriff Dawson appeared in the open doorway.
Why hadn’t I heard him drive up?
“Mind if I come in?”
I said, “Sure. You here on official business?”
His face took on a guarded expression, as if he couldn’t believe my antagonism right off the bat.
Quickly, I amended, “I only asked if you were off duty because if you are, I’ll offer you a beer.”
Dawson relaxed into the door frame. “I’ll pass. But thanks.”
“So you just out making the rounds?”
“Yes and no. I’m here to give you a heads-up.”
“What’s going on?”
“A homicide.”
I played dumb. “Another one? You’re kidding me. Who?”
“Deputy Moore found Victor Bad Wound’s body this afternoon at Mulligan’s.”
“Holy shit. Really? How long had he been missing?”
“No one knows because it wasn’t officially reported.”
I frowned. “Huh. How’d he die?”
“Multiple gunshot wounds. We’re tentatively placing time of death between twenty-four and forty-eight hours ago.”
“So you came by to . . . warn me a shooter is on the loose or something?”
“Not exactly.” He shifted his stance. “You crossed paths with Victor a couple of times.”
“Unavoidable when Saro’s group started coming into Clementine’s. I broke up a fight involving his nephew at Stillwell’s, and Victor and Saro cornered me. But that was the extent of my contact with him.”
“Did you threaten him at Stillwell’s that night?”
Not a casual question. “Am I a suspect or something?”
Dawson just stared at me.
“I don’t fucking believe this. Am I suspect?” I held my hands out. “If you’ve come to do a gunpowder residue test on me, I’m telling you right now, I’ll fail it.”
He smiled benignly. “Thanks for the tip. But I’m here strictly on a fact-finding mission. Of course, if you want to tell me your whereabouts for the last two nights . . .”
As I composed a tart reply, Anna jumped in. “I can answer that. Me ’n’ Gunny have both been here, drinking beer, shooting the shit, and watching DVDs of Lost. Debating the hotness factor of Sawyer and Jack versus Sayid and Jin.”
“Which brings me to the second reason I’m here.” Dawson looked at Anna. “I’ve heard from a couple of people that you’re friends with Victor’s live-in, Cherelle Dupris?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Out here in the boondocks if you talk to a person a couple of times you’re best buddies? Give me a break. Me ’n’ Gunny talked to her one night about campaign stuff. I played one game of pool with her. I talked to her one other time while I sat at the counter at Clementine’s and she picked up a bottle to go. So yeah, I guess I can see where you’d think me ’n’ her are now BFFs.”
I ignored Anna’s sarcasm. “Why does it matter?”
“We’re looking for anyone who might know Cherelle’s whereabouts.