Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [91]
“Storm’s coming,” he said.
“It’ll pass.” How I knew that, I don’t know. I just did.
I wished for thunder, lightning, howling wind, and driving rain. When I focused on angry external elements, I could keep angry ones raging inside me at bay.
As the wind gentled, three things became clear.
One: the J-Hawk I’d known, the man I’d been so determined to find justice for, had been long gone before I’d found him dead.
Two: I’d made the wrong choice, running against Dawson instead of running to him.
Three: out here, on top of this bluff, was the only place I didn’t feel like I was drowning in the enormity of my mistakes.
“You’ll find it, Mercy.”
“Find what?”
“Whatever it is you’re looking for.”
Jake squeezed my shoulder and left me to my demons.
I dreamed of Levi.
We were sitting side by side on the bank of the Cheyenne River. The water was low; the sun was high. Big black clouds of gnats zigzagged above the water in an oddly beautiful insect ballet. The heat-baked scent of clay lingered beneath the stagnant stench of the river. The late-summer levels of the Cheyenne had turned the water into reddish-brown sludge. The mud spatters on the stones resembled blood.
“Why are we here?” Levi asked, skipping a piece of shale across the murky surface. “There’s nothin’ to do. Can’t swim. Can’t fish.”
I slapped a mosquito on my thigh and a bloody bump welled. “Can’t we just hang out? Enjoy spending the day together? It seems like I never get to see you anymore.”
Surly, he stared across the unchanging landscape, keeping his face in shadow. “All we ever do is sit around the stupid ranch.”
“I’d think you’d act happier since we’re not there right now.”
Splash. Plunk. More stones met the river bottom. “How come you never take me anyplace cool? Like to the waterslides or to the lake?”
Heat fried my scalp. Insects swarmed me, biting my sweat-slicked skin, angrily buzzing in my ears. “Because your mom won’t let me. She worries about you. She wants to keep you safe.”
Levi leaped to his feet, graceful as a young antelope. He walked into the river.
“Levi, come back here.”
“Why? The water is ankle deep. You think I’m gonna drown? Or maybe a mud hole will open up and swallow me?”
Fear lanced me, sharp as a spear. “Don’t say that.”
He took two more steps in, water sloshing into his ratty-assed athletic shoes. His head whipped around, his hair glinting in the sun like a piece of dark amber. Levi grinned at me. That cocky, boyish grin that buoyed my spirits and broke my heart.
“Please. I’ll take you to the damn waterslide. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just come back . . . okay?”
His smile faded. “I can’t come back, Aunt Mercy. You know that.”
Then Levi shimmered away like a heat mirage and receded into nothingness.
And the scream I’d been holding inside me all day finally broke free.
TWENTY
I tossed and turned for two hours after the freakish dream about my nephew. Finally, I got out of bed, rolled out my yoga mat, and worked through four repetitions each of asanas A, B, C, and D. When I stretched out for savasana, my muscles were pliant, my thoughts calmer. I closed my eyes.
Synchronicity between my mind and body vanished when my cell phone shattered the solitude. Geneva had insisted on giving out my number to everyone to prove my accessibility as a candidate, so I felt compelled to answer. “Hello?”
“Is this Mercy Gunderson?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Cherelle Dupris. I don’t know if you remember me.”
“I remember you. We met in the back room at Clementine’s. You’re the one—”
“With the scar. Yeah, I know, I should change my name to Scarface.”
Not that I blamed her, but being snippy with me wasn’t a good way to start the conversation. “So you calling to volunteer for my campaign?”
“No. I’m, ah . . .” A beat passed. “You’ll think this is really weird.”
“Probably, but it fits with my life. What’s on your mind?”
She blurted, “Victor is missing.”
I bit back my immediate response of So what? “Victor Bad Wound? As in your . . . ?” Tormentor