Shane Gamble’s gaze lingered on her left hand. “You married?”
Mercy wasn’t about to share her relationship status with the prisoner sitting across from her. “Generally that’s what a ring on that finger means.” Her engagement ring suddenly seemed ten times larger than its actual size.
He deliberately looked at it again, and she swallowed hard at the intensity in his eyes. This is why they suggest removing jewelry before visiting. She’d shrugged off the recommendation since she would be interacting with only one prisoner.
“Awfully shiny. Looks brand-new.” His dark eyes met hers, and she forced herself to hold his gaze.
“I like shiny things,” she answered casually.
Shane Gamble continued to pointedly study her. “For someone who likes shiny things, you aren’t wearing any other jewelry. Or much makeup. Seems like those two things go hand in hand with most women.” He leaned closer and squinted at her.
Mercy held perfectly still, her hands preparing to aim a powerful thrust at his throat if he tried anything. He was chained to the table, and she knew he couldn’t reach her, but her protective instincts couldn’t help themselves. The guard standing near the door and out of listening distance cleared his throat. “Gamble,” he warned.
Gamble leaned back in his chair. “You wear a little makeup. I was trying to determine if that was a bruise near your eye. You did a good job covering it up.”
She did have a bruise. The fault of her inattention and a cupboard door corner. She’d painstakingly been covering it with makeup for days, not wanting strangers to wonder if a man had beat on her.
His words and deep scrutiny made her skin crawl, and she felt as if Gamble were circling her like a predator, probing at her brain for a tender spot. His questions were seeking a weakness.
The guard was right. He likes to toy with people.
“Why are you talking to me without a lawyer?” Mercy asked, knowing Gamble had refused one when Darby set up the interview.
Gamble shrugged. “First of all, I don’t want to pay a lawyer to drive all the way out here from Portland and sit for an hour listening to the same old story. Besides, what’s going to happen to me? Are you going to discover something new and have me tried for it? I’m already stuck here until I die. You can’t add another sentence for me to serve beyond the grave.” He chuckled.
“That’s right,” Mercy said. “You killed another inmate during your first year of prison. How come?” She wanted to find his tender spots.
Two can play this game.
“I was defending myself. It can be a zoo in here, and new inmates are the food.”
“It says in your file that you attacked the guy. Witnesses claim they didn’t know what triggered it.”
“Witnesses,” he repeated. “Other inmates? You know how reputable we are.” He folded his hands, making his chains rattle on the tabletop.
Mercy leaned closer and lowered her voice. “It’s just you and me here. You can tell me what really happened,” she said in a companionable tone.
Gamble held her gaze and then mimicked her intimate tone. “He tried to bullshit me.”
Like I’m doing right now.
She’d have to try harder to get under his skin. A challenge.
“Why are you really here?” he asked. “That murder case is done and settled, even though they never believed he was paid to kill me.”
The murdered inmate was hired to kill him? Mercy hadn’t read that in his history and wondered if Gamble had made up the reason. Irked he’d diverted her thoughts with the paid-to-kill comment, she searched for one to do the same to him.
“It was a beautiful drive out here today,” she said kindly. “You’re lucky the prison is so close to the Columbia River. I couldn’t believe how blue it was this morning.”
Something flashed in his eyes. “I wouldn’t know.”
She’d figured he never saw the water, and she wondered if the prisoners could smell the river. This corner of northeast Oregon was quite dry, and she’d smelled the crispness and minerals of the water the moment she’d stepped out of her vehicle.
It was logical that the topic of the outdoors would annoy Gamble. He’d been locked up for thirty years.
She’d aptly found a tender spot that made him defensive.
“I’m here because we found a half dozen money bags from the robbery.” She dropped the single sentence and watched him.
The slight quiver of an eyelid was all that indicated she’d surprised him.
“And?” he asked calmly.
“The bags weren’t alone. The money was gone, of course, but a body was left behind.”
The eyelid quivered again, and he grew a shade paler. “Whose?”
“Don’t know. We’re looking into it.”
“Where was it found? Was the death recent?”
Wow. Two questions in a row.
She now held the power in the discussion—information he wanted.
“The bags and body were found in a crumbling cabin on private land about an hour outside of Bend. The death scene is old—maybe even a few decades.”
Gamble was very still, his breathing slow and calm. He didn’t break eye contact. “I don’t know anything about a cabin.”
“Not a preplanned rendezvous or hideout location?”
“Not that I was aware of. Jerry must have suggested it. Ellis, Nathan, or Trevor never mentioned something like that.”
“Maybe you were deliberately left out of the loop.”
Anger flashed and then confidence shone from his eyes. “I doubt it.”
“Because you knew every aspect, didn’t you,” Mercy said, tilting her head to the side as if studying him. “That robbery was your baby. You did the planning.”
“Everyone knows that.” Subtle pride.
“From what I read in your file, you masterminded the whole thing and convinced the other guys to go along. In fact, I think I read that you regarded the robbery as a challenge. Almost a game, to see if you could outsmart the armored car company and the police.”
“That’s correct. And I succeeded.”
“Your plan was solid. Gutsy but solid.” She paused. “I wouldn’t agree that you succeeded. You’re sitting in prison.”
“I thought through every detail. We got the money, and the rest of the group got away. I consider that a success.” The skin of his throat rippled as he silently swallowed, and curiosity took over his intense gaze. “What else do you know about the body?”
Mercy paused a little too long, letting his question hang in the air, letting him believe she was debating what information to share. “I don’t know anything yet. The medical examiner is looking at the remains now.”
Impatience flared in his gaze. “Right. But you must know . . . Clothing, shoes . . . Maybe I can help identify the body by those items.”
Why is he interested in helping?
“That’s very kind, but I doubt you can recall all the clothing your friends owned back then. We’ll confirm him with dental records.”
Gamble slowly leaned back in his chair and rubbed at a few days’ stubble on his chin. “You’re probably right.”
The tension emanating from him had abruptly vanished.
He’s no longer interested.
Or he’s a damn good actor.
“I’d hoped the discovery of money bags in a cabin might remind you of some detail you’d forgotten,” prodded Mercy. “Or maybe one that you didn’t think was important at the time.”