I crept around to the back of the home, trying the doors, and then spotted a small high bathroom window that hadn’t been broken or boarded up. I stacked firewood until I could reach the window, planning to smash it with a rock. To my delight it was unlocked, and I shimmied in, knocking down the shower curtain rod and landing awkwardly in the bathtub.
I tiptoed around, expecting a cop to appear at every turn. The house smelled musty and metallic. Black fingerprint dust covered every surface. I touched the black powder and then studied the smear I made on the wall. Panic swept through me and I grabbed a towel from the bathroom to wipe the place I’d touched.
In the first bedroom was a large bed, and I knew it must be the parents’. The bedding had been removed, and a hole had been cut in the carpet. But there were dark stains on the mattress. Blood?
I stepped closer, staring at the oddly shaped stains. I leaned over and sniffed. Yes, blood.
I’d heard the entire family had been killed in their beds. Blows to the heads. I crept from room to room. Each one was the same. No bedding. Stains on the mattresses.
How much do people bleed?
The kitchen and living room looked normal. Like the family was simply away for a day. Books, cups, and papers were scattered about the tables and counters. More black dust.
It became difficult to breathe. My breaths grew frequent and shallow, and I wondered if the boarded-up windows had blocked fresh oxygen. I sprinted to the bathroom, shakily replaced the curtain rod I’d knocked down, and crawled out the window. Outside I leaned against the house, taking deep gulps of the fresh air. I wiped my forehead and discovered it was covered in sweat.
I rode my bike home, thinking about what I’d seen and wondering if any of the Deverells had known they were about to die.
I’ve never forgotten that house.
NINETEEN
Finally some progress.
Delighted, Mercy hung up the phone in her office. Until this moment it had felt as if the Hartlage case had completely stalled, but that phone call had breathed new life into the case.
“Lunch?” Truman appeared at her door with a large paper sack.
Three good things in a row: new evidence, lunch delivery, and Truman.
“Absolutely.” Mercy cleared an area on her desk.
“Why are you beaming?” he asked as he handed her a spinach salad. He looked as tired as she felt after their long night at the Jorgensens’.
“Because I just heard from Dr. Harper. She found a dentist who had Corrine and Richard Hartlage as patients.”
“Nice!” Truman pulled up a chair and opened his steak sandwich. “Are they emailing the films?”
“That’s the one bad thing. They don’t have digital films, but the office is making copies and overnighting them.” She took a bite of strawberries and spinach. “I’m getting spoiled. I expect instant delivery these days.”
“I thought most offices had gone to digital films,” he commented.
“They have. But this office is in Burns.”
“Oh,” Truman said with understanding. Burns was a tiny remote city in eastern Oregon. Everything moved slower in that rural half of the state. “You told me she’d called every dentist around here. What made her look for a dentist in Burns?”
“Because two years ago, the Hartlages moved here from Portland. Do you know how many dentist offices there are in Portland? Poor Dr. Harper didn’t even know where to start calling. I dug a little deeper. Ten years ago they lived in Burns. I figured she’d have better luck pinpointing a dentist in a town of less than three thousand.”
“But the films will be ten years old—or older. Will they be helpful?”
“I asked the same question. Dr. Harper said she can definitely use them to determine if these skulls are the Hartlages.”
“Impressive,” admitted Truman as he popped the last part of one half of his sandwich in his mouth. Mercy looked down at her giant salad. She’d eaten two bites.
“Was the brother-in-law a patient too?” asked Truman.
“No,” Mercy said, stabbing her fork into a strawberry. “I don’t know if I’ll ever find his dental records—we haven’t even found his name—and we need to know who the Asian skull belongs to. With the skull we found yesterday we’ve got the right number of Caucasian skulls to match the Hartlage adults, so the Asian one is a big mystery.”
“And they’re still searching the area, right? Hopefully they don’t find more victims.”
“Amen.” They ate in companionable silence for a few moments. “Did you get any sleep?” she asked him.
Truman crumpled up the paper from his finished sandwich. “A few hours.”
“Same.”
“I got a call from your contractor. He said you didn’t call him back.”
“Oh, crap. I forgot.” Mercy’s brain scrambled to recall the message her contractor had left on her voice mail regarding the construction of her new cabin.
“He said the parts for the photovoltaic system will be here in four weeks.” Truman leaned forward, catching her gaze. “You didn’t tell me you were going with that power system again.”
“I made a decision.” Warning bells went off in her head at his quiet tone. She shoved a huge bite of spinach leaves in her mouth.
He pressed his lips together. “You know best what you need done up there, but that’s the fourth big decision that you have left me out of. I felt completely out of the loop when he talked to me about the system as if I knew everything about it.”
His words were gentle, but she knew she’d hurt him. She set down her fork. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget that you’re in this with me.”
“You forget?” He looked stunned.
Open mouth, insert foot. “What I mean is that the cabin has been my baby for years. I’m not accustomed to discussing it with anyone. It’s a habit. I’m on automatic pilot when it comes to dealing with it.”
He nodded but didn’t look convinced.
She reached across the desk and took his hand. “I love you. This is our project. I’ll try harder to include you.”
“I haven’t paid for any of the construction yet.” His eyes narrowed. “How much have you paid out?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Yes, it does. You just said this is our project. That means I contribute.”
Pride and independence rose within her. Plus she made more money than the small-town police chief. “I’m using the insurance payout.”
“But you had to meet the deductible.”
“I used the money I was saving for a down payment on a new house.”
“Mercy . . .” Disappointment filled his face.
He has pride too.
“When the insurance money runs out, we’ll divide everything, okay?” His obvious hurt stung deep in her heart. She’d made two big blunders and not even noticed. This relationship stuff is hard. I need to share the pain-in-the-butt and expensive stuff too . . . not just the happy stuff.
She’d been on her own for a long time. The routines and decisions that felt perfectly normal to her felt exclusionary to Truman.
“Okay,” he said, standing up and collecting the garbage from their lunch. “I need to get back to work.”
I didn’t convince him.
She’d have to show him she meant it.
“I do too.” She came around the desk and kissed him goodbye.