Mercy’s gaze flew back to him. “That crossed my mind too. You think it’s been commandeered by someone at the McDonald place?”
“Pearl said Pence came into the coffee shop with McDonald a few times, so it’s possible he worked out there, even though that’s not the story you got when you visited the ranch. The vehicle hasn’t turned up yet, so I wouldn’t be surprised if someone who knew he was dead simply decided to start driving it around.”
“Idiots,” muttered Mercy. “We need to go back there and look at the vehicles out—”
A tired-looking young doctor stepped inside the curtain. “Ms. Kilpatrick. Your films look fine.” He wore light-blue scrubs and running shoes Truman had considered buying until he saw the price was nearly $200. He glanced at Truman and kept talking. “A radiologist will also review the films. You’ll get a separate bill from their office and—”
“I know,” Mercy said, cutting him off. “But you don’t see any issues?”
“No.”
“Can I leave?”
“I’m printing out your discharge papers. You might have some pain and stiffness tomorrow morning. Take some OTC pain relievers and use ice as needed. If you have any severe headaches, I want you back here, or go to your doctor right away.”
“I don’t have a doctor yet,” she said. “I’ve only been here a few months.”
“A good time to find one then,” he said with a polite smile that indicated this wasn’t his problem. He vanished.
“Get dressed.” Truman stepped outside the curtains and stood guard as she changed. A weight lifted off his shoulders in his relief that she hadn’t been hurt.
But who would purposefully run an FBI agent off the road?
He had hard questions for the men at the McDonald ranch.
Truman drove toward her apartment, wishing she would come home with him. She’d said she wanted to be home for Kaylie, to make sure she got up in time for school in the morning. He’d known it would be tough dating a woman with a teenager. Even though Kaylie was pretty self-sufficient, Mercy had a need to be available for her. He had to get over it; the girl had just lost her father.
But sometimes he wanted Mercy to himself.
“Thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to come to the hospital.”
This is enough!
Fury shot through him, and he took a deep breath as he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. They were a few blocks from her home. He turned toward her in the SUV’s driver’s seat, his heart pumping and frustration rushing through his limbs. “Why shouldn’t I give you a ride?”
Wide eyes blinked at him. He had her attention.
“Eddie could have driven me. He was already there.”
“Maybe I wanted to drive you. I wanted to be at the hospital.”
“But—”
“No buts. Don’t tell me what I feel.”
“I didn’t want you feeling obligated.”
“I know Eddie had to convince you to let me know about the accident.”
She glared. “That little—”
“He didn’t tell me. Jeff did. Eddie mentioned it to him and Jeff told me when I called him.”
She threw up her hands. “Why is everyone talking about me behind my back?”
“Because we care!” He shoved the words through his clenched teeth to keep from shouting at her.
She opened her mouth to reply, but slammed it shut as she stared at him in the dim light of the cab.
“Why is it so hard for you to let people take care of you?” he asked in a normal voice.
“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she snapped. “I’m an adult.”
“Taken care of isn’t the way I should have phrased it . . . Why is it hard to let people do nice things for you? Why didn’t you want me to know about the accident?”
“Because I knew you’d leave work, and it’s important that you do your job. People rely on you. Cases need your attention. Important cases.”
“You’re important too.”
“But I had Eddie. Why did I need two people to respond? How many people was I supposed to notify that I’d screwed up and gotten run off the road?”
“It wasn’t your fault, and I want you to always call me when shit happens to you.”
A passing car’s headlights illuminated the inside of the SUV, making her green eyes shine. Are those tears?
“Why is this so hard for you?” he asked, gently taking her hand. It was like holding ice.
“I don’t rely on other people. I rely on myself.” She paused for a long moment. “If I wasn’t able to rely on my family—people who are supposed to love me unconditionally—how can I rely on someone I barely know?” Her words ended in a whisper.
It was a fragile moment. She had pulled aside her emotional curtain, exposed her vulnerability. He was scared to move, let alone speak, for fear of her shutting him out. How do I reassure her that she is safe?
“Tell me this,” he said carefully. “Do you want Kaylie to rely and depend on you?”
“Yes! Her world was yanked out from under her, and she needs stability. I want her to know I’ll always be available . . . something I didn’t have after I turned eighteen.”
“Because it’s important that she knows she has people in her life who love her,” he added.
“Absolutely. I wish I’d had that during those hard years.”
“I’m trying to be that person for you.” He held his breath, watching for signs of flight.
She blinked rapidly. “You don’t know me . . . We’ve barely—”
“You haven’t seen Kaylie since she was one. Does that matter to you? Do you need to spend a year getting to know her before you commit to her?”
“It’s not the same!” She tried to jerk her hand out of his, but he tightened his grip, not willing to let her hide so easily.
“Listen.” He waited until she made eye contact. “You’re scared I’m going to not be here tomorrow. Or two months from now. So you hold back, refusing to put your heart out there. I’m telling you I’m a safe bet.”
“You can’t promise—”
“Don’t try to tell me what I can or can’t promise. I know what I’m capable of. I’m not scared of exposing my heart to you, Mercy, but I know you are terrified of doing the same.”
She was silent.
“But that’s okay. I get it. I know being abandoned by your family ripped a deep hole inside of you and you’ve got high walls built up around your heart to protect it. But you need to understand that it’s not a sign of weakness to allow yourself to be loved.”
“I can’t do that,” she whispered.
“Not yet,” he agreed. “Eventually you’ll learn it’s a sign of strength. You’ll learn it’s one of the hardest gambles in the world, but damn . . . when it’s right, the payoff is out of this world.” He touched her cheek, worried he’d pushed too hard, but she hadn’t run away. Yet.
She was so stubborn and independent.
But he wouldn’t have fallen for her if she were any other way.
FIFTEEN
Mercy liked Tilda Brass on sight.
She felt right at home with the elegant, mannered woman who wore men’s overalls and rubber boots and spoke in a kind voice. Tilda poured her a cup of tea and Mercy declined the milk, opting for a wedge of lemon. She’d asked Tilda to reschedule their tea to midmorning and Mercy was glad she’d already had her hit of caffeine for the day. Tea wasn’t her poison of choice.