“That’s it?” Naomi asked.
“Two other important things. You’ll have to walk home after eating.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Here was the trickiest part. “And in the morning? You’ll have to report your car as stolen.”
Naomi’s mouth dropped open. “What? You didn’t say anything about taking my car! I need it! It might be a piece of shit, but-”
I put my finger over my lips to signal for quiet. Then I reached into my purse and pulled out a stack of bills. “There’s twenty-one hundred bucks here. After the tribal cops find your car, there’s enough to get it repaired, or enough for you to buy a different one. You just need to report it missing. But not until morning.”
She looked torn.
“If the maroon Chrysler out there is your van? Then I’m being more than generous in replacement cost.”
“I know, but…” Naomi looked at me thoughtfully. “Is there a chance the cops will contact me tonight about my car?”
“Slim. But if that happens, tell them the last time you saw it, it was parked in the driveway or on the street or wherever you normally park it.” My eyes searched hers. “And if you really want to be a dick, you can bring Mackenzie Red Shirt into the conversation as a possible suspect. She’s been harassing you after you brought her name up with the Shooting Star case. Harassing you to the point you had to change your cell phone number. Officer Ferguson can back you up on that.”
Naomi’s eyes gleamed. “That would be sweet payback.”
“Can you do that? But only if it comes to that?”
“Yes.”
“Remember. This is a covert op. The tribal police have no idea what the FBI is doing, and we need to keep it that way.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now run through this for me one more time so we’ve nailed down every detail.”
She ran it down in perfect order, with the same type of clinical detachment I used. I knew there was a reason I liked this girl.
“All right. Let’s do this.”
Luck was still on my side that no one had moved my cart with the 150 pounds of dog food. I set the duffel bag in the cart and rolled the bags on top of it, hiding it completely.
I picked the young cashier I didn’t know. When my turn came, I struggled to heft the first bag onto the conveyor belt. Since it was unwieldy, she didn’t take the next two bags out of the cart, she just rang up the first bag three times. I paid cash, secured the scarf around the lower half of my face, and left the grocery store.
This was the test. I couldn’t look around to see if Sheldon was waiting for the other me to exit the grocery store. Although I’d seen his headlights, I had no idea what kind of vehicle he drove. I unloaded everything in the back of the van. I didn’t adjust the seat, didn’t wait around. I took off and found a parking spot at Smith’s Car Repair two blocks from Besler’s.
I pretended to talk on the phone, in case somebody was watching me.
Ten minutes later, Naomi sped past on her way to the reservation. Less than two minutes after that, Sheldon followed in a dark green Dodge Neon.
Got you now, motherfucker.
No need to follow close and risk blowing my advantage, since I knew Naomi’s end destination. I kept a Chevy pickup between our vehicles as we rolled down the blacktop to Eagle River.
The church was located in the center of town on the main drag. As I passed it, I saw Naomi walking up the stone steps, neither too fast nor too slow. Again, I couldn’t take a chance and case the lot for Sheldon’s car, so I kept driving.
At the three-block mark, I pulled onto a side street, ditched the dog food, and grabbed my duffel, placing it in the front seat. I drove four blocks and backed into a spot at an abandoned bank that had been turned into a private-sale car lot and was a block up from the church.
With binoculars I scoured the church lot for Sheldon’s car, finding it in the middle, but I couldn’t see any activity inside. Hopefully, Sheldon wouldn’t enter the house of worship until after the service ended. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized I’d given him the slip.
Nothing happened in the next half hour. Once people started spilling out the main doors, I kept my binoculars focused on picking Naomi out of the crowd.
She hadn’t left too soon or too late. She wore her coat. Her shoes. Carried her purse. No trace of my things on her person at all.
Whew.
Naomi walked with a young boy toward the Pizza Barn. Just another couple of teenagers, hanging out. Sheldon knew Naomi, but he wouldn’t connect her with me.
Cars began to clear out. Even with a straight-shot view of Sheldon’s vehicle, I couldn’t tell what he was doing inside. Fuming, most likely.
I waited for him to get out of the car.
When only three cars remained, Sheldon left his car. He slowly spun a circle, casing the parking lot as he approached the steps.
I checked out his attire. Black combat clothing. Black hikers. Black wool skullcap.
What I didn’t see? A bulletproof vest. Or a weapon holstered in his utility belt. Or his glasses.
A surge of rage stirred up my tranquil pool. Purposely misleading people into thinking he was physically disabled, both his body and his vision, was a coward’s way of fighting.
I hated cowards.
Sheldon briskly scaled the steps, still looking around before he disappeared inside the church.
I smiled.
Three minutes later he left the building and paused outside the heavy, hand-carved wooden doors, his gaze on my pickup. Pretty quick sweep of the church. I refocused my binoculars. He had something crumpled up in his right hand.
Aw. He’d found my hate note.
I smiled again.
I wondered if Sheldon still felt on top of his military op.
Would he go home?
Would he return to my place?
Or would he go to Hope’s and follow through on his threat?
Sheldon didn’t make a move for several minutes.
Then he casually walked around my pickup. He pulled a knife out of the side pocket in his cargo pants. He stabbed the sidewall of my left rear tire. Satisfied the tire was flat, he strolled to his car, climbed in, and started it.
This was it.
My pulse didn’t waver.
Not when he slowly pulled onto the road, heading toward Eagle Ridge.
Not when he passed by me sitting in this crappy decoy.
But my heart almost stopped when I saw Sheldon’s taillights flash and his reverse lights come on.
Oh shit. As the rear end of his car came into view, I ducked and placed my shoulders on the passenger’s seat, staring up at the dingy ceiling.
Gravel crunched as his car backed into the empty spot one vehicle away from mine. He’d settled in, waiting to see if I’d return for my pickup.
That surprised me, because it was a smart move. Strategic. Calculating. Not angry, hotheaded, and panicked.
I wanted him off balance.
See? We’re alike, Mercy.
No, we aren’t.
I closed my eyes and slowly breathed in and out. Sheldon wouldn’t stay here long if I didn’t show up. He’d be on the lookout for me.
Ironic I was sitting right next to him.
Breathe. Think. Plan.
I could get to the heart of this right now. I still had the advantage.
I could burst out of the car, gun blazing. Randomly shoot at him until he told me where he’d hidden Sophie… or until the tribal cops showed up at the sound of gunfire. Even they wouldn’t ignore that.
Or I could come up on his six, knock him out, and tie him up. Drag him back to the foreman’s cabin at the ranch and torture him until he told me where he’d stashed Sophie.
Then you are just like him, aren’t you?
So?