Chapter 3 - THE DEPUTY WHO WAS AFRAIDI had interrogated murder suspects who looked calmer than Ryan Mercer did standing inside Tessa Miller's repair shop.
His uniform was damp beneath the arms.
His right hand trembled.
And he kept looking through the front window like he expected a rifle barrel to appear across the street.
I didn't trust him.
But fear is difficult to fake when you've spent half your life studying it.
"Lock the door," I told Tessa.
She did.
Mercer immediately shook his head.
"You shouldn't stay here."
"You tracked us."
"No."
"Then how did you find us?"
He reached slowly into his pocket.
I stepped forward.
"Easy."
He removed a folded diner receipt.
Written on the back was Tessa's address.
Avery stared at it.
"Who gave you that?"
"Mrs. Alvarez."
My eyes narrowed.
Mercer swallowed.
"After you left, I went back alone. I told her I needed to warn you."
"Why would she trust you?"
"She didn't. She called you a stubborn son of a bitch and said if I lied, she'd personally make sure every television station in North Carolina knew my name."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
That sounded exactly like Rosa Alvarez.
Mercer stared at the laptop.
"You watched Rachel's recording?"
The sound of my wife's name from his mouth almost made me hit him.
"How do you know about it?"
"Because Barrett's been looking for that card for years."
"Years?"
"He didn't know where it was."
Avery folded her arms.
"So why search me?"
"Because Daniel saw you find something."
The room changed.
I took one step toward him.
"You said Daniel."
Mercer knew he'd revealed too much.
"What is Cross involved in?"
He closed his eyes.
"Everything."
I wanted answers.
Instead, Mercer wanted protection.
He told us he had joined the sheriff's department four years earlier. At first Barrett had been his field training officer. Friendly. Helpful. The kind of deputy who paid for rookies' lunches and remembered their kids' birthdays.
Then Mercer was assigned to evidence transport.
Cash seizures.
Narcotics.
Property.
He noticed discrepancies.
Ten thousand dollars logged at a scene became eighty-five hundred at intake.
Phones vanished.
Evidence bags appeared with broken seals and replacement signatures.
Whenever he asked questions, Barrett had an explanation.
Then Daniel Cross invited him to dinner.
That was how they recruited people.
Not with threats.
Not initially.
With favors.
A medical bill disappeared.
A promotion appeared.
A brother's DUI got dismissed.
Soon Mercer was signing documents he knew were false.
"How much did you take?" I asked.
His jaw tightened.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
"I didn't take money."
"But you helped them."
"Yes."
Avery looked disgusted.
Mercer flinched.
"I told myself paperwork wasn't the same as hurting somebody."
"It always becomes hurting somebody," I said.
"I know."
His eyes moved toward Avery.
"Yesterday Barrett told me we were going to the diner because money had gone missing. When Mrs. Alvarez said it was deposited, I thought we'd leave."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"What did Barrett tell you?"
Mercer hesitated.
"That we needed to recover a storage device."
Avery's face hardened.
"From me."
"Yes."
"Did he tell you to search under my clothes?"
"No."
I saw shame in his expression.
"I should've stopped him."
"Yes," I said. "You should have."
He nodded.
No argument.
That made me distrust him slightly less.
"Why are you here now?"
"Because after you left, Barrett called Cross."
"How do you know?"
"I was in the cruiser."
"What did Daniel say?"
Mercer looked at Avery.
"He asked if she still had it."
Avery hugged herself.
"He knew."
Mercer nodded.
"Then Barrett said no."
"What did Daniel say next?"
Mercer's voice dropped.
"He said, 'Then Marcus does.'"
Nobody spoke.
Tessa closed the laptop.
"We need to move."
"Wait," I said.
I looked at Mercer.
"You said they've been searching for the card for years. How did they know it existed?"
"Thomas Reed."
That name again.
"Where is Thomas?"
Mercer shook his head.
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Cross thinks he's dead."
"Do you?"
"No."
"Why?"
Mercer reached inside his uniform shirt and pulled out a small laminated photograph.
It showed a gray-haired man leaving a convenience store.
Timestamp: three months earlier.
Avery leaned forward.
"Who's that?"
"Thomas Reed."
I studied the photograph.
The man had aged twenty years.
But I remembered him.
Lean shoulders.
Long nose.
A scar beside his left eyebrow.
It was him.
"Where?"
"West Virginia."
"Who took this?"
"A private investigator Cross hired."
"Then why isn't Thomas dead?"
"The investigator disappeared before he could tell Cross exactly where he'd found him."
I looked at Mercer.
"Why do you have the photograph?"
"I copied it."
"Why?"
"Insurance."
That word kept appearing.
Insurance.
The currency of frightened criminals.
Tessa opened another folder on Rachel's card.
"Guys."
On the screen was a spreadsheet labeled REED_LEDGER.
Rows of dates.
Case numbers.
Dollar amounts.
Initials.
One set appeared again and again.
D.C.
Daniel Cross.
Beside several entries:
C.B.
Cole Barrett.
Then farther down, older initials.
S.H.
I stared.
Sheriff Harold Knox.
The man who had signed Rachel's accident report.
He had retired eight years ago.
Avery whispered, "How many people were involved?"
"Enough," Mercer said.
I turned.
"Tell me about Rachel's crash."
His face changed.
"I wasn't in the department then."
"But you've heard things."
"Rumors."
"Tell me."
He looked toward the window.
Then back at me.
"Barrett got drunk at a Christmas party two years ago."
My fists tightened.
"He said Cross had once solved a problem using a tow truck."
I felt pressure behind my eyes.
Rachel's car had been recovered by Bellweather County Towing.
Owned at the time by Daniel's cousin.
"What problem?"
"He wouldn't say. But he laughed and said, 'Guardrails don't testify.'"
Avery started crying.
Quietly.
That made something inside me break.
For fourteen years, I had told my daughter her mother hadn't suffered.
That it was quick.
That accidents happened.
That sometimes terrible things came from nowhere.
Maybe none of that was true.
I wanted Daniel.
Right then.
Immediately.
I wanted to drive to his house and drag the truth out of him.
Rachel had predicted that reaction.
I was afraid you'd do exactly what you're going to want to do.
She knew me.
Even dead, she was stopping me from making the mistake Daniel was counting on.
I forced my hands open.
"We need Thomas Reed."
Mercer nodded.
"There's a town name written on the back of that photograph."
I flipped it.
Marlowe, WV.
Tessa immediately said, "We don't drive there in your car."
"Agreed."
Avery wiped her face.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Dad."
"Absolutely not."
"It's my mother."
"And you're the reason they're panicking. That makes you the target."
Her chin lifted.
"I'm nineteen, not nine."
"You're my daughter."
"And she's my mom."
Neither of us moved.
Rachel used to stand exactly like that when she refused to back down.
Same chin.
Same eyes.
Same infuriating courage.
"You're staying with Tessa."
"No."
"Avery."
"You spent my whole life telling me Mom's death was an accident. If that was a lie, I get to know why."
I hated that she was right.
Finally Tessa said, "Take her."
I stared at her.
Tessa continued.
"If they're looking for Avery, leaving her in one predictable location isn't safer. I can arrange a vehicle they won't recognize."
Mercer shook his head.
"You don't understand Cross."
I turned toward him.
"No. You don't understand me."
Mercer went silent.
"We leave in twenty minutes."
Tessa packed the drive and copied Rachel's files onto two encrypted devices.
One stayed with her.
One went into my boot.
The original memory card went into a waterproof capsule clipped beneath Avery's clothing where nobody could find it through a casual search.
Before we left, Mercer caught my arm.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Cross isn't just worried about Rachel's files."
"Then what?"
"He keeps asking Barrett about something called Blackbird."
I stared at him.
"I've never heard of it."
"Neither have I."
Behind us, Avery stopped.
Her face had turned white.
"Dad."
I looked at her.
"What?"
She whispered:
"Mom used to call me Bluebird."
"I know."
"No. Listen."
Her breathing quickened.
"After Mom died, Uncle Daniel gave me a stuffed black bird."
I remembered.
Barely.
A cheap plush raven Daniel said he'd bought in an airport.
Avery carried it everywhere for years.
"What happened to it?"
She looked at me.
"I still have it."
"Where?"
"At home."
Nobody spoke.
Then Mercer said the one thing I was already thinking.
"If Blackbird is what Cross wants, your house is the first place they'll go."
I pulled out my spare phone and activated the security camera app.
Our living room appeared.
Empty.
Kitchen.
Empty.
Back door.
Closed.
Then I switched to Avery's bedroom.
The camera showed her desk.
Her bed.
Her closet.
And a man standing in the middle of the room.
Cole Barrett.
He was pulling stuffed animals from a storage chest and cutting them open with a knife.
Avery covered her mouth.
We watched him tear through her childhood.
Bear.
Rabbit.
Old yellow dog.
Then he picked up a dusty black raven.
He turned it over.
Found a stitched seam.
And smiled.
Avery whispered, "Oh my God."
May you like
Barrett raised his knife.
The video went black.
Related Stories
