No Mercy (27 page)

“Well, big bad agents are human, too.” Her smile was forced. “Promise me that you will be

careful, whatever you do.”

“Of course.” Dylan touched her beautiful but sad face, running his thumb along her jaw. “Promise

me you’l stay in Marta’s room.”

Belle nodded, her soft skin sliding across his fingers as she did. “I won’t go anywhere.”

He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers before taking her hand and walking with her

toward Marta’s room.

Rick DeLong was outside the room, an agent who was had just transferred to the DHS office in

Douglas.

“Belle, this is Agent DeLong.” Dylan in turn introduced Rick to Belle before adding, “He will take

good care of you.”

“Everything has been quiet,” Rick said as he gave Dylan and Belle a nod.

Dylan opened the door to the room. Belle slipped inside after Dylan gave her a soft kiss. When

he closed the door behind her, he braced one hand on the doorframe as if to steady himself. He had

to stop feeling like he couldn’t let her out of his sight. She was safe here.

He let his hand slide down the wood before turning to face Rick. “They’re family to me.” Dylan

was surprised to hear the roughness of his own voice. “Take care of them.”

Rick gave a sharp nod. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”

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hospital, where Tom’s office was.

When Dylan reached his destination, Trace was already conducting the search with two other

agents. The murders, attempted murders, kidnapping, and an injured federal agent, made this case

top priority.

Dylan stood beside Trace. “Find anything?” Dylan asked.

“Nothing even close.” Trace shook his head. “We’re going through everything with a fine-toothed

comb and so far not a thing stands out.”

After checking in with Trace, Dylan grabbed a pair of latex gloves out of a box on Tom’s large

desk and joined in on the search. He flipped through files, dug in desk drawers, and went over Tom’s

personal belongings. Dylan’s frustration mounted the longer they searched. Tom would have kept a

copy, wouldn’t he? But he may have had it on him, planning on keeping the copy at home.

Feeling like he could punch his fist through a wall, Dylan sat in the leather office chair in front of

Tom’s desk. Once again he went through every drawer. He even went as far as to look beneath the

desk, hoping for some kind of key to a secret drawer. When he found nothing, he riffled through

papers in the wastebasket next to the desk. Nothing. Goddamned nothing.

He leaned back in Tom’s chair and scanned the surface of the desk for yet another time, as if

some new item or clue might appear out of nowhere.

A docking station for a laptop was at the center of the desk, but no sign of the laptop was in the

office. Likely, Tom had had it with him when he’d gone home. Also on the desktop was a jade elephant

paperweight that felt like it weighed five pounds. Next to the paperweight was a photo of Tom’s son

in a little league uniform, and beside it was another photo of the boy holding a soccer ball in one arm

and a gold medal in the opposite hand.

A notepad with notes in what looked like a typical doctor’s handwriting was to the right. Also to

the right, near the notepad, was a white coffee mug with “World’s #1 Dad” in crayon-like lettering in

bright primary colors.

As he looked at the mug, Dylan felt like someone had punched him in the gut. The CoS hadn’t

just lost a friend, a part of their family…this young boy was now without a father.

Dylan’s gaze drifted to the notepad. He stared at it for a moment without seeing it. When his

eyes came back into focus, something about the pad caught his attention. He frowned and pulled it

toward him with his gloved hand. The writing was virtually illegible, but when he took his time to study

it, he was fairly certain that the note started with “Tom” at the top and then “Nate” was written at the

bottom.

Heart beating a little faster, Dylan went over and over the note, finding he could pick out words

here and there: “town”, “good man”, “fun”, “ditch”, “runoff”, “mom”, “help.” One line was underlined,

and in that line one word was circled—“mom”.

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“I think so.” Dylan tapped the notepad with his index finger. “I think Tom was trying to figure out

his postcard message for himself by writing it out.”

Trace braced his palm on the desk as he looked over Dylan’s shoulder. “His handwriting damn

near looks like a foreign language.”

“I think doctor scrawl is a required class in medical school.” Dylan looked at Trace. “We might

have to get a code breaker to decipher it.”

“We may have one or two here.” Trace looked toward the doorway. “At least one of his nurses

could give us a hand.”

“Great idea.” Dylan pushed the chair away from the desk and picked up the notepad between

gloved fingers. “I’l make a copy of it and see if one of the nurses can lend a hand.”

Dylan got up from the chair and strode out of Tom’s office. He headed to the closest nurse’s

station. Carrie Prince, the same curly-haired brunette nurse he’d met yesterday, was at a desk behind

the divider.

She glanced up from the file she’d been looking at. She got to her feet. “Agent Curtis,” she said

as she approached him. “What can I do for you?”

“I have something important that I can use some help with.” He held up the notepad. “I think Dr.

Zumsteg wrote out what we’re looking for, but I can’t read his handwriting.”

“I’m pretty good at reading Dr. Zumsteg’s writing.” Carrie looked less teary and red-eyed today,

clearly having pul ed herself together for work. “As long as what is on here has nothing to do with

any patients, I would be glad to help.”

Dylan thanked her and she let him use the copier to print out a copy of the note. She took the

copy while Dylan held onto the notepad. She sat at her desk and started making notes in the half

page beneath the scrawl.

It didn’t take Carrie long. She got up from the desk, holding the piece of paper. “It’s a personal

note and doesn’t seem to have anything to do with any patients. It does have to do with a Nate. I

think it fits the parameters of the warrant and I don’t have a problem giving it to you.”

Dylan gestured to the paper Carrie held. “Would you mind giving me a photocopy of what you’ve

written out?”

“No problem.” She went to the copier and in moments was back, handing him both pieces of

paper.

He took the copies. “I appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome.” Carrie’s expression held a lot of grief once again. “I hope this helps you solve

this case.”

He touched his fingers to the brim of his Stetson and gave her a nod before turning away. He

felt a peculiar stirring in his gut as he read a note from a dead friend to a dead friend.

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It’s great to have you back in Bisbee, and working at the Copper Queen Hospital. This town

needs a good man like you for a local doctor.

What fun we had playing in the ditch with the runoff water from the copper mines. That was

until your mom caught us. We got our hides tanned for that one.

People need your help. Glad you’re there for them.

Nate

The nurse had circled “mom” like Tom had, as well as having underlined the same sentence.

That was until your mom caught us.

Dylan considered Nate’s reference to playing in runoff water. Had it been his dad and not his

mom who had caught them and taken something to them—a belt, or a strap, or a paddle. Maybe a

wooden spoon or shoe for all Dylan knew.

But he remembered Mrs. Zumsteg and she’d been a kind woman. However, Mr. Zumsteg was

another story. He had an edge to him, and Dylan wouldn’t have been surprised if he had done the

spanking or beating.

“Mom versus Dad.” Dylan spoke his thoughts aloud. “Could be father, but since he used mom,

dad seems more appropriate.”

He took the copy of the deciphered note, folded it, and put it in his shirt pocket before returning

to Tom’s office.

Trace and the other two agents were winding down their search. Dylan put the notepad and the

copy with the nurse’s handwriting into an evidence bag before turning the bag over to Trace.

Dylan pulled off his latex gloves as he spoke. “I think we got what we need.” He nodded to the

bag. “It’s clearly a copy of the message Nate sent Tom on the postcard. I’d bet my truck on it.”

“Good.” Trace hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets as he studied Dylan. “Does it make any

sense to you?”

Dylan thought about the underlined sentence and the circled word. “As much sense as any of

the notes make. Nate sure didn’t make it easy on us. But he had to be certain that if anything

happened to him, the CoS would compare the messages when we got together.”

Trace nodded, wearing a thoughtful expression. “And knowing that you solve riddles for a living,

solving crimes, probably made him confident you would figure it all out.”

“Yeah, I’m betting you’re right.” Another rush of frustration tightened Dylan’s muscles. “Damn it.

What the hel did Nate get himself into?”

“That probably all rests on what Salvatore Reyes is involved in.” Trace’s features darkened.

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answer for that.” Trace’s words came out in a low growl. “Death would be too good for that

sonofabitch.”

~~*~~

When Dylan left Marta’s room, Belle felt as if a connection tethering her to him had been

severed. The sensation was like a hook had torn her guts out and left nothing but ice in its place.

Belle took a deep breath and faced the two women in the room. One woman lying so still in her

hospital bed with a gauge sticking out of her skull while the other woman sat beside the bed.

“Hi, Nancy.” Belle offered Marta’s wife a little smile.

Nancy met Belle’s gaze. “Hi, Belle.” The blonde woman glanced at Marta. “Her eyes moved

beneath her eyelids.” Blue eyes brimming with tears, Nancy looked back to Belle. “It’s a good sign.

She’s dreaming.”

Belle went to Nancy, who got to her feet. Belle wrapped her arms around Nancy, who hugged

her back with a fierceness that showed how much she needed the support. Belle felt the woman

shake with a sob and warm tears wet Belle’s shoulder through her shirt.

“I’m sorry.” Nancy leaned back and wiped her tears away with her fingertips. “I can’t seem to

stop crying.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Belle took Nancy’s hands in hers. Belle’s eyes were watering, too. “You love

Marta. We all do. And you have every right to cry.”

Nancy hugged Belle again before drawing away. “No one else from the CoS has come since

you and Christie last visited.”

“I know Leon would have visited if he could, and Christie would come back…if she was able to.”

More tears gathered at the backs of Belle’s eyes. There was no sense in telling Nancy that Christie

had been kidnapped…or worse. Not with Marta lying comatose in a hospital bed. For all she knew,

Marta could hear, too, and it might cause additional stress to her system. Who could say?

Belle continued, “Because of what happened to Nate, Tom, and Marta, everyone is in protective

custody.”

“What about you?” Nancy tipped her head to the side. “Why are you here? You should be under

protection, too.”

“Dylan is in the hospital with me.” Belle gestured to the door. “The DHS has an agent guarding

the room, so we’re all fine. Dylan wil be here just as soon as he finishes up with something to do

with Tom.”

Nancy glanced at Marta. “I’ve been talking to her, telling her about the kids and asking her to

return to me. I have to believe she can hear everything I say.”

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children. I’m sure she wil .” Belle had to believe with everything she had that what she said was true.

“I’m praying.” Nancy sniffled and picked up a tissue from a box on a stand next to the bed.

“Praying hard. Every minute.”

“I’m praying, too.” Belle tucked strands of hair behind her ear. “How are your mother and your

sons?”

“Stil in protective custody.” Nancy sighed. “Mom has been allowed to call me on a secure line

and I’ve been able to talk with the boys, too. The conversations are kept short, but it’s good to hear

their voices.”

“I’m relieved to hear they’re safe and well.” Belle looked at Marta. “May I talk to Marta?”

Nancy moved aside and sat in another chair. “I know she’d like that.”

Belle perched on the edge of the chair Nancy had been occupying and took Marta’s hand in

both of hers. Marta’s fingers were cool in Belle’s grip. Her eyes were drawn to the gauge in Marta’s

shaved skull, the neck brace that held her head absolutely still, and the breathing apparatus. Seeing

it all caused a swimming sensation in Belle’s abdomen. It was so hard to see her friend like this.

For a moment she just held Marta’s hand. A tall vase of lilies, carnations, roses, and lilacs was

on the opposite side of the bed and Belle caught the pleasant smell of the flowers.