In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (40 page)

“Yeah. All night. We were in the stables. I didn’t think Mom would wake up. She took a Trazadone. I thought she was totally out.”
 

“Were you drinking?” I asked.

“Parker had a bottle of vodka. It was gross and I just go to sleep when I drink.” She teared up again and whispered, “Do you think Mom was outside looking for me and that’s why she got killed?”
 

I squeezed her hand. “That’s not why she got killed.”
 

“It’s my fault then. I did it. I killed Mom.” She burst into a full-fledged ugly cry.
 

Well done, Mercy.

“No, no. It’s the person who hurt your mother who’s at fault. Nobody else.”
 

“You don’t understand.”
 

David crossed my mind and then the guilt that plagued me afterwards. I didn’t like to talk about what happened, but Lane needed it. I did understand. Sort of. David disappeared with two friends when I was sixteen. Maybe if I’d been with him. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten myself grounded.
 

“I lost someone when I was your age. My boyfriend disappeared. They think he was murdered.”
 

The squished up lines of her face straightened. “Oh my god. Really?”
 

“It wasn’t my fault or my responsibility.” I didn’t exactly believe that but I sold it well.
 

“Did they catch the guy who did it?”
 

Probably not.
 

“Yes and he’s in prison. He confessed.” I didn’t go further into it. She didn’t need any doubts.

“Did it help?”
 

No. Lie. Lie. Lie.
 

“No.”
 

Dammit.

“It didn’t? How come? I want you to catch him.”
 

I smiled. “It’s complicated. I had to mourn David. His killer didn’t have much to do with that.”
 

“I’ll feel better,” Lane said, suddenly fierce.
 

I hugged her. “Then we’ll catch him.”
 

“Soon?”
 

“Very soon. Are you sure you don’t know why the scholarship was in the bag?”
 

Her eyes shifted to the left. “No. She didn’t tell me everything.”
 

Aaron came over with a plate heaping with his homemade corned beef hash, over easy eggs, and biscuits and gravy. My mouth watered, but I couldn’t eat it. I couldn’t. I ate the pastry. That was bad enough.
 

“Morty said you want this,” said Aaron.
 

“He did, did he?” I asked.
 

Blink.

“Eat it, Mercy,” said Tiny, walking over. “If you don’t, I’ll have to. We’re gonna need more information.”
 

“I ate the pastry. I can’t eat anything else. I can’t.”
 

Emil came and gave Tiny a large glass of green gunk. He groaned. I would gladly have traded.
 

“Don’t be getting any ideas,” said Tiny. “This glass of healthy, delicious kale, turmeric, and ginger is mine.”
 

“There’s apple,” said Aaron as if that changed the whole thing.
 

“And apple.” Tiny gulped it down and coughed. “Too…much…ginger.”
 

“It’s good for you,” I said with a grin.
 

“Eat your happiness.” He slumped onto the hearth and belched so juicily I could smell it. Gross.
 

He wavered back and forth. “I got a kale high.”

Lane wiped her eyes and took the platter of calories from Aaron. “I’ll eat it. You need information so I’ll do it.” She waggled her finger with its painted heart on the nail at Aaron. “Don’t tell.”
 

Aaron gazed over her head for a second and then went back to the stove.
 

“Is he going to tell?” Lane asked me.

“Who knows? You need the calories anyway. Eat it. I’ll handle Morty.”
 

Tiny leaned over me and sniffed. “I remember breakfast.”

Lane forked up a big piece of biscuits and gravy. “I’ll give you some. They’re mean. That green stuff was yuck.”
 

He pulled back and fixed a patently false cheerful expression on his face. “No. Go on with you. I’ve got to lose weight or I’m gonna have a heart attack.”
 

“Are you a vegetarian?” she asked. “My mom was a vegetarian for a while after we got back.”
 

Emil made me a fresh latte and I stretched out my thighs. “I’m trying to be. Tiny’s not. Back from where?”
 

“Um…Ecuador. Mom and I went for two weeks of service. It was a church thing. That’s why we could afford it.”
 

“That’s right. I saw the airline tags on your luggage. When did you go?”
 

“January,” said Lane.

“Isn’t Enrique from Ecuador?”
 

She shrugged and didn’t look up. “I don’t know. I wish I could go down to the Shut-ins. Mom loved them. She always took us every summer.” She teared up and began shoveling in Aaron’s food, going on autopilot eating.
 

Cherie went to Ecuador. How many people went to Ecuador? And Enrique was from there. Could be a coincidence. The US has people from everywhere. But…Enrique was special and Taylor’s rival for the scholarship.
 

Lane finished half the plate and gave it to me. “I can’t do anymore. That’s a stink load of food.”
 

Aaron was watching from the stove. I knew from the nervous jitter that he thought she didn’t like it. “It’s okay. I’ll finish it for you.”
 

“I’m gonna go see Taylor. He wants to leave, but Grandpa says Mom wouldn’t want that. I don’t know what to do,” said Lane.
 

“Don’t decide anything for now. But do me a favor and tell Aaron his food is the best thing you ever ate. He probably won’t respond, but say it anyway.”
 

“I like Aaron. He’s so nice. He made me French hot chocolate.” The tears began in earnest again.

“That’s his specialty.”
 

Lane spoke to Aaron and went out the door into the kitchen garden. Tiny got me a fresh fork and I ate her leftovers as promised. My stomach rebelled, but I got it down.

As I scraped up the last bit of egg, I said, “That could be our first connection. Ecuador. What are the chances?”

Aaron gave Tiny a cup of green tea, no sugar. He choked it down. “I miss cream.”
 

“Aaron, what do you think?” I asked.
 

“I like cream.”
 

“Not that. About Ecuador.”

Aaron stared over my head.
 

“I would kill for cream,” said Tiny.
 

“You’re hopeless. Both of you.” I got up. “Tell Morty I ate and I want everything he can find on Cherie’s trip to Ecuador and Enrique.”
 

“Where are you going?” asked Tiny.
 

“To question Taylor. You stay here and mourn the death of your cream-filled life.”
 

“This is hell. You don’t know.”
 

“Actually, I do. And when this is over we’re going to discuss that medication of yours,” I said, standing up and doing a quick toe touch.
 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
 

“Well, then you shouldn’t have told me,” I said, grabbing Pick’s leash. “Back in a bit.”

I didn’t find Taylor. Pick did. We looked in the carriage house, the castle, and the stables until Pick’s nose brought us to the sweat lodge. Taylor sat inside, wearing his baseball gear and staring blankly at the center fire pit. There wasn’t a fire, just cold ashes.
 

Taylor didn’t notice us in the doorway even though Pick was sniffing like mad. Taylor was so still he could’ve been a statue.
 

“Taylor,” I said softly.
 

No response. The boy didn’t even blink.
 

Pick lost what little patience he had and yipped, dragging me through the door. Taylor jerked to attention. “What’re you doing?”
 

“Looking for you,” I said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
 

“Whatever.”
 

I gestured to a spot next to him on the curved bench along the wall. “May I?”
 

He shrugged, but he didn’t want me there and I didn’t blame him.
 

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you a few questions.”
 

“About Mom?”
 

“In part.”
 

Pick sniffed the fire pit like it was made of meat.
 

“What’s he doing?” asked Taylor.
 

“It’s a mystery to me. He probably doesn’t know,” I said.
 

That got a slight smile. “He’s a nut.”
 

“He is. Are you up to a few questions?”
 

“Go ahead. At least you have a reason for asking,” said Taylor, back to staring at the pit.
 

Pick pulled harder and nearly dislodged me from the bench. “For god’s sake, knock it off, freak dog.”
 

Freak dog did not knock it off. He barked. And then he barked again. I ended up dragging him back to the bench, clamping his squirmy body between my knees and holding his jaw. “Dogs are so not worth it.”
 

Taylor laughed a little. “Maybe it’s just poodles.”
 

“It’s pugs, too. Or maybe it’s me. That’s a possibility,” I said, struggling with Pick’s drooling jaws. “Are other people asking you questions?”
 

“Try everybody. They act like they have a right to know about us.”
 

“Who’s asking?”
 

“The Vipers and the Grizzlies. My team won’t say anything.”
 

“Is it the parents or the players?” I asked.
 

“Both. The Moms act like they give a crap about how I feel and the guys are just weird. I think they just want to know if I’m dropping out of the competition.”
 

Pick broke away and frantically sniffed at the pit, now jumping up and trying to get inside.
 

“Fine, you idiot.” I let go of the leash. “Are you? Dropping out, I mean.”
 

He bent over and put his face in his hands. “I can’t. Mom would hate that and Grandpa would go fucking nuts. Sorry.”
 

“Don’t worry about it. If anyone has the right to cuss, it’s you. Have you talked to your sister this morning?”
 

“Yeah. She told me what Mom was doing.” Taylor looked up and his eyes were watery. “Is it true?”
 

“It is. Do you know any reason why she started up again after you got here?”
 

“Stress, I guess.” He buried his face again. “She wanted me to win so bad and the other parents were kinda dicks to her.”
 

“What’s the deal with that?” I asked.
 

“I don’t know. Sometimes people would say stuff.”
 

“Like what?”
 

“We’re white trash. Stupid shit like that. We don’t have any money, but I’m just as good as Enrique.”
 

Pick went absolutely nuts clawing and barking at the pit and I had to yank him back and wrestle him outside, slamming the door. I expected him to run off, but he didn’t. He clawed at the door and barked. I would question what I’d done to deserve this, but I already knew.

I sat back next to Taylor, gazed up at the stream of light coming in through the smoke hole in the ceiling, and brushed a sweaty lock off my forehead. “How well do you know Enrique?”