In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (56 page)

“Because you can come home. I’m sending Terrance out tomorrow morning to pick you all up,” Dad said.
 

I wanted to be happy, but Dad’s tone made that impossible. “What’s the hurry?”
 

Dad’s tone didn’t change and there wasn’t a hurry. The news was good though. The Costilla brothers had been picked up in New York and their organization was in turmoil. They dropped the price on my head.
 

“When did this happen?” I asked.
 

“Homeland Security picked them up on the first day you were gone.”

“You lied to me.”
 

“Absolutely. They increased the bounty on your head after they were picked up and wouldn’t deal. You were completely off the table for them.”
 

“What changed?”
 

“Benny Costilla got shanked in the shower room and one of their lieutenants decided it was a good time to take over the operation. He’s making serious headway with no one there to get in the way.”
 

“What about the other lieutenants?”
 

“There’s one other one, but the Feds think he fled to Mexico when the brothers were picked up.”
 

The pill kicked in and I yawned. “Did Costilla die?”
 

“No. It was a precision shanking. Maximum pain, non-lethal,” said Dad, not as triumphant as I would’ve expected.
 

“So why are we coming home early. Bridget won’t be happy.”
 

Dad paused and I listened to his breathing. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. Then there was a scuffle and Mom said, “Mercy, it’s Mom.”
 

This is not an improvement.
 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

“Your father doesn’t like delivering bad news.”
 

“Since when?”
 

Dad yelled in the background about how he’d deliver anything about anything. Mom groaned. “See what you did? Your father’s upset.”
 

What is happening?
 

“So why am I coming back early and angering the Troublesome Trio?”
 

“The Girls want you back.” Then more softly, “And we want you back. Lester’s not improving and the doctors don’t believe he will.”
 

“Are they going to take him off life support?”
 

“The family’s considering it. I think they’ll wait a few more days.”
 

I told Mom I’d be ready to go bright and early and tried to hang up, but Mom stopped me. “Talk to Tiny. He wants to quit.”
 

I said I would and Mom said she loved me, a rare occurrence. Lester’s situation must be even worse than she was saying.
 

Tiny stood next to my bed, looking at his phone but not doing anything with it. His hands had a slight shake.

“We’re going home tomorrow.” Then I told him about the Costillas and Lester.
 

“I’m not going to St. Louis with you,” he said.
 

“No?”
 

“I’m going back to New Orleans.”
 

I sat up and tugged my foot off the pillows with a wince. “Why? We did good. Everything’s fine.”

He shook his head and began to wring his hands. His breathing went rapid and he flushed. “Naw. When you needed me, I freaked.”
 

“When?”
 

Tiny told me that he wasn’t good with blood. Cherie’s body was difficult, but since she was strangled he was able to stay mostly calm. Cory’s rear shot was barely bloody and he hyperventilated over that. When Lane and I came back with blood all over us from various cuts, he lost it. I gathered that he broke down, crying and having flashbacks. Dr. Watts ended up sedating Tiny, which was why he didn’t go to Flincher’s. I didn’t remember any of that, only the pain from the ride on Sly Dog and Lane convulsing with sobs.
 

“I’m no good to you or anybody,” said Tiny.
 

“Not true. You’re of great use to me. I hear you can kill people with your thumbs. That could come in handy.” I grinned at him. “As long as they don’t bleed.”
 

It worked and I was rewarded for my impudence with a wry smile. “You can’t count on me.”
 

“It’ll get better. Your meds aren’t right. We should think outside the box. There’s a doctor getting ready to do a marijuana study on PTSD. Maybe we can get you in.”
 

“I don’t want to get high.” His voice went down. “I’m already drinking too damn much.”
 

“You’re drinking? When?”
 

“To sleep. I got to have something…a lot of something. Here I been using vodka so you wouldn’t notice. It makes me snore more though.”
 

“Well, I noticed that. Tiny, we’ll figure it out,” I said. “It’ll get better and we’ll have you on background work until it does.”
 

“This shit ain’t gonna get better. I can’t get in that study. My next appointment at the VA isn’t for three months and those docs just put me on more drugs or different drugs. I get fatter. I don’t sleep.”
 

Three months? That’s crazy.
 

I texted Mom and asked her about our insurance. Tiny wasn’t on it because he said he wanted to stay with the VA. I suspected that he thought Dad would find out about his PTSD if he went on the company insurance. That was moot now. Mom said she’d handle the insurance and told me I’d better get Tiny back to St. Louis or else. Like I could wrestle the giant into the limo or something.
 

“Okay,” I said. “You’re going on the company insurance. It won’t take three months to get you in, more like three days.”
 

“I don’t know any docs in St. Louis,” said Tiny, his hands shaking violently.
 

“You’ve met my mother?”
 

“Yeah.”
 

I slipped out of bed and hugged him. “Then you know how determined she can be and she’s well versed in PTSD specialists. She found me a guy and he had credentials out the yin-yang.”
 

“It didn’t help. You was starving yourself,” said Tiny, barely controlling his hands. He was going to cry and I wished he would go ahead and do it. So much pain begged to be released.
 

“I didn’t go,” I said.
 

“Huh?”
 

“I didn’t go to the therapist. I told Mom I did, but I didn’t. She found out and has been pissed at me ever since.”
 

“Why’d you lie?”
 

“I thought I could handle it. I thought I would stop seeing his face.”
 

“You see his face?”

“I do. Not eating helped so I stopped eating. It was a simple solution,” I said.
 

Tiny pushed me back from him. “It was crazy ass stupid.”
 

“You sound like my mother.”
 

He raised an eyebrow, but I didn’t take it back.
 

“If you go, I’ll go,” I said. “Deal?”
 

He hugged me like I’ve never been hugged before which is to say I was nearly smothered and my vertebrae got realigned. Aaron came in with a double cheeseburger and more hot chocolate and we talked while I ate. That is, Tiny and I talked. Aaron sat there and looked confused. I don’t know when I fell asleep with half a burger on my chest, but it was without scream-worthy dreams. A nice change of pace.

Chapter Twenty-Five

IT’S HARD TO pack with a cast on one leg and even harder to shower. Dr. Watts helped me with both, taking our sweet time because the Springfield cops were back and waiting to talk to me. I wasn’t interested. If I could’ve thought of a way to get off the property without talking to them, I would’ve done that. I hadn’t actually admitted to killing Tim or shooting Cory. It was time to decide and I wasn’t into it.
 

Aaron helped with the delaying by feeding me until I almost couldn’t breathe. Nobody should eat that much food. Nobody. But Aaron was watching and I couldn’t disappoint the little weirdo. He’d gone all out. Cheese soufflé, corned beef hash, eggs benedict. It was ridiculous, but oh so good.
 

I finished the last bite of hash and he held out his phone. “You got a message.”
 

It was from Spidermonkey saying, “Is this the guy?” with a mugshot attached.
 

“Oh shit!”
 

“What?” asked Dr. Watts, hustling over.
 

I pulled Flincher’s packet from under the covers and dumped it out. She pointed at the nude pictures. “Who is that?”
 

“Our mysterious dead guy from the woods,” I said, comparing the mug shot to the pictures.
 

“And just how did you get those?”
 

“Er…well…”
 

She scowled. “Flincher.”
 

I decided to tell her what happened, the blood for information deal, and she wasn’t happy. She really wasn’t happy when I told her Flincher thought he was going to cure death.
 

“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked.
 

“Like I know.” I held up the phone and a picture. “These are the same guy, right?”
 

“Definitely. Who is he?”
 

I texted Spidermonkey that he had the right man and he texted back, “Brace yourself.”
 

“Tell me,” I sent back.
 

“Alphonso Nunez. Lieutenant in the Costilla organization.”
 

“Oh my god. John killed my assassin.” I texted a thank you to Spidermonkey and pushed the remainder of my breakfast away before tucking the fat packet under the covers again.
 

“Are you sure John did it?” asked Dr. Watts.
 

“Yes. He practically told me.” I looked at her hard. “You know who they are, don’t you?”
 

She shrugged. “I may have been enlisted to help with, shall we say, community acceptance.”
 

“And Flincher knows.”
 

“He has little interest in people other than their pieces parts, but he might,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
 

There was a pounding on the door. “Miss Watts, enough is enough.” The door rattled. “We’ll arrest you for obstruction if we have to.”
 

Yeah, right.
 

“Unlock the door,” I said and Aaron did, practically being bowled over by Logsdon and White.
 

Logsdon glanced around. “What are you doing?”
 

“Going home,” I said calmly.
 

“That’s not authorized.”
 

“I don’t need permission. I’m not under arrest. Where are Cory and Parker?”
 

White paced around the room. “Awaiting arraignment. The kid’s seventeen and he says it was an accident. He’s going to family court. Cory’s denying the confession and he’ll get a high bail.”
 

“Is everyone else gone?” I asked.
 

Logsdon pulled up a chair and decided to be all friendly like I wasn’t the daughter of a cop and used to interrogations that started out friendly. “The Marin family has decided to stay for the time being. I get the feeling they don’t know what to do without the mother so the innkeepers offered to let them stay while they sort out the funeral arrangements in St. Seb. You’re concerned about them?”
 

“Of course. The kids’ have lost their last remaining parent and Anthony’s no spring chicken, but I’m sure Leslie and John will look after them,” I said.
 

“Taylor has been awarded the prize.”
 

“Good.”
 

The cops watched. I had no idea what they were looking for. I really just wanted a nap.
 

“Are you prepared to tell us the truth now?” asked White, acting all bad cop. I was so not impressed. Dr. Watts was tougher than him by a long shot.
 

“I haven’t told you anything,” I said.
 

That stopped them and they reconsidered. “Tell us what happened yesterday.”
 

Before I could reply, John and Leslie came in.
 

“Dr. Watts, is your phone off?” asked Leslie.
 

She checked it and it was. “What happened?”
 

“The Jasper twins rigged a zip line in their backyard and the cable snapped.”
 

“For crying out loud. Those boys are a menace to themselves.” Dr. Watts came over and planted an unexpected kiss on my forehead. “You are my favorite ex-granddaughter. Call me when you get home.”