Merciless

“Same goes, Special Agent Gunderson.”

As I watched him walk away, the words a party kept ricocheting in my brain. What was next in my life? Joining a bridge club? Dawson and me buying matching club jackets?

God. I hoped this party had plenty of booze.

• • •

I made a quick detour to the Q-Mart for a cup of coffee. I had a craving for one of those Old Home fruit pies: a sugar-glazed crust filled with sweet, thick artificial filling. A snack laden with lard, sugar, and empty calories that would make Mason frown.

The clerk, Margene, gabbed on her cell phone while she rang up the young woman in front of me. When she turned to get money from her purse, I recognized her.

“Hey, Verline. I usually don’t see you in here.”

“I needed milk. And a pack of smokes.”

She gave me a haughty look, as if she expected me to chastise her for her nicotine habit.

I held up my cherry-filled fruit pie. “We all have our vices.” After I paid and headed to my pickup, I saw Verline lounging against the side of the building.

She walked toward me. “I, ah, forgot the other day when you stopped by. I wanted to say thanks for the basket of baby stuff. That was really cool of you and Hope.”

“You’re welcome. How are the kids?” I couldn’t for the life of me remember their oddball names.

“Tiring. Seems like I don’t ever get a break.”

I felt sorry for this girl, even when I understood that her choices had put her in this situation. I surprised myself and her, when I said, “We’re having a welcome get-together for Dawson’s son tonight. Around six or so. You and Rollie should come if you don’t already have plans.”

“Plans?” She choked on a stream of smoke. “We never do nothin’. Can I bring the babies?”

“Absolutely.”

“Maybe we’ll see you there.”

• • •

My workday consisted of paperwork. Turnbull was strangely subdued. He didn’t ask about my weekend, so I returned the favor and didn’t ask about his.

Midafternoon, I mustered the guts to ask Shay to meet me in the conference room. Director Shenker would be in the Pierre office this week. The other agents were at various locations in western South Dakota. Which left no one to witness the massive ass chewing I was in for.

He was shuffling a sheaf of papers as he walked in. “Why the summons, Agent Gunderson?”

“I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to rip me a new one because it was an honest mistake.”

Turnbull growled, “What did you do now?”

“I found out the name of the mysterious guy Arlette was supposedly seeing.”

“Who?”

“Junior Rondeaux.”

“As in Rollie Rondeaux, Jr.? The son of your friend Rollie Rondeaux?”

“Yes. Remember the no-show teenage girl the other day-Mackenzie Red Shirt?” I relayed the conversation we’d had in the parking lot. Then, that I’d stopped at Rollie’s and Verline had said Junior didn’t live with them anymore. I followed up with my run-in with Junior in Clementine’s parking lot.

Special Agent Turnbull gave me the silent treatment for, oh, about fourteen seconds before he exploded. “And you didn’t think I needed to know any of this immediately after it happened?” His eyes turned accusatory. “Are you protecting the Rondeaux family? I know about Rollie’s tendency to collect favors. How many do you owe him? And just how long has he been your source?”

I stayed calm. “First of all, last Friday you were pissed off. You hung me out to dry in front of all the other agents, because I had the audacity to ask you questions on a case we’re both working. When I brought up information I’d dug up on my own that might pertain to that case, you put no credence in my findings. Then you just let Shenker assign me shit work.

“I didn’t ask Junior to approach me at Clementine’s when I was having a night out with my sister. But if I hadn’t used the sources at my fingertips, people I’ve known most my life, then I wouldn’t have found out that Junior is somehow working for Saro.”

Both Shay’s eyebrows rose.

“You didn’t know that?”

He shook his head.

I paused and poured a glass of water. Was I supposed to throw all my theories out there for Shay to shoot down? Just so he didn’t think I was keeping information from him? Or should I wait until I had solid leads, evidence, whatever?

“Look, Mercy, you know we’re less rigid in this office than other FBI offices. You and me? We’re not officially partners. But we’re both on this case. That means sharing all information, whenever that information is uncovered.”

“So you’re saying I should’ve called you Saturday night, after I talked to Junior.”

“Yes. And instead of running out of here on Friday like a scolded pup, you should’ve taken me aside and explained exactly why I was flying blind, and that you’d talked to another witness with new information.”

“Scolded pup?” I repeated. “Sir, I didn’t leave on Friday, I was dismissed by Director Shenker. Which was a good thing, given that you’d made my trigger finger awful goddamn itchy during that meeting.”

His lips twitched. “So noted. Anything else you want to tell me?”