Merciless

The tribal president knew how much Penny’s life insurance policy was worth. He also had to have known that the long-term outlook for Penny’s cancer survival hadn’t been good. So he could lend Devlin the face value of the policy. He’d know exactly when the insurance company cut the check to Penny’s beneficiary. He’d make sure he collected every dime, plus whatever astronomical interest fee, before the ink on the insurance company check was even dry.

Something truly awful occurred to me. If there was a double indemnity clause on the life insurance policy? Then Penny’s getting murdered would double the cash payout.

“Agent Gunderson?”

I refocused. “Sorry. I’m just-”

“Understandable.” He patted my hand like I was a child.

Which pissed me off. “So did Arlette have life insurance? I mean, as your ward she would fall under your health insurance policy.”

He stilled.

“I’m also curious as to why you didn’t come into the tribal PD for an official interview. It looks a little suspicious, don’t you think? That the tribal president, who was all fired up to have the FBI in on a missing-persons case, who was also worried about impropriety, wouldn’t make himself available for questions.”

“What are you implying, Agent Gunderson?”

“I’m not implying anything, Mr. Elk Thunder. Just stating a fact. I have to wonder just how long you’d hold the position of tribal president if some of the facts in this case were made public to the members of the tribe.” I ticked the points off on my fingers. “Arlette’s body was found on your political rival’s land. Verline’s body was found on your political rival’s land. Penny Pretty Horses’s body was found on your political rival’s rental property. One might draw… conclusions. Especially when it’s revealed that Arlette was secretly seeing Junior Rondeaux on the sly. And isn’t it ironic the next victim, Verline Dupris, was living with Rollie Rondeaux, who backed your rival’s campaign for president? As did the next victim, Penny Pretty Horses?

“What if it was also disclosed that you benefit from all three deaths? You never wanted your wife’s niece to live with you, so you’re rid of her and you receive a death benefit payment. With Rollie Rondeaux in jail, you’re probably picking up some of his loan customers. Now that Penny is dead, her brother can collect on her life insurance policy and make full restitution for the money you lent him.” I stood and loomed over him. “Think you’d survive the political storm if any of this was leaked to the press?”

He laughed, but his eyes were nearly black with anger. “Oh, Agent Gunderson, I’m not the one who should be worried about surviving. The reservation is a dangerous place for feds. And women, apparently. Since you’re both? Well, waiscu, watch your back.”

Waiscu. The derogatory Lakota name for a white girl. “Are you threatening me, Tribal President Elk Thunder?”

“Just stating a fact.” He pushed up quickly from the desk, surprising me and literally knocking me off balance.

I stumbled over my chair and into the wall.

He gave me a scathing once-over, bit off something guttural-sounding in Lakota, spun on his heel, and left.

Goddammit.

Rather than letting my anger send my blood pressure to stroke level, I sat in my chair and furiously wrote down my thoughts. After that display? Latimer Elk Thunder jumped to the top of my list as the killer. Part of me thought he wouldn’t sully his hands; he’d hire someone else to do it for cash-or as a task to settle a loan. But part of me also believed he’d take pride in getting blood on his hands and doing the job his way.

But then… my theory about the past murders disguised as random deaths wouldn’t hold water.

My thoughts raced back and forth until I was nearly dizzy.

I had no one to talk to about any of this.

In that moment I missed Dawson with an ache so acute I had to put my head between my legs to stop the pain.

Focus, Mercy.

I breathed.

That’s all I could do: take one breath at a time.

• • •

I was still in that addled and agitated state of mind when I headed to my pickup. As I messed with my key fob to unlock the door, I saw a manila envelope taped to my steering wheel. Immediately, my gun was in my hand as I spun around, scanning the area. I didn’t see anyone. I shoved my gun in my holster and tried the door handle.

Unlocked.

Good thing I hadn’t left any guns in my truck.

I slid in and shut the door. The envelope hadn’t been sealed. There were no markings of any kind. I tipped the envelope, and pictures spilled onto my lap.