Page 102 of This is Why We Lied

“Hold on.” Faith squicked through the mud to get away from the car. Penny was openly watching her progress. The horse lifted its head as Faith walked past. His eyes followed her like a serial killer. She trudged out another few yards, then told Will, “Go ahead.”

“Mercy was pregnant.”

Faith’s heart sank from the news. She could only think of Mercy. The woman couldn’t catch a break. Then her detective brain took over, because this changed everything. There was no more dangerous time for a woman than during pregnancy. Homicide was the leading cause of maternal death in the United States.

“Faith?”

Faith heard the car door slam. Penny had gotten out. The dog was sitting at her feet. Faith kept her voice low, asking Will, “How far along?”

“Sara estimates twelve weeks.”

Faith listened to the phone crackle in the silence. She turned her back to the car. “Did Mercy know?”

“Unclear,” Will said. “For what it’s worth, she didn’t mention it to Sara.”

“Penny told me Mercy’s hooked up with guests before.”

Will let the silence linger for another beat. “The road’s completely washed out. We left another UTV for you back at the hospital. Find Sara and bring her up with you. She might be able to get Drew and Keisha to talk to her.”

“You think Drew—”

“They’ve been to the lodge twice before,” he reminded her. “Drew said something strange to Bitty this morning. Sara can fill you in.”

“I’m heading back to the hospital now.”

Faith ended the call. The horse snorted in her direction, even though she gave it a wide berth. Penny had the shotgun slung back over her shoulders. She was looking down at the ground.

Faith followed her line of sight. The Mini’s back right tire was flat. “Fuck.”

Penny asked, “You got a spare?”

“It’s in my garage. My son took it out when he moved his band equipment.” Faith hoped the FBI knew that Jeremy was a moron. She nodded to the Chevy truck. “Can I get a lift to the hospital? My partner needs me at the lodge.”

“I don’t drive, and that truck don’t work, but Rascal’s got plenty of gas.”

“Rascal?”

Penny nodded toward the horse.

14

Will scanned the woods as he walked up the Loop Trail toward the main lodge. His injured hand was throbbing even though he held it to his chest in a permanent pledge of allegiance. The bandage had gotten wet again. He’d hosed himself down and changed into fresh pants while Kevin Rayman, the agent on loan from the GBI’s North Georgia field office, was processing evidence from Mercy’s bedroom.

Not that there was a lot to process. As with her financial situation, Mercy hadn’t had much to her name. Her small closet was filled with utilitarian items. Nothing on hangers, just folded shirts, jeans, and outdoor attire. She had two pairs of worn sneakers and some expensive but old hiking boots. Will was struck by a familiar feeling. Every item of clothing he’d had as a kid had been donated by someone else. Mercy’s clothes were faded and worn and in various sizes. He would’ve bet she hadn’t bought them new.

In fact, nothing seemed new. Washed-out posters of O-Town, New Kids on the Block and the Jonas Brothers were on the walls. Some of Jon’s childhood drawings were taped beside the door. Photographs documented the sixteen years of his life. School photos and some outdoor candids: Jon opening a stuffed giraffe at Christmas; Jon standing with Dave by a trailer; Jon lying on the couch where he’d fallen asleep with his phone resting against his chin.

Mercy’s room seemed to have the only bookcase in the house. She had a snow globe from Gatlinburg, Tennessee, and at least fifty well-read romance paperbacks. Everything was dusted and tidy, which somehow made her meager belongings even more poignant. There were no secret papers hidden under her mattress. Her bedside drawer had what you would expect a woman to have. There was no bathroom connected to her room. Mercy shared the one at the end of the hall with the rest of her family. She hadn’t taken her iPad when she’d packed to leave. The screen was locked. They would have to send it to the lab to try to break the code.

According to Sara, Mercy didn’t have an IUD. They had no way of knowing if Mercy was even aware of the pregnancy. If she was taking birth control, the pills were probably in her backpack. Condoms didn’t seem like the kind of thing a woman would grab if she was leaving in a hurry. The big questions remained: What had made her leave? Where was she planning on going? Why had she called Dave?

Will stopped on the trail and took his iPhone out of his pocket. He used the fingers of his injured hand to tap the screen, opening the recording of Mercy’s voicemail to Dave. There was one section he kept coming back to.

I can’t believe—oh, God, I can’t— Please call me. Please. I need you.

Mercy’s voice had a kind of hope tied up in desperation when she said the words I need you, like she was praying that this would be the one time that Dave didn’t disappoint her.

Will returned his phone to his pocket and continued up the trail. He kept silently playing the message back in his head. He didn’t understand how Dave had gotten here. Neither one of them had been given a choice about their shitty childhoods, but they had both decided what kind of men they would be. Will wasn’t judging Dave for struggling with his demons. The alcohol and drugs made a certain kind of sense. But Dave had chosen to beat his wife, to strangle her, to terrorize her, to continually fail her.