Chapter 6
Max drove as Mercy gave directions. She’d texted her CI and asked for a meeting. From listening to Mercy’s side of the following phone call, Max had gathered that the woman didn’t want to meet today, but Mercy had talked her into it.
Meaning she’d offered more money.
They’d headed north out of Bend and then veered east. The CI had agreed to meet Mercy and Max at her home outside of Prineville, about an hour’s drive from Bend.
On a quiet stretch of highway, he finally checked his phone, which had buzzed several times as he drove. Mercy had offered to check it for him, but he’d turned her down.
Sometimes the texts between him and Noelle were . . . suggestive. He didn’t need to give Mercy any more ammo with which to tease him about his growing relationship.
Noelle is working a dead body. I doubt she’s sending flirty texts.
He was right. The texts were from his sister Keira, who had decided it was a good day to get on his case about seeing his other sisters. He silenced his phone.
“Tell me about the woman we’re going to meet,” Max said.
“Are you familiar with America’s Preserve? Well . . . what used to be called America’s Preserve?” Mercy asked. Her tone sounded off, and he glanced at her, but her gaze was locked on the scenery out her window.
“It was a militia compound,” said Max after a moment’s thought.
“Here in Oregon. An ATF operation took it down a few years ago, and at least one federal agent died.” He tried to remember more.
“It wasn’t just men in the compound. There were families living there, and it was being run like a military base—their interpretation of a military base.
I remember afterward that the members said it was a brutal dictatorship. They had almost nothing.”
“Correct. I was there. Inside there,” Mercy clarified. “I was undercover in the compound for the ATF.”
Max’s eyes widened. It’d been a dangerous situation. “Why the ATF?”
“They needed to immediately replace an agent who was scheduled to go inside after months of prep. They came to the FBI to request my help because I resembled their agent, and I had the right background. When things went to hell inside, I was almost killed. A few times.” Her voice had grown tight, and she continued to look out her window as she spoke.
“Wow.” Max was speechless. There’d been a rumor in the bureau that the FBI had lost someone when the compound was taken down. But the FBI director had publicly stated that was incorrect. Though he hadn’t made that statement until weeks after the event.
“This woman and her sister lived in America’s Preserve but left before I got there,” continued Mercy.
“Months after the dust settled, Cory reached out to me with some questions about one of the men who had died in the compound. As we talked, I realized that Cory and her sister still had a finger or two in the scattered remains of that world. People who hated the government and would use violence to express their hate. I fostered our connection, hoping it would be helpful at some point. She became a reluctant informant, but she’s shared a couple of names over the years that have been beneficial to our investigations.
“Cory and Rachel thought living in America’s Preserve would be a good way to get back to basics.
Return to a time when people took care of themselves with no need for government or baseless laws.
The women lasted three weeks and then had to sneak out to get away.
The militia had essentially used them as slaves.
” She finally turned to look at Max. “These sisters will like you. I’ve seen how they respond to tall alpha males,” she said with a grin.
“Luckily, we’re only meeting Cory. Her sister Rachel would tie you up and lock you in her bedroom.
I’ve never met someone like her who has sex on the brain twenty-four seven. ”
“Thanks for the warning. Sounds like they didn’t learn anything from living with a militia?”
“They learned a lot,” said Mercy. “Don’t underestimate them. I don’t think they’ll ever let another person tell them what to do.”
“Noted.”
“Take the next right,” she told him.
Max turned off the narrow highway onto a paved one-lane road. They drove for several miles, passing acres of dry land dotted with scrubby bushes, the occasional home or farm appearing in the distance, and then the pavement turned to gravel.
A minute later Mercy pointed. “That’s it.”
Max spotted the tiny white house in the shadow of a small mesa. The land rose steeply behind the house before it flattened out. He parked several yards from the home, noting an old, faded Suzuki Samurai in front of a small outbuilding.
“That’s Cory’s car,” said Mercy, opening her door.
The two of them walked the packed-dirt path to the front porch. Mercy went up two steps, rang the bell, backed down, and then moved to one side, out of the direct path of the front door. Max did the same in the other direction.
A small woman dressed in faded jeans, hiking boots, and a flannel plaid shirt opened the door.
She wore her strawberry-blonde hair in low pigtails, and Max guessed she was in her early thirties.
“Hey, Mercy,” she said, and then she immediately fastened her light-blue gaze on Max.
“Who’s the new guy?” She leaned against the doorframe lazily and lifted one eyebrow as she deliberately looked him up and down.
Max hid his amusement at the abrupt change in her demeanor.
“I told you on the phone, Cory. Max is from my office.” Mercy tried to hide the annoyance in her tone, but Max heard it.
“Nice to meet you, Cory,” said Max.
“Come on in,” she said, shooting him a special smile.
This should be interesting.
They followed her into the home. Cory had most of the blinds closed, making it rather dim inside, and Max fought the urge to lift a blind and let in the sun. They joined her at a small, round table next to the kitchen.
“What do you need, Mercy? I don’t have a lot of time,” Cory said. Her expression was abruptly shuttered, and the flirty looks she’d aimed at Max had vanished. “Usually it’s me contacting you. Not the other way around.”
“I know, Cory. And my questions are going to be rather vague, but have you heard any rumors of activity going around? Anything surprise you? Catch your attention?” Mercy had a small notebook on the table in front of her, a pen poised over a blank page.
Cory frowned and leaned back in her chair. “Activity?” Her voice had gone up an octave. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
At first Max thought Cory was a good actress, but she couldn’t hide that she knew what Mercy meant.
Mercy tried again. “Have you heard anything that made you think you should contact me, maybe send me a heads-up?”
“You’re still too vague.” Cory slowly shook her head, but Max had spotted a brief flick of her gaze when Mercy said heads-up.
She’s thought of something.
“Do you work in Prineville?” Max asked, pulling her attention.
“I waitress at the diner. Bartend a little too.”
“So you’re privy to a lot of conversations,” said Max.
Cory’s eyes lit up in glee. “Did you just say ‘privy’? Who talks like that?”
“Me, I guess. Blame my English-teacher mom.”
Cory scooted to the edge of her chair, her arms on the table as she turned all her focus on Max. “Yeah, I hear a lot of talk. Most of it pointless. Nothing ever happens around here.”
“What about new faces in town?” asked Mercy. “You know the type I’m talking about. People who look like they’d fit in at America’s Preserve.”
“Assholes, you mean?” Her face darkened, and Max wondered what exactly had happened to her in the compound.
She’s an attractive woman.
He didn’t like where his brain shot when he imagined a bunch of disgruntled men locked up with Cory and her sister.
“Yes,” Mercy said simply.
A look passed between them that Max couldn’t decipher.
Tires crunched on gravel outside.
“Shit,” muttered Cory. “It’s Rachel. Now we won’t get anywhere.”
“Then talk fast,” said Mercy. “I can tell you’ve thought of something.”
“It was about two weeks ago at the bar,” said Cory.
“Three men I didn’t recognize, although two seemed a little familiar.
Exactly the type you’d expect at AP. They’d stop talking every time I approached their table, so I doubled the alcohol in their drinks to get them to loosen up a little.
” She shrugged. “It’s dull around here. When people are trying to hide something, it becomes a challenge for me to figure it out.
Booze always solves that problem. You’d be surprised at the shit people say when they’re drunk. ”
“Wait,” said Max, surprised at the type of game Cory liked to play with her customers. “They didn’t ask for doubles? Did you charge them?”
“No and no,” said Cory, patiently. “I use the cheap crap. It usually evens out money-wise because they get loose and spend more on food and order more drinks. Tip better too.”
“Any boogaloo talk?” asked Mercy.
Cory rolled her eyes. “Haven’t heard that term since America’s Preserve. Some of them in there were convinced that a second Civil War was coming, and they needed to be ready. Which usually meant weapons drills.”
“Yeah.” Mercy’s tone was flat. “I remember.”
Boots sounded on the step, and the front door opened. “We got a visitor, Cory?” came a woman’s voice. Confident strides moved toward the kitchen. “Well, hello there.” The newcomer’s gaze locked on Max.
A near duplicate of Cory stopped at the kitchen entrance. But the hair was brighter, the jeans were tighter, and the eyes were heavily lined. Her casual slouch against the doorframe was identical to Cory’s, but this woman projected sex instead of flirtation.
“Hi, Rachel,” said Mercy, waving a hand to get her attention.
Rachel glanced her way. “The FBI agent, right?” Her focus shot back to Max.
“Yes,” said Mercy. “And this is Special Agent Rhodes.”
“Mmm. Special Agent,” Rachel repeated. “You got a gun under that coat, Special Agent Rhodes?” Her eyelids dropped the slightest bit, just enough to emphasize her meaning.
“You’re really good at that,” Max said evenly. “You could probably turn an enemy agent.”
“Damn right.”
“As I was about to say,” Cory said loudly, pulling everyone’s notice. “I got the three guys at the bar loosened up, but someone swept in and held their attention for the rest of the evening.” She stared at her sister.
“And I did for the rest of the night too.” Rachel winked at Max. “Actually just one of them. Not all three.”
Max shot a pleading look at Mercy. The conversation had shot out of his comfort zone.
“Sit down, Rachel,” said Mercy, pointing to the only empty chair at the table. “I want to hear about your evening and night.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” Rachel sat.
“That’s a bunch of bull,” countered Cory. “Nothing you love better than telling.”
Mercy held up a hand at Cory. “Rachel, we’re here to ask if the two of you have heard any odd rumors around town. Maybe a couple people are angry about something and want to do something about it.”
Rachel had gone silent, but she was listening to Mercy.
“Cory told us about these three strangers before you walked in. Would you say these men are people the FBI might be interested in talking to?”
“About what?” asked Rachel. Her expression said she knew exactly what Mercy meant.
Max was tired of the runaround. “Domestic terrorism.”
Rachel and Cory exchanged a glance. “There’s a lot of people that don’t believe—” began Rachel.
“Rachel,” Mercy snapped. “You both were in the compound. You know what we’re looking for.”
Rachel slouched in her chair, resentment simmering in her gaze. “The guy I went with said he hadn’t been in the area for several years,” she spit out. “He was probably just visiting. I’m sure he’s gone back home.”
“And his friends?” asked Max.
“Not sure,” said Rachel. “I’ve seen both around a few times. Don’t know their names. Don’t know what they do or where they hang out.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
“Definitely.”
“Why were the three of them meeting up?” asked Max, watching Rachel’s expression.
“I’m not exactly sure.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I got the impression that the one I hooked up with was selling something to the other two.”
“Like what?” asked Mercy.
Rachel leaned forward, giving Mercy her full attention. “I. Don’t. Know.” She leaned back, pouting. “He paid for the hotel in cash. He had a lot of money on him.” She shifted in her chair and dropped her gaze. “He gave me two hundred.”
Cory sucked in her breath. “Jesus, Rachel. We’ve talked about that!”
“What am I supposed to do when someone hands me cash? Say no thanks?” She shot her sister an irate look and crossed her arms. “I didn’t tell him he had to pay me something. Not before and not after.”
Max looked at Mercy. “A hotel because he’s not local or because he didn’t want her to know where he lived?” he asked.
“Or he’s married,” Mercy pointed out. “I don’t think we can make assumptions about why he chose a hotel. What was his name?” she asked Rachel.
“He told me Bill, but I doubt that was real.”
“Did any of them pay with a card at the bar?” she asked Cory.
“No. Cash.”
“And you remember this fact because . . . ?” asked Max.
Cory met his gaze. “Because one left with my sister. I at least try to get a name when she wanders off with someone I don’t know.”
“Got it.” The explanation of sisterly protection had caught him off guard. He turned back to Rachel. “Do you remember what any of them drove?”
“Two were in a dually. Didn’t notice what kind. The one with me drove an old Jeep Cherokee. Red.”
Max exchanged a look with Mercy. At least they had something.
Maybe. Could all be nothing.
They left their cards with the women with instructions to call if they saw any of the men or recalled anything else.
“What did you think?” Max asked once he and Mercy were in his vehicle.
“I think they’re both holding something back, but there’s always been a bit of competition between those two. I suspect we’ll get a call from one or both later.”
Max was surprised. “I guess I was wrong to think that was a waste of time.”
“I know it appeared like that from the outside, but I know these two. They’ve always got an angle. Usually one that will put money in their pockets.”
“Think they’ll tell one of the men that the FBI is looking for them and ask for cash to not rat them out?”
Mercy laughed. “Cory’s done that at least twice that I’m aware of.”
“And she seemed like the nice one,” muttered Max.
Mercy grinned at him. “I’ll bet a hundred dollars that you’ll hear from one of them in the next twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll take that bet,” said Max. “I think they’ve got nothing.”
“Don’t let Rachel talk you into meeting at a hotel.”
He snorted. “I’m not that naive.”
It’s doubtful we’ll hear from them again.