Chapter 19
Noelle steeled herself as they parked at Cory Johnson’s house.
It’d been after ten o’clock when Mercy had called Cory from the car and woken her up, telling her they needed to stop by and talk. Cory had asked why, but Mercy had been vague with her answer.
“She knows something’s up,” said Mercy, getting out of Noelle’s vehicle.
“Anyone would, considering the time,” said Noelle. “This is always so hard,” she muttered. “But it’s important, and I know that we’ll do it right.” Empathy swamped her when she talked to a deceased’s loved ones.
She didn’t like to imagine someone showing up on her doorstep to inform her that one of her sisters, Eve or Lucia, had died. But she put herself in the victim’s family member’s shoes when she had to deliver crushing news, saying what she would want to hear if it’d been one of her sisters.
It was one of the most difficult aspects of her job.
Mercy exhaled loudly as they headed toward the door. Cory had opened it the moment the SUV’s engine had turned off.
“What’s going on?” Cory’s voice was shrill.
“Cory, this is Detective Noelle Marshall with the sheriff’s office,” said Mercy. “Let’s go inside and sit down.”
“No! Tell me now!” Her terrified gaze flew between Mercy and Noelle.
“Cory, can we sit? It’s been a hell of a long day for us.” Noelle’s tone was weary.
Cory clamped her jaw shut. She motioned the women in and led them to the table, where they each took a seat. She stared expectantly at them, her fingers twisting a chunk of hair over and over. “It’s Rachel, isn’t it? What did she do?”
“Did you talk to her today?” asked Mercy.
“No. I haven’t seen her either. She was asleep when I left for work and gone when I got home. Pretty typical for us.”
She was calmer than at the door, but the fear in her eyes made Noelle’s heart hurt.
“I’m sorry, Cory,” Mercy said softly. “But Rachel was killed today.” She reached for Cory’s hand, which rested on the table.
Cory yanked it away. “Killed how? What happened?” Her voice had shot up an octave.
“She was found in a motel room near Eagle’s Nest,” said Mercy. “I’m so sorry.”
Freckles stood out on Cory’s face as she went white. “No,” she said firmly. “It can’t be her.” Her gaze shot to Noelle’s, begging her to back her up.
Noelle couldn’t speak. Her throat was tight at the fear on Cory’s face.
“Cory,” said Mercy. “I identified her. It’s true.”
“Someone murdered her?” Cory whispered.
“Yes.”
Cory shot out of her chair, knocking it over backward. “This is your fault!” she shrieked at Mercy. “You did this! You and your stupid FBI! I told you to leave us alone!” She slammed her hands on the table and then pointed her finger at Mercy.
Mercy jerked back, stricken. “Cory—”
“Don’t talk to me! Do not talk to me!” She whirled around and ran down a hallway. A door slammed seconds later, and her wailing echoed through the house.
Noelle’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Mercy. The FBI agent stared at the ceiling, blinking hard, her rapid pulse visible at her neck. “Mercy—”
“Wait.” Mercy held up a hand, her face still turned upward, but she had closed her eyes. “Give me a minute.”
It’s not your fault.
Noelle held in the words. Mercy wasn’t ready to hear them.
Cory’s wails continued.
Noelle sat silently, recalling the time she’d caused someone’s death while on the job.
No. His actions caused his death. He gave me no choice.
He’d had a gun at a woman’s head, a split second away from firing.
Noelle had fired first.
That decision still haunted her. She didn’t regret it, but the emotional aftermath of taking a life hadn’t gone away.
“This wasn’t your fault, Mercy,” Noelle whispered. “She’s just looking for someone to blame, and you’re the closest. The person who pulled the trigger is the only one at fault.”
“I know.” Mercy now stared toward the hallway. “Did you know my brother was murdered?” she asked quietly. “I was there. I held him as he died.”
Noelle was stunned, and it took her a few seconds to answer. “I didn’t know.”
Mercy turned toward her, her eyes sad. “A piece of me is still missing. I completely understand Cory’s reaction.”
“What do we do now?” asked Noelle. “We can’t leave.”
“We can search Rachel’s room while we’re waiting.”
“Jesus, Mercy. We need to at least first tell Cory what we’re doing and why.” Noelle knew the agent was right. They needed to move fast to find Rachel’s killer. But searching through personal belongings felt incredibly inappropriate at the moment.
“I’ll talk to her.” Mercy rose and followed the wails. Noelle jumped to her feet.
“Cory.” Mercy knocked on the door where the crying was the loudest.
“Fuck off!” The pain in her voice made Noelle’s stomach churn.
“Cory,” said Mercy again. “I understand how you’re feeling. But because we’ve got to find her killer, we need to search Rachel’s room.”
“No! Don’t touch anything!”
“The house is rented in Rachel’s name,” Mercy said in a low voice to Noelle. “We can search.” She stepped into the next bedroom, flipping on the light switch.
The room looked like it belonged to someone much younger than Rachel’s thirty-five years. There were a lot of faded pink tones, leopard print, and concert posters on the wall. One of the pink throw pillows on the double bed had Rachel spelled out in a tiny checked print.
We’re in the right room.
Noelle had worried that Cory might be in Rachel’s room.
The door to the next room flew open. “Get out of her room! Get out of my house!” Cory screamed at them. Her face was red and wet with tears.
“Cory!” Mercy snapped. “Your sister was murdered! We need to look through her things! There could be a lead to finding her killer in there.”
Cory froze at the word killer.
Noelle touched her arm. “We need to do our jobs to find out who hurt her.”
Cory looked at Noelle, blinking as if she couldn’t focus.
“Did Rachel tell you she was seeing anyone?” Noelle asked, remembering that Cory had claimed she hadn’t heard from Rachel today and that, according to Max’s conversation with Rachel, she’d just happened to run into a man around noon.
But maybe she didn’t tell Max the truth.
“I don’t know,” Cory said in a shaking voice. “She was always seeing various men. I stopped paying attention years ago.”
“Did she say anything more about the three men after Max and I left yesterday?” asked Mercy, watching Cory closely.
Cory wiped her face with her sleeve, her arm shaking. “I can’t think. Give me a minute.”
Mercy moved in close and hugged the woman. “I’m so sorry, Cory. I really am. And we’ll find the bastard who did this.” Cory froze for a split second and then returned the hug, burying her face in Mercy’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Cory whispered, her voice soft.
“No. It’s not okay,” said Noelle. “Nothing about any of this is okay.”
After a long moment, Cory stepped out of the hug, wiping her eyes. “Go ahead and look in her room. I need a glass of water.” She turned and headed toward the kitchen, trailing one hand along the wall for balance.
Noelle eyed Mercy, who was wiping her own eyes. “Better?”
“Yeah. She’s not hating me right now, but I’m sure that will come and go.” Mercy pulled a pair of gloves from her coat pocket and handed them to Noelle. “Let’s get looking.” She dug out another pair for herself.
Noelle started on one side of the room, and Mercy took the other. “Laptop,” muttered Noelle. “It’s charging.” The computer was old and battered.
“Don’t touch it,” said Mercy, on her knees, looking under the bed. “Let forensics handle that. We can mess things up by simply unplugging it.”
Noelle nodded and moved on, yanking open dresser drawers and quickly digging through them, running her hands along the sides and bottoms to check for hiding spots.
She’s got more lingerie than Victoria’s Secret.
The drawers turned up nothing of interest, and Noelle slid the dresser out a few inches to check its back. Nothing. She moved on to the desk. It reminded her of the small one she’d had in high school. It only had three drawers, and Noelle repeated the actions she’d used on the dresser.
“Look at this photo album,” said Mercy. She had a three-ring binder and was examining elaborate pages full of cutouts, borders, and stickers.
“That reminds me of when everyone was into creating memory albums, which took an insane amount of money and hours,” said Noelle. She’d never been interested in the trend.
“This stuff is a decade old,” said Mercy. “Concert ticket stubs. Photos. Looks like she wrote poetry.”
“She did,” Cory said quietly from the door. “She always wanted to get it published.” She sucked in a nervous breath. “Guess that will never happen now.”
“You could collect her poems and do it,” said Noelle. “Even if you just wanted to make one book for you to keep. There are companies that do that.”
Cory met her gaze and slowly nodded. “I might.” She looked at Mercy, who was on the floor by the nightstand. “What exactly are you looking for? Wait. You didn’t tell me what happened to Rachel. How did she . . . die?”
Mercy got to her feet and moved closer to the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder. “She was shot, Cory. And I strongly suspect the medical examiner will say that she died immediately. I don’t believe there was any suffering.”
“Medical examiner?” Cory’s chin quivered. “They’re going to cut her up,” she whispered.
“It has to be done,” said Mercy softly. “It’ll help our investigation to find who did that to her.” She squeezed Cory’s shoulder.
“I don’t want to see it.”
“Of course not. I’ll make sure it goes okay,” said Mercy.
“You’ll be there?”
“Yes.”
“She liked you, Agent Kilpatrick,” Cory said slowly. “She wouldn’t ever say it to your face, but she was impressed with you and your job. Said she wished she’d gotten into a profession like that.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Mercy said. “I appreciate it.”
Cory nodded and more tears started. “Did you find anything in here?”
“Not yet,” said Noelle. “Why don’t we talk some more? We can come back to this later.” She wanted to speak with Cory while she was calm. “Do you have some tea?”
“I have some wine,” she said. “I have tea too, but wine sounds much better at the moment.”
Noelle agreed but said, “We’d join you, but we’re working. Tea works for us.”
“I’ll start it.” Cory left.
“Thoughts on the bedroom?” Mercy asked Noelle.
“I want to go through her closet.” She opened the folding doors.
“Jesus.” Every square inch of the closet was stuffed.
Clothes, shoes, boxes, books, purses, stuffed animals.
There was less pink in the closet but more animal print.
Especially leopard. Noelle plucked a stuffed raccoon off a crowded shelf.
It was missing an eye. “How does she find anything?”
“You have sisters,” said Mercy. “Didn’t at least one of them have a closet like this? Kaylie’s looks this packed all the time. I can’t bear to go in her room when the closet door is open. Don’t get me started on the stuff all over the floor.”
“My sisters and I didn’t have this much stuff,” said Noelle.
She pictured her walk-in closet at the huge house she’d shared with her second husband.
It was the size of most homes’ primary suites.
She’d had more clothes and shoes and bags than she could ever wear.
She’d donated 80 percent of it when she sold the house.
Many items had still had the tags. Her lips twitched at the memory of her mother-in-law’s shock when she learned Noelle had given away thousands of dollars’ worth of clothing.
Her mother-in-law had been the one who insisted that Noelle purchase most of it.
That was a different world. A different life.
The memory surprised her. She rarely thought about those previous years.
She’d spent hours and hours volunteering and serving on charity boards during that time, but she’d never felt that she truly helped anyone until she joined the Sacramento police force. It’d given her a purpose in life.
Noelle touched the back of her head, surprised that thinking about that period hadn’t caused the little spikes of head pain that it usually did.
“Your head hurt?” Mercy asked. She knew about Noelle’s old head injury.
“Actually, it doesn’t. I expected it to, but it’s good.”
“Nice!”
Noelle returned the raccoon and closed the closet doors. “We can do this later. Interviewing Cory is the priority.”
“Agreed.” Mercy disappeared out the bedroom door, her boots making confident sounds as she strode down the hallway to join Cory.
Noelle took a last look at the silent room, seeing Rachel in every element. Every photo, glittery pillow, and sparkling crystal. The woman had made it her space, and now she’d never enter it again.
It almost feels as if it’s waiting for her.
Noelle pressed her lips together. Rachel wouldn’t be back, but Noelle could find her killer and get justice for her death.
Justice for the man left in the woods.
Justice for the man in the trunk.
Everyone deserves justice.