Without Mercy (Mercy 1)

And yet the motion that Shay did so naturally was identical to the one in her mind’s eye.

No way! She had to be imagining things! Her head began to pound painfully as she remembered the bloodstain near Andrew Prescott’s body in the stable. Swiped over, as if someone had spilled his blood and tried to wipe it away in a smooth, swirling motion, the darker “S” shape visible.

Another flash of memory: the small smeared pool by Maeve Mancuso’s corpse. Again, smooth, sure strokes. A snake-like shape darker in the wiped stain.

And, no doubt, on the sleeping bag where Nona Vickers had lost her life there was the same bloody signature: Shay’s signature. The snakey, blurred S.

Jules swallowed hard, her head screaming denials.

She focused again, back in the moment, her gaze fixed on Shay’s foot. God help us. Glancing up, Jules saw her sister staring at her, a knowing smile playing upon Shay’s full lips. “For the love of God, Shay,” Jules whispered, her voice trembling. “What did you do?”

This couldn’t be happening! Couldn’t! Shay wasn’t a killer! There had to be something else, someone else … But the light in her sister’s gaze in that moment burned bright with triumph and something else, something far more sinister and evil-bred.

In that instant of recognition, Jules knew. But she had to hear it from her sister’s lips. “You killed them?”

No, not Shay. NOT SHAY!

“Nona? Drew? Maeve? You murdered them?” she asked again, hoping beyond hope that she was wrong. Please deny it. Please. I’ll believe you!

“How else was I going to get you to believe me?” Shay asked innocently, an undercurrent of satisfaction in her voice, not a trace of denial. “How else would you have gotten me out of here?”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Jules whispered, shaking her head, refusing to think her sister was a monster, horrified to believe Shay capable of cold-blooded, premeditated murder.

“Are you too stupid to see that you would never have gotten me out of here unless you thought there was danger to me and my life?” Shay asked, anger sparking. “You thought I should be locked up; you just came down here to make yourself feel better about it.”

“I don’t … no …” But that much was true. They both knew it.

“Right, and it wasn’t bad enough! That was the problem. So someone had to die. I figured it should be someone who thought they were smarter than I was, someone who got off on being mean to me. Nona and Maeve, they were a good start. Andrew; he just got in the way. You know, that same old problem: Wrong place, fucking the wrong girl.”

“What! Wait a minute. Don’t lie, Shay,” Jules said, clinging desperately to the belief that Shay’s talk was just bravado; that she’d snapped when Eric Rolfe and Missy Albright had trained rifles at her back. “You didn’t kill them! You couldn’t!” Jules argued, trying to get through to her. “Lauren Conway disappeared a long time before you even got here.” That was it; proof that her sister was confused.

But Shay didn’t bat an eye and Jules’s blood was pulsing through her body with the knowledge that there was an explanation. “You really are naive, aren’t you? God, Jules, I would hate to be you. Of course I didn’t kill Lauren! I think Spurrier or his band did. Maybe it was even an accident, but I knew it could work to my advantage and it did, didn’t it?”

Jules saw the hatred in her sister’s expression. “And Dad?”

“Rip? That perv? Are you kidding? Of course I killed him, because you couldn’t! You were so blind when it came to him! Do you know how he looked at me? At you?” she demanded, her lips curling in disgust. “I did us both a favor!”

“What? No—”

“So he didn’t touch me, big deal! It was only a matter of time. And he was half in love with you.”

“What?” Jules couldn’t believe her ears.

“Always hugging you, hanging on your every word, acting like you were so damned special.”

“He was my father.”

“Well, he wanted something more.” Shay’s face contorted in disdain, her psychosis visible in her features.

“You’re nuts,” Jules whispered. This was unbelievable! Yes, Shay and Rip hadn’t gotten along, yes, Sh

ay had never understood a father’s devotion, but this sick delirium was so far gone … “So you killed him?” Jules whispered, horrified to the marrow of her bones. She couldn’t believe what was happening here.

“Oh, what did you think? That somebody broke in and stabbed him in the leg for what? His Visa card?” She rolled her eyes.

“But why?”

“I told you, he freaked me out!”