Without Mercy (Mercy 1)

And he was in charge. Unbelievable.

Returning to the living area, she bundled up against the cold and grabbed the prayer book and fake, battery-powered candle that had been left for her. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

She flew down the stairs and joined the throng heading along recently shoveled paths leading to the gazebo. Snow was still coming down like crazy, piling on rails and streetlamps, causing fir boughs to droop and giving the campus an otherworldly glow. All trails seemed to end in the mass of bobbing white pin dots, the lights of battery-powered candles held by students and faculty spilling out of the gazebo. Only a handful of faculty fit in the small structure, where Reverend Lynch stood atop a platform, his wife and Dr. Burdette flanking him. Yin and Yang, Jules thought. In her stocking cap, down jacket, thermal pants, and hiking boots, Burdette was the direct opposite of Lynch’s wife in her designer ski outfit with fur trim.

Decidedly un-PC.

Not that Cora Sue would care how many ermine or snow leopards had to give their lives for the trim on her hood and high-heeled boots.

Jules had hoped that Trent would be nearby, but he stood on the fringe of the crowd, close to a path that led away from the central campus to the barns and outbuildings, a walkway she’d seen on the map in her room. He didn’t catch her eye, and she chastised herself for feeling disappointed when she should be relieved.

Although she saw Shaylee in the large group, she did not meet her sister’s eyes but let her gaze sweep over the sparkle of white lights and ruddy faces. Staff members were interspersed with the students, and she recognized them all, from Bert Flannagan to Father Jake.

“Thank you all for coming,” Reverend Lynch said. “This is a service for the passing of Nona Vickers’s soul and a request to our Heavenly Father for Andrew Prescott’s speedy recovery….” He led off with a prayer, then a talk about tragedy and triumph. Another prayer and then, with one of the kids strumming her guitar, a final song. Voices, old and young, rose in a short rendition of “Amazing Grace,” the thrumming melody rising to the snow clouds pressing low in the heavens.

If it was a show, it was a good one.

Even Jules was impressed, and she’d been privy to the harsh words between Lynch and his wife, words that seemed at odds with the image of the perfect, loving couple they attempted to project.

During the hymn, someone from the crowd ascended the steps of the gazebo and approached the reverend. Jules squinted against the mesmerizing dots of light to make out Sheriff O’Donnell. What was he telling Lynch?

When the hymn ended, the reverend lifted his arms to the crowd. “My brothers and sisters in Christ, I have some uplifting news from the hospital. Our good friend Andrew awakened after his surgery, and he was able to speak with his family and with the police.”

A murmur passed through the crowd, a collective sigh amid the sniffing and teary eyes.

“That is good news, indeed,” Lynch said, pinching his goatee. “However, from Andrew’s statement, it is clear that both he and Nona Vickers were attacked by a third person.”

The crowd grew silent as the realization set in: Then it was murd

er. For certain. No more doubts: Nona Vickers had been killed.

Taking in the young faces around her strained with fear, eyes dark sockets in the candlelight, Jules suspected that everyone else was drawing the same horrible conclusion.

“Which leads me to remind you all to take caution here on campus,” the reverend said slowly, sincerely. “Honor our curfew laws, and please, travel in groups after dark.” His arms swept wide, embracing his flock. “Let us pray …”

As Jules bent her head, her gaze fell on Deputy Meeker, standing off at the edge of the crowd, his sidearm on his hip, below the waist of his jacket.

A silent reminder that a killer walked among them.

CHAPTER 23

Jules was exhausted, her head throbbing as she sorted through the events of the day. The long drive, the frantic calls from Shaylee, the stress over two students victimized on campus, one still fighting for his life, and now this—a killer in their midst.

She eyed her pain medication and took three rather than two, washing them down with water from the sink in her kitchenette. Peering in the cupboards, she found prepackaged coffee, tea bags, hot cocoa, and a small coffeemaker, similar to those in airport hotels. She heated water, planning to make some herb tea after her shower.

In the bathroom, she stripped out of her clothes and stood under the hot, steamy spray until some of the heaviness eased. She thought of Shay, hunkered over, following the path back to the dorm. For now, while she and Shay were trapped on this campus with the other students and faculty, Jules needed to protect her sister, first and foremost.

What had happened to her sister? The four-year-old who had come running to her as Jules’s bus had stopped at the corner near their house, the eager grade-schooler who had at first idolized her older sister, then used her to help with homework. Shay had always been smart, and Jules had wondered if her little sis was sometimes manipulating her into helping with the homework, just to get out of it herself or to weasel more time with Jules. They’d been together through Edie’s divorce from Max and her remarriage to Rip, seeing their mother’s emotional ups and downs, feeling the burn of her anger or the warmth of her love. They’d stuck together. Even after Jules had moved away, going off to college, she’d tried to stay close to Shaylee, but somewhere along the way, her little sister had veered off the straight and narrow, worrying their mother and Jules as well.

So Jules was here.

And she would help Shaylee any way she could.

After she pulled on some pj’s, she paused in front of the mirror and wondered what Trent had seen when he came face-to-face with her in the parking lot. God, she’d been driving for hours at that point, no makeup. She was still under twenty-five, just barely, but everything she’d gone through had aged her. What had her mother called her? An “old soul.” Of course, that was ludicrous.

“You’re still a baby,” she told herself as she heard her cell phone ringing in the main room. Certain it was Shay again, she flew barefoot into the main room and scooped her cell from the dresser. “Hello!”

“Oh, thank God, I found you!” Edie said, her voice shaking. “Have you heard the awful news? Oh, God, it’s so horrible! I think I’ve made a horrid mistake!”