Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

phone’s flashlight. From the irritation on his face, I’m wondering if he expected to see Bergen’s arson materials sitting in the middle of the space, waiting for him. He hunts around and soon discovers the built-in cabinet.

When he opens it and sees Bergen’s supplies, he lets out a triumphant yes!

He pulls out one of the bottles, opens it, and gives the contents a whiff. He jerks his head away, his face souring at the odor of the lighter fluid. As entertaining as his reaction is, we’ll probably leave that bit of video out of our evidence package. It’ll be better if he appears to already know what was here before he arrived.

He spends a little time examining the wooden ignition device, trying to figure out how it works. It’s really not that complicated, but when he puts it down with a grimace, I have a feeling he still doesn’t understand it.

What he does next is…nothing.

His gaze is on the items of the arson kit, but otherwise he doesn’t move. Apparently, he’s caught in another one of his mind loops.

There’s one more thing we’d like him to do. It won’t be the end of the world if he doesn’t, but it would be a nice cherry on top of the other evidence we’ve collected. I pick up my dart gun, double-check that there’s a dart in the chamber, and look back at Jar’s laptop.

Chuckie continues to stare into the distance, his body rooted in place.

Come on, Chuckie. Snap out of it. It’s what you’ve come here to do. Don’t screw it up now.

Finally he moves, putting a hand on the cabinet door. He leans forward, pulls out everything, and sets it all on a nearby shelf. Once the cabinet is empty, he picks up one of the bottles and opens the top.

Looks like we’ll get that bonus footage after all.

He begins squirting liquid on the shelves and walls.

Don’t worry. I’m not letting him soak the place in lighter fluid. That would be stupid. Though there is lighter fluid in the bottles, most has been replaced by water. So it smells like lighter fluid but won’t catch on fire. I also coated the bottom of the caps and the spouts of all the bottles with a healthy layer of undiluted fluid to boost the smell.

He finishes the first bottle and opens the next. We plan on letting him get through three of the five bottles before we put a stop to things. That should be more than enough to show intent.

He’s only halfway through the second bottle when he suddenly stops and cocks his head to the side.

He’s heard something, but I have no idea what because I haven’t heard a thing. I look at Jar, but she shrugs and shakes her head.

Chuckie moves over to the base of the stairs and points an ear toward the door at the top. Is someone in the house?

I listen, too, but again I hear nothing.

Seconds later, Chuckie takes a step back from the stairs, no longer looking concerned, and resumes dousing the room.

Perhaps he just heard the wind or an animal. Whatever the case, I make an executive decision to revise our plan and pull down my ski mask. When he finishes the bottle he’s holding, I’ll step out and tag him with a dart.

The liquid is starting to sputter out the end of the bottle, which means it’s almost empty. I quietly remove the two-by-four from the door, and glance back at the computer to see Chuckie walking toward the remaining supplies.

On the screen something dark rushes up to the window. Before I can adjust my gaze, a voice yells, “It’s true!”

Chuckie’s head jerks to his right as Evan drops through the open window.

Jar and I had stopped looking at the outside camera and were focused on Chuckie. Evan wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here.

“You’re the one responsible for all the fires,” Evan says, snarling.

Chuckie’s anger flares. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I yank open the door and rush into the room just as Evan says, “I’m here to make sure you go to jail and never get out!”

Evan is between me and Chuckie, with Chuckie striding toward him.

I adjust my aim to avoid hitting Evan and pull the trigger. The dart would have hit Chuckie if the big man didn’t swing a hand at his son. Instead, the dart skims across Chuckie’s back, missing him by centimeters.

Evan has jerked backward, and it’s enough for Chuckie’s hand to miss his face, but not enough to get out of the way of the elbow that follows.

Evan flies into the shelves where Chuckie set Bergen’s supplies. The bottles and rags and igniter tumble onto the floor, while Evan falls in a heap near his father’s feet.

From the window, where she’s apparently been watching the whole thing, Gina yells, “Evan!”

Chuckie whirls around as she starts to climb in. Before he can take a step toward her, I break my no-talking-to-our-targets rule and yell, “Hey, Chuckie! Over here.”

He twists toward me as I pull my trigger again. There’s just enough time for his anger to turn into confusion before my dart hits him in the gut.

He looks down in surprise, grabs the dart, and pulls it out. Unfortunately for him, it’s designed to inject its contents on impact so the damage has already been done.

He takes one staggering step toward me and falls to the ground.

Gina lets go of the window ledge, and when her feet hit the floor, she races past Chuckie to where Evan lies.

As I start to follow her, I hear a crackling sound, and smell an odor I definitely do not want to be smelling right now.

On the other side of the shelving unit Evan smashed into, flames are licking up the side. The igniter. It must have sparked when it hit the ground and set the rags on fire. The liquid Chuckie was spraying around isn’t flammable, but the dry wood down here is very much so, and I can