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

to his bed, just in case he wakes before we return.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The question still nagging us is one of motive.

Yeah, there’s the whole Chuckie getting spurned by Hayden Valley angle, but that doesn’t explain why most of the burned-down buildings belonged to Gage-Trent. Nor does it account for the involvement of Nicholas Huston and Kyle Decker from RCHB Consulting.

Though we have enough evidence now to make life very difficult for all three men, I really want to know the reason they’re burning everything down. Not just for curiosity’s sake, but Jar and I like tying things up nice and neat.

Which is why we’re back at the duplex, doing some deeper research into the two companies that have been the Mercy Arsonist’s victims.

Evan and Sawyer are in the bedroom, watching another movie on my laptop while we’re in the living room. We’ve moved the card table to a position from where we can see down the hallway, and will know if either boy exits the bedroom. Don’t want to be discussing the wrong topic in front of them, after all.

It is nearly four p.m. when we uncover several emails and memos that hint at the answer. But I want more than a hint, so I decide to make a phone call.

“Hayden Valley Agriculture,” a woman says over the line. I have a feeling it’s the same receptionist I saw when I visited the company’s Denver office on Monday. “How may I direct your call?”

“Isaac Davis, please.” I’m using the voice modulator again, the settings transforming my voice into that of a fiftysomething man.

“Who’s calling, please?”

“Kenneth Gains, FSA.” The FSA is the Farm Service Agency, part of the US Department of Agriculture.

“One moment, sir.” I listen to hold music for about half a minute before the receptionist comes back on. “Mr. Gains? Mr. Davis will be right with you.”

“Thank you.”

It takes another two minutes before the line rings again.

“Mr. Gains? This is Isaac Davis. How may I help you?”

“I’m actually calling to see if there’s anything we can do to help you, Mr. Davis.” I’m not, but offering help is a great way to get someone to answer questions they might otherwise avoid.

In this case it works like a charm, and the final piece of the puzzle falls into place.

The boys request pizza for dinner, which I dutifully order but pick up myself, since we’d rather not have anyone coming to the door.

“Why do you have only two chairs?” Sawyer asks.

He and Evan are using them to eat at the table. Jar sits on the floor with a paper plate holding a slice, and I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, where my food is.

“Because there are only two of us,” I say.

“There are four of us tonight.”

“You got me there.”

“You should get more chairs.”

“We probably would if we were going to stay here for a while.”

“You’re leaving?” This is from Evan.

“Soon.”

“How soon?” He actually seems disappointed, which is both touching and heartbreaking.

“As soon as we know you two are safe.”

He scoffs. “Oh, so you mean you’re never leaving.”

I shrug, though I think there’s a good chance we’ll be gone by Sunday.

While the conversation veers off into other topics, every now and then I catch Evan giving me a curious look.

After we finish, the boys return to the bedroom to watch another movie, and Jar and I check the video feeds from the Prices’ house, wanting to see how Chuckie is reacting to his sons being gone. Turns out he hasn’t reacted at all because he hasn’t come home, which is odd because it’s well after eight p.m. and all the other nights he was there by now.

Jar pulls up a grid of the camera feeds from Price Motors.

“There he is.” She points at the feed from Chuckie’s office and brings it up full screen.

He’s sitting at his desk, not doing much of anything other than looking pensive. We scroll back through the footage to see if something happened that may have caused his current mood.

Indeed something has.

At just after six p.m., he receives a visit from Nicholas Huston and Kyle Decker. They greet each other cordially, and Huston takes the guest seat across from Chuckie’s desk. Decker closes the door and remains standing, a few feet behind the older man, like a bodyguard.

“I didn’t expect you to come by this evening,” Chuckie says. “Is everything okay?”

“I want to make sure we are still on track,” Huston says.

“Of course,” Chuckie says. “Right on track. No problems at all.”

“It needs to happen tomorrow.”

“As long as the weather cooperates.”

“Let me rephrase,” Huston says. “It will happen tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“We are at a very critical juncture.”

“I’ll make sure it happens. Tomorrow. You can count on it.”

“Good.” Huston smiles, and then his expression turns somber. “There is the other matter. If you’re still in, we need the remainder of your commitment within twenty-four hours.”

“I’m still in. No question about that. I’m very excited. I’ll, uh, I’ll make the transfer in the morning.”

Thanks to my phone call with Davis, we now know why the rush is on. And thanks to some quick research by our friend JP, we know what the transfer is about, too.

The smile is back on Huston’s face, more businesslike but not unfriendly. He stands and extends a hand, which Chuckie immediately takes.

Jar shivers next to me. Probably because there’s not a latex glove, bottle of hand sanitizer, or face mask in sight in Chuckie’s office.

“I appreciate the way you always come through for us,” Huston says.

“Happy to do my part,” Chuckie tells him.

They let go of each other’s hands. “As long as everything goes smoothly on your end, we should have a deal done by the end of the weekend.”

“Everything will be smooth. I promise.”

They say their goodbyes and Huston and Decker leave.

Chuckie waits a moment, then walks over to the door and peeks out at the showroom. I get the sense he’s making sure his guests have left. When he leans back into his office, he closes the door and locks it.