I loaded the cordless in my purse, along with my cell phone. In my dad's office I found my grandfather Deke's old oak cane. Leaning on it kept the pressure off my b.u.m ankle. I shuffled down the handicapped ramp.

Outside, I dropped my backside onto the b.u.mper of the truck. Unfortunately, I had an un.o.bstructed view of Sue Anne.

I could've closed my eyes. Or gazed at the pearly morning sky. Or focused on the red geraniums and pink petunias in the flower boxes. But I forced myself to look. To see what had been done to her.

She'd been placed on her left side with her knees drawn up, facing the steps. Her slender arms were bound behind her back with nylon rope. Blood coated her neck. Her teeth, clamped over a blue bandana serving as a gag, stuck out from beneath her swollen lips, giving her a feral look. Her long hair had been pulled away from her face and tied with a white bow, which matched the white gown she wore. The front of the dress, at least the part I could see, was discolored reddish brown.

Somehow I'd managed to keep myself somewhat together until my purposefully detached gaze landed on her bare feet. Her toenails were unpainted and unadorned except for a silver toe ring on the second toe of her right foot. A rainbow-colored braided friendship anklet was tied around her left ankle. Just like the bracelets Levi and I had made years ago.

I lost it again. What a waste. What an absolute f.u.c.king waste. I dropped my head to my knees and cried.

Even as I sobbed for Sue Anne, a cold fear invaded my soul. Had I played a part in getting her killed by forcing her to talk to me? How did I live with that? How could I possibly justify snooping around when it led to more deaths?

I kill for a living. There's no PC way to say it. I've never tried to pretend I was an a.s.sa.s.sin with a heart of gold. I can't afford to think of anything but the job when I'm on the job. Study intel, get in position, pull the trigger, get out. Repeat as necessary. Simple.

Do I have sleepless nights? Yes. Do I have regrets? Some. Not as many as I should. I'd ended more lives than what's listed in my kill book. I hate having to doc.u.ment my a.s.signments. Yes, it's important to keep track of all the technical stuff, wind velocity, range ratios, and humidity. Build a better soldier by being better prepared. But to list names? Dates? Times? And methodology? That requirement bordered on psychotic bragging.

Terrorists deserved to die. Sue Anne didn't. Some things really are black-and-white in my world.

The sirens snapped me out of the black hole I'd sunk into.

Baby-faced Deputy Jazinski crossed the yard and stood beside me. Nervous. Fidgety. Could've been his usual behavior since I didn't know him. I'd heard Dawson hired Jazinski right before my father's death with Dad's blessing. Still, the kid gave me a weird vibe.

"Has anybody been through that door besides you, Miz Gunderson?"

"No. And I didn't come out that door; I came out through the front."

He asked me a bunch of questions. My response was nonsensical at best, curt at worst. By the time he'd finished, the second patrol car and ambulance arrived. As had Jake. At least he'd retained a clear head. Not only had he immediately tied up Shoonga behind the barn, he called Sophie to delay her coming to work. My brain was scrambled.

Photos were snapped. Distances measured. I would've stayed frozen in shock in that same spot until they loaded her body, but Jake forced me to the picnic table by the gazebo. He stayed with me, lending me his unspoken support until Dawson loped over.

Dawson crouched down and poked my ankle. "Looks better. How's your head?"

"Fine."

"Did you sleep?"

"Yeah. Apparently I slept through someone dropping a dead girl on my doorstep." I flinched. Dammit. I hadn't meant to sound so callous.

He straightened and rubbed the back of his neck.

I recognized it as a sign of his agitation. "What?"

"I don't know how to tell you this."

"Tell me what?"

No answer.

It hit me. "Jesus. Am I a suspect?"

"No."

"Then what?" When he peered at me, I realized he wasn't wearing his mirrored shades.

"Sue Anne wasn't dead when she was dropped there. I would guess she was unconscious. But whoever killed her slit her throat right on your porch."

I gaped at him. No wonder there'd been so much blood. "You're serious? She bled to death here?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

I could scarcely find my voice. "How long had she been there?"

Dawson's steely eyes seemed to soften. "You couldn't have saved her, Mercy. The damage was too severe."

"But, maybe-"

"No maybes. She was nearly decapitated. There was nothing you could've done."

This had to be another nightmare. Please. Let this be another bad G.o.dd.a.m.n dream. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe when I opened them, I'd see the lace doilies decorating my dresser. At this point I'd take olive green canvas tent walls.

"Look, I feel guilty as h.e.l.l, too. If I had stayed to keep an eye on you last night, maybe I would've heard something...."

My eyes flew open. "Did you see anything on your way home?"

"No."

"Did you tell Jazinski you were here?"

"Yeah."

"Great. So he thinks you and I are knocking boots." Which meant within the hour everyone else in the county would hear the story. Dawson and me s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g like rabbits, while some psycho murderer took a hacksaw to an innocent teenage girl on my front porch.

"Wrong. If you and I were knocking boots, Mercy, I would've been here all night, not just until ten o'clock."

The shout from the front of the house didn't make a dent in the unwieldy silence between us.

He sighed. "Besides, Jazinski needed to know someone tried to make you a hood ornament last night. The paperwork is in my car. You feel up to answering some more questions?"

"No. Not now."

"I understand."

I wish he would've been a jerk and demanded I take the time now. It'd be easier to handle my anger than my sorrow. "Look, I don't want to seem... cold and self-centered, but is there a chance I can get back into my house?"

"Sure. Soon as they're done cataloguing the scene."

I felt the need to explain. "I have to take a shower. Everything happened so fast this morning. I feel..." Guilty. Grimy. Worn out. I cleared my throat. "I still have dirt and gra.s.s stains all over from last night. I need to clean up."

Even if I remained under the hot spray for hours, and scrubbed with lye soap until my skin bled, my soul would still feel dirty. How would I ever get clean?

Clean. I thought of Sue Anne's bloodstains on the porch. Had those ugly black spots seeped into the wood? I couldn't expect Sophie to scrub them off, and I sure as h.e.l.l couldn't do it.

"Hey." Dawson hunkered down until he was right in my face. "After we've released the scene, why don't you let Kiki's sister Vivi take care of cleaning up? She does this sort of thing. I can call her."

Spooky, how he'd known what I was thinking. "Okay."

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. For a moment his sweet touch lingered on my cheek and I let myself be comforted by the fact he wanted to offer me solace.

"Sheriff?" Jazinski shouted. "Can I see you for a sec?"

"Be right there." His hand dropped. He stood and slipped on his sungla.s.ses before he jogged around the corner.

A few minutes later Kiki came by. "Sheriff said you can go inside now. I called Vivi. She's on her way."

"Thanks, Kiki. I don't mind telling you I'm pretty sick of seeing you."

She smiled sadly. "I hear that a lot. You need help getting upstairs?"

"I'll manage." Once I was inside, rather than use the cane, I crawled upstairs on my hands and knees straight into the bathroom and dry heaved. Repeatedly. No wonder. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten anything.

The shower helped my aches and pains, but not the images in my brain. Naked, I studied my limited wardrobe choices. Since I hadn't done laundry for a week, I pulled on a denim skirt and b.u.t.toned a white sleeveless blouse over a navy blue camisole.

Sophie was sitting at the table snapping green beans when I hobbled downstairs. She looked as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Her wrinkled face looked troubled and sad. "You okay, takoja?"

Her calling me grandchild almost made me lose my hard-won emotional control again. "No. Not really."

She nodded. "Didn't think so. Maybe this is the last of it. Bad things always come in threes."

"But counting my father's death, finding Sue Anne would make this number four, not three."

Her gnarled hands stilled.

"You think there's more to come, don't you?"

"I know you don't believe in the woo-woo stuff, but-"

"You're wrong. I've seen and heard too much to chalk it up to coincidence." I paused. "John-John had a vision about me."

"I know."

"You do? Did he tell you about it?"

"No. The important thing is he told you."

Rarely did Sophie act like the wise old Lakota woman, so when she did, I paid attention.

Snap snap snap. The beans were tossed in the ceramic bowl.

She also had a flair for the dramatic.

Finally she asked, "How many of what he seen has come to pa.s.s?"

I thought back to John-John's words. Red sky, red ground, red water. My mind flashed to the day I'd found Levi and how his blood stained the ground. "As far as I can decipher? Just one."

She shook her head. Evidently she didn't have any additional wise words to add.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed a can of c.o.ke from the fridge and drained it in three long swallows. I held back a burp and realized Sophie had been staring at me. "What?"

"You look nice. I like to see you dressing like a girl, hey."

I scowled. "Don't get used to it. I'm out of clean clothes."

Snap snap snap. "You know, you are paying me to do stuff like that. No shame in needing help now and again, Mercy. You want me to run a coupla loads today when you're at the doctor's office?"

"Sure, thanks. What time is Hope's appointment?"

"Hope ain't going to the doctor. You are."

My eyes narrowed. "Did Dawson put you up to this? I'm fine. It's just a mild sprain."

"Don't have nothing to do with your ankle. Your appointment is at the VA at two o'clock."

"What?"

"That nurse kept calling, so I just had her make an appointment." She frowned. "I know I told you about it last week."

She probably had. With all that'd happened I'd blocked it out. "Well, I can't go. Someone needs to stay with Hope."

"I am here."

"Dawson has paperwork for me to fill out. I don't know how long it'll take."

"He's gone. Said he'll be in touch with you."

I opened my mouth, but Sophie shook her finger at my pitiful attempt at another excuse.

"I ain't gonna pry. I don't know why you're so scared to hear what them docs are gonna say. It'd be better to know what you're facing instead of trying to hide from it, eh?"

Even I couldn't argue with that.

I hate hospitals. No one but the army knew how much time I'd spent in various hospitals around the world.

The VA hospital was typical for a government facility. About thirty years past its prime. One half of the main building housed long-term patients; the other half short-timers. Checkups and nonemergency appointments were held in the various outbuildings.

The single-lane road curved through the compound. Cl.u.s.ters of oak trees and lilac bushes blocked the employee's quarters from view. Beds of flowers were a beautiful flare of color among the drab buildings.

I parked in the lot of Building C. Alongside the wide stone steps was a handicapped ramp. A well-used ramp. Seeing it snapped me out of feeling sorry for myself about my injuries. I'd been d.a.m.n lucky. I knew several soldiers who hadn't been.