Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
—RAINIER MARIA RILKE
Troy heard the scream of sirens in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. He desperately wanted to go after those assailants on the motorcycles, backup or no backup, but Mercy was his first priority whether she liked it or not. Keeping her safe trumped everything else right now.
He watched as law enforcement arrived on the scene—Purdie and his staties along with local Woodstock police, and one of his fellow game wardens, a rookie named Lizzie Laroux who’d joined Vermont Fish & Wildlife only a couple of months ago. Half a dozen police vehicles crowded the shoulder; you never had to ask twice for backup when someone was shooting up a game warden’s truck.
“Why don’t you stay in here with the dogs? No reason for us all to get wet.” Even as he said it, he knew she’d never agree to it.
Mercy ignored him. She told Elvis to stay and hopped out, slamming the truck door behind her. Troy did the same. Susie Bear barked her displeasure at being left behind, while Elvis simply focused his gaze on Mercy. Troy knew the resolute shepherd would keep her in his sight until she either disappeared from view or returned.
Purdie was the officer in charge. Troy and Mercy stood in the rain and briefed him on their encounter with the bikers. The officer listened without comment. Troy knew he must be wondering how Mercy managed to be at the center of everything bad going down in his jurisdiction. It wasn’t her fault, exactly. She’d been born with a nose for trouble. Just like Elvis.
“We’ll go down and check it out.” He looked at Troy. “You stay here with Carr and her dog.”
“But we can show you whe—” she started to say.
Purdie cut her off. “You’re staying right here with Warner. Don’t make me arrest you.”
Troy laughed.
“I’m serious.” He turned to Troy. “You need to stay here, too.” He paused. “Sorry about your truck. We’re going to need it for forensics. I guess the good news is now you may be getting one of those shiny new Silverados sooner rather than later.”
Purdie nodded curtly at Troy and then strode off toward his vehicle, issuing orders to the uniforms as he went.
“Great. Now we’re stuck here.” Mercy’s face flushed, as it always did when she got mad. She didn’t glower—she glowed as red as Rudolph’s nose. Troy was grateful for her expressive complexion; he never had to wonder if he’d upset her, like he did with the inscrutable Madeline. Sometimes it would take him days to realize that behind her smile she was simmering with outrage over something he’d said or done or failed to say or do. Mercy’s feelings, on the other hand, were right there on that pretty face of hers for all the world to see. Even he could read them.
But there wasn’t much he could do about his truck. “I’m sure one of the officers will give you a ride to back to the inn.”
“I’m going to the hospital to see St. George if I have to call an Uber.” Mercy pulled out her cell.
“That won’t be necessary. We’ll figure something out.” Troy smiled as he saw Thrasher pull up along the side of the road in his personal vehicle, a sleek black Range Rover. His boss must have been on his way east for the wedding weekend and heard the call go out. Troy gave the man credit; he might be a taskmaster, but he never failed to show up for his wardens. “Let’s see what the captain has to say before we take off.”
Thrasher strode toward them with his trademark vigor, taking no note of the pouring rain. He looked as GQ as ever in civilian clothes: perfectly pressed light gray chinos, white T-shirt, and a bullet-gray waxed jacket that Troy guessed cost more than a week’s wages. The captain’s, not his.
“Mercy, Troy.” Thrasher looked around. “Dogs in your truck?”
“Yes, sir. But not for long.” He pointed to the side mirror on his truck, filling the captain in on the day’s events. Susie Bear was barking again, having spotted Thrasher, one of her favorite people. Elvis kept his usual sentry, eyes still on Mercy.
“We need to talk to Bodhi St. George,” Mercy told Thrasher. “He’s the key to all this.”
“He’s still at the hospital,” said the captain.
“He may be in danger.”
“It looks like you’re the one in danger, thanks to St. George.” The captain frowned. “Or whatever his real name is.”
“What do you mean?” asked Troy.
“He was carrying a passport for a Frank Hahn. German national . Not Bodhi St. George.”
“Interesting,” said Mercy. “He’s become someone else.”
Troy didn’t think it was interesting—he thought it was suspicious. “He’s not talking?”
“No,” said the captain. “They’re running his prints but they haven’t gotten any hits yet.”
“He’s not who he says he is.”
“That’s not enough to hold him. They’ve got no evidence to connect him to the dead man. If they don’t get something on him soon, he’ll walk away from that hospital tomorrow.” He turned to Mercy. “We need to let the staties handle this. We are all expected at a wedding.”
“We have to talk to St. George first,” she said.
“Harrington won’t like that. They won’t want you talking to him.”
“All the more reason to do it then.” She leaned in toward the captain. “That incident at the tree house was too close for comfort. And now there are the bones.”
“Odds are one has nothing to do with the other.”
“Do we know anything more about the girl?”
“No ID yet.” Thrasher frowned. “Dr. Darling has confirmed that she was in her late teens, and that she was white. She believes the victim died as a result of blunt force trauma at another location some twenty years ago. And that the bones were moved to their present location sometime in the past few years.”
“Twenty years? I’m surprised that so much of the skeleton was left. Shouldn’t it be liquefying after that long?”
“Seems the soil where she was buried was conducive to high bone preservation.” A smile tugged at the corners of his tight-lipped mouth. “I’m sure Dr. Darling will be glad to explain it to you in great detail. After the wedding.”
“Why would anyone move the bones?” asked Troy.
“Maybe they were afraid the bones would be discovered.” The captain straightened and looked pointedly at Mercy. “We’ll let Harrington handle it, shall we?”
“We have to make sure that none of this has anything to do with the inn,” she said. “Otherwise, we’re going to have to tell Patience and Grace to postpone the wedding.”
Troy turned to his boss. Thrasher was a very good poker player whose impassive features rarely revealed any emotion, even in the most critical situations. Yet the captain seemed as unhappy at the thought of telling Patience to postpone the wedding as he was.
“That would not be a good outcome.” The captain pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. “Take the Range Rover. Talk to the suspect. Report back to me immediately. And then get on with the joyful event we are here to celebrate.”
Troy stopped himself just short of an Amen. “What about you, sir?”
“Wyetta is driving down from Lamoille County for the festivities. I’ll have her pick me up here on the way. We’ll meet you back at the inn.”
“That would be great,” said Mercy. “Thanks so much.”
Troy didn’t want to be responsible for the captain’s prized Range Rover. “You could take her to the hospital, sir. I’ll stay here with the dogs and get a uniform to take us back to the hotel.”
Thrasher frowned, whether at his idea or his insubordination, Troy wasn’t sure. “I’m staying here, Warner.” He paused. “I’ll let you know what they find of your bikers.”
Troy knew he was in trouble whenever the captain called him “Warner.” But still he pushed. “What about the dogs?”
“Take them with you.”
“In your Range Rover? No, sir.” The thought of the dripping-wet sixty-pound Malinois and the eighty-pound Newfie-retriever tramping through Thrasher’s spotless SUV was a terrifying one.
“I insist.”
Troy knew the captain would get more out of Purdie than he would. And he knew that Mercy would drive them all crazy until she got to see St. George. Taking the captain’s personal vehicle was the best option. But he still didn’t like it. “Sir.”
“I’ll get the dogs,” she said, and headed for the Ford F-150.
The captain waited until she was out of earshot, and then handed his keys to Troy. “Careful with my baby. Those seats are full-grain leather, you know.”