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  Merry moved closer, mindful of the pools of blood surrounding the head of her prey. Flicking open his cell phone, she set it down inches from his bloodied hand. She punched in 9-1-1 but didn’t hit send.

  “Hey, Peppy. Is this what you want? A chance to call for help before you overdose, or bleed to death from the ass-kicking I just gave you? Hmm? Well, here you go.”

  She pointed to the phone, though she really didn’t know why. It was doubtful he was aware enough to comprehend her words, much less see. “I’ve even dialed for you. All you have to do is hit the send button. It’s right here by your hand. Come on, just reach out and grab it. Help is only a few inches away. Isn’t that what you want? What you crave? Help? Someone to rescue you from certain death?”

  A slight groan was Peppy’s only response.

  Every disturbing memory of the last six months flooded her mind.

  Standing on the other side of the glass while the coroner pulled back the sheet, exposing Joshua’s pale body.

  Derek holding her while she crumpled into a blubbering mess on the cold, concrete floor of the M.E.’s office.

  Joshua’s body lying in the casket.

  Her own anguished screams when Harold clutched his chest in agony and fell to the floor, dead before he collapsed next to their son’s coffin.

  Picking out caskets for the two most important men in her life over the course of five days.

  The memories infused Merry with righteous anger. She growled, “Guess what? That’s what every single junkie wants, and you don’t give it to them. You hand them death instead. Push their salvation away inch by inch with each hit you sell them.” The toe of her boot pushed the cell phone out of Peppy’s reach. “Just like I’m going to do to you.”

  With a sick, twisted fascination, Merry watched while the dying Peppy tried to form words. His pathetic attempts to blink and wash away the blood clouding his vision weren’t working. His fingers wiggled as they fumbled around for the phone. As the drugs careened through his body, he looked like he’d become one with the blacktop. Blood oozed from his mouth. A bubble of air as he tried to speak popped.

  The sounds of heels clacking on the ground caught Merry’s attention. The bastard’s last deal was close. Instead of finding herself a fix, the woman would turn the corner and discover bloody carnage.

  Maybe the sight will help get her clean.

  Merry leaned closer, her lips inches away from the monster’s blood-soaked ear. “That was for losing my husband. This is for killing my son.”

  In a flash, she was on her feet. One final stomp to the back of his neck ended the life of Carlos “Peppy” Ramirez with a sickening crunch.

  The sound of footsteps drew closer, so Merry quickened her pace. She bent down, grabbed the still-warm index finger which was coated in fresh blood, and scrawled a rival gang’s symbol on the pavement to his right.

  With that, Merry turned and fled into the night.

  One down. Many, many more to go.

  2

  7 a.m. Friday morning

  The first hour after arriving home was spent pacing back and forth while waiting for the sound of a knock, signaling her actions earlier had been discovered. When that didn’t happen, she showered three times. Finally, Merry sat down at the kitchen table and zoned out, staring out the window into the empty backyard.

  She was helpless to stop the ever-shifting scenes that played in the theatre of her mind.

  They started with Joshua’s birth, watching her beloved Harold while he held their wiggly bundle for the first time. She pictured Harold mumbling through his tears of joy about how much he loved their child, marveling at Joshua’s head full of wild, dark brown hair, just like his own. It had been the first time—though certainly not the last—Merry witnessed her spouse cry.

  The images shifted to Joshua’s first day of kindergarten. How it had taken all her strength to smile and wave goodbye as Joshua plopped down behind the tiny desk in a tiny chair, his own lopsided grin a mile wide. Once inside the car, Merry cried so hard she had to sit in the parking lot for fifteen minutes.

  Zooming forward, she relived the night things changed for the Hall family, though they didn’t know it at the time. She saw Harold by her side, each of them sporting black and orange jerseys with Hall and the number 27 proudly emblazoned on the back. They sat in the bleachers of the football stadium, alongside Savannah, Joshua’s girlfriend of two years, cheering like fools. Harold and Merry watched their seventeen-year-old son, all six-foot-four of him, as he made acrobatic catch after acrobatic catch.

  Then, time slowed as the final catch of Joshua Robert Hall, star wide receiver for the Hilldale Charging Wildcats, ended his football career while only a junior in high school. The injury dashed any hope of a college scholarship in mere seconds. The hit was vicious, and in eerie unison, the crowd gave a collective gasp as Joshua’s leg buckled under him at an odd, unnatural angle.

  She flashed back to the ride in the back of the ambulance with Joshua to the hospital, neither of them remotely considering the accident was the beginning of the end. He’d been as close to a perfect child as one could get—never got into any trouble, made decent grades, and had a heart of a lion. A lump formed in her throat as she relived the vision of the fear and pain behind Joshua’s blue eyes. She tried to keep him calm, telling him things would be fine, trying to keep her own fear out of her voice.

  Unfortunately, none of those things mattered after Joshua got his first taste of pain killers. With the ability to play sports over, and the future he’d envisioned ever since he’d donned his first helmet in fourth grade, Joshua sunk into a deep depression. Her mind echoed with the memories of how each visit with his doctor while his leg healed, and the assurances made that Joshua’s emotional state was normal, and would pass once he’s fully recovered.

  Stop this. Think. Plan ahead. Acknowledge your first kill. Let it control your thoughts, not the past.

  The annoying alarm blared from the cell phone on the kitchen table. Merry stared at it and contemplated throwing it against the wall. In the end, she just reached over and turned it to silent.

  She didn’t need the electronic reminder to wake up. Sleep had evaded her for two full days. Her nerves still thrummed with the electrical pulse of excitement from killing, the nagging fear of being caught, and the precious memories of an existence no longer alive.

  Downing the last sip of coffee, she stood and headed to the bathroom. Her muscles throbbed with each step, as well as the ever-present pressure in her head. Hot water cascading over her body would help alleviate the soreness before she dressed for work.

  Uh-huh. Another shower is just going to dry my skin out even more. I don’t have but a handful of lotion left to coat my body. No amount of hot water, scented soap, or a rough go-around with a loofah mitt will remove the stain I burned into my soul.

  Ignoring her tired, stressed out thoughts, Merry stepped into the shower. Once finished, she used what lotion she had left, dressed, grabbed the plastic bag on the bathroom floor containing her black ensemble, and exited the bathroom. Out of habit rather than interest or curiosity, she flicked on the TV. She needed background noise while she attempted to conceal the dark circles under her eyes.

  Got to keep up appearances—look normal. Everything is fine in the world of Merry Hall.

  Yeah, right.

  Grimacing at the annoying internal dialogue with herself, she concentrated on keeping her fingers from shaking while applying makeup. Just as she finished the last swoop of mascara, she heard it. Though she knew she shouldn’t be surprised, the news report still made her heart pound. Despite the sickening feeling in her gut, she watched and listened. The somber face of some new blonde reporter she didn’t recognize, one wearing too many layers of fake eyelashes, announced the discovery of an as yet unidentified body. The tip-line telephone number of Little Rock Police Department flashed across the bottom of the screen.

  Her tight muscles relaxed a fraction when the reporter mentioned “unident
ified sources” indicated the man’s death “quite possibly” could be gang related.

  Zippity freakin’ do-da! That last minute idea was golden!

  The news amped Merry up more than two cups of espresso. In a flash, she shut the TV off, grabbed her purse and the bag, and headed off to work with renewed vigor and a big smile.

  ***

  “I’ve decided I’m tired of watching you turn into a stick figure, so I brought us both a healthy lunch today. You will eat it. I won’t take no for an answer. Oh, and no more running out for fast food at lunch. Eat crap, look like crap. That is, if you are actually eating while out.”

  Merry watched Debbie with wary eyes. Her friend packed the fridge in the office kitchen full of some sort of vibrant green salad, topped off with strips of chicken. The effort made Deb’s tight blonde curls bounce in harmony. A few stragglers tumbled around her face and stuck to bright, red lips.

  Merry held on to the sigh she wanted to release. Ever since Harold and Joshua died, her weight had steadily declined. The first twenty pounds fell off from not eating due to sorrow and grief. The next ten or so from simply forgetting to feed her growling stomach. She had been too busy researching and planning out her new direction in life. It irked Merry a bit that no one seemed to notice her toned physique. All the rigorous physical training, performed in secret in her garage at night, helped her put on seven pounds of toned muscle.

  She notices my weight loss but not my muscle gain?

  “How sweet of you, Deb. Except for the whole look like crap part. I know you’re right. Just…haven’t been myself lately.”

  Debbie shut the fridge door, wiping the strands of hair from her lips. Moving closer, she smiled while wrapping an arm around Merry’s shoulder. “You aren’t expected to be, sweetie. You’ve been an emotional zombie for months now, but you’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s for sure. You’ve always been the caretaker, not the caretaker-ee, or whatever you want to call it. You know what I mean. It’s time to let me back into your world. I know you don’t like the idea of leaning on others for some strange reason, but that won’t stop me from shoveling healthy food into your face. You need some curves back!”

  “My partner thinks Merry’s hot. He told me he likes her curves exactly how they are, so leave her alone or you’ll have to answer to him.”

  Merry and Debbie turned to the sound of Derek’s voice. All six-foot-three of him crowded the doorway as he leaned against the frame. She couldn’t help but smile as Derek came to her rescue.

  Again.

  Her older brother had an uncanny knack for showing up at the right time ever since she could remember.

  Good thing he didn’t earlier! Then again, I didn’t need rescuing. Peppy did.

  Merry let a real smile appear for a brief moment. Derek was all the family she had left, except for a few distance cousins scattered around somewhere. Ones she hadn’t seen in years and could hardly remember their full names. Her world had been hewn down to just the two of them. Her burly brother had been her rock ever since childhood but went into overdrive the minute the words “I’m sorry, Sis. Joshua’s gone” left his trembling lips barely six months ago.

  No. Don’t even go there.

  Merry noticed Debbie’s gaze took in every inch of Derek’s body. She stifled a laugh. Poor Debbie suffered from an enormous crush on Derek, one which started when they were in the eighth grade and Derek was a senior. When around Derek, Debbie’s normally smart-assed demeanor melted, transforming her into a doe-eyed, giggling, and tongue-tied teenager. If Debbie’s cheeks filled with any more blood, they would explode all over the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Derek. I wasn’t expecting you here today. I didn’t see any of your cases on the docket,” Debbie gushed.

  Derek let a lazy grin slide across his lips. Merry swore she saw Debbie’s knees go weak. With a coy wink at Debbie, Derek turned and motioned for Merry to follow him out into the hallway. She doubted Debbie noticed his playful demeanor was fake.

  Behind Derek’s dark blue eyes, Merry saw a look of what—worry? Anger? Both?

  Stay calm. You left nothing behind tying back to you. Nothing. No hair. No fibers. There are no cameras anywhere near that alley. You disappeared before anyone saw you. There is zilch to find. You know exactly why he’s here. Remember, act surprised, but don’t overreact.

  Over his shoulder, Derek muttered, “You’ve got to stop keeping tabs on me, Debbie, or I might just have to arrest you for stalking.”

  Debbie giggled like a little girl. Merry couldn’t stop the eye roll as she followed Derek down the hall toward her office. Once inside, he waited until Merry was in her seat and then shut the door.

  It took everything she had to keep her breath steady…even.

  Remember to blink, look Derek in the eye, and play the role of dumbfounded sister with gusto.

  Instead of sitting down across from her, Derek came around the desk and leaned against it. “You look like Hell.”

  “Bite me,” Merry teased, keeping her voice light.

  Normal.

  Derek’s eyelids narrowed as he peered closer, his gaze intense. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been on a two-or-three day bender. Trouble sleeping again, or is your new obsession with working out taking its toll?”

  Of course my sharp-eyed brother notices! Now, take the focus off of me. Don’t let him start asking probing questions.

  “Wow, you’d make a great cop. Oh, wait…”

  Derek laughed, but it was short and hollow. The skin around his eyes tightened as he took in a deep breath. “Funny. Listen, I’ve got something I need to tell you. Something I believe will put some color back in your face. Allow you to sleep at night. Maybe even eat and put some weight on those bony hips. Deb is right, and Mitch is dead wrong—you need food. Carbs and protein to be exact if you plan on continuing to mold your torso to look like that chick from Terminator.”

  “Okay, okay. I need to eat!” Merry grimaced, holding her hands up in mock desperation. “I get it. Stop stalling and tell me why you’re here. Make it snappy. Court starts in ten minutes, and you know how Judge Tompkins feels about tardiness. If you make me late, I’ll tell him it’s your fault, and he can chew your ass out in open court. You know, because according to you and Deb, I don’t seem to have any meat on mine left to spare.”

  Derek’s tone was soft. “I understand taking your anger out by sweating the pain away, but seriously, Sis. You’re pushing your body way too hard.”

  “You stopped by to see me just to complain about my physique? Exactly how will that help me sleep at night?”

  “No, but couldn’t stop myself from commenting about your appearance. It’s sort of obvious.”

  Merry pointed to her watch, tapping the glass.

  Derek let out a huff of air before asking, “By chance, did you hear about the body found in the alley off 4th Street?”

  Blink. Breathe. Play dumb.

  “Of course I did. I still watch the news you know. What does that have to do with me?”

  “It was Peppy Ramirez.”

  “What?”

  “Someone rolled him. Beat him up pretty bad, and then broke his neck. According to the coroner, he was so full of heroin he probably didn’t feel a thing.”

  Merry figured he expected her to tear up at the news. Let the relief at the knowledge her son’s drug dealer was dead run down her cheeks. She knew tears were the appropriate response, yet they refused to appear. Images, smells, sounds, from less than six hours ago filled her mind and senses.

  They made her want to grin, not cry. “Oh, shit…not sure what to say or feel.”

  Derek leaned closer, his arms open wide. Grateful to shield her face from his probing stare, Merry stood. She let him hold her and offer comfort. For a moment, she wished the warmth of the familial connection could soften her heart.

  No, you don’t. You can’t. You already know how things end. How this will destroy Derek when he finds out what you’ve been up
to at night. Remain distant.

  “Don’t say a word, or even think about it the rest of the day. I told you because you didn’t need to hear about it from anyone else. I almost called you earlier but figured I’d let you sleep. Those bags under your eyes tell me I wouldn’t have woken you up.” Derek patted her back four times, just like their dad used to. “Go, do your job, then come to my house for dinner. I’ll cook; you’ll eat. Then you can vent. Okay?”

  “Thank you for telling me, Derek,” Merry mumbled into his shoulder. She had to force the grin on her lips not to seep into the words. Glancing at her watch, she pulled away. “I’ve…gotta go. See you tonight. Should make it around six, okay?”

  Jaw tight, Derek pulled away from the hug. “My baby sister. Tough as aged leather but sweeter than apple pie.”

  Derek adjusted the gun on his hip as he rose. The familiar sound of the stiff leather brought back memories of their father. Merry didn’t say another word. They left her office in silence, each heading in opposite directions. As Merry entered the courtroom, she looked down at her hands, surprised to find they were steady.

  Well, it seems my hands are still willing.

  3

  5:00 p.m. Friday afternoon

  Finishing the last remaining hearing notification, Merry e-filed it with the clerk’s office, and then emailed it out to all counsel. She could hear Judge Tompkins and Debbie talking in the hallway. Pausing to listen, she realized they were standing still. They muttered about the packed courtroom and how tired they both were, plus how thankful they were it was Friday. The Judge groused about having to fill in for a vacationing Judge Rayburn and grumbled about how he was sick of dealing with plea and arraignment rather than the “meatier” cases. Merry grimaced.

  Like it really matters!

  It was time to tune them out. There was a pressing item to be completed before she left for the day. On the piece of blank paper in front of her, she copied the information from the scanned form on the screen.