The Mercy Oak by Kathryn R. Wall

Author:Kathryn R. Wall [R. Wall, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-312-37534-8
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2008-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I think that went really well.”

I hung my raincoat on the rack in the corner and shook the dampness from my hair. The cold drizzle had continued to fall, not hard enough to warrant an umbrella, but just enough to turn my once wavy hair into a mass of fuzzy curls.

“Me, too,” Erik said, punching in the number of the answering service. “With Jack signing off, it’s just a formality now. We could be getting our first assignment by next week.”

“Good work,” I said, and he grinned.

I crossed into my office and pulled a Diet Coke from the small fridge. What I really wanted was tea, hot and soothing. We need a hot plate, I thought. Or a microwave. I glanced around, trying to figure out where we’d find room for one, when Erik spoke behind me.

“There’s a message from Red. He says to call him as soon as you get in.”

“I wonder why he didn’t try me on the cell.”

Erik shrugged.

I lifted the receiver and paused when I saw the look on his face. “What? Something else?”

“I think you better hear this one yourself,” he said and turned back to his desk.

I followed, and he handed me the phone before pushing buttons.

The same gravelly smoker’s voice: “You just don’t listen, do you, lady? Last warning. Back off now, or someone’s gonna get hurt.”

The pause lasted so long I’d thought he’d finished. I’d just moved the receiver an inch away from my head, when the watcher added, “And you’re really gonna hate who it turns out to be.”

I didn’t realize I’d been standing there, staring off into space, until Erik took the phone from my hand and set it back on its cradle.

“Bay?”

His voice seemed to come from far away. My brain had kicked into overdrive, scanning the list of names of everyone I held dear. I could feel my lips trembling, but I’d had my allotted bout of tears the night before.

“Can you save that?” I asked, clearing my throat.

“Already done.”

“Can we get a copy?”

“Why?”

“I want to be able to study it. I took the other two calls directly.” A thought struck me. “You know, as far as anyone else is concerned, I could have been making the whole thing up.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would you do that? Anyone who knows you at all wouldn’t even consider the possibility.”

Unconsciously, I gripped my forehead with one hand. I hoped he was right.

I turned toward my office, the nasty voice replaying itself in my head. “How about tracing the call? Can they do that with the answering service?” I slumped down in my chair and kicked off my shoes.

“Maybe,” he said, taking the client’s seat across from me. “I’m not sure what their policy would be. It might take a subpoena or a visit from the cops. I just don’t know.”

“But can it be done? Technically, I mean?”

“I guess so. But don’t you think this guy is probably using a disposable cell or something untraceable? That’s what I’d do if I were making anonymous phone calls.

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