Acts of Mercy

TWELVE

So. How are you doing?” It looked to Sam as if his former boss and longtime friend, John Mancini, was trying a little too hard to appear relaxed. John’s fingers were tapping on the side of his coffee mug, and Sam knew from experience that John rarely tapped on anything unless he was agitated, impatient, or tense. Given the circumstances, Sam was going with tense.

“I’m good, John. Going away for a while was a good move.”

“You get a chance to visit with your folks while you were in Italy?”

Sam nodded. “Spent the last two weeks there. What a life those two have. They’re living their dream.”

“Ge

“You should definitely go. Give my mom a call and tell her you want the second-floor suite with the balcony that overlooks the gardens.”

“I’ll do that. Do they miss Nebraska?”

“With its winters? What do you think?” Sam gri

“Gen and I saw the website. Villa DelVecchio looks beautiful. But it’s a long way from the corn farm.” John took a sip of coffee. “How’s your brother doing with the farm, by the way?”

“He and Kitty are still plugging away, though I think she’d be happy to sell it tomorrow. It’s a hard life, farming.” Sam remembered his growing-up years, before he left for college. He knew exactly how hard life on a farm could be. “On the one hand, I’d hate to see it sold. Mom’s family has owned that land since 1871. You can still see traces of the original sod house out near the barn. But on the other hand, like I said, it’s hard work, and I can’t blame anyone who doesn’t want that life. Tom figures he has about ten, fifteen more years there. Hopefully one of his boys will want to take it over so it can stay in the family.”

“Any chance you’d want it?”

“Me?” Sam laughed. “Uh-uh. Farming’s not my thing. Never was. I couldn’t wait to get to college and leave all those chores behind.”

“So how are you, really?”

“I’m doing fine, John.” Sam studied his old friend’s face and clearly read the tension there. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” John raised the mug halfway to his mouth before stopping to read it. KNOW THYSELF. SOCRATES. “I’ve known you too well for too long to buy that. There’s a lot going on here, buddy. I don’t know if I should pull you off this or not.”

“John.” Sam quietly put his own mug down on the tabletop. “I mean this with all respect for you, but, you know, I don’t work for you anymore. You can’t really pull me off this case.”

“Yeah, I know.” John sighed. “I was hoping I could just bluff you on this one.”

Sam laughed. “Nice try. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here. And skip over the part about how much you miss me and go right to the truth.”

“Well, yeah, I do miss you. But that’s not why I came.” John averted his eyes for a moment. “I’m concerned about you.”

“I’m a big boy, John. I can take care of myself. I’m not afraid to take this guy on, whoever he is.”

“That’s not the part I’m concerned about.” John paused. “Do you own a gun?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a license to carry in Pe

“It’s going to take a while to get that through. Maybe we can do something to expedite that.”

“I’d appreciate it. Thanks. But you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Look, we’ve been friends for many years. I know how you are,” John told him. “I know how you think.”

“So, what am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking that this whole thing is somehow your fault. That somehow, you’re to blame for these murders.”

“John…” Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, thinking that the problem with people you’ve known for a long time is that they always seem to know where your head is.

“I’ve been where you are, Sam.” John’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “And it almost destroyed me.”

“Sheldon Woods.” Sam nodded. The child rapist/murderer who’d terrorized the East Coast for three full years had saved his best form of terror for the FBI agent who’d hunted him relentlessly. Woods had made a game of abducting a child, and then calling the agent and making him listen helplessly while he tortured the young boy. John Mancini had been that agent, and for six months after Woods’s trial, he’d been MIA while he tried to heal from the emotional trauma. John had almost lost his job, as well as the woman he loved. Sam knew the story all too well.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to see the parallels.

“Yeah. Sheldon Woods.” John swallowed hard. “For months after we caught him, I got the shakes every time my phone rang. I was afraid to fall asleep because of the nightmares. I had a hard time talking to people, even my family, even Ge

“Ge

“I paid the price for walking away from her for those six months, believe me.” John smiled, as if he were making a joke, but they both knew better. There’d been nothing fu

“The killer is someone who’s pissed at me for some reason, and he’s taking it out on i

“That’s where you’re wrong. That’s the same mistake I made. I carried the weight of all those dead little boys for a long, long time before I realized I didn’t have to.” John leaned toward Sam slightly, closer, his voice lowering, as if sharing something very personal, which he was. “I could have been anyone. It just so happened that I was the one who was assigned to his case, so I was right there in his line of sight. But it was Woods making the decision to snatch those kids, Woods making the decision to kill them. It took me a long time to really understand that I had no control over what he was doing.”

“This is different. This is personal. Otherwise, why me? Why places, dates, that have a direct relation to me? I’m not even with the Bureau anymore.”

“But does he know that?”

“What?” Sam cocked his head to one side.

“Maybe the killer doesn’t know you aren’t with the Bureau anymore.” John let that sink in for a moment. “Let’s assume that somehow you got on this guy’s radar for some reason. For the purpose of this conversation, it doesn’t matter what that reason is. As best we know right now, he started over a year ago pla

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Sam’s stomach clenched again. “He knows I handled cases like this. He knows the case will get my attention, that’s why he’s doing it. He wants my attention.”

“He’s doing it because he likes it, Sam,” John said softly. “You’re not the reason he kills. You’re just the excuse he gives himself.”

Sam fell silent. Intellectually, he knew John was right, yet he could not shake the feeling that there was something more to the killings than someone looking for an excuse to kill.

“In any case, I just wanted you to know that I know what it feels like to have someone use you to cause pain to other people. I know how heavy that burden is. If you let it, the guilt will destroy you. And then he’s won. He’s off the hook.” John looked straight at Sam. “Don’t let him have that peace of mind, Sam. For God’s sake, don’t let the killer know that you’re willing to accept responsibility for what he’s done. Work with Fiona. Between the two of you, figure it out. Find him. Kill him or bring him in. But do not let him ease his conscience by letting him know how willing you are to take on his guilt.”