Acts of Mercy

“How big was the victim?”

“Six feet, one hundred eighty pounds.”

A

“One big strong guy with a big nasty grudge, if your theory is correct,” Sam said.

“Big, strong, dangerous, and holding a grudge. Not a good combination,” Fiona noted.

“So what’s your next move?” John asked her.

“I’m going to Sanderson to see what I can find out about this latest victim.” Fiona turned to Sam. “I’ll give you a call and let you know what I find out.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Sam, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you must have some very bad memories co

“I’m coming with you,” he said levelly.

“If you’re sure-”

“I’m sure.”

“All right,” A

“I know them all. I looked them up.” Fiona ticked them off on her fingers. “We’ve already seen the killer run through feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the homeless, and this latest, minister to prisoners. The three remaining are heal the sick, clothe the naked, and-”

“Bury the dead,” Sam murmured, remembering, a chill ru

Somewhere long ago, Sam had seen something that had depicted all of the acts, but where and when was locked in his memory. He had the uncomfortable feeling that somehow, that place, that time, was related to the killings. He tried to focus on it, but the image was elusive. He couldn’t call it back up.

Maybe A

Maybe with any real luck, he’d put it together before someone else had to die.

THIRTEEN

The drive back to Virginia with A

“You don’t mind if I try to get a little nap in, do you?” she’d asked. “I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in eight days and I am close to the stupor zone right now.”

“Of course not. Go ahead and sleep while you can,” Fiona had replied with as much sincerity as she could muster. She knew what it was like to go for days without enough sleep, knew exactly how it felt to just want to crash. She couldn’t begrudge A

Like, do you know if Sam has dated anyone since his wife’s death? Or, do you think he’s moved past his wife’s murder enough to consider going out with someone else?

Fiona didn’t want to appear ghoulish, didn’t want A

Fiona just couldn’t read Sam at all-at least, not yet, she couldn’t. She’d only been in his company twice, but she was looking forward to working with him on this case. Certainly the case itself was intriguing, but Sam intrigued her just as much. Something about him drew her, and for someone as notoriously picky as Fiona Summers, that in itself said something. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she thought it might be worth exploring. If he hadn’t been dating, hadn’t gotten past his wife’s death, she wasn’t willing to make a fool out of herself by letting him know she might be interested. She’d figured A

Fiona turned the radio on low and headed south, thinking that maybe it was for the best. Maybe it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to let anyone-even A

It wasn’t that she didn’t have any friends. She had a few. Mostly, she acknowledged, within the Bureau. But wasn’t it natural to become friendly with the people you spent the most time with? There were friends to go to di

For a moment, her life sounded crappy even to her.

It’s not that bad, she told herself. She had a job she loved-the only job she’d ever wanted-and she was damned good at it. She’d decided that the FBI was her future when she was seven years old, and had never considered any other path. She’d majored in criminal justice in college, minored in history. Upon graduation, she taught at a community college for three years to get her work experience in before applying to the FBI. She knew she’d be accepted. She was in top physical shape and she tested well, interviewed well. She’d been concerned that perhaps her personal background-her childhood-could be an obstacle, depending on who interviewed her, but that hadn’t proven to be the case. The woman who interviewed her had known exactly who she was, and had appeared to be tickled that Fiona was applying to join their ranks. She’d been twenty-four years old on the day she applied, and had been delighted to find herself included in the next class to begin training at the academy.

The Bureau had been her goal for so long, she’d known exactly what she needed to do to excel at the physical challenges. She worked out daily at a gym to build strength and stamina, and long before she was eligible to apply, she started spending several hours each week at a local firing range. Before she entered the academy, she’d become quite a marksman. The very few people who knew who she really was were impressed by her determination and her dedication. Of those few people, fewer still understood why she’d chosen the FBI. To Fiona-and those who did understand-it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

Of course, there were many more who thought she’d lost her mind, and who could not understand why she’d give up what she could have had to play “cops and robbers,” as someone had put it.

That that someone had been her mother still rankled.

She made the turn onto A

“A

“Hmmm?”

“I said, you’re home.”

“Home?” A

“Yes.”

“Wow.” She tried to sit up but the seat was leaning too far back. “Talk about an ungrateful passenger. You should have poked me awake so I could keep you company.” She reached down and found the lever that moved the seat into a sitting position. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to traveling alone. It’s okay,” Fiona assured her.

“At least come in and let me feed you.”

“No, no. That’s not necessary. I’m not very hungry, but I am a little tired.”

A