Free Merciless by Lori Armstrong Page A

we’d met—which was part of the
     reason he’d had me running scared. It took a tragedy—a near mental meltdown—for me
     to stop finding excuses forwhy he and I would never work, to see him as the man who wanted me, the real me, no
     matter what I’d done in the past.
    I relied on him—emotionally, physically. Me, Mercy Gunderson, badass former sniper
     who never needed anyone, needed him. Once I admitted that need to myself—and to him—I
     honestly felt more in control of my life than I ever had.
    •   •   •
    I must’ve been smiling when I wandered into the conference room, because Shay muttered
     about someone getting lucky. I ignored him and studied my notes. As the newbie agent
     in the office, I listened a lot because I had a lot to learn. But today I was determined
     to bring up my preliminary discovery on the unexplained deaths on the reservation
     over the last two years.
    Director Shenker ended his phone call as he sailed into the room. “Morning, all. Agent
     Turnbull? If you want to get started?”
    “Sure. I just got off the phone with the crime lab regarding the samples taken from
     the victim in the Shooting Star case. No tissue from her attacker was found under
     her fingernails. No evidence of rape.”
    “What about defensive wounds?” Director Shenker asked.
    “None. The tox results came back with high levels of digitalis, which is unusual.
     I did some research. Evidently, its intended use is for heart arrythymia. Given to
     patients with congestive heart failure.”
    “But if you aren’t suffering from congestive heart failure? What does the drug do?”
    “Causes irregular heartbeat. And all sorts of other nasty side effects, like vomiting,
     diarrhea, hallucinations, listlessness . . . almost always resulting in death. I also
     learned the foxglove plant is the most widely known source for digitalis. The leaves,
     the roots, the flowers are all poisonous.”
    “Is it a controlled substance?”
    “Yes and no. In prescription form it’s controlled. But the plant itself is for sale
     in greenhouses across the country.”
    Something occurred to me. I looked at Shay. “Could Arlette have taken it as a suicide
     drug? Along the lines of Romeo and Juliet ? She drinks the poison because she can’t be with her true love?”
    He leaned back in his chair. “It might be plausible . . . except for the fact that
     somebody drove a stake through her heart.”
    Male chuckles sounded around the table.
    Ooh. Smackdown. But I wasn’t about to be deterred. “Or maybe she tried to kill herself
     and was wandering around aimlessly, confused, with the toxin in her system, and—”
    “Some random guy saw her, picked her up, stripped her, and staked her? I don’t think
     so,” Turnbull retorted.
    “Fine. But don’t you agree that the murderer seems to have a sense of irony with that
     stake, given Arlette’s love of vampire tales? Wouldn’t feeding her poison before he
     killed her play a part? The guy didn’t rape her,” I reminded him. “And he had her
     for a couple of days before she turned up dead. So maybe this sicko played with her.
     She’d be easy to lug around if she was drugged up. But he’d still get to kill her,
     she just wouldn’t fight him.”
    “Good point, Agent Gunderson,” Shenker said. “Do we know what form she took the drug
     in?”
    “Nope. But the best guess at this point was she consumed it in liquid form.” Turnbull
     sighed. “And here’s another bizarre twist. The comfrey plant is used in teas and herbal
     remedies, and the leaves are so close in appearance to the leaves of the foxglove
     plant that sometimes foxglove is mistaken for comfrey. There’ve been several cases
     of accidental poisoning.”
    “So the poisoning could have been accidental and unrelated to her murder,” I said.
    “We cannot rule out that theory entirely.”
    Somewhat vindicated, I pushed my next point. “With the absence of defensive wounds,
     it would