Pete could move fast. Small, wiry, explosive.
The group of men she’d seen rush out of the mess hall yesterday hadn’t moved with trained precision. They’d been an awkward group, some moving much slower than others. If she sorted through the men, she could probably pick out an efficient crew, but she hadn’t spent enough time with them. Ed was older and slow. No military exactness there. So far Pete topped her list.
Chad was fit.
The theft was eight months ago. Chad had been on the outside.
Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been involved.
Dirty agents weren’t a new concept. Stuff happened. Agents were pushed over the edge and sometimes sympathized with the people they were supposed to investigate. She hadn’t seen sympathy from Chad, but she still questioned his lack of information for the amount of time he’d spent in the compound.
Guilt pierced her chest.
I need facts before I can suspect him.
But she believed in keeping all options available.
The door opened, and Beckett appeared with a small, dingy cardboard box under one arm. He handed it to her. “You can look in it right here.”
Mercy stared into the box. It was a jumbled mess of crushed Band-Aid boxes and old pill bottles. It looked like an ancient bunch of supplies found under a bathroom sink. Horror twisted through her brain.
I’m supposed to treat injuries with this?
She dug with one hand, looking for her supplies, which Pete had said would be added to the stock. They weren’t there. No XStat syringes or sutures. Possibly they were still in Pete’s office.
Would he keep them for himself?
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she dug. Dirty spools of medical tape, loose bandages, and empty syringes. “Is this all of it?” she asked Beckett.
“Yep.”
“There isn’t even a blood-pressure cuff or stethoscope or thermometer in here. This isn’t a medical kit. It’s someone’s medicine cabinet rejects.”
He shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb.
You’ll be sorry when you’re in need.
She dug a little more. Yes! A grimy bottle of eighty-milligram Children’s Tylenol. She shook it and exhaled as several pills rattled inside. It’d expired a month ago, but right now she didn’t care.
Mercy handed the cardboard box back to Beckett, keeping the bottle as she read the label. Compound members had probably not bothered with the medication, because an adult dose was at least a half dozen tablets.
“Nope.” Beckett held his hand out for the bottle.
Mercy was confused. “I need a few.”
“Then why are you taking the whole bottle?”
She gritted her teeth, removed the lid, and shook out three purple pills. She handed him the bottle and held the pills on her palm for him to see. “I’d like to requisition these pills,” she forced out through a clenched jaw, holding his gaze.
Ridiculous.
“Who is it for?”
“Do you really need to know?”
“Yep. You’ve got a lot of pills there.”
She held the bottle up so he could see the label. “This is a single dose for a five-year-old. It will only last four to six hours.”
“That stuff can be addicting.”
Mercy raised a brow. “Uh . . . no, it can’t. It’s fucking Tylenol . . . not an opioid.”
“Watch your mouth. You don’t know what the government puts in that bottle.” His expression was completely serious.
Mercy stared and bit her tongue. It’s not my place to educate him—as if he’d listen anyway.
“It’s for Noah,” she told him.
“The kid?” Surprise lit Beckett’s eyes.
“Yes. He has a high fever and probably an ear infection.”
The scowl was back. “His father was fine with this?”
“Yes,” she lied, knowing that giving medication to other people’s kids was extremely wrong on many levels. She’d talk to the father before she gave it to him, but first she wanted the pain medication approved and in her hand.
He handed her a clipboard. “Log it.”
Insane.
She nearly wrote her real name, catching herself at the last second. Three Children’s Tylenol, she wrote, along with the date. She gave back the clipboard. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He smiled, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
She spun away on one foot, fuming.
At least I got it.
***
On her way to find Noah, Mercy wound past the chickens and goats. Earlier, when Vera had mentioned that Sadie watched the children, she’d gestured to the east of the pens. Mercy found a rough path beyond the livestock and followed it, hoping to find the children’s cabin.
The morning chill was gone, and the sun shone from the clear sky, but Mercy avoided the shade offered by the ponderosa and skinnier lodgepole pines, wanting the sunlight on her face. Her dirt path was clear of pine needles, unlike every other square foot of space near the trees.
“Are you the nurse?”
Looking up from her boots, Mercy froze at the sight of an unfamiliar male and instinctively stepped into a defensive stance. He was tall and lean. His shirt was stained with sweat and had ripped at the neck. Under the brim of his battered cap, his blue eyes seemed familiar, and she wondered if she’d seen him in the mess hall.
“Yes.”
“My boy is sick. I was just checking on him.”
“Are you Noah’s father?”
Surprise widened the blue eyes. “I am. I’m Jason.”
Aha. His eyes were exactly like Eden’s. Wide and a vibrant blue.
“You already knew he was sick?” Jason asked.
“I saw him earlier, and I have something that should help with the fever,” Mercy said tentatively. “I suspect he has an ear infection. Ideally he should see a doctor. I don’t have the right equipment to properly diagnose an infection.” She purposefully didn’t name the Tylenol, hoping he’d simply give her general permission to treat his son.
His shoulders sagged. “Do what you can. My request to take him to a doctor has already been turned down.”
“Why?”
“Everyone says childhood sicknesses are normal. We shouldn’t be running to the doctor for drugs every time someone skins a knee.” His gaze was flat, the words recited as if by rote.
I’m getting tired of the same excuse.
“This isn’t a skinned knee. It’s possible his hearing could be permanently affected—and what if I’m wrong? What if something else is causing the fever?”
“Fevers are normal,” he stated.
“It’s okay if I try to lower his fever with what I have?”
“Yeah.” He looked away, and Mercy remembered Vera had said Eden and Noah didn’t have a mother, making her wonder what had happened. “I need to get back to work.” He passed her on the path without another word.
Mercy silently seethed as she watched him walk away. Children’s fevers could rapidly rise from mild to alarming. Why did no one care?