Mercy Read Online Free PDF Page B

snorted, then bit down on her lip.
    The justice began to speak, but Jamie didn't listen. He had turned to face Maggie. Beyond her was not a glittering ballroom or the hallowed glass pane l of a church, but a weaving line of people doing the bunny hop and a barbe cue that belched out large drafts of smoke.
    He realized that there was nowhere else on earth he would have rather been. Suddenly Jamie went cold. Maggie must have sensed it, because she dropped his hand and placed her palm against his cheek, whispering, "What is it?" He shook his head. He, who could have told Maggie anything, did not know ho w to put into words this feeling: Did you ever look down at yourself and re alize that finally you had it all? Did you ever feel that everything was so right in your life you'd have nowhere to go but downhill?
    Misunderstanding, Maggie touched her fingers to his mouth. "I'm fine," she a ssured him. "This is fine."
    He nodded once, a jerk of his head. He pushed away his thoughts and concen trated on the hope he'd been fed from his own wife's hand. As soon as Cam began to lead James MacDonald into the Wheelock Police Dep artment, the crowd outside began to disperse. At the front desk, he unloc ked the handcuffs and asked James to empty his pockets. He watched a hand ful of pennies, a packet of gum, and some lint fall onto the Formica, but nothing that would incriminate the man as a murderer.
    Hannah was out to lunch, so the station was empty, silent except for the in termittent static and calls of the dispatcher on the radio. "Mr. MacDonald,
    " Cam said, "why don't you come on in here?" He led the prisoner into the booking room and gestured to a chair. Then Cam s at down and pulled a custody report out of a file in the drawer, laying it fa cedown on the desk in front of him. He'd listen to what the guy had to say, b ut he'd bet his gun this was going to end in an arrest.
    He looked up to find the man staring at him with a grin turning up the corn er of his mouth. "They say you look like him, you know," James said.
    "Look like who?"
    "Cameron MacDonald. The first one. The famous one." Cam made a big production of arranging the spill of pens and pencils on the desk. "I wouldn't know," he said. He took a deep breath. "Look, right now I'
    m just the chief of police, and you've confessed to murder. So let's forget the other crap."
    "I can't. I came to Wheelock on purpose, because you were here." Cam narrowed his eyes. "How exactly are you related to me?"
    "Your grandfather is my great-uncle. Ask Angus, if you don't believe me. W
    hat is he now, eighty? Eighty-two?"
    "What he is is senile, at least most of the time," Cam admitted. His grea t-uncle Angus had been the keeper at Carrymuir during the years that Cam and his father had prospered in Wheelock. When Ian MacDonald died, Cam ha d flown to Scotland, brought his uncle Angus home with him, and signed Ca rrymuir over to the Scottish National Trust.
    "Mr. MacDonald--"
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    "Jamie." He leaned forward, as if he was about to confide a secret. "I was named for our own uncle Jamie," he said. "The one who was killed in the war
    ."
    Cam's mouth fell open. No one talked about his uncle Jamie, the hero, becau se it used to make his grandmother weep. Jamie had been the firstborn son, the one who would have been clan chief if he hadn't been shot down over the Pacific in 1944. Cam's father, the second son, had taken the title by defa ult.
    Cam swallowed, recovering. "Well, Jamie," he said. "Tell me what brought you to Wheelock."
    He hesitated only a second. "I came here to kill my wife." Cam stared right into Jamie's eyes, almost the same color as his own--sea gre en, a MacDonald trait. He looked for a swift check of rage, a curl of remorse
    , or God willing, the blaze of insanity. He saw none of those things. "Jamie,
    " he said, rolling the custody report into the typewriter, "you have the righ t to remain silent."
    Tamie MacDonald had made a career of creating alternative / worlds. He let young