Chapter 9: The Motel in Gresham
The motel was a single-story building off the highway, the kind with exterior doors and a vending machine that hummed too loud.
Two patrol cars were already in the lot when we arrived.
Room 9.
The door was open.
Dale Mercer was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He was thinner than his driver's license photo, unshaved, wearing the same kind of careful stillness his children wore.
When he saw my uniform he stood up, and when he saw Rhea's badge he sat back down.
"Is my family safe?" he said.
First words.
Not hello, not who are you.
"They're safe," Rhea said.
"They're going to your sister-in-law's tonight."
Something went out of his face.
Not relief exactly — more like a wall coming down that had been load-bearing for a long time.
"Foss told me he had someone watching the house," Dale said.
"He said if I called Carla, they'd know.
If I contacted anyone, they'd know."
"We're looking into that," Rhea said.
"His note to Carla mentioned someone inside the department."
Dale nodded.
"He said it like it was nothing.
Like it was just a fact.
'I have friends everywhere, Dale.
You know how this works.'"
"Did he give you a name?"
"No.
He was too careful for that."
Rhea sat down in the chair across from him.
I stayed near the door.
"Tell me about the meeting," she said.
"The one where you paid him."
Dale looked at his hands.
"I knew he wasn't going to let it go.
Even with the money.
I'd heard what happened to a man named Cortez — he paid Foss off, and six months later Foss was back saying the interest had compounded and the original payment didn't count.
Cortez moved his family to Idaho." Dale looked up.
"I wasn't going to move my family."
"So you documented it."
"I set my phone in my jacket pocket.
Video, not just audio.
I made sure the document was visible on the table when he signed off on it." Dale's jaw tightened.
"He signed it.
He took the money.
He shook my hand.
And then two days later, two of his men showed up at my house when Carla was at the grocery store.
Radley was home sick from school."
My stomach dropped.
"Radley was there?"
"They didn't touch him," Dale said quickly.
"They just — stood in the living room and told me that the receipt didn't matter, the signature didn't matter, and that I was going to come with them quietly or they'd come back when the whole family was home." He stopped.
"Radley was in his room.
I don't know if he heard.
I told him I was going out and I'd be back soon."
I thought of Radley's wall.
The marks starting the day after.
He had heard.
"The folder," Rhea said.
"You planned that before the meeting."
"I put it together that morning.
The receipt, the ledger page I'd photographed from his office the week before, the picture from the meeting.
I drove to the storage unit before I went to meet him.
I left the note for Radley because—" He stopped.
Pressed his lips together.
"Because I thought if something happened to me, he'd be the one to find it.
He's careful.
He notices things.
I knew he'd keep it safe."
"He did," I said.
Dale looked at me.
"He kept it under his mattress for forty-three days," I said.
"He didn't show it to anyone.
He waited."
Dale's face did something I wasn't prepared for.
He didn't cry.
He just closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them they were very bright.
"That's my boy," he said quietly.
Rhea stood up.
"Mr.
Mercer, I need a full statement.
And then we're going to talk about Garrett Foss."
May you like
Dale straightened on the bed.
"Tell me what you need," he said.
