Dear Reader,
People often ask me which of the books I’ve written is my favorite. That’s like asking me which is my favorite child. Please, don’t make me choose. But if I were forced to make a list, Dying for Mercy would be right up there.
Dying for Mercy offers a view of a closed world, features an ingenious puzzle, and climaxes in a surprise ending. It’s fast-paced and suspenseful. It’s the kind of book I love to read and aim to write. I’m proud of it. I hope you’ll enjoy Dying for Mercy and will make it a point to read the other eleven books that take place in the super-charged atmosphere of KEY News.
I’d also like to tell you about To Have and to Kill, the first book in my new series: The Wedding Cake Mysteries. In To Have and to Kill you’ll meet Piper Donovan. A struggling actress with no immediate prospects and a recently broken engagement, Piper moves back in with her parents to take stock of her life. She steps tentatively into the family bakery business, and finds herself agreeing to create the wedding cake for the star of a daytime television drama. But soon deadly things start happening around the bride-to-be and it seems that somebody is ruthlessly determined to stop the wedding. Piper is right in the middle of all the action and, aided by her quirky parents and former neighbor Jack, an FBI agent, she gets closer and closer to figuring out who has a motive for murder.
Who doesn’t love a fairytale wedding, a fantastic cake and a fast-paced mystery?
I’ve tried my best to come up with clever plotting, appealing characters, and a driving narrative. With romance, family, sweets and suspense, there is something for every reader in To Have and to Kill. I hope you’ll try this fresh series, featuring new characters, different settings but the same great suspense.
Happy reading and all the very best,
Mary Jane
Mary Jane Clark
Dying for Mercy
with Bonus Material
Once again, for Elizabeth and David.
And for Steve Simring, who helped me solve my own puzzle.
Contents
Prologue
Sunday October 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Monday October 5
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Tuesday October 6
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Wednesday October 7
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Thursday October 8
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Friday October 9
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Saturday October 10
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Sunday October 11
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Monday October 12
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Tuesday October 13
Chapter 132
Chapter 133
Chapter 134
Chapter 135
Chapter 136
Chapter 137
Chapter 138
Chapter 139
Chapter 140
Chapter 141
Chapter 142
Chapter 143
Chapter 144
Chapter 145
Chapter 146
Chapter 147
Chapter 148
Chapter 149
Chapter 150
Chapter 151
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Mary Jane Clark
Credits
To Have and To Kill Excerpt
To Have and To Kill cover
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
A FEW HOURS FROM NOW…
The moonlight trickled through the glass roof. He pulled a large clay pot from the corner of the room and sat on the cold ground beside it. Then he removed his shoes and socks.
To be accurate, he would have had to use thick nails and a lance to make the wounds—but how would he be able to hammer the nails into both his hands or maneuver the long spear into his own side? The hunting knife would have to do.
He held the blade in his right hand first. He drew up his knees so that his feet would be as close to the rest of his body as possible. Leaning forward, he positioned the point of the knife over his foot. He closed his eyes and pushed.
He let out a long groan while pulling out the knif
e. Then he quickly repeated the motion on the other foot. He tried to block his mind from the searing pain, directing his thoughts instead to the greater good that would come from this act.
Turning his left palm upward, he held the back of his hand against the ground to steady it. The knife found its mark in the middle of his lifeline.
He must act quickly, not knowing how rapidly he would bleed out or if he would lose consciousness. He transferred the hunting knife to his left hand, opened his right hand, and stuck the blade into his palm. There was only one thing remaining to do.
SUNDAY OCTOBER 4
CHAPTER 1
You look pretty, Mom.”
Facing the mirror, Eliza stared at the reflection of the child standing behind her in the middle of the bathroom floor. Janie was wearing her soccer uniform. One kneesock was bunched around her thin ankle, dirt smudged both her knees, and more wisps of brown hair sprang free from her ponytail than were caught up in it. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from running up and down the school field. Turning, Eliza bent and kissed her seven-year-old daughter on the top of the head.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Eliza held herself back from gathering the child in her arms and holding her close. It was a familiar urge now, the desire to hang on to Janie and not let go. Almost three months since the kidnapping, and Eliza still woke up in a cold sweat many nights. How close she’d come to losing her only child, the daughter whose father had tragically died before she was even born, the little girl who was at the center of Eliza’s world.
“I want to come with you,” said Janie.
“I wish you could, honey, but it’s a party for adults. There won’t be any children there.”
“But Valentina and Innis would want me to come,” insisted Janie, hands on hips. “They like me. When we went to their house that time, they said I could come again anytime I want.”
Eliza turned back to the mirror and picked up a tube of mascara. “I know they did. And we will go there again. Remember I told you about the little house we’ve rented near the Wheelocks’? Our lease starts next week. I’m sure we’ll be able to visit Valentina and Innis when we go up there on weekends.”
Janie’s expression brightened. “Can we go in the birdhouse?”
“It’s called an aviary, Janie, and I think that can be arranged.”
“You know, they have a bird in there that talks,” said Janie.
“A parrot?”
“Uh-huh. Innis showed me. And it can tell you what it likes.”
“Really?” asked Eliza as she put gloss on her lips.
“Yep. It says ‘sun’ and ‘air’ and ‘grapes.’ It likes to eat grapes.”
“You’ll have to show it to me,” said Eliza.
Mollified, Janie followed her mother as she walked into the bedroom, went to the closet, and took the jewelry case from the wall safe.
“Which ones should I wear?” Eliza asked as they sat side by side on the bed. “The pearls or the garnets?”
Janie considered carefully before answering. “The dark red ones,” she said decisively. “They’re the color of your dress.”
“Good choice,” said Eliza, fastening the stones to her ears. She stood, slipped on her heels, and took a last look in the full-length mirror.
“What kind of party is it, Mom?” asked Janie as they left the bedroom and went down the stairs. “A birthday party?”
“Not exactly,” Eliza answered. “It’s a party to celebrate the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi.”
“Are you bringing him a present?”
Eliza laughed. “No, sweetheart, he won’t be there. St. Francis died a long time ago.”
“Then why are they having a party for him?”
“Valentina and Innis want to celebrate his spirit. St. Francis was a very good and holy man who did many things to help many people and animals in his lifetime. He’s the patron saint of Italy, and when Valentina and Innis lived there, they became very devoted to him.”
“Did people give him parties when he was still alive?” asked Janie.
“I don’t think so,” said Eliza. “He taught repentance. Parties weren’t on his agenda.”
“That’s too bad,” said the child.
“I doubt that St. Francis thought so, Janie. He loved nature and animals and wanted the people who followed him to live simply and take care of other people. I suppose St. Francis would consider a party like this frivolous.”
Janie cocked her head to the side. “What does ‘frivolous’ mean?” she asked.
“Silly, not really important.”
Janie considered this. “I don’t think my birthday party is silly. I think it’s very important.”
“Of course it is,” said Eliza, “but as you get older, a birthday party, believe it or not, isn’t always something you want. Besides, I bet St. Francis would rather see the money spent on his party go to feeding the poor.”
While Janie thought about this, Eliza looked out the living-room window and saw yet another car driving slowly past her house. The place where they lived had become a tourist attraction since the kidnapping. Sightseers strained for a glimpse of the famous mother and the daughter who’d been the subject of a nationwide search.
Eliza hated the loss of privacy. Ordering tall evergreens to be planted along the front of the property might help shield them from prying eyes, but she knew the drive-bys would continue.