Act of Mercy – Chapter Four

Art stood in the bullpen watching the goings-on in the conference room, Rachel sitting across from Albert Sullivan, Tim leaning against the wall behind her. Art suspected that the look on Tim's face was the result of an attempt to concentrate through the fatigue of a first day on the job, but it came across as bored and a little dangerous, and Sullivan kept glancing at him nervously. The bureau chief sniggered, contented. There was an eagerness about Tim that outlived the edgy and awkward first impression. Art was happy with his new Marshal and predicted he would do fine.

Sullivan however was another story. Rachel was obviously getting no cooperation from him. Eventually she got up, caught Art's eye and motioned him into his office. He took the flipping of the hierarchy in stride, followed her and closed the door.

"By the look on your face, I'm guessing that Albert hasn't changed much since the last time we had him in here for a talk," he stated.

"You guessed right," she said tersely. "I think I'll keep him overnight and try again in the morning."

"On what charge?" Art inquired.

"Threatening a federal officer," Rachel replied. "Two, actually."

"I always liked that one. It's so useful," Art mused. "And how was your ex-Army Ranger on his first field trip?"

"My ex-Army Ranger," she snipped back, "was, I admit, handy in a gun fight."

"Oh? You obviously had a situation." The chief put on a serious face. "Everything okay?"

"We handled it."

Art tucked his chin a little and tried to see what Rachel had stacked behind the word 'handled'. He fell back on a favorite line of interrogation, one he used when he knew there was more to something than he was being told. "Uh-huh," he said suspiciously and waited.

She pressed her lips together and played with her earring, thinking. "He handled it."

"And are you comfortable with the way he handled it?" Art pressed, admiring her all the more for admitting that.

"Mm-hmm," she affirmed, after a beat.

"Okay." Art moved on. "You get anything out of Sullivan on his brother?"

She shook her head. "I'd like to set up surveillance on him. I'm pretty certain he knows where Randy is."

"Let's do it. After you talk to him in the morning, shake him loose and we'll see what rolls out with him."

Rachel decided to shake Tim loose when she was finished with Art. It was after five. She was tired, so she figured he must be, too.

Tim stepped outside and took a deep breath. He had survived the day. It was how he'd lived his life since he was eighteen and left Kentucky to join the military, and probably long before then even if he cared to think about it. Surviving the day. It was all he expected. He needed groceries and he still needed a bed but what he needed more right now was to go for a run. The restrained tension was tearing at the walls of his patience. He got in his truck, drove to his apartment, changed and hit the road, keeping a good pace. Trying not to think about anything, he ran for an hour straight then stretched out on the floor in his empty living room to cool down and fell asleep.

He awoke six hours later in the dark, stiff and cold and hungry. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was. He crawled over and into his sleeping bag and slept again till dawn.

Tim was first in the next morning, having opened a breakfast place and eaten a few days' worth of calories; Art was second, happy to have a decent pot of coffee waiting; Rachel, third. She was carrying her breakfast and her bag and had to back through the doors. She stopped abruptly when she spotted Tim and Art talking.

"Morning, Rachel. Are you late?" Art teased, looking at his watch. He grinned over at her, waiting for the unimpressed, raised-eyebrow expression that he enjoyed so much. Instead she looked rattled and he regretted the taunt.

"No," she replied, defensive, setting her muffin and bag down.

She reached over her monitor to turn on her computer and Art smiled at the familiar action, but the familiar ended there. Bemused, he watched her as she walked stiffly back through the double doors and down the hall to the bathroom, tense. Art filed his curiosity away for later and returned to his conversation with Tim.

"Well, unless Sullivan was visited by three ghosts last night, has a miraculous change of heart and coughs up his brother's location, it'll be trial by fire for you starting this afternoon."

Tim looked up at Art, questioning and nervous.

"Rachel wants to sit surveillance on him. You'll be tethered to a van for hours without end, watching hillbillies in a trailer, like a bad reality TV show," Art warned in a horror-story campfire voice. "No fresh air, cramped, driven half-mad by the boredom. It's a nightmare. Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Yessir," Tim replied, a grin threatening. He wondered which side of the surveillance would be the bad reality TV show that Art referred to.

"Surveillance duty has broken better men than you," Art stated, his eyes wide. "Left them weeping and trembling, ready to sell their mothers for an hour on the outside."

Sitting back in his chair, Tim cocked his head, comfortable with a good ribbing. "Are there padded seats in that van?"

Art considered the question. "Pretty sure."

"Place for a coffee cup?"

Art shrugged. "Yeah."

"And it's heated?"

Art nodded.

"Do I get meal breaks?"

"Uh-huh."

"Pee breaks?"

Art made a face. "That's a given."

"Hooah. Sounds like a rainy day on leave," Tim said blandly. "Bring it on."

Art chuckled uneasily as he walked back over for a second cup of coffee, undecided if his new Deputy were serious, joking or maybe just a bit off. Art could handle any one of the three, but it would be nice to know for sure which.

After a short and unproductive one-sided conversation with Albert Sullivan, Rachel and Tim drove him back to his trailer. It was an unnecessary courtesy, but they wanted to get another look at the property and the surrounding area. Albert gloated incessantly in the car, insinuating that they'd been ordered to chauffeur him home as punishment for undue harassment.

Rachel sighed, suffering the ranting in silence.

Tim pulled over at the end of the drive and, hoping to forestall any further verbal abuse, turned to their passenger and spewed nonsense at him, a trick he'd learned when dealing with meddling officers in the army.

"The US Marshals Service recognizes the inconvenience to you in this matter and would like to express its appreciation for your time and cooperation. Furthermore, in the hope of future good…"

Albert slammed the door and walked up to his trailer.

"What an asshole," Tim said flatly, forgetting who was sitting in the passenger seat. He tensed and looked over at Rachel sheepishly, expecting a dressing down.

She just let out a breath and commented despondently, "Welcome to my world."

Tim relaxed and peered past her to the trailer, swept his gaze to the empty land on either side and across the road. "How are we going to park a van here without them getting suspicious?"

"We're not," Rachel said, discouraged, ahead of him in recognizing the problem.

For Tim, though, the problem had an easy solution. He thought longingly about padded seats and heating then made the suggestion. "Listen, this is what I do…did, I mean, in the Rangers. I watched targets. I'm good at it. I've got lots of experience." He paused and wiped a hand across his lips. "I don't mind setting up in the forest to keep an eye on the place if it'll get you your man."

"I appreciate the offer," she said, staring down the road, "but it'd have to be 24-hour surveillance to work, possibly for a few days."

Tim shrugged. "Not a problem, as long as someone can spell me for a bit of sleep if it goes long."

Rachel looked at him, trying to gauge if he were sincere. The Lexington Bureau had been experiencing a dry spell and every Marshal in the office had stated superstitiously how just one arrest, one cleared warrant, might bring an end to the drought. She wanted badly to bring Randy Sullivan in and not just to ease the feeling of bad luck in the bullpen. There were other incentives. It was suspected that Randy was part of a child pornography ring that was busted the previous year, but there was no evidence tying him to the others, no charges and no arrest. Getting him for murder would have to do. She decided to put Tim's idea past Art and see how he felt about setting up the new guy on his own to do surveillance.

She motioned up the road. "Let's go for a drive, knock on some doors in the area."

"What for?"

"See if anyone looks Marshal-friendly," she answered, leaving Tim still wondering.

Tim didn't have to wonder long. The next house on the road belonged to an older couple who disapproved of everything going on at the trailer. Tim sat in a tight coil at their kitchen table, his leg jumping, shooting glances at Rachel who nodded her head sympathetically and patiently at every complaint in their very long list. She commiserated, understood their concerns, encouraged, and was eventually rewarded with an offer to use their house as a jumping off point for the Marshals' surveillance.

They went back to Art with a plan. He heard it out, thinking Rachel must be pretty desperate to suggest it. It was clear in her movements and her expression that she didn't trust her trainee and he couldn't logically explain it.

"I'm going to pretend you're not here for a minute," Art said pointing to Tim who was leaning on the doorframe, physically removed from the inner circle. He turned back to Rachel. "I know you want this collar but it's only his second day. Are you really comfortable with this?"

Rachel made a move to look at her ex-Army Ranger but stopped just shy of turning her head and slid her eyes only in his direction. She hesitated. Art noted it all.

"Sir." Tim paused and closed his eyes. "I mean, Chief, why not let me do it? I've done reconnaissance like this a hundred times, with less cover and more risk. I'm completely comfortable with it." He dropped his head, rubbed the back of his neck and said to his feet, "It's the one thing I am comfortable with this week."

"We're pretending you're not here, remember?" Art chastised, but he also listened. He wagged his head and puffed. He, too, wanted this arrest. "Fine. Let's go with it. But get a good map from the county office with any recent surveys, if one exists. I don't want this blown because we were on the wrong side of a property line. When are you two going to set up?"

"Right now," Rachel answered.

He pointed a finger at Tim a second time. "If there's anything you're unsure about then just…don't."

"Yessir."

"Okay, then. You know how to reach me if you need something."

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