Rafe’s nod was grim. ‘That’s the general consensus. Someone killed them so that they couldn’t describe – or identify – DJ Belmont.’
‘Ephraim?’ Farrah asked. ‘Did he do it?’
Rafe shrugged. ‘It’s possible. If so, he was really busy. He killed the couple for their camper at one twenty this morning. The bodies found in Corwin’s bedroom were found at six thirty this morning by his brother-in-law, who had finished his shift at the medical center in Alturas. He and his sister have co-owned the house since their parents died ten years ago. When she married Corwin, they moved out, but had to move back after Christmas when money got tight. He said that things were tense between Corwin and his sister because of money, but that he’d never heard them fighting and his sister had never told him that she suspected her husband of having an affair, so finding the murder–suicide scene was a shock. The brother claimed to have spoken to his sister at one a.m., when she called to tell him she’d gotten home from her job safely, like she did every night. His cell phone record backs that up. The brother’s been very cooperative with the local sheriff’s department.’
‘How do you know time of death of the honeymoon couple so exactly?’ Mercy asked, trying to think like the professional she’d always prided herself on being. But it was easier to be clearheaded when you hadn’t met the victim. When you hadn’t asked the questions that led to her death, and the deaths of so many others.
‘The bride wore an Apple Watch,’ Rafe said. ‘Her pulse was being constantly monitored and stored on her phone. It recorded the time that her heart rate went to zero.’
Mercy exhaled slowly. ‘So Ephraim would have had to kill Ginger, Corwin, and his wife after killing the couple at the campground, because at least Corwin’s wife was still alive when he was at the campground. How far is the campground from Snowbush?’
‘Three hours.’ Rafe nodded to Tom when he returned. ‘I told them everything.’
‘I figured you would.’ Tom started the engine, then turned in his seat to frown at them. ‘But that’s not information I was supposed to tell you.’
Meaning, he could lose his job if they told anyone else.
‘Then why did you?’ Farrah asked.
Tom backed the van out of Rafe’s driveway and headed down the street. The agent who’d been sitting out front when they’d emerged that morning was to follow them wherever they went. It had been Molina’s demand and Mercy had been grateful for it.
‘Whatever Ephraim does impacts the people in this vehicle,’ Tom said. ‘I consider you all as need-to-know. I would want to know, that’s for damn sure.’
‘We appreciate that,’ André said. ‘We would have been on alert, but now even more so.’
Mercy’s mind was still churning through the information they weren’t supposed to have. ‘If Ephraim left the campground as soon as he killed the honeymoon couple, he’d have gotten to Snowbush at about four thirty. And if he broke into Ginger’s house and took her from her bed, then staged a murder–suicide, he probably would have left Snowbush at five thirty. Or so,’ she added with an awkward shrug, because everyone in the vehicle was staring at her. ‘Which means he could be here by now.’ Which put new terror in her heart. ‘Of course, he could have been anyway if he left the campground and came straight here.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I guess I hoped you’d put him out of commission for a little while, Rafe.’
Because Rafe’s shot had hit him. Mercy remembered the look of shock on Ephraim’s face, the fury and pain immediately after.
Rafe took the other hand she still clenched in a fist and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles before tugging her fingers free and twining them with his own, just as Farrah had done. He placed their joined hands on Rory and started petting his fur.
‘I’ll aim higher the next time,’ Rafe promised. ‘I won’t miss.’
Higher. Like between-Ephraim’s-eyes higher. ‘I hope it hurts him,’ she whispered, but her mind went back to the situation in Snowbush. ‘Ginger didn’t remember Ephraim coming into the store. Only DJ. So if Ephraim did kill Ginger, Nick Corwin, and his wife, either Corwin called Ephraim directly or whoever Corwin called did. I’d assumed that was DJ, but now I don’t know.’
André leaned around the front passenger seat so that he could see them. ‘That was a fair assumption. But it’s also true that whoever brought Ginger to that house left her car there. How did he get away afterward? It’s possible that two people were involved, that one of them killed Ginger and the others and the other drove the getaway vehicle.’
‘A very good point,’ Tom said. ‘If I pass it on to my boss, I’ll have to take credit for it, though. Since . . . you know. Need-to-know and all that shit.’
André grinned. ‘Take the credit, rookie. I consider it a fair trade.’
Everyone went quiet for a few minutes, and then, behind them, Liza sighed. ‘Anyone want a bar? Because I eat when I’m nervous and I’ve already had three.’
‘Pass ’em forward,’ Tom said. ‘But save a few for Gideon and Daisy. Agent Schumacher will pick them up from the radio station and then we’ll all be on our merry way.’
Sacramento, California
Tuesday, 18 April, 10.30 A.M.
Jeff’s mother dropped onto the sofa with a tired groan. ‘I’m running on fumes, Jeffy. How are you still conscious?’
Jeff bounced on his toes before sitting beside her. ‘I’m buzzed, Mom. That went so well.’ And it had. The coordinator from the rape crisis center had really gone for his idea, and Daisy had passed it on to the local paper. They’d named it Their Stories, and they already had a few survivors who’d submitted videos to the coordinator.
Doing good felt . . . good. He desperately hoped that it actually helped someone.
‘It did go well. I was very proud of you, son.’ But his mother wasn’t looking at him, her gaze instead riveted on the front window, outside of which the FBI agent was now driving away after making sure that the house was secure.
Jeff sighed. So far the FBI didn’t believe that the man who’d killed Miss Romero had seen him, but they couldn’t guarantee it. ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’
She whipped around to frown at him. ‘This is not your fault, Jeff. The article, yes. But you’re making that as right as you can. This? Witnessing a murder? This is not your fault.’
‘I know that. I do. But I hate that you’re afraid.’
Her expression softened. ‘I hate that you’re involved, but here we are. How about something to eat? You want a sandwich?’ She stood, covering her mouth to hide her yawn. ‘Then I’m going to take a nap.’