‘That one ended poorly,’ Tom said. ‘Told you to stop after the fifth time.’
Liza fanned herself, panting. ‘Holy shit. What happened in there? Everything was fine, then we were ducking into the nearest foxhole.’
‘Belinda Franklin’s doctor came in,’ Rafe told her. ‘He doesn’t like her to have visitors and thinks her dementia’s a lot further along than Agent Simpson does.’
‘Agent Simpson was the woman who grabbed us at the end, I assume?’ Liza asked.
‘Yes,’ Rafe said. ‘But, Hunter? We need to check out that doctor. Remember we were talking about Ephraim’s glass eye? How a surgeon needed to do it? What if that guy was the doctor who did it?’
‘You’re right,’ Hunter said grimly.
‘I saw him enter,’ André said. ‘He looked angry. I wrote down license plate numbers for every vehicle that entered the lot after you guys went inside, so we have the doctor’s.’
‘Thanks,’ Tom said. ‘Can you text it to me? Once my adrenaline crashes, I might not remember.’
‘Of course,’ André said, then looked over his shoulder, concerned. ‘Are you okay, Mercy?’
Farrah cradled Mercy’s cheek in her palm. ‘You’re shaking like a leaf.’
‘I’m great, actually.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t flake out. Not a single zombie moment.’
Rafe slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. ‘You were amazing. And when you and Belinda sang that song . . . What was that? Did Ephraim really sing it to you?’
Mercy closed her eyes tight, her trembling growing to full-body shaking. ‘No. He sang it to his cows. I heard him sometimes.’
‘Because your house was close to the barn,’ Rafe remembered. ‘He took care of the animals.’
‘Right. He was so nice to those cows.’ She’d sobered now, her teeth chattering. ‘One time one of his wives said that she wished he was that nice to us and he threw a hammer at her head.’
Rafe knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but every new revelation was like a punch to his gut.
‘What happened to her?’ Farrah asked, taking Mercy’s hand in hers.
‘She . . .’ Mercy began to hyperventilate. ‘She died. Oh my God, Farrah, she died. My mother and I tried to take care of her, but she died.’ A sob broke loose and it was like the dam had broken. ‘Ephraim told everyone she’d fallen down, then told us if we didn’t lie for him that he’d do the same to us. So we did. We lied for him.’ Her voice broke. ‘We lied to save ourselves. What does that make me?’
‘It makes you alive,’ Farrah said fiercely.
Rafe had to take a moment to quell his rage so that he could be gentle. Sharing a quick glance with André, he could tell that Farrah’s captain was also trying to control his fury. I’m glad Gideon isn’t hearing this. His friend had barely made it through the minutes Mercy had forced herself to talk to Belinda Franklin. Rafe understood because he’d shared Gideon’s anguish. Now, hearing her brokenhearted weeping, he was at the limit of his restraint again. But he needed to keep it together. For her.
Once he felt the return of his control, Rafe pulled Mercy onto his lap, ignoring the seat belts as he held her tight. ‘Farrah’s right,’ he murmured. ‘It makes you alive to take him down now. You’re going to take him down and we’re going to help you. You aren’t alone.’ He stroked her hair, his own eyes burning. He kissed her temple. ‘You were wonderful in there, but it had to be hard to pretend like that.’
‘I wanted to hurt her,’ Mercy cried, curling her fingers into his shirt and digging into his skin. ‘I wanted to hit her and hit her. She raised him. She said he was a good boy. A good boy. He wasn’t. He was a brute. A monster. And he still is. He’s still killing people and he’s getting away with it.’
Farrah was crying now, patting Mercy’s knee helplessly. ‘He won’t. He can’t.’
Rafe’s heart was breaking. ‘He won’t get away with it, Mercy. I promise.’
Mercy said no more, just pressed her cheek into his chest and held on. And cried herself to sleep.
Twenty-five
Granite Bay, California
Tuesday, 18 April, 4.35 P.M.
Ephraim checked the photo on his phone once again, disappointed. Zoya Sokolov hadn’t exited the school along with the other students, and he’d waited for an hour after the final bell. He’d examined the faces of every student who’d walked in or out of the doors all day long, the binoculars he’d purchased with Sean MacGuire’s credit card coming in handy as he’d parked far enough away to avoid detection.
Now a custodian was sweeping the front walk, keeping the exterior of the fancy school acceptably clean for all the rich kids who’d laughed their way from the school to the parking lot, which was like an advertisement for luxury cars. Some of the students had been picked up, some had driven themselves, but every one of the vehicles cost more than most people made in a year.
The Jeep he’d taken from the honeymooners didn’t fit in this neighborhood. He’d detached the camper, leaving it in the state park nearby, or he would have been even more obviously out of place. At least he’d washed the Just Married decorations off the Jeep’s windows, but the vehicle was too old for this fancy area.
He frowned, because the law would be searching for the Jeep once the honeymooners’ bodies were found. They hadn’t been found yet – he’d been listening to the news all day and there’d been no mention of two dead bodies turning up at a campground. Still, he’d need a replacement vehicle soon, but that wouldn’t be a problem after he got access to Eden’s offshore accounts. He’d be able to buy a fleet of fancy cars if he wanted.
Of course, to get the money he had to first get Mercy, and he was no closer to that goal than he’d been the day before.
He blew out a breath in frustration. The Sokolov kid hadn’t come to school today, and Ephraim was pretty certain that it was because Detective Sokolov was being careful with his family. Sokolov could keep his sister out of school for the foreseeable future, so Ephraim would need to find another way to lure Mercy’s detective away from her side.
He couldn’t wait them all out much longer. He’d left DJ to whisper in Pastor’s ear for too long already –
A knock on the window of the honeymooners’ Jeep had him dropping the binoculars and twisting toward the noise, earning him a bruise when the steering wheel jabbed into his side.
Fuck. Fucking hell. It was a cop. And he’d drawn his gun.