Rafe was trembling, though. Now that it was over, all he could see was Ephraim Burton’s snarling face. All he could hear was the way he’d called Mercy ‘wife’.
The man would try again, but there was no way that asshole was laying a finger on Mercy. He’ll touch her again over my dead body.
Rafe knew that Mercy wasn’t his. She might never be his, no matter how much he’d wished for it, for her to return to him. But he would make sure that she lived whatever life she wanted, with whomever she wished to live it, wherever she wished.
Even if it’s not with me.
Life had dealt her far more than any one person should have to bear. She deserved peace.
Eden, California
Saturday, 15 April, 5.25 P.M.
Amos left the healer’s clinic, still reeling from seeing a computer in Eden, but stopped short when he saw the crowd gathered around Pastor in the central courtyard. Amos scanned the group for Abigail, quickly making his way to her side, then kept his expression concerned, mirroring the rest of the community as Pastor gravely announced that Brother Ephraim was missing. The man had gone out to the mountain to fast and pray, as he did several times a year. And now he couldn’t be found.
Which, given that Ephraim was a killer, was also probably a lie.
A killer and abuser, Amos thought grimly. I knew. I knew, but I didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to admit that Ephraim Burton destroyed my family.
That he’d beaten Gideon. That he’d destroyed Rhoda.
That he’d been so cruel to Mercy that Rhoda had died saving her.
I should have been at Rhoda’s side. I should have been the one to save my daughter.
Because Mercy had been his daughter. Not of his blood, but of his heart.
And I failed her the most. He’d allowed her to be given to a brute, even though she’d cried and begged him, her father, to help her.
Amos swallowed hard, willing himself not to cry. Not here. Not now. Not again.
He had failed Mercy, but he would not fail Abigail. He held his daughter’s hand gently, feeling her dismay. Her fear.
He was afraid too, but not for the same reason. Abigail was only responding to the tension of the adults around her. Amos was afraid because he now knew that Eden was no paradise. The healer had a computer. Pastor had to know about it. Nothing happened in Eden that Pastor didn’t know about. Amos wondered who else knew. He wondered who he could trust.
He doubted everything and everyone. For the first time in more than thirty years, he doubted his pastor.
He’d stood behind the man thirty years ago, when Pastor had been accused of embezzlement and fraud. Of stealing from their church. Amos had been young and impressionable and more than a little in awe of the man. So when Pastor let it be known among his trusted flock that he was moving to start a new kind of church, Amos had followed him.
To Eden. And for thirty years, he’d been a faithful servant – to God, to Pastor, and to the community.
But no more. He would get them out, him and Abigail, and then he’d tell the world about the marriage laws that forced twelve-year-old girls to marry brutes like Brother Ephraim. He’d tell the world about the apprentice laws that forced thirteen-year-old boys to serve masters who tried to rape them.
He hadn’t believed Gideon when he’d run to them seventeen years before, pale and trembling and crying. He hadn’t believed that Brother Edward had touched his son inappropriately. He’d believed the Elders, who’d claimed Gideon had killed Brother Edward, that he’d maimed Brother Ephraim. That Gideon was lazy and hadn’t wanted to work. Even though Amos had known that Gideon wasn’t lazy. He’d been a good boy. A good son.
He’d told himself there was nothing he could do when Brother Ephraim took Rhoda, claiming she was compensation for Gideon’s sin of murder and for stabbing Ephraim’s eye out. He’d told himself that there was nothing he could do to keep his Mercy from sharing Ephraim’s bed. He’d believed Pastor and the Founding Elders at every turn.
But no more. He’d get his Abigail out, and then he’d tell the world what Ephraim had done.
Three
Sacramento, California
Saturday, 15 April, 5.25 P.M.
What a clusterfuck. Crouched behind the driver’s seat of a beat-up family minivan, Ephraim held his breath as the woman pulled up to the booth to pay for the time she’d parked. Her name was June Lindstrom, and she was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. If she didn’t give him up on purpose, her fear just might.
‘Remember,’ he said quietly, ‘I’m here and there is a gun pointed right at you.’ Which was mostly true. It would take a second for him to move from his hiding place to take her out, but he could manage it.
If there was one good thing about Eden, it was that manual labor kept him in shape. He was as flexible and strong as he’d been when they’d started the community thirty years ago. Stronger, actually. He’d been a scrawny seventeen-year-old. Now he could lift a weaned calf. He could certainly take out a scared woman, even if he hadn’t been armed.
‘I r-remember,’ she stammered. ‘Don’t hurt me, please.’
‘I won’t, if you keep our bargain. Act naturally when you pay at the parking kiosk. Use the automated lane. Do not get in the lane with the attendant.’
‘I’ve never paid that way before.’
‘Well, today you learn something new.’
The car rolled to a stop and June fumbled with her ticket and then her credit card, mumbling prayers under her breath as she paid.
At least she’d obeyed and hadn’t stopped at an attended lane. He didn’t want to kill an attendant, too.
Finally they were moving again. ‘I did what you said,’ June said pitifully. ‘You said you’d let me go. You promised.’
Like that meant anything. Ephraim had made millions of promises in his life, none of which he’d ever intended to keep.
‘Just drive,’ he ordered, risking a peek through the middle window. She’d mounted a shade over the window, which had been a godsend. It kept anyone from seeing into the minivan’s interior and allowed him to peer out, also without being seen.
June obeyed, then said, ‘Where do I go? We need to go north or south on I-5.’
‘Go north.’ Once they went far enough, he’d have her pull over and dispose of her. The van was old enough that it might not have GPS, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d dump the van as soon as possible and steal another car. He needed to get away so he could think.
Ephraim was rattled and he didn’t like it at all. Everything had been going so well. He’d had Mercy in his hands. In my fucking hands. He unfolded his body from the floor and sat in the seat behind June. Much more comfortable.