‘You’re going to do the right thing. You’re going to quit that awful job. You’re going to get that video taken down. And then you’re going to contact this woman and make it right, no matter what you have to do.’
‘Okay, Mom. I just don’t know where to start.’
‘Start by getting that video taken down. Now.’
‘But I can’t do that. I don’t have access to the server. Only Nolan does.’
She bit her lower lip. ‘Then call him and tell him that you’ll sue his ass for publishing that video under your name if he doesn’t take it down. I know a judge. I’ll call him for some advice.’
‘You’re going to call a judge at one in the morning?’
She took her phone from her pocket. ‘He’ll still be awake. He’s a night owl.’
Jeff didn’t want to know how his mother knew this. He remembered her dating a judge when he was a senior in high school. She’d met the man when he’d brought his bulldog into the veterinary clinic where she was the receptionist. Dinners with the guy had been awkward as fuck.
‘Okay,’ was all he could think to say. ‘I’ll figure out where she’s staying.’
‘In Granite Bay,’ his mother said as she searched her contact list. ‘Oh, here he is.’
‘How do you know she’s in Granite Bay?’
‘Google her and you’ll see what your article has done to her,’ his mother snapped. ‘The media has surrounded the house where she’s staying.’ Then she turned on the charm. The judge had answered his phone. ‘Bellsie, this is Geri Bunker. I hope I didn’t wake you.’ She tittered. ‘Oh, I remember. Listen, I need some advice. Are you alone?’ Her smile was a little too satisfied for the situation. ‘Oh good. So it’s like this . . .’
Bellsie? Jeff grimaced, then googled Mercy Callahan and groaned again. Shit. There were hundreds of results, the most recent an article about her near abduction from the airport. It also had a video, grainy because it was from the airport security cameras. It showed a zombielike Mercy being walked toward the door by . . . him. The man he’d seen leaving the dead woman’s New Orleans apartment next door to Mercy’s.
He was not shocked, but he was horrified, even more horrified than he already had been.
She wore a blank expression, like a doll. Even when the big man was struck down by some blond guy’s cane. A cane? Seriously? But Jeff’s disbelief turned into admiration when the blond yanked at the killer’s leg with the cane’s hook after both men crashed to the floor. The blond guy had serious ninja skills with that cane.
He was also in a wheelchair. And looked damned familiar.
Jeff scanned the article and remembered who the blond was. Detective Raphael Sokolov. He’d been involved in taking the serial killer down. And, according to this article from tonight, he’d taken Mercy Callahan to his family’s home on Medallion Avenue in Granite Bay.
At least he knew where she’d be, he thought grimly. At the house on Medallion Avenue surrounded by news vans.
‘Okay, we’ll do that,’ his mother said after a series of hums, nods, and uh-huhs. ‘Thank you, Bellsie. And I’d love to go out with you next week. Text me a place and time and I’ll be there.’ She ended the call. ‘He says we need to formally file a cease-and-desist with the website. Once that’s filed, either they have to take it down, or we can report them to the FBI. This is considered “revenge porn”.’
‘I’m going to report Nolan anyway,’ Jeff muttered. ‘This woman is fragile. Something like this could push anyone over the edge, but . . . Damn, Mom. Did you see her walking through the airport?’
She nodded, her expression pained. ‘Poor girl. How are you going to make this right to her?’
‘I have no idea,’ he admitted. ‘Hey, Mom, how did you even know about this?’
‘Your aunt Patricia called. She had an alert set up for anything with your name in it. Trying to be supportive. She called and woke me up. She was screaming. She’ll be glad to know that you didn’t do this. Not voluntarily, anyway.’ She patted his arm. ‘Get on your laptop and issue the takedown order.’
Now? was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. She was right. ‘Okay. Thanks, Mom.’
She met his eyes soberly. ‘You’re welcome. Find a better job, Jeffy. There isn’t enough money in the world worth your soul.’
‘I will. I promise.’ He had to. This was not the way his career was supposed to be. He wanted to help people and only hurt the bad guys. Now I’m a bad guy.
Nine
Sacramento, California
Sunday, 16 April, 4.30 A.M.
Mercy crept down the stairs of Rafe’s house, hoping she didn’t make any floorboards creak. She needed room to pace. To meditate. Because Ephraim had been in New Orleans. He’d been watching her for almost a week.
She knew she should have been asleep, but even though she was completely exhausted, sleep had eluded her. Farrah had climbed under the covers in Sasha’s guest room still fully dressed, dropping off into a deep slumber before Sasha had finished readying the bedding. Mercy had managed to doze for what might have been an hour, but that nightmare had shocked her into full alertness.
Mercy hated that nightmare, the one where she saw her mother gunned down by DJ Belmont. She hated all the nightmares, but that one was the worst. If she’d been in her own apartment, she would have been in her kitchen, baking cookies for her brothers’ and sisters’ kids. Snickerdoodles were the overall favorite.
They’d made her family and she’d betrayed them. Stolen time they could have had with Gideon. And now she’d probably brought danger to their doorstep.
The nightmare had woken her, but it had been dread at the thought of facing John and all the brothers and sisters that had her staring at the ceiling. That and the knowledge that Ephraim had stalked her in New Orleans for a whole week and she hadn’t even known he was there.
He’d been in the same city as her family. Who at least by now knew to be careful, to watch the children more carefully. Gideon had called Farrah’s captain, who’d called John, who’d called Mercy a few minutes after two a.m. California time, frantically urging her to come home where he and all the sibs could keep her safe.
She’d broken down again, sobbing into the phone, confessing what she’d done. John, to his credit, had been stunned, but kind. He still didn’t know about Eden, but Mercy had told him enough that he understood her childhood had been traumatic. Finally John had told her that they loved her and to sleep, that they’d figure it out.
And through all the sobbing and confessing, Farrah had slept like a log, making Mercy envious. Farrah always slept like a log, while Mercy rarely slept at all. Especially recently.