‘Were the members aware of the illegal drugs? Did the leaders use the money for the community?’
‘If the adults knew, they never spoke of it, not around us kids, anyway. As for using the cash to make our lives even a little better? No, that was not the case. We lived very simply. Made our own clothes, canned vegetables for the winter, raised a few cows and goats for milk. Kept chickens for eggs, pigs for bacon, and sheep for wool, that kind of thing. They brought a few things in from outside, like flour. But nothing to make our life less simple.’
‘So there had to be actual money spent. Where did you get the fabric to make the clothes?’
‘Some of the women had looms, but occasionally we had store-bought fabric on bolts. They told us they traded for it. There was one man who went into town once a week or so to trade and get supplies, like tools and certain medicines. The things we couldn’t make on our own.’
‘Okay,’ Rafe said, writing that down. ‘Who was the man who was allowed out of the compound?’
‘Before Gideon left, it was a man named Waylon Belmont. After Gideon left, Waylon died. It was just a few days later.’ Her gaze hardened. ‘His son, DJ, took over his route.’
It took him only seconds to realize what she was saying. He knew the basic elements of her story. He knew her mother had smuggled both Gideon and Mercy out, four years apart. He knew that whoever had driven them had let Gideon go, but had shot Mercy and killed their mother.
Waylon had let Gideon go, but Waylon’s son, DJ, had shot Mercy, leaving her for dead. Rage exploded inside Rafe, but he shoved it back. He had a name now. He’d get more later. And he’d find DJ Belmont eventually, and make the man sorry he’d ever been born. But not today. Not now.
Now she needed him to help her dredge up her worst memories. So he made himself nod levelly, addressing a less obvious element of her statement. ‘Waylon helped your mother get Gideon out. And then he died a few days later.’
She blinked at that. ‘I guess so. I never made that cause-and-effect connection before.’
‘How did he die?’
She looked troubled. ‘I don’t know. It was sudden and I remember Amos being devastated. Well, mostly because Mama was gone because Gideon had “betrayed” us, but also because he and Waylon had been friends for years. Amos wasn’t a Founding Elder at Eden, but he was among the first to join up. Waylon would sell the . . .’ She trailed away, her gaze suddenly gone somewhere else.
Rafe perked up. ‘Would sell what?’
‘Furniture,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Amos was a carpenter. He built the houses and made furniture for new families in Eden, but he also made furniture to sell. He had a very specific style – and he marked each piece with a little olive tree. Y’know, for Eden.’ She abruptly focused. ‘Can I use your laptop?’
‘Of course.’ He grabbed it from the little end table, typed in his password, then handed it to Mercy.
She typed quickly, frowned, then typed some more while Rafe watched her intently. After more than twenty minutes, she looked up with satisfied triumph. ‘Like this.’ She turned the laptop and he leaned in close to see. ‘Found this on Pinterest.’
‘Oh wow.’ There were three photos, one of an amazing wood table, a second photo showing the intricate carvings on each leg, and the third, the stylized mark of a tree carved into a corner of the table’s underside. ‘Just like Gideon’s tattoo and the locket.’
She nodded. ‘Amos told me once that he’d designed the symbol and had carved the model for the mold that Edward McPhearson used to use to produce the lockets. But it was our secret. He told me a few days before my wedding. Told me never to mention it, especially to Ephraim, but that every time I would look at my new locket, I could remember my father. Amos always considered himself my dad.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I called him Papa.’
‘Did he try to make it so that you didn’t have to marry Ephraim?’
‘He did. He was supposed to get a new wife after I was married, because I’d done the cooking and cleaning after Mama went to Ephraim’s. But he didn’t get one, at least not for the year I was with Ephraim. I think they punished him by giving the woman to someone else. I’d forgotten about that.’
‘I think you blocked a lot of things out. Probably kept you sane.’
‘My shrink says the same thing.’ She began typing again. ‘We also made dolls.’
He frowned, trying to keep up. ‘Dolls?’
‘Yes, the girls made them. Dolls and some ceramics. Some quilts, too. A lot of them had a tree or an angel hidden somewhere.’
Rafe sat up straighter. Dolls, quilts, and furniture were things they could track. ‘Did the leaders know you all were hiding Eden symbols in your crafts?’
‘I don’t think so. It was always done with a wink, you know? And we had our own signatures. Nobody spoke of it, because it would have been considered vanity and that was a sin. So we just did it and planned to claim ignorance if we got caught.’ She typed more, paging through catalogs and Pinterest boards, her expression growing more intense as the minutes passed. And then she blanched, the color in her cheeks draining away.
‘What?’ Rafe asked, unable to maintain his silence a moment longer. ‘What do you see?’
Again she turned the laptop and again Rafe was impressed by the quality of the workmanship. The quilt was a starburst design, with Mt. Shasta front and center, the sun either rising or setting behind it. ‘That’s incredible,’ he said.
‘I know.’ She traced a fingertip over the photo of the quilt. ‘I remember this one, actually. It was made by one of Mama’s friends.’ She sighed. ‘Eileen’s mother.’
Eileen, who’d escaped back in November only to be kidnapped by a serial killer the following month. Abruptly he wondered if Eileen’s family had been killed by Eden as well, or if they were being tortured like Mercy and her mother had been.
‘Where is it?’ he asked, wanting to comfort her, but having no clue how to do so.
‘The quilt?’ She scanned the screen. ‘Here’s the user who tagged it.’ She looked up, her eyes suddenly bright. ‘We could contact them and ask where they bought it. Same with Amos’s furniture.’
He grinned at her, in perfect accord. ‘Let’s make up a dummy account and send out a few emails.’
She grinned back. ‘Let’s.’
Sacramento, California
Sunday, 16 April, 6.30 A.M.
Ephraim lounged against the pillows on Granny’s bed with a satisfied grin. ‘Yes,’ he hissed to the article on his laptop screen. It was titled 10 Things to Know About Mercy Callahan, and had, at least for a little while, included a damning video showcasing Mercy’s inner slut.