‘Then we’re no worse off than we were this morning, and we’ll keep looking.’
She managed a shaky smile. ‘Okay, then. Let’s go quilt shopping.’
Eighteen
Snowbush, California
Monday, 17 April, 12.45 P.M.
Fucking hell. Holy fucking hell. Ephraim checked the tracking app again, just to make sure. Rhee was stopping in Snowbush. In front of the general store.
Snowbush. Goddammit. How the hell did they find this place?
He’d followed them all the way from Sacramento, east on I-80, thinking they might be headed to Reno. He’d considered making his move when the area grew remote, but with both Erin Rhee and Rafe Sokolov probably armed, he didn’t like the odds.
And then they’d taken a turn northwest at Reno and the landscape had become familiar.
Very familiar. Curiosity had stayed his hand at first, but dread had quickly followed.
He’d driven this road that ran parallel to the Nevada border. He’d stopped at the general stores in Likely and in Snowbush. He’d searched the roads west into the Modoc National Forest, hiking miles of trails. All in his search for Miriam, the woman the news called Eileen.
His wife who’d escaped the compound in November. He’d searched for two weeks, checking all the bus stations from Reno to Redding, north to Medford, Oregon, and as far south as Chico, but no one had seen her. Finally he’d snatched a random backpacker, killing her and mauling her body so that it appeared she’d been set upon by wild animals. Then he’d taken the remains back to Eden.
And then, as the community was packing up and moving again, he’d taken Eileen’s family – her parents and her younger brother – and snapped all their necks, burying them in a mass grave.
Pastor had told the community that they’d chosen to return to the world. Ephraim didn’t know if the members truly believed it, and he didn’t much care. He only cared about getting Mercy back to Eden, proving DJ had lied, and putting himself next in line for the money.
Cold, hard cash. Millions of dollars. That was his focus. So focus.
It didn’t matter that Mercy and her crew were currently less than thirty miles from the previous location of Eden. It didn’t matter that they were going to talk to the shopkeepers.
What mattered was separating Mercy from her bodyguards and taking her to Eden’s new site.
And the best part was that they weren’t too far away. They could make it in a few hours. This time tomorrow, he could be shoving DJ’s body into a grave.
The thought made him smile.
But first, he had to get Mercy alone. That would be the hardest part.
He slowed as he headed into the town, noting the red Subaru and the blue Range Rover parked side by side in front of the general store, across the street from the hardware store, which advertised hunting rifles and ammunition. He would never buy ammo when he could steal it, but the sight made him take a mental inventory.
He had his own revolver, Regina’s golden gun, Granny’s rifle, and the handgun the college kid from the costume store had pointed at him. He’d taken three boxes of cartridges from Granny’s house, and the college kid’s gun still had a full magazine. Both his revolver and Regina’s gun were down two rounds. So if taking the two detectives out required a firefight, he probably could manage it, but he still didn’t like the odds.
Especially not here, where most people carried weapons as a matter of course. The official motto of Modoc County was ‘Where the West Still Lives,’ and that was the truth. If Ephraim started a gunfight with those two detectives anywhere near the town, he had no doubt that at least one resident would jump in.
So he kept driving, not stopping until he was out of Snowbush limits and out of sight of the general store. He’d wait until Rhee was on the move again to follow.
He wanted to know how they’d found this place. And what else they knew.
Snowbush, California
Monday, 17 April, 1.00 P.M.
‘You’re my fiancée and we’re shopping for knick-knacks to decorate our new house,’ Rafe whispered into Mercy’s ear as they walked into the store.
She gave him an amused look, hoping he couldn’t see how much she didn’t object to the idea. Not now, of course. Maybe not ever, but it was a nice dream. ‘Oh really?’
He grinned. ‘Really.’
‘Afternoon,’ the young woman behind the counter greeted, her smile friendly. ‘My name is Ginger. If I can be of any help, just let me know.’
Mercy smiled back. ‘Thank you, Ginger. We will.’ The bell above the door jingled, signaling that Erin and Sasha had followed them inside. ‘And who are they supposed to be?’ she murmured as the young woman called out the same greeting.
‘My sister and her girlfriend,’ Rafe replied. ‘But if you tell them I said the G-word, I’ll call you a liar.’
Mercy snickered. ‘Scared of them?’
‘Hell, yeah.’ He looped his arm through hers and they wandered the small store, which was half groceries and half gifts, crafts, and souvenirs. ‘Because I’m not stupid.’
Mercy was examining the shelves and displays, disappointed not to see any quilts. She’d just convinced herself that they’d driven all this way for nothing, when she stopped and stared. ‘Oh.’
It was a jewelry box that resembled an old-fashioned chest of drawers, with curved legs and intricate carvings. She traced the inlaid bone on the lid with trembling fingers. This was Amos’s work. She was certain of it.
‘It’s nice,’ Rafe said conversationally, but she’d felt him tense beside her. ‘But you don’t have enough jewelry to fill it.’
She forced a chuckle, keeping up the charade. ‘You can buy me some, then.’
‘That’s a beautiful piece.’ Ginger had come from behind the counter to stand next to them. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen and not an inch over five feet tall. ‘It’s handmade by a local artisan.’
‘It’s really lovely,’ Mercy agreed. ‘Do you know who made it?’
‘I don’t know the man’s name, no. He doesn’t sign his work, either.’
Yes, he does. You just have to know what to look for. ‘No? That seems like a shame. This workmanship is exquisite. I’d want everyone to know my name if I could make something like this.’
‘I know, right?’ Ginger ran a fond hand over the lid. ‘It has the space for a music box, if one wanted to add it. Not trying to put any pressure on you at all, but this is the last thing we have from this artist. All of our other items have sold. This one came in just as the weather turned bad and tourism dropped off for the season. Also, it’s pricier than his other work. I’ll be sorry to see it go – when the right person comes along, of course,’ she added, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment. ‘Like I said, no pressure at all.’