by Rose, Karen
Farrah smiled, bright as sunshine. Her best friend had the very best smile. Just seeing it made Mercy want to smile back. It was Farrah’s superpower. ‘Of course you’re okay,’ she said, giving her back a final pat. ‘Let’s get moving, so we can get something to eat.’
Mercy told her feet to move. One step at a time. Thankfully her feet listened and she and Farrah were headed toward baggage claim. ‘We have to get the cats settled first. I’ll find a pet store to get litter boxes. And food.’ Hearing the word ‘food’, Rory yowled pitifully from his carrier, and Mercy patted the side. ‘Hush, beast. You’ll survive a little longer.’
Farrah made a derisive noise. ‘I think your cats could miss a meal or two, Merce. Or ten.’ She lifted the cat carrier she held in one clenched fist. ‘Jack-Jack weighs sixty-two pounds.’
Mercy laughed, the sound foreign but welcome. Farrah could always make her laugh. ‘Not quite sixty-two pounds.’ Her Ragdoll kitties topped the scales at nineteen pounds each. ‘Besides, the vet said they’re both healthy. Not fat, just sturdy.’
Farrah’s brows lifted. ‘Sturdy. I like that. I think I’ll start using that word for myself.’
Mercy frowned. ‘Stop that. You’re curvy and gorgeous. I wish I had your curves.’ Farrah was soft, her whole demeanor inviting hugs, and the bright, bold colors she wore glowed like jewels against her dark skin. Today’s outfit was bright yellow and had heads turning with smiles and appreciation.
Farrah sighed, a put-upon sound that she’d drama’d up for Mercy’s benefit. ‘No, you don’t. It’s hard to find clothes for curves. I wish I were stick-slender.’
But Mercy saw the twinkle in Farrah’s eye and knew the truth. ‘No, you don’t. You like the way Captain Holmes stares at your curves.’
Farrah grinned. ‘That I do, and I make no apologies. My man is fine.’
‘Yes, he definitely is.’ Even though Captain Holmes could be intimidating in cop mode, he was kind and funny and he’d always treated Farrah like she was the sweetest of treasures. That made the man more than fine in Mercy’s book, even if he did make her feel small whenever he was in the room. ‘But not my type,’ she added when Farrah gave her an amused look. ‘He’s very . . . big, isn’t he?’
Farrah threw back her head and laughed. ‘He most certainly is, in all the right places. One in particular.’
Mercy’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t meant that, but Farrah had a bawdy streak. ‘Was he okay with you just dropping everything to come with me?’ she asked, changing the subject.
Farrah sobered, nodding. ‘He was perfectly okay with it. You said you needed me and that was good enough for him. That we’re staying in a house owned by a cop made him feel better about it, though.’ She shrugged. ‘He worries.’
A house owned by a cop. Mercy winced, thinking about the cop in question. Homicide detective Raphael Sokolov, Gideon’s best friend. The brother of his heart in the way that Farrah was the sister of hers.
Rafe probably hated her, too. If he didn’t, he should. Or would, given enough time. She selfishly hoped that he wouldn’t, though. Her memories of Rafe as she’d sat at his bedside for two weeks – his golden hair, his slow smile, and his unfettered happiness despite his pain – were the only bright spots in the nights she’d spent tossing and turning and fearing to sleep in the six weeks since returning to New Orleans. ‘The cop is on disability leave.’ Because he’d taken a bullet. For me. ‘Did you tell your captain that?’
Farrah made a face. ‘Well, no. But a cop’s a cop, Mercy. Just because the man is recuperating from injuries doesn’t mean squat. He’s still a cop deep down. Instincts don’t go on sabbatical, you know.’ She narrowed her eyes abruptly. ‘He knows we’re coming, doesn’t he?’
Mercy opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Farrah’s frown deepened. ‘Mercy? He knows we’re coming, doesn’t he?’
‘No, but his sister does. I called her to ask if we could stay with her for a little while.’
‘Okay.’ Farrah’s frown receded, but her wariness remained. ‘The sister is Sasha, right?’
‘Right. Rafe’s house has three apartments. Rafe was staying on the bottom floor because he couldn’t do the stairs, at least when I was last there.’ Before I ran away like the coward I am. ‘The bullet tore the muscles in his thigh.’ Mercy shuddered at the memory of the pain he’d suffered, but she couldn’t dwell on that now or she’d never make it to baggage claim. Breathe in and out. Nice and easy. She swallowed hard and pushed on. ‘The bottom-floor apartment actually belongs to Daisy.’
‘Your brother’s girlfriend,’ Farrah said conversationally, but every mention of Gideon was said with care, like she expected Mercy to bolt. Or faint dead away.
Neither was out of the realm of possibility at the moment.
‘Yes. I like Daisy. She’s artsy and fun.’ But the woman had experienced her own share of heartache and Mercy felt a kinship that she wished she could have further explored. Now’s your chance, Callahan. You’re back. You can do all the things you wish you’d done when you were here six weeks ago.
Things like having a heart-to-heart with Gideon. Like begging for his forgiveness.
Gideon loves you. You know that. But it was a lot for anyone to forgive. She wouldn’t blame Gideon if he couldn’t. Still, she needed to make that right, too.
‘Daisy’s such a cute name. I can’t wait to meet her,’ Farrah was saying warmly. ‘So if Rafe has taken Daisy’s apartment, where does she live?’
‘On the top floor. They just switched. Rafe’s sister Sasha rents the middle floor.’
‘And that’s where we’re going to stay?’
‘For a few days.’ She patted Rory’s carrier. ‘Until I find an extended-stay hotel that takes cats.’
Farrah studied her as they walked. ‘Extended? Exactly how long is “extended”?’
Mercy bit at her lip. ‘I don’t know. I have . . . some time off.’
‘How much time off?’
Mercy braced herself for Farrah’s reaction. ‘Two months.’
Farrah stopped walking, staring at Mercy in stunned disbelief. ‘Two months? How?’ She pulled Mercy’s arm so that they were against the wall, out of the traffic flow. ‘How did you get two months of vacation?’
Breathe in and out. Nice and easy. ‘It’s not vacation. I’m on leave. Personal leave.’ And I’m lucky to have it, she told herself for the hundredth time.
Worry clouded her friend’s brown eyes. ‘You never mentioned requesting leave.’
‘Because I didn’t.’ Mercy leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. ‘I effed up. At work.’
‘Oh, honey,’ Farrah murmured. ‘What happened?’
‘It was after that CNN special interview on Monday night. I got distracted. Mixed up some test samples.’
Farrah’s indrawn breath said all that she didn’t. Mixing up samples in Mercy’s line of work was a big deal. A very big deal. She held people’s futures in her hands. Their innocence or guilt often rested on the results of the DNA analysis she ran for the New Orleans PD. I could have ruined an innocent man.
‘I figured it out, though,’ Mercy added, ‘after I’d run both samples. I was able to correct the first report before the DA could use it to file charges. I told my supervisor, and he and his supervisor called me into a meeting Thursday afternoon. I thought I was getting fired.’ Mercy opened her eyes to find Farrah’s full of compassion and concern. ‘I’m lucky that I ’fessed up and that it was my first mistake. They said that they knew I’d been under a lot of pressure and that they wished they’d encouraged me to take leave when I first came back from Sacramento.’ When she’d first run away from Gideon – and Rafe – only to hide her head in the sand. ‘But they couldn’t.’
‘Not unless it affected your job.’
‘Which it did.’
‘Of course it did,’ Farrah said, her v
oice so abruptly sharp that Mercy flinched. ‘You were abducted by a freaking serial killer, Mercy. You almost died.’
The tears of anguish in Farrah’s eyes kept Mercy from taking offense at her tone. ‘But I didn’t. I’m okay.’
‘No, you’re not okay, you stubborn thing.’ Farrah brushed a trembling hand back over her hair, the close-cut natural style that framed her face so well. ‘Just because you weren’t physically injured doesn’t mean you’re okay. Plus, Detective Sokolov was injured and he did almost die. It was a trauma.’ She pressed her fingers to her lips as she visibly fought for composure. ‘I almost lost you,’ she added in a devastated whisper.
Mercy didn’t want to think about it. Not now. If she allowed herself to remember the ordeal, she might turn around and run for the nearest plane out of Sacramento. ‘I thought if I just worked and kept to my routine, that I’d get through it. It’s worked before.’
Farrah’s voice was back to quiet. Soothing. ‘It worked before because you were also seeing a therapist.’
‘And I have to do that, too,’ Mercy admitted. ‘My supervisors said that no one blamed me for my mistake, and that they wanted me back, but that a therapist would have to sign off on my state of mind.’
Farrah squeezed her arm. ‘Are you okay with this?’
Mercy shrugged. ‘I have to be. It’s a reasonable requirement. Plus, I love my job and they were actually really nice about it all. I think I was harder on myself.’
‘No,’ Farrah drawled dryly. ‘Say it ain’t so.’
Mercy’s lips curved. ‘It ain’t so.’
‘And you are a lying McLiarface who lies.’
Mercy snorted. ‘You’ve been babysitting your nephews recently, haven’t you?’
‘I have.’ Farrah set the cat carrier on the floor, enveloping Mercy in a hard hug. ‘It was like a wake-up call for you, huh?’
And how. Mercy nodded miserably against Farrah’s shoulder. ‘Yeah. I realized that I could have sent an innocent man to prison and . . . I kind of fell apart. I had to come clean.’
‘Of course you did. You are a good person, Mercy Callahan.’
Mercy wasn’t so sure about that. She’d done some pretty awful things. But you’re here to make amends, she thought, and therefore didn’t argue. ‘When the bosses gave me two months of leave, I decided I had to face what happened in California.’
Farrah pulled away, her expression wary. ‘In California? You mean in Sacramento? Or . . .’
Farrah knew of Mercy’s history in California – her most recent brush with danger in Sacramento back in February, but also the childhood she’d spent in fear in the northernmost part of the state. Farrah was the only one who did know all the details, except for the new piece of information that had left Mercy reeling, adrift, and fleeing for home. Mercy hadn’t shared it with anyone. She hadn’t completely processed it herself yet.
There’s something you need to know about Gideon.
Oh, Mama. Why didn’t you talk faster? Why didn’t you tell me long before it was too late? Because now Mercy knew the truth and it had upended everything she’d thought she’d known before.
‘Or,’ Mercy whispered, unwilling – unable – to say the word that haunted her waking thoughts and worst nightmares.
Eden. The cult that had fostered DJ Belmont, who’d killed her mother. The cult that had glorified Ephraim Burton, who’d . . . Hurt me. Over and over and over.
Farrah’s shoulders sagged because she understood all the implications of what Mercy hadn’t said aloud. ‘Oh, honey. Why now, after all these years? What changed?’
That was the question, wasn’t it? She’d escaped Eden thirteen years before, had undergone years of therapy to forget what she’d experienced. Well, not to forget. No one ever truly forgot sexual assault. But she was able to live with the memories, to relegate them to the proper places in her mind. She’d been doing so well.
Until Sacramento. Until Gideon. Until she’d learned the truth.
‘Gideon,’ she murmured. ‘He changed everything. I have to see him. To tell him that I’m sorry.’
Farrah frowned. ‘Sorry for what?’
‘For hating him all this time.’
‘Mercy, honey, we’ve had this conversation. He left you in that awful place. He killed his boss and ran away because he didn’t want to work. Left you and your mama to bear the consequences, which were brutal. Resentment is natural.’
Except that none of that was true. It was a filthy lie, concocted by the men who’d owned them back then. Why didn’t I question? Why did I believe that ridiculous story? Why did Mama let me believe it? A sob started to take root in her throat, and Mercy fought it back. ‘He was only thirteen.’
Farrah cupped her cheek. ‘I know. He was young and scared. He probably didn’t know what you and your mother were suffering after he left.’
Mercy shook her head. ‘No, you don’t understand. I found out something when I was here before. I found out why Gideon escaped. He didn’t just run away.’
Farrah’s eyes widened. ‘What? How did he escape, then?’
Mercy thought about her mama, about those final minutes of her life. ‘Mama told me to find him. Right before she was . . .’ Murdered. Mercy couldn’t say that word, either. Because it was my fault. Her mother had sacrificed her life. For me. ‘At first I was shocked, because I’d thought he’d been dead all that time. But Mama said that he’d escaped, that he was alive, and that he’d help me. But then I got so angry. I said no, that he was selfish. Mama said, “There’s something you need to know about Gideon.” And now I know what that was.’
Farrah waited patiently, as if they weren’t standing against the wall of a crowded airport terminal.
Mercy swallowed again. ‘They hurt him. They beat him. Almost killed him.’
‘Oh my God,’ Farrah whispered, horrified. ‘Why? Because he killed his boss?’
‘He did that, but only because he fought back when one of the men tried to . . .’ Say it. Stop being a coward. Say. It. ‘Tried to rape him. He killed the man by accident and the other men from the community beat him so bad that he almost died. He couldn’t walk, couldn’t see, was barely conscious.’
Farrah stared in shock. Then she gave herself a little shake and asked, ‘How did he get out?’
‘Mama.’
‘Oh.’ The word escaped Farrah on a quiet rush of breath. ‘I get it now. Your mama smuggled him out, didn’t she? Just like she smuggled you out.’
Mercy nodded. ‘But she left him at a bus stop, all alone, hoping someone would find him. She had to leave him. She had to go back . . . there.’ To Eden. ‘Because of me.’
‘To protect you. Oh, Mercy. I’m so sorry.’
Mercy blinked rapidly. She would not cry. Not here. ‘I didn’t know. I hated him all those years. I hated him for something he didn’t do.’
‘He’ll forgive you. I know it.’
‘He already has.’ For that, anyway. ‘I guess I haven’t forgiven myself.’
‘No,’ Farrah drawled again. ‘Say it ain’t so.’
Mercy was amazed to hear herself chuckle. ‘It’s so. It’s so so.’
Farrah hugged her again, hard. ‘We’ll get through this. You and me. I won’t leave you.’
Mercy couldn’t quite breathe from being squeezed but didn’t want to move out of Farrah’s embrace. This was love, safety. Acceptance. ‘You’re staying for two whole months?’ she asked lightly, even as she clung.
‘I’ll stay until I know you’re okay. I got time coming from the university and if I get lonely for my captain, he can get himself on a damn plane. You’re worth it, Mercy.’
‘I love you, Ro.’ Mercy blurted the words, shocking herself. Farrah had often said the words to her, but Mercy had never been able to say them back. ‘I should have said it years ago. You’re the sister I never had. Your family is my fam
ily.’
Farrah reared back, blinking in surprise, and then her eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were tears of happiness and affection. ‘Oh, baby girl. I love you, too.’ She straightened her spine and grabbed the cat carrier. ‘Let’s get our suitcases before my mascara starts to run.’
Mercy forced her feet to move. One step at a time. One breath at a time. You can do this. Be brave. At least she had a few hours to center herself before coming face-to-face with her brother or any of the Sokolovs.
‘Would you look at that?’ Farrah said, pointing down the escalator to where people waited at baggage claim. People holding signs.
Specifically, people like Sasha Sokolov holding a sign that said CALLAHAN, each letter in a different color. Because that was the way Sasha rolled.
She was tall, like her brother. Blond, like her brother, with the same dark brown eyes that lit up with an inner joy that Mercy envied. Just like her brother.
‘That’s Sasha, I take it?’ Farrah drawled.
Nervously Mercy scanned the waiting crowd for Rafe, but he wasn’t with his sister. Relief left her a little dizzy, even as disappointment sat like lead in her gut. Why would he come to meet her? She’d left him without a single word. ‘Yeah. I, um, didn’t know she’d be meeting us. I didn’t even tell her which flight we were on.’
Because she hadn’t wanted Sasha to meet them. She hadn’t wanted anyone to meet them. She needed time to prepare herself for the hard conversations that lay ahead.
‘Mercy!’ Sasha shouted, waving her rainbow sign. ‘Over here!’ Not willing to wait – for much of anything – Sasha charged, sidestepping several travelers like a running back dancing upfield.
Farrah laughed. ‘I think this is gonna be fun.’
Mercy had just braced herself for impact when Sasha grabbed her in a fierce hug, lifting her to her toes. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ Sasha whispered, then pulled away, holding her hand out to Farrah. ‘I’m Sasha.’