by Rose, Karen
‘That’s okay. I can change it.’
He’d known she had money-laundering networks – she had to, because running a house of prostitution wasn’t legal in Santa Rosa, California. At least not in the past hundred years.
‘Then I’ll get it. In exchange, what assurances do I get that you won’t turn me in?’ Not that he was going to give her the chance, of course.
‘You don’t, dear. You’ll have to trust me.’
Like there was any way in hell that he’d ever trust her again. ‘I guess I have to, don’t I?’
She smiled. ‘I guess you do. I’m so glad we had this chat, Ephraim.’ She rose, put the chair back where she’d found it, and turned to leave. She didn’t see Ephraim come up behind her. She didn’t make a sound, because he’d covered her mouth with his hand before snapping her neck like a dry twig.
Dropping her body on the bed, he took the gun and her keys from her pocket, then covered her up. Made it look like she was sleeping. Someone would find her in the morning, but he’d be long gone by then.
Hiding her gun in the bag with his laptop, he grabbed his suitcase, left her house, and drove away in her car, wondering where he’d now spend the night.
Granite Bay, California
Saturday, 15 April, 8.25 P.M.
Mercy couldn’t take her eyes off her brother, even as a quiet oof came from behind him as Daisy slammed into his back. A sharp bark followed the oof, which meant that she had brought her service dog, Brutus.
Of course Daisy had brought Brutus. The dog went everywhere that Daisy went.
And Daisy went where Gideon went. As it should be.
Mercy wanted to say hello. Wanted to say something. But even though she opened her mouth, no words came out. She stood there, staring stupidly, as if she hadn’t a brain in her head.
And maybe she didn’t. She’d walked away, after all. From Gideon. From Rafe. From this family that her brother had made for himself when she’d sent him away with no explanation all those years ago.
Tell him that you missed him. Tell him that you’re sorry. But the words would not come. Then just say hello, dammit. That’s all you need to say.
‘Yes. I came back.’ It wasn’t what she wanted to say. Not even close.
Gideon took a hesitant step toward her, and Mercy tightened her grip on Rafe’s hand. She was holding Rafe’s hand. She hadn’t even realized that he’d offered or that she’d taken him up on it.
Next to her, Farrah rose and gently gripped her shoulders, pointing her toward Gideon. ‘Let go of Rafe, honey,’ she whispered. ‘You’re about to break his poor hand.’
Mercy immediately drew her hand away. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry, Rafe.’
‘You’re fine, Mercy,’ Rafe said in a low voice that soothed her frayed nerves. ‘Maybe you and Gideon want to take this into Dad’s office, where you’ll have some privacy?’
Mercy nodded numbly. She’d come all this way to talk to her brother, but her feet suddenly felt like lead. Part of her wanted to stay with Farrah and Rafe, because they were safe. But she owed Gideon the courtesy of a private explanation. ‘Privacy would be good.’ She drew a breath, straightening her spine. ‘Gideon? Would you show me to the office? I don’t know where it is.’
Gideon looked around the kitchen, seeming surprised to see the others. ‘Of course.’ He smiled, but it was clearly forced. ‘But first, I’d like to meet your friend. I’m Gideon Reynolds.’
Embarrassed, Mercy’s cheeks heated. ‘This is my best friend, Farrah Romero. She came with me from New Orleans.’
Farrah’s smile was gentle as she shook Gideon’s hand. ‘I’m so glad to finally meet you.’
Gideon swallowed hard. ‘Do you work with Mercy?’
Because Mercy had told him nothing of her personal life. She’d hoarded the details, at first still nursing her anger over what she had thought had been Gideon’s role in her torture at Ephraim’s hands. Then, once she’d known the truth, she’d been too overwhelmed and ashamed to tell him anything.
Not that Gideon understood that, because she hadn’t told him anything. I am a very bad person.
‘No,’ Farrah said. ‘I met her in college. We’ve been friends for many years. I work at the university. I’m in research.’
‘She is a doctor,’ Irina said. ‘And engaged to be married to a police captain.’
Gideon’s smile became warmer, less forced. ‘Irina should be a detective. She finds out all the good details before the rest of us do.’ Then he turned back to his sister. ‘Mercy?’
Farrah returned to Mercy’s side and gave her a small nudge. ‘I’ll be here. Call if you need me.’
‘Thank you.’ Mercy commanded her feet to move, and then she was following her brother out of the kitchen and into the hall, where Daisy stood, wearing her Brutus bag cross-body.
Daisy reached up to give Mercy a hug. ‘Welcome back,’ she said softly. ‘I missed you.’
Mercy sucked in a harsh breath as her eyes began to burn. ‘Thank you. I . . . I missed you, too.’ And it was true. Daisy’s buoyant optimism was so much like Farrah’s, and Mercy had wanted to drown herself in it when she’d been here before.
Daisy’s grin looked a bit forced. ‘Of course you did,’ she said lightly, and then she went into the kitchen to wait with the others, leaving Mercy and Gideon alone.
‘This way,’ Gideon said, leading her down the hall and through a great room with cathedral ceilings and carved wood everywhere. He finally knocked on a door, opening it when someone inside called to come in.
‘Gideon, my boy.’ Karl was seated at his desk, Sasha leaning against his chair. They were looking at something on his laptop, which Karl closed quickly. Then he stood. ‘It’s always good to see you.’ He rounded the desk to give Gideon a hug while Sasha watched, her expression smoothing from upset to unreadable. Just as her father’s had.
Which made Mercy wonder what they’d been looking at on that laptop.
‘I was wondering if we could use your study,’ Gideon said. ‘But if you were doing something important, we can find another—’
‘Hush.’ Karl gathered his laptop under his arm and motioned to Sasha. ‘Let’s go check on dinner. Your mother will have something for us to do.’
Gideon sat in one of Karl’s guest chairs and pointed to the other, indicating that Mercy should sit. She complied, biting back a wince when the bandage pulled.
Gideon frowned. ‘Are you in pain? Should you see a doctor?’
‘I saw a nurse. Irina cleaned the wound and bandaged me up quite capably. I’m fine.’
‘Okay.’ Gideon sat back, his eyes full of worry. ‘If I’d known you were coming, I’d have had the FBI there at the airport.’
‘I didn’t know I was coming,’ she admitted. ‘Not until I got off the plane. I kept thinking I’d turn tail and run again. I’m sorry I did that before.’
‘You don’t have to apologize. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself. I understand that.’ He hesitated, swallowing hard as the worry in his eyes gave way to hurt. ‘I guess I don’t understand why you needed to protect yourself from me. What—’ His voice faltered and he had to clear his throat. ‘What did I do wrong?’
Mercy’s eyes stung again. No, you will not cry. That wouldn’t be fair to Gideon. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. ‘It was me. All me. I didn’t know, Gideon. I didn’t know why you’d left Eden.’
Gideon’s expression flashed from surprise to sadness to resignation. ‘I figured that you didn’t know the day we Skyped with that kid from San Diego.’
The young man who’d known an Eden escapee, who’d loved him, and who’d grieved him when he’d committed suicide out of misplaced guilt. During that Skype session, the young man had raged that Eden had preached against homosexuality while their leaders raped young men. It was at that moment that Mercy had understood the t
ruth.
‘Did you ever . . .’ Mercy had trouble even saying the words. ‘Did you ever want to, you know, end it?’
Gideon’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You mean end my life? No.’ Then he sighed. ‘Yes. Back in high school. But it was fleeting and Rafe got me through it. Did you?’
She nodded. ‘Farrah got me through it. Got me into therapy. Her family is a lot like the Sokolovs.’
Relief shone in Gideon’s eyes, so like her own. So like their brothers’ and sisters’. Tell him.
‘So you did have a family?’ he said, oblivious to the fact that he had one, too. A biological family. And that’s my fault. ‘I’m so happy to hear that. I was worried that you had no one.’
Because she’d allowed him to believe that. She drew a breath and slowly let it out. ‘I have a family. The Romeros, sure. But I also have another family.’
He frowned, confused. ‘How? Who? Are you married?’ He asked the last question with a kind of horror.
Which wasn’t too difficult to understand. His best friend had a thing for Mercy, and Gideon didn’t want Rafe to get hurt.
‘No, I’m not married. I’ve never had an actual relationship. Not one that’s lasted more than a few weeks.’ Which had made her attachment to Rafe so much scarier than it should have been. She’d fallen hard into ‘like’. It wouldn’t have taken much more time to fall into an even deeper, more binding emotion.
‘Then how do you have another family?’
‘I aged out of the system when I was eighteen,’ she said, noting Gideon’s surprise at her abrupt subject change.
‘I know. I tried to find you for a long time, but you’d vanished without a word and your old foster family had moved to another state.’
She smiled at the memory of the family who’d loved her. ‘The Callahans wanted to adopt me, but I wasn’t ready for a family, not then.’
‘Callahan,’ Gideon repeated. ‘You took their name.’
‘After I left, yes. We still keep in touch. They’re a good memory during a time when I had nothing good.’
Gideon’s face fell. ‘You had me.’ But then he sucked in a harsh breath and she could see the moment that he truly understood. The hurt on his face gave way to horror. ‘But you didn’t know why I’d run. You didn’t know the truth. You must have thought I’d left you to rot in Eden.’
She nodded, both relieved and devastated all at once. ‘Mama tried to tell me, the day she got me out. But I didn’t want to listen. I’d been indoctrinated with the lie that you’d murdered Edward McPhearson because you didn’t want to work, because you were lazy.’
‘Oh, Mercy,’ he breathed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for. We were both victims of Eden.’
‘It was hard afterward?’ he asked tentatively. ‘After I left?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. She wasn’t going to get into any of that right now. She had things that she needed to say first. ‘For Mama and for me. And I blamed you.’
‘I understand.’
Mercy shook her head. ‘No, you really don’t. I have something to tell you and I need to get it out, so just let me talk, okay?’
Gideon nodded, his concern unabated. But he remained silent, just as she’d asked.
‘I aged out at eighteen. I considered coming to find you, but . . . well, I didn’t want to. I knew where you were, of course. I’ve always known where you were.’ Her lips curved, just a little. ‘I followed your career, even though I thought I hated you at the time. And I both lived for and hated the days you’d call me – my birthday and Christmas, like clockwork. I knew I should let my anger go. My therapist told me that it was eating me from the inside out, but I couldn’t. My hate was the only thing that kept me going sometimes.’
Gideon’s eyes filled and he opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut.
He’s going to hate me. I know it. ‘Anyway, after my eighteenth birthday, I found our grandparents. Or one of them, anyway. Mama’s father had passed away a few years before, and her mother was in a hospice. Cancer.’ Abruptly on edge, Mercy rose and began to pace around Karl’s office. ‘She knew I was Mama’s daughter at first sight. Actually, for a minute she thought I was Mama.’
‘You look just like her,’ Gideon murmured, then clamped his lips closed again.
Mercy remembered the moment she’d laid eyes on her maternal grandmother, the absolute joy in the old woman’s eyes. Like Mercy had been the prodigal daughter, returning home. But mostly she remembered how the old woman had wept when she realized that her daughter was dead and that she’d missed all of Mercy’s life.
Mercy hadn’t felt a lot of sympathy for her. The woman had thrown her daughter out of their home for having two illegitimate children.
‘I know. Sometimes I’m happy that I look like her and sometimes I hate looking in the mirror at myself.’ She returned to her chair and sat, forcing herself to meet her brother’s worried eyes. ‘Mama’s mother changed her will. Left everything to the two of us. I’m the executor. I told her that I’d find you and tell you, but . . . I didn’t. Yours is still in trust.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I found a good financial advisor. Your share has grown a lot.’
She fell silent, unable to make the necessary words come.
Gideon exhaled heavily. ‘Is that what you’re worried about? That you didn’t tell me about the money? I don’t care about money, Mercy. I care about you.’
Tears burned and Mercy could no longer hold them back. They felt hot on her cold cheeks. ‘No, it’s not just the money. I took my share and went to New Orleans.’
Gideon was silent so long that she opened her eyes. He was staring at her, his cheeks wet with his own tears. ‘Why New Orleans? Were you trying to get away from me? To go as far away as you could?’
‘Yes and no. See, our grandmother had searched for us, but we were already in Eden by then.’
Gideon’s swallow was audible. ‘Why did she search for us?’
‘Because our father’s parents came looking for Mama. Looking for you. They didn’t know that I’d been born, too.’
Gideon started to speak then shook his head. ‘Go on. I’m listening.’
‘They went looking for her right after they found out that their son had fathered a child with a fourteen-year-old.’
‘That was Mama.’
‘No, another fourteen-year-old. He’d been in sales and traveled a lot, basically impregnating young girls all over the southern US. His parents – our grandparents – were appalled. One of the girls had him charged with statutory rape and he went to jail for a little while. His parents found out that there had been other girls.’ She shrugged. ‘Our father kept pictures of all of his families. Like trophies. His parents wanted to make sure their grandchildren were being taken care of. They had money.’
Gideon was very calm and that was very unnerving. ‘Had? Then they’re dead.’
‘Yes. They died several years before I got to New Orleans.’
‘What about him?’
‘Our father? He’s dead, too. Overdosed. The same year you escaped Eden, ironically enough.’
‘Good. I hated him. He made Mama cry, every time he drove away.’
‘You remember him?’ Somehow that surprised her.
‘Vaguely. I was three the last time he came sniffing after Mama. You were born nine months later.’ He tilted his head, studying her. Still calm. ‘If this isn’t about money and everyone is dead, what are you so afraid to tell me?’
Here we go. ‘Not everyone’s dead. We have siblings. Half siblings, to be technically accurate. His parents hired PIs to track down all the grandchildren. We were the only two they didn’t find.’
He blinked at her, his eyes hardening before he carefully schooled his features into an expression that was far too calm. ‘I . . . see. Are any of these half siblings legitimate? To be technica
lly accurate,’ he added coldly.
She winced. He was mad. He has every right to be. ‘Yes. Two are legal heirs, another four are like us.’
‘You’ve met them all.’ A statement, not a question. And still unnervingly calm.
‘Yes. They’re all . . . close. They have family dinners. Reunions. Holidays. They’re nice people. All of them live in or around New Orleans. And they’ve welcomed me.’
His calm expression was morphing into one of betrayal, and it was like a knife in her gut. Because she deserved it. She deserved every ounce of resentment and rage he could muster.
‘How long have you been welcomed by them?’ he asked, the question barely audible.
‘I didn’t meet them right away. I was afraid to. I wasn’t in a great place emotionally when I first arrived in New Orleans.’
‘But you settled there. Near them.’
‘Yes. I used the money from Grandma’s will to go to college. Met Farrah. Met her family. Started therapy. I eventually got a car and found John’s house. That was after my first year at Tulane.’
‘John.’
‘He’s the oldest. He’s thirty-five and is the glue, I guess. He and his wife do all the organizing, but everyone hosts at different times. Adele is the youngest. She’s twenty-three. All together there are seven nieces and five nephews.’
‘You met them seven years ago?’ Gideon asked, stricken.
She flinched. ‘No, not then. For a year I drove to John’s house and sat outside, watching them come and go. All the holidays and parties. I watched them living their lives, trying to get the courage to talk to them.’
‘And then?’ Gideon asked gruffly.
She studied his face, but she couldn’t tell if he was feeling anger, regret, or what else. He’d wiped his expression clean. But she knew he was feeling something, because his jaw was so tight, it was a wonder he hadn’t cracked a few teeth.
‘And then, after about a year and a half of what I thought was stealth, John came out to the car and asked if I wanted to come in. Turns out they’d all been watching me while I watched them, almost from the beginning.’