by Rose, Karen
‘I can understand why you might feel embarrassed, but you shouldn’t. You did the right thing. You showed integrity when others wouldn’t have. That’s something to be proud of.’
She shrugged. ‘Well, maybe. But that kind of mistake has always been one of my fears, always in the back of my mind. When it happened it really threw me.’
‘Hm. I hadn’t thought about the stress on the lab techs.’
‘You should. Detectives are always in our faces with “Where are my results? What’s taking you so long? What the hell do you do in here all day?” Then they look at my computer monitor like they expect me to be playing video games or something.’
Rafe winced, because he’d done the same thing more times than he wanted to admit. ‘I think I’m going to take an apology offering to the lab.’
She laughed. ‘If it’s anything like my lab, make it a dessert. I bet your mother would make you something delicious to take in.’
‘I’ll ask her the next time I see her.’
Mercy sighed. ‘Can you not tell anyone about this? I mean, Farrah knows, but I don’t want people to think I’m flighty or irresponsible. Especially after that video.’
Rafe couldn’t hold back his scowl. ‘Of course I won’t, but you weren’t flighty at work. You made a mistake. And that is so different from the video that I don’t even know where to start. You were blameless in that. Farrah told us that she’d dragged you to that party.’ He glanced over to see her lips droop sadly. ‘It wasn’t her fault, either. Don’t think I’m blaming her. I’m blaming the asshole who put something in your drink.’
‘I wasn’t being careful, but it’s exhausting, always being careful. I told myself before we went to the party that I was going to have fun. I was going to be . . . normal.’
‘You being careful or careless is immaterial. You did nothing wrong.’
‘Head knows it. Heart, not so much. But Farrah did notice I was gone.’ She huffed a little chuckle. ‘She went all badass superwoman, barging up the stairs and shoving people aside. I don’t remember it, but it was on the original version of the video the police recovered. She busted open the door just in time and shoved him out of the way and grabbed the phone from Prescott’s roommate.’
Farrah had said that she’d gotten to Mercy in time, but hearing it again made him sag with relief. ‘The one who sold the video to Jeff Bunker’s trashy rag.’
‘Yeah. Asshole,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t know how the roommate got a copy of the video, unless his phone automatically uploaded it to the cloud. Which is possible.’
‘Very possible. This was what, six years ago? We weren’t automatically looking at the cloud back then. Not like now, anyway. And speaking of now . . . we’re here.’
They’d passed through the town of Likely about ten minutes before he’d asked her about her leave and were now rolling into the town of Snowbush, population one hundred sixty-two. There were the general store, a hardware store, a diner, a gas station, and a post office.
‘They should have called this town Probably,’ she said, but her quip fell flat because her voice trembled.
He pulled into one of the empty spaces in front of the store, put the Subaru in park, then turned to face her. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘What if we don’t learn anything?’
‘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 abov
e 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.’
‘No worries, I know what you meant.’ Mercy scanned the store again. ‘Actually, I was hoping to find a quilt. One of my friends bought one here and I admire it every time I go to her house.’
‘Oh, the quilts are long gone. We didn’t get that many in our last delivery.’ Ginger’s forehead crinkled in a slight frown. ‘Which was a long time ago, come to think of it.’
‘When was that?’ Rafe asked casually.
‘Gosh. Back around Halloween, I think. We still had our ghosts and goblins display up. I put the jack-o’-lantern I’d carved on top of one of the smaller tables by this same artist, and it sold the next day. The table.’ She grinned winningly. ‘Not the jack-o’-lantern, because I can’t carve to save my life.’
Mercy chuckled. ‘Me either. Did the artist himself deliver the tables?’
‘Oh no. He’s a recluse. His friend brought them by and picked up his payment. I wanted to meet the artist. I wanted a custom display case for my dad about a year back. He’d just gotten the flag from my great-grandfather’s casket and I wanted to give him something nice to put it in.’
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Mercy said quietly.
The woman shrugged. ‘Papaw was almost a hundred. He had a really good life. Still miss him, though.’ She visibly shook herself. ‘Anyway, I never got to meet the woodworker himself.’
‘Maybe they’ll be back with more work now that spring is here,’ Rafe suggested.
Another shrug. ‘Maybe. But the guy who repped the artist brought stuff in at least once a month for the last few years, even in the dead of winter. Then as of November’ – she snapped her fingers – ‘nothin’. It wasn’t all woodwork. There were quilts and some dolls. Knitted scarves, sweaters, and blankets. Every now and then a cross-stitched sampler. It’s all gone now, except for this lovely.’
The door jingled again. ‘More customers. Give me a shout if you have any other questions.’
‘Will do.’ Mercy waited until she was gone before tentatively lifting the jewelry box lid. And couldn’t control her gasp. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Rafe.’
‘I see,’ he said softly.
On the inside of the lid, carved in an ornate, scrolling font were the words Surely Goodness And Mercy Shall Follow Me All The Days Of My Life.
Her eyes burned and she blinked rapidly, not wanting to cry in this store. Her makeup would run and that would be the end of her disguise.
Sasha and Erin joined them, staring silently for a moment. Then Sasha murmured, ‘It’s a hymn, isn’t it?’
Mercy nodded. ‘He used to sing it to me. My stepfather, Amos. When I was really small, I thought the words were “Surely good Miss Mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” I thought the song was about me. He called me Miss Mercy until the day I left his house.’ To marry Ephraim. ‘He gave me a beautiful hope chest for my twelfth birthday, but . . .’ She’d had to leave it behind.
Sasha squeezed her arm. ‘Sounds like he loved you.’
‘He did.’ She drew a breath, sliding her arm free from Rafe’s. ‘Can you turn it upside down, Rafe?’
He leaned his cane against a nearby shelf. ‘Of course.’ Gently he did so, handling the jewelry box like it was priceless crystal. ‘What are you looking for?’ Then he made a noise in his throat. ‘Oh.’
It was a small olive tree with twelve branches.
‘Do you need something?’ Ginger was back.
‘Yes,’ Mercy answered, not taking her eyes from Amos’s mark. ‘How much is this?’
‘Six hundred and fifty dollars.’
Mercy winced. ‘Ouch.’
Ginger looked uncomfortable. ‘I can’t change the price. Only the store owner can.’
Mercy stared at the jewelry box, wrestling with herself. She might have told herself that she was only buying it to submit into evidence, but that would be a lie. Because she could hear Amos’s delighted laughter when he called her Miss Mercy, his pure baritone singing the song the way she’d thought it went, and the memory was . . . sweet. Glancing up at Rafe, she saw understanding in his eyes. ‘I really want this, but . . .’
His smile warmed her. ‘Does it bring back good memories?’
She nodded, kind of hating that it was true. ‘Some of the only good ones.’
He didn’t break eye contact. ‘Then get it.’
She turned to Ginger. ‘I’ll take it. Thank you.’
The woman beamed. ‘Excellent. Come up to the register and we’ll get it done.’
Mercy followed her, reaching for her wallet. ‘I think I might know the artist,’ she admitted. ‘Or at least of him. I wish I could contact the man who was his representative.’
‘I don’t have his card. Sorry. He just came in whenever he had new items to trade.’
Mercy could feel Rafe standing behind her, the heat from his body letting her know that she was safe. It gave her the courage to press forward as the woman ran her credit card. ‘Was he young? The rep, I mean.’
Ginger handed Mercy the credit slip to sign. ‘No. Not young young. Maybe thirty, thirty-five.’
Mercy forced herself to remember what DJ Belmont looked like and figured she’d deserve an Oscar if she could pull off the next round of questions without gagging. ‘Looked like Matthew McConaughey with blond hair? Like white-blond? Tall and kind of rangy? Wore a cowboy hat?’
Ginger blinked, then blushed. ‘Yes.’
Oh dear. This girl had a crush on DJ. Mercy was suddenly, viciously glad that he’d stopped coming by. This girl was far too nice to end up as DJ’s prey.
Mercy made herself smile. ‘Any idea where he came from? I’d love to find
more cabinets like this. Maybe even a hope chest.’
Ginger looked down at the counter, then glanced around furtively, as if checking for anyone else who might be listening. ‘Well, I did see him leave once. He drove into the forest.’
The Modoc National Forest started just a few miles west of town. Mercy leaned in, forcing a conspiratorial smile to her face. ‘Can you give me any more than that?’
Ginger glanced around again, then inclined her head. ‘I followed him,’ she confessed. ‘He was mysterious and I was young and stupid. And crushing.’
‘I can see why,’ Mercy agreed. ‘He was something.’ Something evil, vile, and utterly disgusting. ‘I might have crushed on him too, when I was younger.’
Might have, but hadn’t. Gideon might remember a ‘nicer’ DJ, but in Mercy’s memory he was a spiteful, spoiled bully.
‘I didn’t follow him long,’ the girl whispered, ‘but he went south on 395 and turned onto Modoc County Road. I followed him for about twenty miles, and then he turned onto a road that wasn’t paved. It was a private road, not part of the national forest. I wasn’t brave enough to go any farther. It was just a crush, you know?’
Mercy smiled gently. ‘I know. Thank you.’
‘Ginger!’ a man bellowed from the other side of the store. He wore an apron and stood behind the deli. ‘Stop yakking and get back to work.’
‘Sorry, Nick,’ Ginger called, then dipped her head so that she could roll her eyes unseen. ‘He owns the store. Sorry.’
‘I don’t want to get you into trouble. I’ll be going now.’ Mercy turned to find Rafe holding the jewelry box under one arm, leaning on his cane with the other. ‘Ready, honey?’
‘Whenever you are, snookums,’ Rafe replied.
Sasha appeared from the snack aisle, hands filled with bags of chips. Erin walked beside her, looking amused at Sasha’s gagging sounds. ‘Be cute outside,’ Sasha told them. ‘We’ll be out in a few minutes. We’re stocking up on supplies.’
Leaving them to shop, Rafe loaded the jewelry box into the back of his Subaru, then opened Mercy’s door. ‘Matthew McConaughey?’ he murmured, eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’