Say No More

by Rose, Karen

  So much for staying under the radar, he thought grimly. He might as well take out a skywriting ad now. Hey, Mercy, I’m back. Run and hide so that I can never find you.

  But Mercy Callahan was not his biggest worry at the moment. He’d shot a fucking cop. They’d be looking for him. He circled the fancy private school, heading around to the back. The custodian had parked his truck in the back, so that was where he headed.

  Leaving the Jeep behind, he was in the truck and had it hot-wired in under a minute. Stealing so many cars recently had sharpened his skills again. The truck was old, but it started. It was a far cry from the luxury vehicles the rich kids had been driving, but it would do for now.

  Granite Bay, California

  Tuesday, 18 April, 6.15 P.M.

  ‘Mercy, wake up.’ Rafe jostled her shoulder. ‘Time to wake up.’

  Mercy didn’t want to wake up. She was warm and Rafe’s arms were around her. But she immediately knew that they weren’t in his bed. They were still in the FBI van and she was on his lap and . . . oh God. She’d had another meltdown, hadn’t she? ‘My head hurts.’

  Rafe kissed her forehead. ‘I’d be surprised if it didn’t. I bet my mom can fix you right up, though. So get up. We can’t sit in the van, even in the garage. It’s too dangerous.’

  Mercy slid from his lap, trying to blink away the haze left over from what had been an epic crying jag. Farrah and the others must have already gone inside, because it was just the two of them in the van.

  Rafe climbed out, unable to hide a grimace of pain. ‘It wasn’t you,’ he said when she opened her mouth to apologize. ‘I would have held you for twice as long. It’s not the sitting. It’s the getting up.’ He extended his hand. ‘Come on. We need to get inside.’

  Mercy hurried, getting a glimpse of the street in front of the Sokolovs’ house as the garage door was rolling down. ‘Who’s here?’ There were two more SUVs parked on the street in front of the Sokolovs’ house, both of them black.

  ‘They’re bodyguards,’ Farrah said from the doorway into the laundry room. She looked exhausted and held Rory’s cat carrier in her arms.

  Rafe urged her forward. ‘We can explain inside.’

  Mercy stopped once they were in the laundry room and Rafe had closed the door into the garage. ‘What happened? What’s Ephraim done now?’

  Rafe sighed. ‘Shot a cop. While he was parked a block away from Zoya’s school.’

  Mercy had to grab onto the washing machine to keep from crumpling to the floor. ‘He was going after Zoya? Why?’

  ‘Probably trying to lure me out,’ Rafe said bitterly. ‘What an asshole. I’m glad she listened when I asked her to stay home today.’ He pointed an index finger at Mercy. ‘And don’t you think this is your fault, either.’

  Mercy shook her head. Of course she thought it was her fault. It is my fault.

  ‘Come have some tea, Mercy,’ Farrah said.

  Irina appeared, putting her arm around Farrah’s shoulders, her smile brittle. ‘I have the kettle heating. Sit down and let me feed you. Zoya is fine. She’s in the office with Meg.’

  Meg, another of Irina’s daughters, was a deputy sheriff and had probably raced over here as soon as she’d heard that Zoya had been a target.

  Poor Irina. The normally centered woman was wound as tight as a drum. And who could blame her? Not me. Of course, Irina might blame me, and she’d be right to do so.

  How many more of Irina’s family would be hurt because of Mercy’s presence in their lives?

  Silently, they joined Gideon, Daisy, André, and Liza, who were already sitting with Karl at the table, which was overflowing with food, a testament to Irina’s level of stress. The tension was thick as Irina served them and became thicker with each moment that the eight of them ate without speaking, because even Karl was silent. There was a grim determination to the meal, like they all felt that the other shoe was poised to drop.

  So it’s not just me.

  Mercy had noticed right away that Tom hadn’t joined them, but figured he was talking with the new bodyguards. Mercy had also noticed that the sink was full of dishes. The sight almost made her smile, despite the dread curling around her gut. Irina had probably fed all of the agents outside.

  Irina Sokolov was so much like Farrah’s mother, Mercy felt at home. If you stayed, you could be home.

  If I stayed? The thought tantalized, even as it terrified her. She had family in New Orleans – her half brothers and sisters and the Romeros. She had a job that she really loved.

  But Rafe is here. And Gideon. And Irina had welcomed her with open arms.

  Unless Ephraim continued hurting the Sokolov family. He’d already shot Sasha, tried to shoot Rafe, and tried to abduct Zoya. Irina might be rethinking that welcome right now.

  Well, shit. Mercy dropped her eyes to her plate, unable to eat another bite. She’d brought trouble into this household. No, she hadn’t done anything to cause the trouble. Except that I survived. She couldn’t be sorry for that, no matter how much Irina might be blaming her.

  My mother sacrificed her life so that I could survive. It was the thought that had kept Mercy going every time she’d wanted to give up.

  Finally André broke the silence, making Mercy want to kiss him. ‘Irina, that was delicious. My mother would love the recipe.’ He smiled at Irina, who’d only sipped at a cup of tea while the rest of them ate their fill. ‘She’d trade recipes with you, of course, and she is an excellent cook.’

  Farrah gave André a look of clear appreciation, because Irina seemed to relax a fraction. ‘She really is an amazing cook, Irina. She’s been teaching me.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You know, so her baby boy doesn’t starve.’

  Irina chuckled. ‘We can’t have that, can we?’ She put down her cup and sighed. ‘Mercy, we need to have a talk.’

  Mercy straightened her spine and exhaled slowly, fighting the burn of tears in her eyes. She’d cried more in the last four days than she had in the last four years. ‘I figured as much. I can . . .’ What? Leave? To go where? ‘I’ll, um, find another place. As soon as I can.’

  There was a beat of silence, then Rafe shoved his plate away. ‘What the hell?’ he snarled. ‘No, you will not find another place. Mom, what’s this about? You’re scaring her.’

  ‘Don’t talk to your mother that way,’ Karl warned. ‘Everyone take a breath and relax.’

  Irina was frowning at Mercy, then covered her mouth with her hand as understanding seemed to dawn. ‘Oh no. No, Mercy. I’m so sorry. I never thought . . . But I should have. Of course I should have.’ Muttering in Russian, she got up from her chair to crouch next to Mercy’s chair. ‘I am so sorry, lubimaya. You think I’m upset with you. I’m not.’ She took Mercy’s hand and squeezed. ‘We have some guests. I don’t want you caught unaware, but I’m not sure how to prepare you.’

  Mercy shuddered, too relieved for words. Not upset with me. And the other words sank in and she tensed all over again. Prepare me?

  Rafe took Mercy’s other hand. ‘Who’s here?’

  Irina seemed to brace herself. ‘Jeff Bunker, for starters.’

  Mercy could only stare at her. ‘The kid reporter?’

  Behind her, Rafe growled quietly. ‘Jeff Bunker is here? Why?’

  ‘Because he did a good thing,’ Irina snapped. ‘Drop your bad attitude, Raphael. I’ve no patience for it at the moment. It’s been an eventful day.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Mercy muttered. ‘But Zoya is all right? You said she was fine.’

  ‘She is fine,’ Irina assured her. ‘The officer who got shot is not so much. He will live, though, so we must be grateful. He saw a Jeep down the road from Zoya’s school and recognized the license plate as the Jeep stolen from the honeymoon couple at the campground in Nevada. He called it in but ignored commands to wait for backup.’

  ‘Young and stupid,’ Rafe sa
id with a scowl. ‘It’s a wonder rookies survive their first year.’

  ‘That’s the damn truth,’ André agreed.

  Irina sighed. ‘So we have . . . protection. And company.’

  ‘Miss Callahan?’

  Mercy turned in her chair to find Agent Molina standing in the kitchen doorway. But she wasn’t alone. A man stood beside her, a small girl in front of him. His hands were on the girl’s shoulders, his face wary and afraid. But also alive. His eyes were alive.

  And fixed on Mercy.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Mercy breathed, coming to her feet like she was in a dream. He was older. Of course he was older. His beard was streaked with silver. But his eyes were the same. Exactly the same.

  Gideon rose from his chair. ‘Amos?’ he asked, shocked.

  It was. It was Amos. Mercy ran across the kitchen, wanting to throw her arms around him, but the little girl was in the way, staring up at her with wide eyes. So Mercy took his face in her hands.

  She was trembling. So was he. ‘It’s you,’ she whispered. ‘It’s really you. How are you here?’

  Amos closed his eyes, tears seeping down his cheeks and into his beard. His hands covered hers and he turned to kiss her palm. ‘You’re all right. I . . . Oh.’ He sobbed out the single syllable. ‘I was so afraid you wouldn’t be all right. I thought you were dead. All this time. They told me you were dead.’ He opened his eyes to look at Gideon, who now stood a few feet away, the picture of indecision. ‘You too. They told me you were both dead.’

  Agent Molina moved out of the way and the little girl moved to take her place at Amos’s side. He started to open his arms, but hesitated. Mercy wasn’t having his hesitation, though, and launched herself into his arms. ‘How are you here?’

  His arms closed around her, strong as they’d been when she’d been twelve years old and so afraid. ‘I came to warn you. And to get Abigail out of that place.’ One of his arms left her back, and Mercy realized he’d extended it to Gideon, who stood frozen in place.

  Gideon took a step back and shook his head, his expression a mass of conflict that Mercy recognized all too well. He wanted to join their reunion, but he was afraid to. And his experience with Amos had been different than hers. Mercy had had the benefit of three years of one-on-one time with their stepfather, while Gideon’s last memory of Amos was him taking Ephraim to the healer after Gideon had stabbed him in the eye as he’d fought for his life.

  ‘Warn Mercy about what?’ Gideon asked stonily. ‘And who is Abigail?’

  Amos patted Mercy’s face with all the gentleness she remembered, then took the hand of the small girl who was watching them with a mix of fascination and fear. ‘This is Abigail.’

  ‘Your daughter,’ Mercy whispered. ‘We found the cemetery. And the cross.’ For Damaris, Amos’s beloved wife.

  Amos sighed. ‘Right. Agent Molina said that you had.’

  ‘Let’s sit down,’ Molina said. ‘I think Amos can answer a lot of your questions.’ She gave Gideon a pointed look. ‘He’s been extremely helpful, as I’m sure you will see.’

  Mercy looked away from her brother when Abigail tugged on Amos’s coat. Mercy knew that if she touched his coat it would be rough, made of homespun wool. She’d felt the scratchiness of it against her cheek many times.

  ‘That’s her?’ Abigail asked, confused. ‘She’s . . . old, Papa.’

  Mercy laughed, the sound surprising her. ‘Hello, Abigail. I’m Mercy.’

  Abigail’s eyes were wide and gray as she openly appraised Mercy. ‘I know. You’re my papa’s other daughter. We thought you were dead.’

  Gideon abruptly left them, retaking his seat next to Daisy, who promptly put Brutus in his lap. Gideon’s expression softened and he whispered his thanks.

  ‘Mercy, sit down,’ Daisy commanded. ‘I’m dying of curiosity over here.’

  I came to warn you. Amos’s words sank in and Mercy suddenly felt cold. But then she felt Rafe standing behind her, warm and solid. ‘Rafe, this is Amos Terrill. Amos, this is Detective Rafe Sokolov, Irina’s son. And my . . . friend,’ she added weakly, not sure what she and Rafe were to each other.

  Mercy didn’t miss Amos’s uncertain glance at Gideon before he met Rafe’s gaze. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

  Rafe held out his hand. ‘Welcome. Mercy has spoken highly of you.’

  Amos shook Rafe’s hand, a small shudder visibly shaking him. ‘Thank you.’

  Once they were all seated around the table and Irina had served them more tea, Amos folded his hands and drew a breath. ‘We left Eden last night.’

  ‘In the back of Brother DJ’s truck,’ Abigail added.

  Amos smiled at her fondly. ‘We did indeed.’ Sobering, he looked at Gideon. ‘You asked what I came to warn Mercy about. For the past six months, I’ve been . . . aware that things in Eden aren’t right.’

  ‘Six months,’ Gideon said, unimpressed. ‘Took you long enough.’

  Amos flinched. ‘You’re right. It did.’ He leaned down to Abigail. ‘Maybe you can go sit with Miss Zoya for a little while? Maybe she can show you another movie.’

  Abigail’s lips firmed. ‘Gideon should be kind to you. You have his picture and everything.’

  Amos’s mouth curved sadly. ‘Gideon has suffered quite a lot. He has a right to however he feels. Don’t worry about me, Abi-girl. I’ll be fine. I promise. Now go find Miss Zoya.’

  ‘I’ll take her,’ Karl offered. He extended his hand, smiling when Abigail took it without hesitation. Mercy wasn’t surprised. Karl Sokolov exuded kindness. ‘Besides,’ he said with a meaningful lift of his brows, ‘I need to make sure Zoya and that boy are really studying.’

  That boy. Jeff Bunker, the sixteen-year-old who’d splashed Mercy’s private life all over his blog page. But who had, apparently, done something good enough for Irina to stand up for him.

  Oh. She remembered now. The retraction he’d written, along with offering survivors his platform to tell their stories. Had that only been this morning?

  It felt like it had been a hundred years ago.

  When Abigail was safely out of earshot, Amos continued. ‘Yes, it took me long enough. It took me seeing, with my own eyes, Ephraim murdering the Comstocks.’

  Both Mercy and Gideon gasped at that. ‘We saw the cross,’ Mercy said.

  ‘You didn’t paint it,’ Gideon murmured.

  ‘No, I didn’t have time. As soon as Ephraim brought back Miriam’s body, we moved. It was very abrupt and harder than our other moves. It was November and we’d been at that location for seven years. We’d forgotten how to move quickly. I’d made a cross for Miriam—’

  ‘Eileen,’ Gideon interrupted. ‘She wanted to be called Eileen. That was her name.’

  Once again Amos flinched at Gideon’s tone. ‘Eileen. I apologize. I knew her as Miriam for too many years. I’d forgotten that you called her Eileen when the two of you played as children.’

  Mercy shot Gideon a glare and Gideon had the good grace to look a little ashamed. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted,’ he murmured. ‘Please continue.’

  ‘I’d gone to the graveyard to place Mir— Eileen’s cross and heard weeping. I thought it was Sister Dorcas. Eileen’s mother,’ Amos explained when many at the table looked confused. ‘I saw Dorcas with her husband, Stephen, and their son, Ezra. Dorcas was weeping. Stephen was on his knees, begging Ephraim to spare Dorcas and Ezra. Ezra was standing, staring at Ephraim with hate in his eyes.’ Amos swallowed. ‘Ezra was the first to die. Ephraim broke his neck with his bare hands. Snapped it like a twig. Then he did the same to Dorcas. He killed Stephen last, but first he told him how much he’d liked . . . hurting Eileen.’ Amos dropped his gaze to his hands. ‘I can’t say the word again. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Molina said. ‘I have it in the record.’ She nodded at Gideon when he looked at her in surprise. ‘When I became awar
e of Mr Terrill’s presence, I brought him in for an interview. He’s made a full statement, including telling us where to find the Comstocks’ grave. Our forensics team has already recovered two of the bodies. Broken necks, just as Mr Terrill claimed.’

  ‘Like the madam and the college student,’ Rafe said quietly.

  Molina nodded. ‘Exactly like them. Breaks at the same vertebrae on each victim. Mr Terrill, if you would.’

  ‘I wanted to leave then. That day,’ Amos said. ‘I needed to tell someone what had happened. But I wouldn’t leave Abigail. I couldn’t leave her. I failed you, Gideon. I failed Mercy and your mother. I even failed Eileen. I couldn’t leave Abigail.’

  ‘Of course you couldn’t,’ Mercy said, covering Amos’s hand with hers.

  ‘How did you fail Eileen?’ Gideon asked, his tone less acerbic, but still far from warm.

  ‘Her parents came to me. Asked me to help smuggle her out. I made a hope chest large enough for her to hide in. But none of us could go with her. I distracted DJ while Stephen and Ezra put the chest on the truck so that DJ wouldn’t know it was extra heavy. We just hoped Eileen would get out. But something bad must have happened, because I read today that she’s also dead.’

  Gideon looked stunned. ‘You were the one who helped her escape?’

  ‘I tried.’

  ‘She did escape,’ Mercy said. ‘She escaped Ephraim only to be taken by someone even worse, if that’s possible. But she did get out. She made it all the way to Macdoel, nearly a hundred miles north of Snowbush. We think she must have hopped a train, because the settlement we found was near a train track. From Macdoel she went to Redding and took a bus to Portland, where she was taken by the man who killed her.’

  ‘Who almost killed you,’ Amos said, then looked at Daisy. ‘And you.’

  ‘But we got away,’ Mercy said firmly. ‘It brought me back to Gideon, so some good came from it.’

  ‘It brought me to Gideon as well,’ Daisy said.

  Irina sniffed. ‘Only because you both ignored all my matchmaking attempts.’