by Karen Rose
Erin frowned again. “How many people were there? Seems like it would be hard to hide a community large enough to have people representing all those trades. Satellite photos would show their homes, their gardens, even. I mean, if we can identify pot growers using Google Earth, we should be able to find a farm community.”
“There were about a hundred members, give or take,” Gideon said. “Including women and children. And I have searched aerial and satellite photos. The FBI gives me access to government satellite photos. I’ve questioned law enforcement and store owners in every small town in the search zone. Wherever they shop for supplies, it isn’t around Mt. Shasta. They are hidden and take great pains to stay that way.”
Rafe looked surprised. “You reported them to the FBI?”
“Of course I did.” Gideon wanted to snap it out, but restrained himself. “I wanted them found. I want no more kids to be treated the way we were. I want no more women enslaved like my mother. I wanted the bastards to pay. But I wanted it done legally.”
“But the FBI couldn’t find them, either,” Rafe said, apology in his eyes.
“No.” Gideon swallowed. “Then the case went cold.” Until tonight. Until the locket.
“All right.” Erin’s expression had softened somewhat, like she’d remembered this was a real story about a real person and not just a case. “How long were you in the truck bed before you slipped out? And what bus station was nearby?”
“It was the Redding bus station—and yes, I’ve asked about them at the stores in Redding, too. But I don’t know how long we drove,” he admitted.
Again, Rafe’s eyes held understanding. They’d showered in a high school locker room. Rafe had seen his scars. And not once had he asked about them.
Erin’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you remember?”
Gideon swallowed hard. “I was unconscious for most of the trip.”
“He’d been beaten,” Rafe added.
Both Erin and Cindy gasped. “Got it,” Erin murmured. Finally. “I’m sorry, Gideon.”
“It’s okay. It’s in the past.” And anyone he’d want to find was gone. I’m sorry, Mama.
Cindy drew a breath, like she was trying not to become emotional. “I have sons the age you were then. It’s good that I stick to the lab. I’d probably cry all over the victims.”
“I have a few more questions,” Erin said, her face scrunching up in apology. “What was the name of the ‘new religious movement’?”
“The cult,” Gideon said flatly, just as she had. “The Church of Second Eden. They called the town Eden, although it’s not on any map. Its leader was called ‘Pastor.’ I never knew his real name.”
Erin nodded. “All right. Why were you beaten?”
“I refused my apprenticeship.” That was true. In a manner of speaking.
Erin’s head tilted curiously. “Why?”
“Because McPhearson had a reputation for being cruel.” Among other things.
Erin nodded again. “How did he die?”
Careful. Careful. “He was beaten,” Gideon answered. That was very true.
“Why?” she pressed.
Careful. Careful. “Because of what he did to me.” True. Technically.
She studied him so closely that he would have begun to sweat had he not been trained to keep his cool. Interesting that he hadn’t blurted anything out since Daisy Dawson had left the room. He’d have to think about that later.
“The best lead we have is that torn-up photo,” Rafe said. “Can you put it back together, Cindy?”
Cindy’s eyes gleamed. “Hell, yes. I’ve done a puzzle that was one thousand pieces and solid yellow. I can do this.”
Rafe grinned at her. “Excellent. By when?”
“Not sure. We’re assuming all the pieces are still here. But if she was married at twelve in the photo we have and thirteen in the torn up one, I can use the first one as a guide. Her facial features won’t have changed much in a year.” Cindy stood up and gathered her things. “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
Erin also rose. “I’ll write the report. Let me know if I need to take Daisy duty.”
Daisy duty. Gideon wouldn’t mind some of that. The woman had been kind when she herself was rattled, after she’d been assaulted. She’d calmed him when his mind had churned with things he hadn’t wanted to ever remember. She’d smiled at him like she’d understood.
Which wasn’t possible, but he’d appreciated the effort. Even more, he appreciated the opportunity she’d dropped into his lap. The locket she’d snatched from her assailant’s throat could be a link to finding Eileen. Finding Eden. Finding the men who’d raped his sister and murdered his mother.
When Erin was gone, Rafe turned to him, brows raised. “What’s next?”
Gideon frowned. “What do you mean?”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “How many times have you been out to Mt. Shasta in the year since you got back to Sacramento? And don’t tell me that you don’t know. I’m not buying it.”
“Fifteen,” Gideon admitted.
“And when you were stationed in Miami and Philly? How many times did you come back and search without even telling me you were back?”
Gideon’s cheeks heated at the mild rebuke in Rafe’s voice. “Six times. Total.”
“Twenty-one times. God, Gid. Why didn’t you ask me to go with you? I would have gone, if for no other reason than to keep you company. Have I ever pressed you for information you weren’t ready to share?”
“Tonight,” Gideon drawled, trying to break the tension.
Rafe’s lips thinned, his eyes rolling again. “Besides tonight.”
“No,” Gideon murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Rafe glared at him. “You’re too smart to be so stupid. Now, I want the goddamn truth. What do you plan to do next? You have the chance to find the men who hurt you. Both you and your sister. To bring them in. To make them pay for whatever they did to you and to Mercy. Don’t expect me to believe you’re going to sit there and do nothing.”
To me and Mercy and our mother. But Gideon had never told Rafe about his mother’s part in his and Mercy’s escapes. He would, but not tonight. He felt too raw, too exposed. For now, he regarded Rafe soberly as he considered his answer. What could he do? Truthfully, not much. Which sucked more than he could stand.
He felt powerless once again. Thirteen years old and powerless. He thought about McPhearson’s photo. Not that powerless, he told himself. McPhearson was dead. One fewer sadist was not a bad thing.
“I can’t do much without an ID of Daisy’s assailant,” Gideon finally said. “What’s your plan to find him?”
“Thought I’d start poking around the community center, see what the neighborhood surveillance cameras show. This guy wore a stocking over his face when he attacked Daisy, but he might not have had it on the whole time he was lurking on the street. Someone would have noticed him. Daisy gave a good description of his clothing, so maybe we’ll find him on someone’s security cam. What’s next for you? Are you going to tell your boss about this?”
Gideon nodded slowly. “At this point I have to.”
“And if she doesn’t decide to lend you to us?”
Gideon met his friend’s eyes. “I have leave saved up. I need to see this through.”
“I know,” Rafe murmured.
“Even if it’s not in an official capacity,” Gideon added meaningfully.
Rafe nodded, understanding. “I’ll do everything in my power to see that you do.”
FIVE
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1:45 A.M.
“What are you doing?” Sasha asked, having stubbornly insisted on staying at her parents’ house to keep Daisy company.
Daisy looked up from Sasha’s laptop, happy to see her friend leaning against the door fr
ame of the Sokolovs’ spare bedroom, a mug in one hand and a teapot in the other. The cheery room with its whimsical wall murals was where Daisy slept whenever she stayed over.
“Do you need your laptop back?” Daisy asked, hoping Sasha would say no because her search on the locket had resulted in some fascinating reading.
Sasha shook her head. “Nope. I can use my tablet for e-mail.” She held up the teapot. “You want a refill? It’s that Sleepytime blend.”
“I don’t think sleep’s going to happen anytime soon,” Daisy muttered. “Why aren’t you in bed? You’re gonna be trashed tomorrow.”
“I called in, left a message that I’m taking a personal day.”
Daisy smiled, holding her mug for a refill after all. “You’re gonna be my bodyguard, huh?”
Sasha poured the tea, set the pot on the nightstand, then sat cross-legged on the bed next to where Brutus lay curled up in a puff of fur. Absently petting the dog’s ears, she studied Daisy’s face for a long moment. “What didn’t you tell us earlier? And don’t try to bullshit me, DD. You are really bad at it. Tell me what you were holding back.”
Daisy’s gaze dropped to the laptop’s screen, knowing exactly why she hadn’t shared all the evening’s events. Irina had been trying to set her up with Gideon for months and both she and Gideon had been resisting. Daisy hadn’t told them about Gideon because she simply didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with Irina’s well-meaning matchmaking tonight. But she trusted Sasha. She always had, even when they were kids telling secrets in a dark tent in the Sokolovs’ backyard, a flashlight their only illumination. They’d told ghost stories, complained about school, and right after her mother had died, Sasha had hugged her while she’d cried her grief.
“I met Gideon Reynolds tonight.” Daisy glanced up to see Sasha blinking with surprise. “At the police station,” she clarified.
“Gideon? What was he doing there?”
“Rafe asked him to come.” She clicked into her e-mail and brought up the photo of the locket that Trish had taken at the scene. “I grabbed this off the man’s neck tonight. The man who tried to attack me.”
“Who did attack you,” Sasha murmured, focusing on the photo. “What is it?”
“A locket. It was engraved. At first I thought Gideon was there because the man had mentioned others and that maybe Gideon was investigating a serial rapist or murderer or something. But he said he was there because of the locket. It . . . hurt him. Somehow. I want to know why.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed in thought then abruptly popped wide. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “It was his tattoo. I remember it.”
That had not been what Daisy was expecting. “Gideon had a tattoo with this design?”
Sasha nodded. “I was young when I last saw it—maybe twelve or so?—but I remember it. Back then I was fascinated by Gideon. I followed him and Rafe around everywhere.”
Daisy felt a stirring of something foreign in her chest. Something not very nice. Something like jealousy? her small voice asked.
Shut up. I have no claim to him. Don’t be ridiculous. And anyway, there was no way Sasha had a thing for Gideon Reynolds, not now or back then.
“Why?” she asked carefully.
Sasha laughed. “If you could see your face right now. Do not play poker, DD. Ever. You realize that I’m gay, right? I was then, too.”
Daisy’s cheeks heated. “I know that,” she said defensively. “Why were you fascinated with him?”
“It was a slight hero worship thing. I mean, all I knew was our family and we’re . . . well, we’re us. We’re loud and crazy and out there.”
“I remember,” Daisy said with a smile. “I always wished I could live with you.” Especially after her father had dragged them into the middle of nowhere. “I had Taylor and I love her to bits, but there was always something fun happening in this house and ours was . . .” She shrugged.
“Rigid,” Sasha supplied. “I always wondered if our fathers weren’t switched at birth. You hear about stoic Russians, but your dad got all the stoic and mine got none.” She sighed. “Everything was always this colorful chaos. Sometimes it would be too loud and I’d crawl off to the attic to hide in my nook. One day—I would have been about nine because Rafe had just started high school—he brings this kid home to work on a science project. He was this dark, mysterious stranger.”
“Gideon.”
“Yeah. Never said a word, but his eyes said a lot. Most of it didn’t seem too good. Nobody ever said he’d been hurt, not when I was around to hear, anyway. But it just rolled off him in waves. He was intense and angry. Rafe kept bringing him around and my mom kept clucking over him, making him his favorite treats and just being herself.”
Daisy smiled at this. Irina was a treasure, for sure. “You’re so lucky.”
Sasha smiled back. “I know. I asked her why Gideon didn’t just come live with us. I remember thinking, hey, we got eight kids, what’s one more?”
Daisy laughed. “Considering Zoya would have been a toddler then, I imagine that went over well. What did your mom say?”
“It did go over well, actually. She said that Gideon had a home in foster care, but if he ever wanted to move in, he’d be welcome. I think I was in awe of Gideon because he was so buttoned-down. He wasn’t broadcasting his feelings all over the place. I felt like I was the same way a lot of the time, like I didn’t belong in this house of craziness. One day I was creeping up to my attic nook and I found him there. Just chilling, you know? I sat next to him and we were quiet together for the longest time. Then he patted my head and thanked me for sharing my space with him. I told him to use it anytime, that I’d keep his secret.” Her expression grew sad. “He got this look in his eyes, like I’d punched him in the gut. He just thanked me again and left. The next time I went up there I found a flower from my mother’s garden on the window seat and a note that said ‘I’ll keep yours, too.’ I knew it was from him. After that, I’d find a flower there and I knew he’d been there. Sometimes we sat there together.” One side of her mouth lifted. “I came out to him, first of everyone.”
Daisy smiled sadly, because it was bittersweet. She was glad that Sasha had had a confidante, but sad that it hadn’t been her. She’d been on the ranch by then. “Really?”
“Yep. I was fourteen and he was home from college for Christmas. I trusted him not to tell. The man is a vault.”
“Really?” Daisy asked again, this time in disbelief. “He let a few things slip tonight. I got the impression he hadn’t intended to say them.”
“Like?”
“Like that he’d come to the police station because of the locket. I don’t think he wanted to say that and I think Rafe was surprised he had as well. I kept trying to ask about it, but either he, Rafe, or Erin would try to distract me.”
“So you’re researching it yourself?”
“Of course,” Daisy answered matter-of-factly.
“Of course,” Sasha repeated wryly. “What else did he not mean to say?”
Daisy had no qualms about telling Sasha any of this, because her friend was also a vault. “The forensics person found a wedding photo in the locket. The girl was way too young, like twelve or thirteen. Gideon had known her. He reacted most strongly to the man in the photo. Blurted out that he was dead. And then he seemed to . . . go somewhere. In his head.”
“Wow. For Gideon, that’s a hell of a lot. He must have been rattled.” Sasha returned her attention to the photo of the locket on the laptop screen. “He had this tattoo for a long time. Right here.” She patted the left side of her chest, above her breast. “I didn’t know he had a tattoo for the first few years, because he’d never taken off his shirt around us. One day we were at the river, tubing, and we all stripped down so we all saw it. I remember wanting one and my mother said no. I didn’t throw many fits, but I threw one over that. Gideon told me later, when it was just
the two of us, that I should listen to my mom. That he wished he didn’t have the tattoo. When I asked Rafe about it, he said Gideon had had it since he’d known him. So at least since they were fourteen.”
Daisy shook her head. “Who would allow a fourteen-year-old boy to get a tattoo?”
“I know, right? But I got the idea that getting it hadn’t been his idea. He got it covered when he was eighteen. Something terrible had happened because Gideon was a mess, but I don’t know what it was. Rafe knows, but he wouldn’t spill. He said it was Gideon’s story to tell. But after that, the tat was gone and now he’s got a phoenix.”
“Rising from the ashes,” Daisy murmured. “Not a difficult metaphor to parse.”
“Nope.” Sasha handed the laptop back to Daisy. “What have you turned up on the locket’s design?”
“It’s definitely religious in nature. The two kids praying is a dead giveaway, for sure. The tree is an olive tree, I think. The angel has a flaming sword.”
“Oh. Like outside the Garden of Eden.” She chuckled at Daisy’s look of surprise. “I went to CCD every week like every good Catholic girl. I was even confirmed. Do not say what you’re thinking. I was a good kid. Things didn’t get squirrelly until later.”
Daisy dutifully mimed locking her lips, but it was all for show. Sasha’s rebellious phase had been intense, but relatively short. She’d never had to go to rehab, at least. Not like Daisy had.
“Olive trees are religiously significant, too,” Sasha went on, “but I don’t remember how.”
“That’s what I was reading about. The oil is used to anoint priests and was also used to light the temple. The wood is used for a lot of things. But when you cross-reference the angel with olive trees, it turns out there are some who think the olive tree was the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. I’m wondering if the locket wasn’t some kind of church thing. I don’t know, like maybe a rosary or something. It was significant enough for Rafe to drag Gideon into the station late on a weeknight.”