by Rose, Karen
By then Ephraim would be gone, on his way to wherever Mercy was.
Seven
Granite Bay, California
Saturday, 15 April, 10.30 P.M.
Rafe had lost track of time. Sitting in the quiet of his father’s office, which smelled of old leather and the sweet pipe smoke that took him back to his childhood, he held Mercy tight in his arms, satisfied on a primal level by the soft, slow breaths she took. He’d done this. He’d made her feel safe enough to finally get some rest.
From the dark circles under her eyes, he knew she hadn’t slept well for far too long. His good leg had fallen asleep long before she had, but his discomfort was a minor thing. He’d been more uncomfortable on stakeouts, and tonight he had an armful of beautiful woman, so he called the situation a win.
He brushed a kiss over her temple, wishing he had a magic wand that would make all of this go away. But he didn’t, so he’d support her in whatever she needed to do. Her wanting to help find Burton was a big deal. Six weeks before, she’d been adamant that she’d wanted no part in the search for Burton and Eden. That was the same day that Gideon’s boss had finally identified Burton as Harry Franklin, a man wanted by the FBI for a thirty-year-old bank robbery and triple murder.
Molina had made an assumption that had reared back to bite her in the ass. So had Gideon. Both had assumed that Mercy would be happy to help.
But she hadn’t been then and she wasn’t now. Now she needed to, and that was a far different thing. Either way, he knew where to start, even if she didn’t.
Because he already had started. He’d been searching for Ephraim Burton and Eden for the past month, ever since she’d run back to New Orleans. He hadn’t told anyone, even Gideon, because he wasn’t working in any official capacity.
He knew the FBI and SacPD had been vigorously searching for Burton, but they clearly hadn’t been successful. He wanted to growl at the thought of the man’s hands on Mercy, wishing he’d shot the bastard at the airport when he’d had the chance.
He could still help her, though. He could help her find Ephraim and take back the part of her life the monster had stolen. Yes, she would probably return to New Orleans sometime too soon, to the life she had there – her job, her friends, her newly found family – but for the moment she was here, with him. Letting him hold her. Sleeping peacefully in his arms.
A light knock had him sighing. Of course this was too good to last. The door popped open and Sasha stuck her head in, her eyes going soft when she saw Mercy asleep in his lap.
She turned to whoever stood behind her and put her finger over her lips before tiptoeing into the office. Farrah was behind Sasha and his dad behind Farrah, who carried a covered plate. Whatever it contained smelled really good. Rafe hadn’t had a chance to finish his dinner, and his stomach growled loudly.
Sasha took the covered plate from Farrah, gesturing that their guest take the extra chair. Sasha put the plate on their father’s desk, then perched on the corner. ‘We waited for over an hour,’ she whispered.
No wonder his leg had gone to sleep. Still, holding Mercy had been totally worth it.
Farrah’s gaze was on her friend, her face a picture of worry. ‘Is she okay?’
‘She will be,’ Rafe murmured. ‘She’d be better if you all didn’t come in here to wake her up.’
Karl dragged his chair around his desk, so that he could sit at Rafe’s side. He propped his laptop on the arm of Rafe’s chair. ‘We need to talk.’
Granite Bay, California
Saturday, 15 April, 10.35 P.M.
Mercy slowly woke to whispered voices. She recognized Farrah’s soft drawl and Rafe’s rumbling replies, but seeing Sasha and Karl was a bit of a surprise. She jerked upright, not missing the wince on Rafe’s face.
I hurt him. Dammit, but . . . God. She was sitting on his lap. In front of everyone. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said hastily. ‘Let me up.’
But Rafe held her tighter. ‘No other chairs,’ he said, which, although true, was utter bullshit and everyone knew it. Still, Mercy found herself relaxing just a bit. She sat up straighter, blinking hard. ‘What happened?’ She glanced at the desk, at a covered dish that smelled amazing. ‘Is that mine?’
Sasha handed it to her. ‘Give Rafe some. His stomach is growling.’
‘Shut up,’ Rafe said, unperturbed. ‘Is that Mom’s stew?’
Mercy removed the foil covering. ‘It’s here. Along with . . .’ Her gaze shot to Farrah.
Farrah was smiling wryly. ‘Comfort food.’
Mercy took a bite of the creamy mac and cheese. ‘Your mama’s recipe? You made this for me?’
‘Yep. And don’t you be telling my mama that I shared the recipe with Irina.’
Mercy chuckled, touched at the thoughtful gesture. Farrah’s mother’s macaroni and cheese was Mercy’s go-to comfort meal. ‘Mama Ro will make you cut your own switch.’
Farrah grinned. ‘Except Irina traded her bird’s milk cake recipe, which is freaking delicious, so I think I’ll be safe.’ She sobered. ‘We need to talk to you, Mercy.’
Mercy’s stomach tumbled, her hunger abruptly gone. ‘What happened?’ she asked again, looking at the equally sober faces. Even Rafe looked subdued.
‘Eat,’ Farrah insisted, giving her a look that said she meant business.
Too tired and worried to argue, Mercy gave Rafe one of the forks and moved the plate so that they could share. ‘We’ll eat. You guys talk,’ she said.
Karl opened his laptop and Mercy remembered that Sasha and Karl had been looking at something when she and Gideon had first entered the office. She tensed, because the two hadn’t wanted anyone to see what they’d been reading. Or maybe they just hadn’t wanted her to know. Which meant it was probably very bad.
‘Your name hit the Internet,’ Karl said carefully. ‘It was already out there, after that interview with the other survivor of . . . you know.’ He winced. ‘That man who took you. Who shot my son.’
‘Serial killer,’ Mercy said quietly, already wondering what was so bad that Karl was dancing around it. ‘You can say it, Karl. I’m not made of glass. I don’t think Rafe is, either.’
Rafe’s hand came to rest on her back, a warm, comforting presence. ‘Just tell us.’
Karl sighed. ‘Someone’s looked you up. There’s an exposé. It’s not exactly complimentary.’
Mercy felt the blood drain from her face, the smell of the food suddenly making her feel ill. ‘Tell me.’
‘The reporter talked to your neighbors,’ Sasha said gently. ‘They were very supportive. Said you were “the best” and made treats for the kids in the building and did chores for the old folks.’
‘But?’ Mercy’s gaze locked on Farrah’s, cold dread spreading from her gut to her extremities, and she put the fork down before her hands became too numb to hold it. ‘Who did they find?’ She’d wanted the question to come out in a strong voice, but she only managed a whisper.
‘Peter Firmin,’ Farrah murmured. ‘And Stan Prescott. The reporter had . . . the video.’
No. Please, no. Mercy didn’t want to believe it, but she knew Farrah would never lie. Not about this. She closed her eyes, more tears burning her eyelids. ‘Goddammit.’
‘What?’ Rafe asked, his voice considerably louder and filled with anger. ‘Who are those guys and what did they say? What vid—’
Mercy swallowed hard and shoved the plate toward Rafe. ‘I need to—’ Pushing off Rafe’s lap, she ran for the office door, barely conscious of Rafe calling her name.
‘Dammit,’ she heard Farrah say as she yanked the door open. ‘I knew I should have told her alone.’
Why didn’t you? Mercy wanted to cry, but she didn’t, intent on finding the bathroom before it was too late.
Granite Bay, California
Saturday, 15 April, 10.55 P.M.
Farrah got up to go after Mer
cy, but Sasha gently restrained her. ‘Mom’s waiting in the hallway,’ Sasha said. ‘We agreed to let Mom help her if she needed it. Mom’s trained to deal with situations like this and she can tell Mercy what we’re doing to make it right.’
Farrah sank back in the chair, looking miserable. ‘Dammit,’ she swore again.
Rafe turned to stare at his father. ‘What the hell is this about, Dad?’
Karl ran a hand over his face, shattered. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered, then looked at the door Mercy had slammed as she’d fled. ‘I’m sorry. I need her to know that I’m so fucking sorry.’
Rafe blinked. His father didn’t swear often. He gentled his voice. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Mercy had . . . encounters with two men while she was in college,’ Farrah answered for him. ‘Neither were good guys and . . .’ She swallowed, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘Mercy was not okay back then. She was on her own for the first time and trying to deal with her past, with what Ephraim Burton did to her. I didn’t know about Eden then. I only knew that my friend was not okay. I tried to get her to come out of her shell, so I took her to a few parties with me, keeping her close. She started to open up, so I stopped hovering. Which was my mistake. Usually I knew all the attendees, but one night we went to a party off-campus and . . .’ She sighed. ‘Stan Prescott was there and he . . .’ Her voice broke. ‘He put something in her drink and took video. It wasn’t good video, thankfully, and Mercy’s face wasn’t recognizable, but . . . I realized she was gone and found her before anything really bad happened, but it was bad enough.’
Rage boiled over, scalding Rafe from the inside out. ‘What did she do when she found out?’
‘It tipped her over the edge and she spiraled into a depression I couldn’t pull her out of.’
Rafe waited for Farrah to say more, frowning when it became clear that she didn’t plan to. Fucking hell. ‘What about the video?’
Farrah’s body sagged. ‘Prescott was arrested for attempted rape, but he made a plea deal with the DA. Got the charge reduced to harassment, on the condition that he relinquish the video. He got a suspended jail sentence and Mercy didn’t have to go through a court trial. We thought it had gone away.’ She swallowed. ‘But he must have kept a copy.’
‘Sonofabitch.’ Rafe lurched to his feet, only to crash back into the chair when his bad leg buckled.
Sasha moved from her perch on the desk to the arm of his chair, her arm sliding around his shoulders. ‘Dad called his lawyer to get the story taken down. They’re working on it.’
That was something, at least. Karl Sokolov had started his career in radio but had long ago branched out into marketing. Between the marketing agency and his media outlets, he and his lawyers knew more than a thing or two about managing negative press.
‘I called André to get a message to the DA who filed the bastard’s plea deal,’ Farrah said. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something. I can only guess that someone paid Prescott enough for the video that he thought it was worth the risk.’
Rafe drew a breath, needing the facts before he lost his fucking mind. That someone would do that to Mercy – to anyone – but especially with all Mercy had already been through . . . ‘What about the second encounter?’ he bit out, because there was no way he was going to be able to read that trash. Even if he could, he didn’t think Mercy would get over it if he did.
Farrah’s jaw was tight. ‘Peter Firmin is just an opportunistic jerk. They went on a few dates after she’d started at the NOPD lab, but he broke it off, saying that she was the coldest fish he’d ever tried to kiss. He was pretty vocal about it at the time, telling everyone they knew. Mercy was so embarrassed. André stepped in and paid the asshole a visit.’ Her lips firmed. ‘André convinced him that it would be detrimental to his health if he talked anymore, so he stopped.’
Rafe was surprised. ‘Your fiancé, a cop, threatened him?’ Although that was fine by him.
Farrah’s chin lifted. ‘Firmin is a cop, too.’
‘Well, shit,’ Rafe muttered, and Farrah nodded.
‘That’s the reason Mercy felt safe going out alone with him to begin with after the video nightmare, but the bastard rushed her and then humiliated her when she said no. After that little chat with André, Firmin left her alone. We hadn’t heard a peep out of him until this article.’ Farrah’s eye twitched. ‘He said that if he’d known roofies were what “turned her crank,” he’d have tried that. Then he laughed and said he was just kidding, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Rafe bit out. ‘How did a reporter get this story so fast? I’ve googled Mercy and I never saw anything like this.’ He stopped abruptly when he realized what he’d revealed. ‘I googled her to find ways to help her,’ he said weakly.
Sasha squeezed his shoulder. ‘I did, too. I needed to know if she was okay after she left here. I was afraid she’d try to . . . you know.’
‘Hurt herself?’ Karl asked. ‘That worried me, too. That’s why I wanted to tell her as a group, to make sure she knew she had us on her side. I didn’t think that through. You tried to tell me, Farrah. I should have listened.’
Farrah reached over and patted his knee. ‘Probably you should have, but that you all have her back is something she’ll appreciate when she’s able.’
Rafe hoped so. ‘Back to my question. How did this reporter get the story so fast?’
Karl opened his eyes on a sigh. ‘The reporter said he’d been working the story for six weeks, since her name came up as having escaped the serial killer. He figured there was more to the story, especially after he got his hands on the hospital surveillance video that showed Mercy leaving with the killer and not fighting back.’
‘Like she did tonight,’ Sasha said grimly. ‘Someone at the airport got the whole thing with Burton on video and posted it. She’s as expressionless as a statue, docile as a lamb. If you didn’t know the truth, you’d think she wanted to go with him.’
Rafe’s churning stomach turned inside out and he had to swallow the bile that rose to burn his throat. ‘Fucking hell.’ He leaned into Sasha wearily. ‘Has anyone connected her to Eden?’
Both the FBI and SacPD had kept the existence of the Eden cult from the press, and it hadn’t been mentioned in the interview with the killer’s other escapee. They’d released a photo of the locket as a lure to other Eden survivors, hoping to get more information before making their investigation public. Eden moved its location whenever someone escaped its walls, in case the victim told law enforcement where to find them. Making the investigation public would only prompt the cult leadership to hide yet again, so it was still a secret. Or at least Rafe prayed it was.
Mercy had been through enough without that spotlight. It would be a media frenzy for sure.
‘Not as far as we could see,’ Karl said. ‘The one good thing about that idiot Prescott’s video is that it can be used to explain her lack of affect when she faces stress. If she wants to make any statement at all, she can speak of the lingering effects of the roofie incident. She doesn’t need to mention Eden at all.’
Rafe hoped his father was right. Addressing the facts in a practical fashion might smooth Mercy’s way. At least a little. But his gut thought differently. ‘This is going to devastate her.’
‘Yes, it will,’ Farrah said evenly, ‘if you treat her like a victim. Mercy is strong. She’s had to be. She’s survived things that we can never understand. I’ve known her for eight years and Karl has the right approach. We need to be strong for her. Do not pity her.’
Rafe remembered the way her body had shaken with the force of her sobs. ‘She’s not that strong,’ he murmured. ‘Nobody is.’ He grabbed his cane and eased his body to standing. ‘I’m going to check on her. Does Gideon know?’
Karl nodded. ‘I called him. He . . . didn’t take it well.’
‘We’ll help them through this, Dad,’ Sasha declared. ‘Tell her we love he
r, Rafe. She’s family.’
‘I will.’
Granite Bay, California
Saturday, 15 April, 11.00 P.M.
‘Here, doragaya maya.’ Irina placed a cup of hot tea in Mercy’s clammy hands. ‘Sip it. Slowly.’
Sitting on the bathroom floor, Mercy obeyed. ‘Thank you. You’re very kind and I’m very sorry.’
‘Bah.’ Irina waved her apology away. ‘I’d be sick too, if I heard that kind of news.’
Irina’s direct approach was almost identical to Mama Romero’s – and just what Mercy needed at the moment. ‘How bad is the article?’
Irina shrugged. ‘It’s not good. The reporter quoted your neighbors, who said nice things, but those were overshadowed by the quotes from the two men. And the video, of course. Which none of us viewed, nor will we.’
Mercy sighed as she sipped the tea. ‘Thank you for not sugarcoating it.’
‘I was a nurse for almost thirty years. I do not sugarcoat. Unless it is dessert.’ Irina sat on the edge of the tub, studying Mercy as she pulled a package of crackers from her pocket. ‘You look better. Try to eat these.’
‘I’m sorry I missed your dinner.’
Irina pushed Mercy’s hair from her damp forehead. ‘Shush, Mercy. We are family here. You do what you must to take care of yourself. Not to worry about hurting our feelings.’
The woman’s accent became thicker when she was in caregiver mode. Just like Mama Romero’s did. ‘Gideon is lucky to have you.’
Again, a shrug. ‘I do not know about that. But we have loved and supported him through his trials. You are now lucky as well. You have us, too.’
‘Thank you. Mama Romero has loved me through many trials, so I’m doubly lucky.’
‘I’m glad. Gideon worried that you were alone.’ Irina cupped Mercy’s cheek in her palm, her expression tender. ‘You are a good girl, Mercy. We will find a way to make you shine like a new penny by the end of this. These men who hurt you will be sorry.’
Mercy wasn’t so sure about any of those statements. ‘The police took my case seriously back then. I hope they’ll be supportive now as well. I was never wild in college, which helped me then. That shouldn’t have been a factor, but it was.’
