Say No More

by Rose, Karen

  Mercy froze, her legs wobbling beneath her. The bulletin board was filled with photos, maps, and documents. Front and center was Ephraim Burton, glaring out of Eileen’s wedding photo with his one good eye, his other patched because Gideon had stabbed him.

  Haltingly she took a step forward, then another, until she was a foot away, silently studying each photo in turn. There was a mug shot of Ephraim’s brother Edward from thirty years before. Ephraim’s senior class yearbook photo, in which he’d worn a bow tie. He was barely recognizable, he was so young. But there had been cold calculation in his eyes even then.

  There were satellite maps of the wilderness around Mt. Shasta. Somewhere in those woods was the location of the compound when she and Gideon were children. There was a map of Santa Rosa, with an X marking a spot, a photo of a run-down house thumbtacked beside it. Next to that was a photo of an old woman, labeled Belinda Franklin, mother, then another photo of a nursing-home sign. Sacred Heart Palliative Care.

  She turned to the man standing silently beside her. ‘Rafe. My God. What is all this?’

  ‘Everything I’ve been able to find in the last few weeks.’

  ‘Does Gideon know?’

  ‘No. I haven’t found a solid lead yet, but I’ve been looking.’ He met her gaze, his piercing. ‘I can’t turn back time for you, Mercy. I can’t undo what Burton did to you, even though I’d do anything in my power to try. But I can help you find him. Help you get justice.’

  Mercy could barely breathe. Emotion flooded her. Appreciation, gratitude. Respect. Affection, pure and unadulterated. He’d done this. For me. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out.

  The expression on her face must have been enough, because he smiled grimly. ‘Do you want to work with me? Will you help me find him?’

  Finally a few words came in a rough whisper. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  He gestured to the sofa. ‘Then let’s get started. It won’t be pleasant, but I need you to tell me everything that you remember about Eden.’

  Sacramento, California

  Sunday, 16 April, 5.15 A.M.

  To Rafe’s relief, Mercy sat on the sofa, her focus back on his bulletin board. The look she’d shot him before saying she still wanted to help had gripped him hard, making his heart pound and his eyes sting. It was raw gratitude, relief, and something more. Something that made him shove his hands in the pockets of his sweats because in that moment he’d needed to touch her. Needed to hold her.

  But she was fragile and he wasn’t going to push.

  ‘What do you want me to remember?’ she asked, her voice soft. But not weak. There wasn’t a weak bone in that woman’s body.

  He turned away, pretending to hunt for a notebook, but really just needing the time to pull himself together. Surreptitiously he swiped at his eyes with the shirt he’d tossed on Daisy’s overstuffed armchair, then pulled the shirt over his head.

  When he turned back, she was no longer staring at the board. She was staring at him, the ‘something else’ in her eyes having shifted to . . . Need? Want? Old-fashioned lust? He wasn’t sure which it was, but he felt it too and was suddenly aware that the sweats he wore would conceal nothing. Do not push. Do not scare her away.

  Swallowing hard, he sat on the other end of the sofa, pulling his notebook over his lap, her gaze becoming a little glazed as she followed his every little movement. Nervously he tapped his pen on the notebook, and the sound jerked her out of the trancelike stare.

  But not a trancelike stare like the one at the airport. She was with him this time, he could tell. She’d been fully engaged, and rather than being pale and drawn, her cheeks were a shade of pink that tempted him to get up and put that glazed look back in her eyes.

  But not now.

  Her green eyes shot up to his, guilty at being caught looking. Rafe forced a wry smile. ‘You okay?’

  She pushed her hair away from her face with an embarrassed chuckle. ‘Yeah.’ Clearing her throat, she turned back to the board. ‘What exactly do you know so far?’

  The sexual tension ratcheted down a fraction, enough that Rafe could actually draw a comfortable breath. Enough that he had to wonder what it would be like with her, if he’d actually burst into flames if she ever truly let him in. Because merely sitting on the same sofa had given him a painful hard-on.

  That was completely inappropriate at the moment.

  He manhandled his thoughts back into some semblance of coherence. ‘Well, Harry and his brother, Aubrey, were born in Santa Rosa. Harry is forty-seven and Aubrey would have been fifty-nine.’

  ‘If he hadn’t gotten his just deserts the night he tried to rape Gideon,’ she said matter-of-factly.

  ‘Correct. Belinda Franklin, their mother, is now seventy-six. She lives in a nursing home in Santa Rosa.’

  Mercy got up to inspect the photo of the care facility. ‘Looks like a nice place.’

  ‘It is. It’s an expensive place.’

  She turned, one brow lifted. ‘Who pays for it?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Follow the money, right? I don’t know yet.’

  ‘Does the FBI know where she is?’

  ‘I’m sure they do. I haven’t asked. They’ll know I’m working on my own and they’ll tell me to stop.’

  ‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a good motto for a reason,’ he replied, and she laughed.

  ‘I guess so.’ She turned back to the photo. ‘Have you been to this nursing home?’

  ‘Once. I posed as a family friend, but the staff was suspicious. She has dementia, and I don’t think she gets many visitors.’

  She turned, wide-eyed. ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘Kind of. I got to the doorway of her room.’

  ‘What did she say to you?’

  He grimaced. ‘To get the hell out. I thought she sounded damn lucid at that moment, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have bad and good days. I was escorted out – politely – by her aide.’ He remembered Belinda’s cold eyes, her sneer. Having now met Ephraim Burton in person, he could see the resemblance.

  ‘Were Harry and Aubrey her only children?’ Mercy asked.

  ‘Yes. As far as I know, anyway.’

  She frowned. ‘Can anyone trace the visit back to you? I don’t want Ephraim gunning for you, too.’

  ‘Oh, I think that’s a given after the airport last night. He was decidedly unhappy with me.’ He fell silent then, waiting until she’d once again met his gaze. ‘I want him to come gunning for me, Mercy. I’m ready.’

  She exhaled on a sigh. ‘I can’t even go there right now, Rafe. I know you’re some big bad cop, but—’

  ‘But a crippled one?’ Rafe interrupted bitterly.

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Do not put words in my mouth, Detective Sokolov. I was going to say that you might be a big bad cop, but he’s a sociopathic monster who’d kill everyone in your family to bring you to your knees.’

  Rafe blinked at that. ‘Excuse me? What does that even mean?’

  Mercy began to pace. ‘It means exactly that. I remember several moves during the time I was in Eden. We’d always move after someone was either devoured by wolves because they got caught too far from the main gates after sunset or deliberately cast out into the forest to be devoured by wolves because they’d “betrayed” their faith.’

  ‘Devoured by wolves?’ Rafe repeated. ‘Really?’

  Mercy stopped pacing to level him a glare. ‘Yes, really. It’s a genuine concern in the mountains. If not wolves, then bears. Their remains were sometimes brought back for burial – if there was enough left over. It’s what they claimed happened to Gideon after he “ran away”.’ She used finger quotes.

  ‘But they didn’t have a body. Because he actually escaped.’

  ‘True, except that they had remains. Whose remains, I don’t know.’
She sucked in a breath in alarm. ‘God, Rafe, that means they killed someone. Someone else, outside Eden.’

  ‘Let’s table that for later. For now, let’s focus on Eden. Did you ever see the remains of other escapees?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Yes. Not something my mind can ever completely lock away. It was meant to keep us afraid. To keep us in line.’

  ‘And it worked?’

  ‘Yes, it worked,’ she snapped, exasperated. ‘Of course it worked. It was horrific.’ She drew in a breath, let it out, visibly calming herself. ‘My point is, the family of whoever was “devoured” or whatever was punished for their relative’s sin. Or their foolishness, if they claimed it was an accidental devouring. I remember three moves – one when I was four, one when I was seven, and the one after Gideon left when I was nine. The first two times, the families didn’t move with us. They were outcast.’

  Rafe grimaced. ‘They killed the escapees’ families?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know if they killed them with their own hands or let the animals have them, but they wouldn’t have just let them go.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ Rafe said, thinking as he noted everything she said in his notebook. ‘And so when Gideon disappeared? Did you think they’d kill you and your mother, too?’

  She nodded grimly. ‘I did. I was so damn scared. Amos was scared, too. He thought we’d all be cast out. But then they took us with them. Mama was immediately taken from Amos and put in isolation. As soon as we were settled, Mama was given to Ephraim, compensation for Gideon killing Edward and stabbing Ephraim’s eye.’

  Rafe’s gut roiled. She spoke of her mother’s fate so clinically, but he knew it was her coping mechanism and he wouldn’t deny her comfort in whatever form she chose to take it.

  ‘And you?’ he asked softly.

  Her chin lifted, as if she was bracing herself. ‘I was allowed to stay with Amos until I was twelve.’

  ‘When you were given to Ephraim,’ Rafe finished heavily. ‘Why do you think they let you live?’

  Another shrug. ‘They probably spared Amos because he was the community’s carpenter. But me and Mama? Maybe to make an example of us? To give Ephraim endless revenge? Because Ephraim was waiting until I was twelve? Everyone knew that Ephraim was “rough on his wives”. That was the euphemism for sadistic brutalization.’

  Rafe closed his eyes for a long moment, fighting back bile that burned his throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. He knew she’d returned to the sofa when it rocked slightly.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered back. After a few seconds, she said in a normal voice, ‘We should ask Gideon what he remembers. He was five when we arrived and I was barely a year old.’

  He opened his eyes, startled to see she’d chosen the middle cushion, sitting much closer, but still not touching him. ‘We’ll do that,’ he promised.

  ‘What other kinds of things do you want to know?’

  ‘Were any of the people who supposedly got devoured making waves in the community? Did any of them get cast out for questioning the rules?’

  ‘Like marrying off twelve-year-old girls? I don’t know.’ Her gaze went far away, her eyes narrowing in thought. ‘Maybe. After Gideon left, I was ostracized from the women and girls. I wasn’t allowed in school any longer and I wasn’t allowed to go on any more field trips to the forest or hang out with anyone.’

  ‘That had to have been difficult,’ Rafe murmured, earning him a surprised laugh.

  ‘It was at first. But it was paradise compared to what happened after I turned twelve.’

  His stomach twisted harder. At some point she might want to tell him what happened, and when she did, he’d listen. But not today, he thought, knowing he was being selfish. I’m not ready today. He still hadn’t processed the bombshell his mother had dropped on them the night before.

  And none of this is about you, Prince Charming. Get off the pity train.

  ‘Maybe Gideon will remember something,’ he said, his words coming out strangled.

  Mercy shot him a glance so full of compassion that it stole his breath. ‘It’s not easy,’ she said, as if reading his mind. ‘Not easy to go through. Not easy to hear if it’s someone you care about. Like your mom.’

  ‘And you, Mercy.’ He needed her to understand. ‘Wherever we end up, even if it’s just friends, I do care about you. And not because you’re my best friend’s sister. Well, not just because of that, anyway.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said gently. ‘I only meant that this is a difficult topic, no matter which way you approach it. And just because you weren’t the victim of the actual crime doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter.’

  ‘That’s very wise advice,’ he said warily.

  ‘That’s very expensive advice,’ she corrected. ‘Took me years of therapy before I could even hear the words, much less internalize them. Still can’t quite adopt them, but that’s the journey.’

  He didn’t want to think about how difficult those therapy sessions must have been for her. ‘When Eden moved after Gideon’s escape, where did it go? I mean, did the compound stay around Mt. Shasta? Gideon said he could see the mountain in the distance the whole time he was in Eden, even though they moved around.’

  She tilted her head, thinking. ‘Not near Shasta,’ she finally answered. ‘I don’t remember seeing the mountain after that. And it wasn’t as cold. Maybe a lower elevation? Maybe we went a little farther south.’

  ‘And the poppy field?’

  ‘They never replanted it, not in the new place. They may have gone back to harvest the existing poppies, but I don’t know.’

  He tapped his pen against the notebook some more, thinking. ‘You said the move before Gideon left was when you were seven. Were there poppies in the location before that?’

  She curled her legs, tucking her feet beneath her. ‘No, I don’t think so. Gideon might remember better, but I think there were pot fields before that.’

  ‘Were the members aware of the illegal drugs? Did the leaders use the money for the community?’

  ‘If the adults knew, they never spoke of it, not around us kids, anyway. As for using the cash to make our lives even a little better? No, that was not the case. We lived very simply. Made our own clothes, canned vegetables for the winter, raised a few cows and goats for milk. Kept chickens for eggs, pigs for bacon, and sheep for wool, that kind of thing. They brought a few things in from outside, like flour. But nothing to make our life less simple.’

  ‘So there had to be actual money spent. Where did you get the fabric to make the clothes?’

  ‘Some of the women had looms, but occasionally we had store-bought fabric on bolts. They told us they traded for it. There was one man who went into town once a week or so to trade and get supplies, like tools and certain medicines. The things we couldn’t make on our own.’

  ‘Okay,’ Rafe said, writing that down. ‘Who was the man who was allowed out of the compound?’

  ‘Before Gideon left, it was a man named Waylon Belmont. After Gideon left, Waylon died. It was just a few days later.’ Her gaze hardened. ‘His son, DJ, took over his route.’

  It took him only seconds to realize what she was saying. He knew the basic elements of her story. He knew her mother had smuggled both Gideon and Mercy out, four years apart. He knew that whoever had driven them had let Gideon go, but had shot Mercy and killed their mother.

  Waylon had let Gideon go, but Waylon’s son, DJ, had shot Mercy, leaving her for dead. Rage exploded inside Rafe, but he shoved it back. He had a name now. He’d get more later. And he’d find DJ Belmont eventually, and make the man sorry he’d ever been born. But not today. Not now.

  Now she needed him to help her dredge up her worst memories. So he made himself nod levelly, addressing a less obvious element of her statement. ‘Waylon helped your mother get Gideon out. And then he died a few days later.’

>   She blinked at that. ‘I guess so. I never made that cause-and-effect connection before.’

  ‘How did he die?’

  She looked troubled. ‘I don’t know. It was sudden and I remember Amos being devastated. Well, mostly because Mama was gone because Gideon had “betrayed” us, but also because he and Waylon had been friends for years. Amos wasn’t a Founding Elder at Eden, but he was among the first to join up. Waylon would sell the . . .’ She trailed away, her gaze suddenly gone somewhere else.

  Rafe perked up. ‘Would sell what?’

  ‘Furniture,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Amos was a carpenter. He built the houses and made furniture for new families in Eden, but he also made furniture to sell. He had a very specific style – and he marked each piece with a little olive tree. Y’know, for Eden.’ She abruptly focused. ‘Can I use your laptop?’

  ‘Of course.’ He grabbed it from the little end table, typed in his password, then handed it to Mercy.

  She typed quickly, frowned, then typed some more while Rafe watched her intently. After more than twenty minutes, she looked up with satisfied triumph. ‘Like this.’ She turned the laptop and he leaned in close to see. ‘Found this on Pinterest.’

  ‘Oh wow.’ There were three photos, one of an amazing wood table, a second photo showing the intricate carvings on each leg, and the third, the stylized mark of a tree carved into a corner of the table’s underside. ‘Just like Gideon’s tattoo and the locket.’

  She nodded. ‘Amos told me once that he’d designed the symbol and had carved the model for the mold that Edward McPhearson used to use to produce the lockets. But it was our secret. He told me a few days before my wedding. Told me never to mention it, especially to Ephraim, but that every time I would look at my new locket, I could remember my father. Amos always considered himself my dad.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I called him Papa.’

  ‘Did he try to make it so that you didn’t have to marry Ephraim?’

  ‘He did. He was supposed to get a new wife after I was married, because I’d done the cooking and cleaning after Mama went to Ephraim’s. But he didn’t get one, at least not for the year I was with Ephraim. I think they punished him by giving the woman to someone else. I’d forgotten about that.’