by Rose, Karen
‘That’s your I-don’t-know-what’s-happening face,’ she remarked, her lips quirking up in a grin.
He chuckled. ‘So put me out of my misery?’
‘I will. First, how are you?’
‘Tired. We didn’t get here till almost two this morning. Otherwise . . .’ He let the thought trail off with a shrug. ‘Same old, same old. Going to PT, wishing my leg would hurry up and heal.’
She gave him a brisk nod, sparing him the niceties. That was Erin, to the point, cutting out all of the bullshit that they both knew wouldn’t help. ‘I wanted to give you a heads-up on a few things.’ Leaning against the wall from her perch on the stair above him, she tilted her head meaningfully. ‘I am not here.’
‘You are not here,’ Rafe agreed, fighting a smile. ‘I’m dreaming and this coffee is really just a metaphysical symbol of a crutch. A dream-cane.’
She snorted again. ‘Shut up. Look, I know you haven’t been idle these past weeks. Maybe the first few, because you were hurt pretty damn bad.’
Her eyes flickered with sadness and not a small amount of guilt. Erin had been with him at the scene when they’d rescued Mercy from the killer. She’d suffered a few broken ribs and one ‘slightly punctured lung,’ as she’d put it. She’d only returned to work the week before.
‘You kept me from getting hurt even worse than I did,’ Rafe told her soberly. No jokes now. ‘You have nothing to feel guilty about.’
She shot him an impatient look, but her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and her gaze dropped to her hands for the briefest of moments. ‘I said, shut up. I heard some stuff that I think you should know.’
He sat up a little straighter. ‘Okay. I’m awake now.’
She laughed quietly. ‘And shutting up? Never mind, you’re a Sokolov. Full shut-up mode is impossible for you guys. Anyway, there was a robbery about two hours ago. Costume store in Orangevale. No alarm went off because the assistant manager on duty fell asleep in the storeroom last night while taking inventory and forgot to set it.’ She shrugged. ‘College kid, working full-time and taking a full load of classes.’
‘Industrious,’ Rafe said cautiously.
Sadness flickered in Erin’s dark eyes once again. ‘Not anymore. Now she’s dead. Guy broke her neck with his bare hands.’
‘Oh my God. Poor kid.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What did he steal?’
‘Disguises. Kid had 911 on her cell, but her killer was gone before they got there. Must have just missed him. Store cameras got a good angle.’ Erin held out her phone and Rafe bit back a gasp.
‘Fucking hell.’ It was a still photo of Ephraim Burton, a gun pointed at the young woman, who looked absolutely terrified. She’d also had a gun but clearly was too afraid to use it. ‘Wait. If he has a gun – with a silencer – why didn’t he just shoot her? Why use precious seconds to break her neck?’
Erin gave him an impressed nod. ‘You are awake. Good boy. I wondered the same thing. And after seeing your ugly mug on the news last night, I figured you needed to know what this asshole is capable of doing. And that he’d be disguised.’
Rafe grimaced. ‘I’m on the news?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s what you took away from all this?’
He shot her an irritated glance. ‘Fuck off,’ he said, but it was completely without heat. He and Erin had a very comfortable working relationship and he was afraid she’d get teamed up with someone else before he could get back on the job. ‘What I meant was that if I’m on the news, that’s probably how the reporters figured out where Mercy was last night.’
‘Not a huge stretch. Why aren’t they outside your place? I was surprised that I didn’t have to run the media gauntlet.’
‘Mom and Dad’s address is in the white pages, but this place isn’t because when I bought out my brothers and sisters, I planned to rent it out. The deed’s in the name of my rental corporation.’
‘That was smart.’ She lifted a brow. ‘I assume you lost them when you came back here last night, because they would have followed you.’
‘I did. My mom wore Mercy’s coat and a big hat and my Dad called her Mercy as he helped her into his car. The news van that was still there took the bait and followed them around while Damien got us home. Mercy and Farrah hid in the back under a blanket.’
‘How is Mercy, by the way?’
‘Confused and scared. And pissed off.’ He sighed. ‘And ashamed that the video was posted, even though she knows she didn’t do anything wrong.’
But his mother had smoothed some of Mercy’s anxiety about the video the night before by sharing some of her own story. Which Rafe still couldn’t think about without wanting to throw up. Well, both their stories made him want to throw up. But mostly they’d made him want to kill some rapists.
Which isn’t helping.
‘I’m sorry,’ Erin murmured. ‘I only met Mercy a few times when she was here before, but I liked her. She’s a strong woman.’
‘That she is,’ Rafe said, and even he could hear the pride in his voice.
Erin chuckled. ‘So it’s like that, huh? Well, good luck, big guy. I’ll get you a vest from tactical storage just in case Gideon goes all caveman protective on your ass.’
Rafe was not even going there. ‘Why did Burton snap the woman’s neck if he had a gun?’ He squinted at the photo, using thumb and forefinger to enlarge it, studying the weapon, inwardly sneering at its flashy gold color. ‘That’s an FNX-45. It would have killed her and anyone standing behind her. So why not just shoot her?’
‘I don’t know. If I hear anything about that, I’ll let you know.’
Rafe relaxed against the railing and considered his question. ‘The gun might not have been loaded, but I think that’s unlikely. Ephraim Burton doesn’t strike me as someone who’d wave an unloaded gun around. It’s definitely not the same gun he had at the airport last night.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I got a glimpse of it on the airport’s security footage, and, for starters, the grip is all wrong. Second, his was a revolver, and third’ – he made a face at the suppressed weapon’s exterior – ‘it wasn’t gold, for God’s sake.’
She bit back a smile. ‘Fair enough.’
‘Who carries an actual golden gun?’ he grumbled, then winced. ‘You’re going to get mad at me, but in my experience, it’s mostly women who go for the flashy guns.’
She nodded with distaste. ‘It’s true.’
‘Plus, last night’s gun didn’t have a silencer. It was a Smith and Wesson .38 Special. Snub-nosed. So . . . not the same gun.’
She smiled at him with genuine affection. ‘I’ve missed you, partner.’
‘Same goes. You get yourself a new partner yet?’
‘Nope. I’m on desk duty still. Which totally sucks but does allow me to eavesdrop on other conversations. Which is how I heard about this robbery.’
He felt a frisson of relief that he hadn’t lost her yet. ‘Why wasn’t he carrying this gun’ – he pointed to the photo on her phone – ‘last night at the airport? It’s bigger, flashier, and less easy to conceal, but more powerful than the .38 Special.’
‘Maybe he didn’t have it with him.’
‘Maybe. Maybe he stole it. It’s gold, for God’s sake. I can’t see him buying a flashy gun like that.’
‘Possible. Still doesn’t explain why he used precious seconds to snap the vic’s neck.’
They sat in silence for a full minute, each of them thinking. Rafe ran various scenarios through his mind, chucking the ones that seemed most unlikely. ‘He got away from the airport last night in some lady’s minivan. June. Can’t remember her last name.’
‘Lindstrom,’ Erin supplied.
‘Oh, right. Have they located her yet?’
Her brows lifted. ‘You think the gun was hers?’
‘I don’t know. Bu
t both Gideon and Mercy believed that Burton would kill the woman.’
Erin raised her forefinger. ‘Hold on a minute.’ She scrolled through her contacts, then dialed one of them. ‘Hey, Tiff, got a minute?’
Should have thought of that myself. Tiffany Snow was their lieutenant’s right arm. Not much happened that the clerk didn’t know about.
Erin laughed quietly. ‘Sorry. I was rude to swan in with coffee and not bring you anything. I’ll bring you a latte tomorrow morning.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, of course it’s a bribe. Can you tell me if they found the Lindstrom woman yet? She’s the—’ Erin exhaled, shooting Rafe a grim look. ‘Damn, I kind of knew she was dead, but I didn’t want her to be. Do you know what kind of weapon?’ Again she listened, then nodded. ‘Got it, thanks. Any other bodies turn up? With either gunshot wounds or snapped necks?’ She pulled the phone from her ear and muted her end. ‘She’s checking.’
‘What caliber gun was used to kill June Lindstrom?’
‘Thirty-eight. Bullet was still in her. It’s on its way to Ballistics.’
‘Maybe he didn’t want to use that gun again,’ he mused. ‘Maybe he didn’t want to leave a trail.’
‘Maybe. Lots of maybes, partner. Hold on, Tiff’s back.’ She unmuted her phone. ‘What do you have?’ She listened, her eyes growing wide. ‘Really? Well, that’s a helluva mess. Thanks for this. You’ll let me know if anything else comes up?’ She disconnected and met Rafe’s gaze. ‘A Santa Rosa woman was found dead this morning. Broken neck. Cops are at the scene right now.’
‘June Lindstrom’s minivan was found in Santa Rosa last night,’ Rafe said quietly. ‘Burton was seen getting out of it, but the security cameras lost him when he ducked into an alley.’
She blinked at him. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Gideon,’ he said grimly. ‘I’d almost forgotten that, with all the other shit going on.’
Erin lightly banged her head on the wall behind them. ‘Why can’t we share information with the FBI?’
Rafe’s grin was razor sharp. ‘We are.’
Her lips curved. ‘Yes, we are.’
‘Mom’s making a huge dinner this afternoon. Gideon’ll be there. We may or may not talk more about this, if you want to join us.’
‘I just might. What does all of this mean for Mercy?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve asked her to remember stuff about Eden, anything we can use to track their movements.’
‘And?’
‘We might have something. Furniture and other crafts, made there and sold or traded outside.’
She drew herself straighter, then faked a few coughs. ‘Oh my, I may have had a relapse. I might have to take a few days off. Whatever shall I do with all that spare time?’
He snorted, despite the gravity of the situation. ‘I really do miss you. When we find a lead, I’ll let you know. Until then, you might be able to help more in the office.’
Her frown came as close to a pout as he’d ever seen, surprising him. ‘You’re no fun.’
‘And you’re Miss By-the-Book.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Which makes me wonder, what gives?’
She lifted one shoulder, uncharacteristically vulnerable. ‘I want to help you. I . . .’ She shook her head. ‘Never mind.’
‘No, what? Talk to me, Rhee.’
She blew out a frustrated sigh. ‘Shit, I wish I hadn’t said anything now.’
‘But you did. So say more.’
‘It’s just that . . . You’ve always been a friend, Rafe. I value that, and that whole near-death thing made me reconsider my priorities.’
‘I know about that,’ he murmured, thinking of the woman asleep on his sofa.
Erin made an uncomfortable sound. ‘You know I mean friend, right? Like nothing . . .’ Her lips twisted before making little kisses.
He smirked. ‘Yeah, I figured that out myself, thanks.’ The last time she’d come to Sunday dinner, she and Sasha had seemed to connect. ‘If you come to dinner, Sasha will be there.’
Erin’s cheeks pinked up, confirming his suspicions. ‘Please say you’re not matchmaking.’
He obeyed, even though it was mostly a lie. ‘I’m not matchmaking.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘What’s your mom making for dessert?’
‘Bird’s milk cake.’
Erin hummed in a decent rendition of orgasmic bliss. ‘My favorite of all her desserts. I’m in.’
They were interrupted by an anxious voice from somewhere upstairs. ‘Rafe?’
‘Farrah is Mercy’s friend,’ he explained to Erin. ‘Down here, Farrah. My partner’s here. Come meet her.’
Footsteps sped down the stairs and Farrah appeared on the landing. ‘Where’s Mercy?’
Rafe thumbed over his shoulder, pointing to his apartment door. ‘Asleep. She’s fine, Farrah. She couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you.’
Farrah gave him a knowing look, then smiled at Erin as she descended, stopping to sit two stairs above them. ‘I feel like I’m on my mama’s stoop in the old neighborhood,’ she said, her drawl like a soft blanket. ‘I’m Farrah Romero.’
The two women shook hands. ‘Erin Rhee. My job was keeping this one here out of trouble.’
‘I hope they gave you hazard pay,’ Farrah said lightly. ‘Mercy told me about you. How you helped save her. Thank you.’
‘My job,’ Erin said simply. ‘But also my honor.’
Farrah only flashed her a bright smile. ‘I’ll make breakfast if someone has eggs and bacon.’
‘I do,’ Sasha called from the second floor. ‘Farrah, come help me whip something up. Rafe, I heard that Mercy’s asleep, but you can’t do the stairs. We’ll bring you something, okay?’
‘Think Mercy slept through all that?’ Erin whispered.
‘Given how tired she was, I’m betting she did.’ Farrah got up. ‘Coming, Sasha! Y’all sit tight. We’ll be back in a jiff.’
Rafe watched her go, then turned back to Erin. ‘Did Tiff say who the body in Santa Rosa was?’
‘Oh, that was the most important part,’ Erin said. ‘It was the home of Regina Jewel. From which she ran a brothel. One of the girls found her dead and used the dead woman’s cell phone to call 911. Police found twenty women in the house. Three were staff, the others were her “merchandise.” Three of them were under fourteen. They told police that they were there for “Mr Ephraim.” Several of the older girls said they’d been forced to service him over the years, when they were thirteen and fourteen. Once they grew up, Regina placed them with other clients. They didn’t know Ephraim’s last name, but he’d show up three or four times a year.’
Rafe sat back, stunned. ‘Holy shit.’
‘I know, right? What a fucker. He likes them young. And the golden gun?’
Rafe’s mind was reeling. ‘It must be Regina’s.’
She tapped her nose. ‘Right in one.’
‘Holy shit,’ Rafe breathed. ‘This could change everything.’
She looked at him warily. ‘How?’
‘Ephraim is from Santa Rosa. That’s where he grew up as Harry Franklin. That he wound up frequenting prostitutes in Santa Rosa can’t be a coincidence. He could have found prostitutes in Redding or San Francisco or even here in Sacramento.’
‘What do you think that means?’
He hesitated in saying what he really thought, because with a single call to their boss, Erin could have him ripped off this case, and Rafe needed to see this through. But she’d put herself at risk coming to see him today, giving him this information she’d overheard. He’d always trusted her to have his back, so he blurted it out before he could change his mind. ‘His mother is in a nursing home in Santa Rosa.’
‘Ohhh,’ she breathed. ‘Maybe he’s been visiting her, too. Maybe we could lure him there.’
‘Or maybe she knows where else he
might hide. I need to tell Gideon.’ Definitely about this development. Probably not that he’d already tried visiting Burton’s mother.
Erin frowned. ‘Remember, I am not—’
‘Here. Got it. You are not here. He’s gonna figure it out anyway, you know.’
She shrugged. ‘I know. I’m okay with it. Just keep it off the record, okay?’
Rafe dialed and Gideon answered on the first ring. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. ‘Is she okay?’
‘Mercy’s fine, but we need to talk. I’m at my place. It’s important.’
‘I’m on my way.’
Eleven
Granite Bay, California
Sunday, 16 April, 3.45 P.M.
Mercy sat at the farthest corner of the Sokolovs’ dinner table, trying to take up the least space possible. It was slightly less overwhelming now, at least. Thirty minutes earlier, the kitchen, dining room, living room, hell, the whole house, had been filled wall-to-wall with Sokolovs. Six of Irina’s eight children had shown up, along with nine grandchildren. Missing were only Jude the prosecutor, who’d moved to LA – much to everyone’s dismay – and Patrick the firefighter, who was on shift that day.
They’d come to meet Mercy, to welcome her, and it had warmed her heart – until the noise had grown so loud that escape was all she could think of. But she couldn’t take a walk outside because Ephraim was out there somewhere.
Thankfully all the Sokolov children except Rafe and Sasha had gone to their own homes. Zoya, the youngest, who still lived at home, had been ‘banished’ to her room, in the teenager’s words. She hadn’t voluntarily vacated the kitchen, having immediately hit it off with Farrah. The high school senior wanted to be a doctor and had spent the meal asking Farrah a hundred questions about her research position at the university.
Mercy wouldn’t have minded if Zoya had stayed, because the discussion of ways to ‘help Mercy’ had begun immediately after the mass exodus. Mercy, however, was finding it hard to listen, still reeling from everything Rafe had told her on the drive over.
At least she’d gotten some sleep. He hadn’t woken her until twenty minutes before they’d needed to leave for his parents’ home, just enough time to splash her face with some water and change into a proper outfit. Which had surprised him. He’d actually thought she’d show up to his family’s dinner table in yoga pants and a Hello Kitty sweatshirt. She’d never truly understand men.
