Say No More

by Rose, Karen

  ‘No, but his prognosis isn’t good. His daughter had already informed the local police that the car was stolen. She’d found her father bound to a chair in his home and gagged. He’s a diabetic with a constant glucose monitoring system, which transmits his sugar levels to an app on his daughter’s phone. When her phone informed her that his levels were dropping, she rushed over and found him. That was late this morning. The Cadillac had GPS, but it had been disabled.’

  ‘And my dad’s Tahoe?’ Gideon asked.

  ‘Found north of Alturas,’ Molina said. ‘He set the SUV on fire.’

  ‘Of course he did,’ Gideon muttered. ‘Do we know what he’s driving now?’

  ‘An old truck he stole from a rancher. We’re looking for it now.’ Molina paused, studying their faces, her expression kind but firm. ‘He’s desperate. He’s not going to give up.’

  ‘I know,’ Mercy said quietly.

  ‘And you’re not going to solve anything by offering up yourself as a sacrificial goat,’ Molina added, still kindly.

  Both Gideon and Rafe started to speak, but Molina held up her hand. ‘I get why you did it, Miss Callahan. Please know that. But I must admit that I don’t get why he’s after you. This is the second time in a week that he’s tried to abduct you. Or kill you. Why, after all these years, is he coming after you? He’s gone to great lengths to find you. He went all the way to New Orleans to hunt you. It can’t be ego, can it?’

  ‘Sure it can,’ Mercy said. ‘But not only ego. There were always politics in Eden. I didn’t understand what was going on when I was there, but I was only twelve.’

  ‘And being abused,’ Daisy murmured.

  ‘That too,’ Mercy agreed. ‘All I know is that DJ Belmont started to kill me that night thirteen years ago, but was interrupted. And that when my mother told DJ that Ephraim would kill him for killing us, he just laughed and said that Ephraim couldn’t.’

  ‘I read that in Agent Hunter’s report,’ Molina said. ‘What do you think that means?’

  Mercy had been giving this a lot of thought as they’d driven from Snowbush to the Reno hospital. ‘I think it means that DJ and Ephraim had some kind of feud between them. That they held damaging information over each other’s heads. That makes sense, given that Ephraim was there hiding because of the bank robbery that he and his brother committed. Robbery and three murders,’ she amended. ‘Who knows if Pastor was also hiding? Or even Waylon, DJ’s father? They were all the original Founding Elders. Maybe they were all hiding. And, after all these years, I imagine they know each other’s business.’

  Molina considered this. ‘Do you think that Ephraim believed you dead all this time?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Mercy glanced at Gideon, relieved that he was no longer glaring at her. ‘When Gideon escaped, DJ’s father brought back a body and claimed it was Gideon’s. The body was so damaged that I couldn’t identify it, but my mother did. She knew it wasn’t Gideon, though. I figure that they did something similar for me. They had to demonstrate the consequences of running away to keep up the fear. You leave, you die. It was that simple. I don’t know if Ephraim knew that Gideon wasn’t really dead, or that I wasn’t either, but we do know that he actively searched for Eileen.’

  ‘So you think Ephraim would have found you if he’d really looked?’ Molina asked.

  ‘I do. There was a police report about the shooting in Redding when I was left there, wasn’t there?’ Mercy asked. ‘Hunter referred to it last night. There had to have been one when Gideon was found there, too. If Ephraim had really wanted to, he could have found us. I don’t think he even tried, because he believed us dead.’

  ‘So back to my question,’ Molina said. ‘Why does he want you now?’

  Mercy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth. It could be that he saw the CNN report somehow, although I don’t know how he could have. There’s no TV in Eden. Although the timing makes sense considering he booked his ticket to New Orleans that night.’

  Molina nodded thoughtfully. ‘True. We’ve established that Ephraim was in Santa Rosa the night of the CNN report, at the house from which Regina Jewel operated her prostitution ring. One of the underage girls who’d been forced to work for Regina said that she saw Ephraim that night. The girl had been scheduled to “service” him, but she was relieved because he canceled and left the building. She said that Regina was really annoyed, because she’d blocked out the girl’s schedule for two days.’

  Mercy closed her eyes, both relieved that the girls in that awful place were free and knowing that true freedom was going to require a lot of therapy. ‘Are they safe now? The girls? Will they get counseling?’

  ‘Yes,’ Molina said gently. ‘They’re safe and will be receiving physical and mental health services. All right, I think that’s enough for the moment. Where will you all be staying tonight?’

  Mercy looked at the others. ‘Can we go back to Sacramento? I need to feed my cats.’

  André nodded, his arm tight around Farrah’s shoulders. ‘I second that. We all need some rest. I’d feel safer staying in a secure home than a hotel.’

  ‘But let’s stay together, okay?’ Daisy said with a worried frown. ‘Gideon, we can stay in Sasha’s apartment, and Farrah and André can keep the top floor.’

  Mercy nodded. That meant that she’d stay with Rafe in the tiny studio apartment again. And even if he was furious at her, just being with him sounded really, really good.

  ‘Then I’ll put someone outside to stand watch,’ Molina said. ‘Until we find Ephraim, none of you go anywhere without telling me or whoever is on watch, okay?’

  Gideon rubbed at his temples. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ve assigned Agent Hunter to be your escort tonight. He’ll drive you back to Sacramento.’ Molina rose and patted Gideon on the shoulder. ‘We’ll find him, Gideon.’

  He smiled, but it was forced. ‘I know.’

  Mercy wasn’t so sure. Ephraim knew how to hide. He’d been doing so for thirty years. ‘Agent Molina, will I be able to get the jewelry box back at some point?’

  ‘Yes, Mercy. I’ll make sure of it.’

  Sacramento, California

  Monday, 17 April, 8.30 P.M.

  ‘Jeffrey Bunker, if you don’t stop that pacing, I’m going to glue your butt to a chair.’

  Jeff turned to where his mother was cross-stitching while watching her favorite TV show. ‘I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just . . . wired.’

  She spared him a glance over her glasses. ‘Sit down, honey, and we can talk about it. Either that, or get on my treadmill and run off some of that energy, because you are driving me crazy.’

  He flopped onto the sofa beside her. ‘I wish I knew what to do.’

  ‘About what?’ she asked.

  He blinked at her. ‘About what? About ruining Mercy Callahan’s life, that’s what.’ It had been the only thing he could think about all day long.

  ‘I suspect you didn’t so much ruin her life as make it more complicated,’ she said quietly. ‘That man who’s after her is ruining her life, if anyone is. Your article certainly didn’t help her state of mind, but I’d say you’re lower in the pecking order of villains.’

  He swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He’d cried so much already. Like a kid. Like a stupid kid. I am a stupid kid. ‘I don’t want to be a villain,’ he whispered. ‘I want to do right.’

  She bit off a thread and lifted her work to the light, examining it. ‘Then do right.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Jeff, you’re a smart young man. Brilliant, even. A whole lot smarter than I ever was, for sure. But brains aren’t everything. They aren’t even half of what makes a person good.’

  He blinked, then swiped at his wet face impatiently. ‘What makes a person good?’

  ‘Helping other people. Integrity. Kindness.’ She turned to face him. ‘Why did you want to write that article
to begin with, son?’

  ‘I wanted to explore the victims. Not the dead women. Lots of people are talking about them. I wanted to know how someone . . . I don’t know. Recovered? Can a person recover from that kind of experience?’

  ‘Good question. Why did you focus on Mercy Callahan?’

  ‘Because of the three, she was the quietest. Almost like a ghost. Almost like she hadn’t been abducted at all. The two other women have talked to the media. Heck, Daisy Dawson is the media. She’s got a radio show and everything.’

  ‘What does Daisy do with that radio show?’

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. What did she do with it? ‘She plays music in the morning. She’s cheerful, I guess. But she also talks about charities and ways . . .’ He closed his eyes. ‘Ways that the community can help other people. You’re way smarter than me, Mom.’

  His mother chuckled quietly. ‘Say that into my phone. I want to make it my ringtone.’

  He laughed with her, feeling a little bit right for the first time in a long time. ‘I listen to Daisy’s program sometimes,’ he said. ‘She goes by Poppy, you know.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been listening to her morning show for months. I recognized her yesterday when she was busy keeping that FBI agent boyfriend of hers from ripping your head off.’

  He was surprised. ‘You didn’t say anything.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was the right time to ask for an autograph,’ she said dryly. ‘I was busy keeping Detective Sokolov from ripping your head off.’

  He sighed. ‘I guess I deserved that.’

  ‘Yep,’ she said, popping the ‘p’. ‘You really did. But not all of it. You deserved for them to be furious with you. You didn’t deserve to be knocked around. Even though I understood why that cop did it. But back to Daisy. She uses her platform for good, Jeffy. I’ve heard her talk about pet adoptions and raising money for homeless kids. She’s brought on self-defense experts and a few weeks ago even brought on her sponsor from AA and they talked about addiction and staying sober. She uses her platform for good.’

  ‘I don’t have a platform. Not anymore. I mean, I quit the Gabber, but even if I hadn’t, it’s closed down.’ His boss was probably even facing charges for knowingly posting a video of a sexual assault. Which was warranted, the sleazy bastard.

  I am so glad I kept all my records. If he hadn’t, he might have been arrested, too.

  His mother chose a new color of embroidery floss and threaded her needle. ‘Last I checked, that story you wrote had over a hundred thousand hits. People are even watching your YouTube channel.’

  He thought his eyes might be bugging out. ‘You know about my YouTube channel?’

  She drew a rueful breath. ‘I do now. Let’s just say your aunt Patricia has explained it all to me.’

  And likely embarrassed his mother in the process. ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’

  ‘I know you are. You got in over your head, Jeffy. But now you’re on the shore and you have a chance to try swimming the river again. You know the pitfalls and the risks. You can make different choices. And, if you make good ones, you can at least help someone else, even if Mercy Callahan never forgives you.’

  His gaze shot to hers. ‘You knew that was what was really bothering me, didn’t you?’

  She gave him a knowing smile. ‘Like I said, I’m not as smart as you, but I have raised you. I’ve seen you checking your messages and I know you’ve started to call the Sokolovs’ house more than once.’

  Jeff took her phone and started a voice memo. ‘This is April seventeenth and Geri Bunker is way smarter than me.’ He handed her phone back to her. ‘For your ringtone.’

  She swallowed hard, like she was trying not to cry. ‘Make the call, Jeff. Talk to Mrs Sokolov. She seemed very nice. Ask her how Miss Callahan is doing. And ask her for ideas on how you can best use this platform of yours to do some good, before your fifteen minutes of fame are over and you go back to being a regular college kid who doesn’t wash his socks.’

  He started to get defensive about his having fifteen minutes of fame, but knew deep down she was right. He sighed dramatically. ‘I bet Ronan Farrow never has days like this. You know who Ronan Farrow is, right?’

  She tapped her phone and showed him her ebook app. ‘I’ve read both his books. You told me last year that you wanted to do investigative journalism like he does, so I’ve familiarized myself with his work.’ She pocketed her phone. ‘If you ever meet him someday, you can ask him if he has days like this. And then you can get his autograph for me.’

  She’s been listening to me. Overcome, Jeff leaned over and pecked her cheek. ‘Love you, Mom.’

  Her eyes glistened. ‘Love you too, son. Now make the call.’

  He stared at his phone for a long moment, then shook his head. ‘I’m scared to. What if she hates me? I don’t want anyone to not like me, much less hate me.’

  ‘I think a lot of people dislike Ronan Farrow,’ she said lightly. ‘They’re probably the people whose crimes he’s exposed.’ She grew serious then, leveling him with the same stare she’d given when delivering the pre-punishment this-hurts-me-more-than-you speech when he was a kid. ‘Not everyone is going to like you, son. And good people don’t do good so that they’ll win popularity contests. They do good because it’s the right thing to do.’

  He made a face. ‘Do I get points for doing good even when I’m scared?’

  She smiled. ‘Don’t know about points, but I will make you a pie.’

  ‘Apple?’

  ‘Yes. I even have ice cream to serve with it. Now call.’

  Jeff dialed. And held his breath as the phone rang. At the last minute, he put it on speaker, so that his mother could hear, too. He’d lain awake all night, his mind concocting terrible images of Mercy hurting herself because of what he’d allowed to happen to her. People killed themselves over less than this, he’d thought, over and over until he’d been ready to tear his hair out.

  Yes, he was dramatic, but if Mercy wasn’t all right, he wasn’t going to be in any shape to repeat the conversation to his mom.

  ‘Hello?’ It was a girl. She sounded young. ‘Sokolov residence. How can I help you? And if you’re a telemarketer, just give it up right now.’

  He coughed on a surprised laugh. ‘Um, hello. This is Jeff Bunker. May I speak with Mrs Sokolov?’

  ‘She’s not here right now. Can I take a message?’

  ‘Oh. Okay. Yeah.’ He organized his thoughts.

  ‘Is that the message? “Oh. Okay. Yeah”?’ the girl asked, her tone laced with humor.

  It put him enough at ease that he could get real words out. ‘I was calling to check on Miss Callahan. I know she won’t want to speak with me, but I was up all night worrying and—’ He cut himself off. ‘I’m rambling.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ the girl said gently. ‘And Mercy is okay. She appreciated you getting that video taken down and she understood why you didn’t call the cops about Miss Romero’s body right away. The man you saw is scary. She knows that better than anyone.’

  So there was history there. I knew it! He was about to ask, then caught his mother’s challenging glare. ‘Thank you,’ he said instead. ‘I’m glad she’s okay. If you could tell your mother that I called and, if she can, to please call me back. My article has sent a lot of people to my own blog and my YouTube channel.’

  ‘I know,’ the girl said, unimpressed. ‘One of them was me. You have some decent writing skills, Mr Bunker, but you’re wasting your time on that gossip trash.’

  Part of him preened. But most of him stayed focused. ‘Thank you, and you’re right that it was trash. That’s why I wanted to talk to Mrs Sokolov. I read online that she and her husband do a lot of charity work. I was hoping they could give me some advice for how to use my fifteen minutes of fame to do something good.’

  His mother gave him a proud smile.

&nb
sp; ‘Oh,’ the girl said softly. ‘I’ll tell her. It’ll be a while before she calls you, so don’t be worried. We had a family emergency and Mom had to go out of town, but I’ll pass this on to her.’

  He wanted to ask about the emergency, but his mother’s lifted brows kept him on task. ‘Thank you,’ he said again. ‘Maybe I should contact her by email if she’s dealing with an emergency. She doesn’t need to call me back. Does she have an email?’

  ‘Uh, yes,’ she said, like he’d asked if her mother had a pulse.

  ‘I can give you my email so that you can forward it to her.’

  ‘Oh, I can find your email. I’ve been on your blog and YouTube channel, remember?’

  He smiled at that. ‘Can I ask who I’m speaking to?’

  ‘Zoya,’ she said. ‘I’m the youngest Sokolov. Listen, I saw you from my window yesterday and I thought you were pretty brave to face my brother and Gideon. They can be formidable when they’re upset and they were very upset with you. But now they’re not, so . . . good on you. Stay safe, okay? The man you saw is . . . well, he’s really dangerous, but you knew that already.’

  Something in her tone had the hairs lifting at the back of his neck. ‘He’s done something else?’

  Zoya hesitated, then sighed. ‘Yes. I can’t tell you any more than to stay safe and keep your eyes open. He is not in custody. Yet.’

  ‘Okay. Got it. Thanks again. You stay safe, too.’ He ended the call and met his mother’s eyes. ‘Did I do good?’

  His mother pulled him close to kiss his forehead. ‘You did. Now I’m going to make us supper.’

  ‘And pie!’

  ‘And pie. Go gather your dirty socks.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Jeff went to his room, fully intending to pick up his dirty socks, but his gaze fell on his computer and he suddenly knew what he needed to do. First he needed to write a retraction of all of the lies that had ended up in his article about Mercy Callahan. And then he’d do some real good.

  Instead of focusing on the aftermath of her February abduction, he focused on the impact of the media bullying of victims of assault – of all kinds. He apologized to Mercy and all of the victims who’d been shamed publicly after already having endured an assault. He offered his platform to those victims, giving them a place to tell their stories.