by Karen Rose
“Holy mother of God,” Frederick murmured.
“What was that, sir?” the 911 operator asked. Frederick had called seconds after Rafe was hit, describing the scene and asking for medical assistance.
“This situation has escalated further,” Frederick whispered harshly. “Where the hell is the SWAT team that the Feds supposedly sent?”
Daisy sat frozen in horror, and then her brain rallied. “Hell, no,” she spat, scrambling over the bench seat to the back of the Subaru, finding the gun safe Rafe had mentioned. It wasn’t a small gun safe. It was long enough for rifles. Please, please let there be a loaded rifle in here.
She put in the code—Irina’s birthday—then opened the front to find a rifle and two handguns. She took the rifle and gave her father the handgun along with her own cell phone, then slid from the backseat to stand on the ground.
“Call Molina,” Daisy told him quietly but urgently. “Her number’s in my contacts. Ask her where the fuck the SWAT team is. Ask her where the fuck she is.”
Keeping the car door open, she rolled the window down and used the frame to balance the rifle. It was too heavy for her to hold. She was tired and her hands were shaking.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Frederick demanded, still whispering.
“I’m going to finish what I started on Thursday night. I should have taken his gun, not just knocked it away. Call Molina, dammit. Now.”
Frederick let out a breath. “Operator, I need to go.” He ended the call as the operator was telling him not to. And then he dialed Molina, just as Daisy had asked.
She steadied her hands, trying not to be distracted by her father’s conversation with Molina. The woman and her SWAT team would come in time or they wouldn’t. If they don’t, I’ll do what I have to do. But when she looked through the rifle’s scope, her heart stopped.
Gideon’s loud voice carried easily across the field. “You want me to beg?” he asked Carson, his desperation crystal clear. “Fine. I’ll beg. Take me instead. Please.”
And then Gideon dropped to his knees in front of Carson.
Daisy’s terror ratcheted up, even though she recognized Gideon’s action as a distraction. At least she hoped so. Oh God. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.
Carson’s eyes followed Gideon’s downward motion, his chin dipping, his mouth falling open in shock, distracted for a split second—a second that Mercy used to swing her bound hands up in an arc and squeeze Carson’s bandaged hand.
The bald man yelped and Mercy made herself dead weight, dropping from his arms and crawling toward Rafe. Erin stepped forward, jabbing her gun at Carson’s back.
Erin’s clear command carried to the Subaru. “Drop the gun and hands in the air.”
Slowly Carson began to lower the gun, then switched speeds, swinging his arm back and firing blindly. Her grunt of pain confirmed a hit. She staggered back, one hand to her chest. She fired once as her body hit the ground, but it went wide.
“Fuck,” Frederick said, moving to open his car door.
“Wait,” Daisy snapped. “She was wearing a vest.”
“She took that point-blank,” Frederick argued. “She’ll have broken ribs. Or worse.”
“She’s alive at the moment. Do not walk into my line of sight. Where is the SWAT team?”
“Five minutes out and closing. Molina’s with them. They have air coverage, too.”
“I don’t think we have five minutes,” Daisy muttered.
Erin lay on her back, gasping for breath, staring straight up at the sky, and Carson lifted his gun to shoot her again. Daisy had him in her scope and started to pull the trigger, but cursed when Gideon drew his weapon from behind his back as he came to his feet and started to rush forward.
Then gasped when Gideon came to an abrupt halt. His gun was pointed at Carson’s head. And Carson’s gun was aimed at Gideon’s. Both held their weapons in their nondominant hands. Neither had the advantage and they stood in stalemate for several painful seconds that felt like years.
Gideon took a step back and Daisy wanted to scream, One more step back, just one more. Because the angle was almost perfect. But if Gideon moved forward, even a little, she’d hit him.
Carson smiled at Gideon and it was a terrifying sight. “On your knees, Reynolds,” he said quietly. “You’re going to die on your knees.”
Yes, Daisy thought desperately. Do it. Please. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gideon might drop to his knees for Mercy, but he wasn’t going to die on his knees. She wanted to run to him, but she stood there, holding position, waiting for the right moment. If Carson moved just a foot to the left, she’d have a clear shot.
And then, to Daisy’s shock, Gideon began to sink to his knees once again.
Carson laughed, the barrel of his gun following Gideon’s descent.
Daisy pulled the trigger.
Carson died laughing.
PLACERVILLE, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 5:13 A.M.
Gideon fell forward on his hands and knees, sucking in as much air as he could.
“Are you okay?”
The question had come from Mercy, who had used Rafe’s belt as a tourniquet on his leg. She sat in the snow, Rafe’s head in her lap as she put pressure on the wound in his arm.
“Yes. That was too close.” He pushed himself to his feet, holstering his own gun and snatching Carson’s before checking for the bastard’s pulse. Satisfied when he found none, he pulled his own belt off as he walked backward to Rafe, his eyes seeking Daisy. She was in her father’s arms.
“She’s fine,” Frederick called out.
More than fine, Gideon thought as he made his way to Mercy and Rafe, acutely aware that Daisy had saved his life. Just as he’d expected she would. He could have shot Carson, but the man likely would have shot him, too. And if Carson’s bullet had felled Gideon first, there would have been no one to protect Mercy, Rafe, and Erin.
Actually, that wasn’t true. If Carson had shot him first, Daisy would have taken Carson out without blinking. But I like the way it worked out a whole lot better.
He crouched next to Mercy. “Are you all right?”
Mercy nodded. “Throat hurts. Otherwise, unharmed.”
He shuddered out a relieved breath. “Good. Use this on his arm,” he said, giving her the belt. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to check on Erin.”
He jogged to Erin, dialing Molina as he dropped to his knees beside the detective, who was still gasping for air. He put the phone on speaker and set it on the ground. One-handed, he gently pulled at the Velcro that held Erin’s bulletproof vest together.
His boss answered on the first ring, and she was angry. “This better be good, Gideon. You have disobeyed every order—”
“You can do what you need to do later,” he interrupted. “For now we need to airlift Sokolov and Rhee. He’s got two GSWs and both are bleeders. Rhee was hit point-blank in the chest with gunfire. She was wearing a vest but she may have a punctured lung.”
“Already on it,” Molina said. “Daisy’s father called me once you’d engaged in the firefight. But that’s all I heard before a weapon discharged and Mr. Dawson hung up. What about Carson Garvey?”
“Dead. Daisy got him with a sniper rifle.” He tried to remove the vest, but couldn’t do it one-handed and his right hand hadn’t yet recovered enough dexterity to be useful. “Frederick!” he called. “I need your hands.” Then to his boss. “I need to go. We have wounded.” He ended the call and dropped his phone in his pocket.
He’d take his medicine when the time came. He’d do any and all of it again.
Frederick was already dropping to his knees on Erin’s other side. He pulled the Velcro straps free and lifted the heavy vest over Erin’s head. She nodded her thanks.
“Better,” she said, but she was still gasping. “Help Rafe.”
Frederick was spreading his coat over Erin’s body. “We’ll be back.”
Daisy was at Rafe’s side when Gideon returned and had covered him with a blanket. “I found it in Rafe’s car with a first-aid kit,” she said. “I don’t know if Erin has one or not.”
Frederick began ripping open the packages of gauze and capably packing Rafe’s wounds.
“You have medical experience?” Gideon asked him.
“No. Just lived three hours from a doctor for too many years,” Frederick said. “I learned the hard way. The good news is,” he told Rafe, “the tourniquets have stopped the bleeding. You’ll probably have stitches and then be back to causing trouble like Gideon.”
That made Rafe smile and Gideon’s heart eased a fraction. He’d come too close to losing too much, but they were going to be okay. He’d keep telling himself that.
Frederick seemed to have the first aid under control, so Gideon turned his attention to Daisy, tipping her chin. She was crying. “Adrenaline?” he asked, wiping her cheeks.
She shook her head, then closed her eyes. “I’ve never killed anyone before. I mean, I’m glad I did it and I’d do it again in a minute, but . . .”
“Daisy,” Rafe said hoarsely. “Thank you.”
Mercy smiled tremulously. “Yes. Thank you.”
“But it’s hard,” Gideon told her. “The first time and all the times after.”
Daisy sobbed harder. “He made you kneel,” she cried. “I’m sorry.”
Stroking her hair, Gideon laughed, the sound strange in the aftermath. “I knelt the first time because I knew he’d get off on me humiliating myself and be distracted enough so that Erin could take him down. That was my idea, so it was me manipulating him.” He leaned back to tilt her chin up again. “You know why I knelt the second time?”
She sniffled. “No. Why?”
“Because I knew you’d have him in your sights.”
Her mouth fell open. “Really?”
“Really. And you came through, just like I figured you would.”
“He’s dead?” Rafe asked, his breathing labored. “You’re sure?”
“Very sure,” Gideon confirmed. “It was a textbook headshot. But now we won’t know where he’d buried the rest of the victims.”
“They’re all here,” Mercy said. “There’s an abandoned mine shaft on this property. He brought them there.”
“The property belonged to Sydney,” Gideon told them. “So that makes sense.” He let Daisy go. “I’m going to sit with Erin until the medevac gets here.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you, honey.”
She nodded, then held out her hand and he pulled her up. Together they walked to where Erin had pushed herself up on her elbows. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me,” she said quietly. “Rafe would have died if we hadn’t had help.” She nodded at Carson’s body. “He might have killed us all.” She tilted her head. “Sirens. Thank God.”
The first vehicle to arrive was a black sedan and Gideon was unsurprised to see Molina get out of the back. She walked over to them, her gaze taking in the rifle propped against the Subaru and the killer’s body on the ground.
She stopped where Gideon and Daisy sat with Erin. “Special Agent Reynolds.”
Gideon nodded. “Special Agent in Charge Molina.”
Her jaw was tight and anger sparked in her eyes. “There will be consequences.”
“I know,” Gideon said simply. “But I’d do it again. Mercy is my sister. Rafe is my brother. And Erin, even though she really did try to keep us away, is grateful.”
Molina rolled her eyes. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Gideon. Daisy, well done. Thank you.”
Daisy blinked. “Can’t say that it was my pleasure, ma’am, but you’re welcome.”
Molina nodded, then sniffed at the air. “His burial ground?”
“Yes.” Gideon had been too revved up to smell it before, but he could detect the odor of death now. One of those bodies is Eileen. “We’re going to have to bring them out.”
Molina rested her hand on his good shoulder. “Someone will. But it doesn’t have to be you. And it doesn’t have to be now.” She looked up when the sound of helicopter blades got louder. “Call me tomorrow, Gideon. We’ll talk. Today, take care of your friends and yourself.”
THIRTY-TWO
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1:50 P.M.
“Do you need anything else?” Daisy asked as she plumped Rafe’s pillows. He had more color in his face than he’d had the day before, but he was far from back to normal.
His smile was a weary one. “I’m fine. Just tired. Need to sleep.”
He’d been released from the hospital that morning and—against all wheedling, nagging attempts by his mother—had chosen to recover at his Midtown Victorian rather than the Sokolov house, saying he’d never get any sleep at his parents’ house. The stairs would have made it impossible to get to his own apartment on the top floor, so he was using Daisy’s studio for the time being. Irina had moved into Rafe’s apartment so that she could be close and Sasha was just one floor above, so he wasn’t truly alone.
That left Daisy temporarily displaced, but she wasn’t upset by this. She was staying with Gideon, first at the Sokolovs’, but starting tonight at his house. Just for the time being. They’d go back to normal soon, but time with Gideon was what she needed right now.
“Okay.” She kissed his forehead. “Your mom’s napping, but she has one of the baby monitors with her and the other is at Sasha’s. Gideon and Mercy and I will be in Sasha’s place for a while, so yell if you need anything. We’ll check on you before we leave.”
He closed his eyes, nearly asleep already. “I love you, DD, but you’re hovering. Go away, please and thank you.”
She laughed softly, unoffended. It was fair. They’d all hovered over him, shocked by how close they’d come to losing him. “Okay. Going away now.”
She crept from the studio and climbed the stairs to Sasha’s apartment, where Gideon and Mercy sat waiting in front of Gideon’s open laptop. Sasha had gone back to work but had invited Mercy to use her guest bedroom while she was visiting. Gideon had been a bit disappointed by this but had understood Mercy’s need for space.
“He’s asleep,” Daisy told them. “Are we ready?”
Gideon and Mercy both nodded, their expressions identically grim. Sitting side by side, it was easy to see the resemblance. Same dark hair, same green eyes. Mercy didn’t have the silver in her hair, but her eyes seemed much older than his.
“Skype’s set up,” Gideon said. “We’re waiting for Agent Dabney to call.”
Dabney was Gideon’s colleague in the San Diego field office. He was also the one to have made contact with Lawton Malloy, the university swimmer who had the almost-Eden tattoo. Gideon hadn’t been able to travel south and Lawton was in the middle of exams and couldn’t come north, so they’d decided to video chat.
Cuddling Brutus in her lap because she suspected she was going to need her, Daisy sat next to Gideon and took his hand. “Whatever he says, we’ll deal with it.”
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thanks for being here.”
Daisy squeezed his hand in answer and together the three of them waited in silence.
The call came in at two sharp. Gideon accepted and the screen came to life, revealing a fiftyish man in a black suit, who had to be Agent Dabney, sitting next to the young swimmer Daisy had found during her search for the Eden tattoo. He wore a shirt and tie, his hair neatly combed. And his eyes full of apprehension.
“Gideon,” Agent Dabney said warmly. “I hear you’ve had some excitement up there.”
Gideon huffed a tired chuckle. “You could say that. Thanks for setting this up. This is my sister, Mercy Callahan, and my girlfriend, Daisy Dawson. Daisy ran the original search that led us to you, Mr.
Malloy.”
Lawton Malloy’s smile was a bit fractured. “I was surprised to hear from the FBI.”
“I imagine so,” Gideon murmured. “Thank you for talking to us. How much has Agent Dabney told you?”
“Not much. Just that you saw my tattoo and wanted to talk to me about it. Why do you want to know? It’s not a gang thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Gideon and Mercy shared a glance and Mercy gave him a tight nod of permission.
“We know what it means. Because I had a tattoo very similar to yours, Lawton.”
Neither Lawton nor Agent Dabney could hide his shock. Dabney said nothing, but Lawton gasped, “What? Where?”
“Same place as yours, but I had it covered with another tattoo when I was eighteen. It represented very bad memories. It was given to me against my will.”
Lawton’s eyes were still wide. “So you came from . . . from Eden?”
Mercy flinched at the name. Gideon didn’t flinch but his left eye twitched. His tell. “Yes, I did,” Gideon answered, then gestured between himself and Mercy. “We both did.”
Lawton’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “He thought he was the only one.”
“Who did you know who got out?” Mercy asked softly.
“Levi.” Lawton’s throat worked as he tried to swallow. “His name was Levi Hull.”
Mercy sucked in a sharp breath. “Levi?”
Lawton nodded, swiping at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “He . . .” He shuddered out a breath. “Levi killed himself a year ago.”
Oh no. Daisy’s heart squeezed painfully.
Gideon closed his eyes briefly. Mercy paled. Gideon recovered first and cleared his throat. “You were friends?”
Lawton nodded, wiping away new tears. “More than friends. At least we wanted to be. But that place . . . It fucked with his head. Pardon my language. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Gideon murmured. “Eden, you mean?”
“Eden,” Lawton spat, as if the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He blinked his tears away, his eyes now burning with unfettered fury. “They preached that homosexuality was a sin, but the men were fucking thirteen-year-old boys.”
