Say You're Sorry

by Karen Rose

  A job Gideon now shared. He smiled down at her when she stopped in front of him. “You sounded good this morning,” he said.

  Blond brows winged up. “You listened to the show?”

  “Bits and pieces.” Which was a fib. He’d listened to the whole thing so that he could evaluate the DJ who Karl had brought in to replace TNT. The new guy was there on trial. If Karl liked him and, more importantly, if Daisy liked him, he’d be offered the job.

  “Liar,” she said softly. “Did Jack pass muster?”

  He laughed, leading her to the elevator. “He did. I reserve the right to change my mind, but so far, so good.”

  Daisy punched the UP button. “Did you get it?”

  Sobering, he nodded, knowing what she was asking. “I did.” The funeral home had called to let him know Eileen’s remains were ready and he’d picked them up while Daisy had been in the studio. “I also called Mr. Danton. He said it was fine for us to come up this afternoon.” Because they’d agreed to release Eileen’s ashes in the one place she’d encountered kindness.

  “I was sure he would.” When they were in the elevator, she gave Brutus a kiss on the top of her head, put her back in the bag, then leaned up and kissed Gideon’s cheek. “What’s this meeting with Molina about?”

  Since he was technically still on suspension, he knew it wasn’t about his everyday job. “I think she has news on the search I asked her to run on Eileen’s wedding photos.”

  “Well, good. It’s about time.”

  He bit back a smile. “Don’t say that to her, please.”

  Daisy gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll try to behave. Who else will be there?”

  “Rafe.” Who was recovering well but still wasn’t supposed to be putting any weight on his leg. He’d arrived in a wheelchair, pushed by none other than Mercy. “And Mercy. I’m not sure if she’s here as my sister, and so connected to the case, or as Rafe’s personal assistant.” Because the two had spent a lot of time together since everything had gone down at Carson’s burial ground. Sasha had to work, so Mercy had shared shifts with Irina, the two making sure that Rafe was well cared for.

  Daisy tilted her head. “You didn’t ask?”

  “I was afraid to,” Gideon admitted. “I’m afraid to ask her anything personal. I’m afraid she’ll leave.”

  “It’s been more than a week,” Daisy said hopefully.

  “I know.” Mercy had only taken a week of vacation. She should have gone back to New Orleans already, but she was still here. “I guess she extended her vacation.”

  “And you’re wondering if it was for Rafe or for you.”

  He nodded, not surprised she understood. “I’ve given her time, like you said.”

  Daisy twined their fingers together, then kissed his knuckles. “I think she’s still processing the truth about why you left the community. It takes a while to make sense of things when you realize the situation wasn’t the way you’d always thought it was.”

  She spoke of him and Mercy, but also of herself and her father. Mercy had been rocked by the knowledge that Gideon had been forced to flee for his life. “I just wish she wouldn’t avoid me.” The elevator doors opened and he led them to Molina’s office, but found himself hesitating when he lifted his fist to knock on his boss’s door.

  Daisy looked up at him knowingly. “Whatever she says, we’ll deal.”

  He nodded, then drew a breath and knocked.

  “Agent Reynolds,” Molina said. “Come in.”

  He and Daisy entered and took their seats between Molina and Rafe. Mercy sat on Rafe’s right. She gave Gideon a tight smile, her nerves evident.

  So, she’s here as my sister. It made him wonder if Rafe was here as a detective or Mercy’s support, but he didn’t ask.

  Gideon hadn’t been expecting the other person at the table—SacPD forensic investigator Cindy Grimes. Gideon’s pulse kicked up a notch. Cindy had been working on assembling the pieces of the photograph that Eileen had destroyed. Her presence here could mean that she’d been successful and found something. Or not.

  He sent up a prayer for the former.

  Molina introduced everyone, then turned to Gideon. “I had a facial recognition search run on the two photographs you provided—the age-regressed photos of the men you knew as Edward McPhearson and Ephraim Burton. We got back more than two hundred hits. And that was after we removed individuals who were either deceased or the wrong age bracket.”

  Gideon’s excitement eroded a sliver. “Two hundred. That’s . . . a lot.”

  “Yes. We would have been investigating for quite some time. However, Sergeant Grimes was independently working.” She gestured to Cindy, giving her the floor.

  “It took me over a week to put Eileen’s photo back together,” Cindy said. “Your completed puzzle, Daisy, was instrumental as a guide. I might have needed two additional weeks without it. Anyway, I got two prints on the photo. One is Eileen’s.” She gave Gideon a look of apology. “The coroner was able to get prints despite the condition of the body.”

  Gideon nodded tightly, because he understood what she hadn’t said. Eileen’s body, exposed to the humidity and unpredictable airflow of the mine shaft, had been badly decomposed. “Skin glove?” he asked.

  Cindy nodded and prepared to continue, but Daisy stopped her.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but what is a skin glove?”

  When Cindy hesitated, Mercy answered. “It is what it sounds like. The outer layer of skin becomes separated from the body. The coroner removes it intact, wears it like a glove, and gets prints.”

  Daisy’s expression was one of horrified fascination, heavy on the “horrified.” “Oh.”

  “They wear gloves, of course,” Mercy added, matter-of-factly.

  Daisy blew out a breath. “Thank you. I’m sorry for interrupting, Sergeant Grimes.”

  Cindy was studying Mercy, curiosity in her eyes. “It’s fine, Miss Dawson. Have you studied forensics, Miss Callahan?”

  Mercy appeared suddenly uncomfortable because all eyes had turned her way. “I’m a forensic investigator with New Orleans PD. I work in the lab there.”

  Gideon’s mouth fell open. He was stunned. Shocked. “You’re what?”

  Mercy nodded. “For the last two years.”

  “But . . .” He shook his head, at a loss. “You never told me that.”

  Her distress grew and her eyes dropped to her hands. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been very good at sharing.”

  Still stunned, Gideon blinked to clear his head. “No, you haven’t.” He hadn’t known what his own sister did for a living. He felt . . . hurt, he realized. Hurt that it was such a huge area of her life that she hadn’t shared. That they could have shared.

  Daisy cleared her throat when the silence grew awkward. “You were saying, Sergeant Grimes? About the fingerprints you got from the photo?”

  “Right,” Cindy said briskly, and Gideon forced himself to pay attention. “The first print was Eileen’s. The second scored some hits in AFIS, but like the facial recognition search, there were quite a few.”

  “But only one name was on both lists,” Molina said. “Harry Franklin.” She drew a mug shot from the folder on the table in front of her and put it on the table.

  Gideon stared at it, his heart now racing like a runaway horse, his skin gone clammy and cold. All he could feel were Ephraim’s fists. All he could hear was Ephraim’s voice, saying he was going to die.

  “Breathe,” Daisy murmured.

  The feel of Daisy’s hand squeezing his brought him back, reconnected his brain. It was him. Ephraim Burton. He was younger, of course. At least ten years younger than Gideon remembered. But it was him. No question.

  Tino’s age-regressed photos were uncannily close. So close that Gideon was amazed that the facial recognition software had brought back so many hits.

 
; “Harry Franklin,” he murmured, giving a name to his nightmare. “What did he do?”

  “Robbed a bank and murdered a guard, a teller, and a customer,” Molina said. “He and his accomplice, Aubrey Franklin, who went by Abe, and then later by Edward McPhearson, have been wanted for thirty years.”

  “Brothers?” Rafe asked.

  “Yes,” Molina verified.

  “They were hiding,” Gideon said quietly. ‘‘In Eden. Harry Franklin still is.”

  Molina nodded. “We opened the investigation into the Eden cult on the basis of the abuses that Agent Reynolds reported. But knowing that this ‘religious movement’ is harboring a murderer supports the formation of a bigger force and, importantly, gives us a place to start. We wanted Agent Reynolds and Miss Callahan to be the first to know.”

  “What . . .” Mercy cleared her throat. “What do you expect from us?”

  “For the time being, nothing,” Molina said.

  “And for the time after the time being?” Rafe challenged, the tone of his voice making Gideon give him a harder look. Rafe’s gaze was locked on Molina’s face and he was . . . fierce.

  Gideon blinked. Oh. Rafe was holding Mercy’s hand. Squeezing it, actually. Ohhhh.

  “Will you expect them to be some kind of bait to draw these bastards out?” Rafe went on. “Because if that’s what you’re thinking, you need to think of something else.”

  Gideon leaned back to get a better look at his sister. Mercy was pale. Really, really pale. And trembling.

  Molina looked affronted. “I have no intention of using any civilians as bait, Detective,” she snapped, then drew a breath, her composure once again intact. “Agent Reynolds and Miss Callahan, I may ask you to speak to our investigators, to answer questions and provide background knowledge. And there may be occasions I’ll ask you to speak to the press, if it should come to that.”

  Gideon winced, but nodded. “We can do that,” he said at the same time that Mercy said, “No.”

  All eyes swung to her and Mercy stood, hands shaking as she buttoned up her coat. “I am not okay with talking to your investigative team. I am definitely not okay with talking to the media. Thank you for informing us about Harry Franklin and his brother. But my involvement ends here.” She started to walk to the door, then returned for Rafe, who looked as shocked as the rest of them. “Can we go?” she asked Rafe.

  His shock quickly morphed to concern. “Of course.”

  Gripping the handlebars of the wheelchair, Mercy rolled him out, then carefully closed the door so that it made no sound at all.

  Gideon stared. “I’m . . .” He shook his head. “I guess we’re not okay with that.”

  Molina frowned. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I should’ve realized.”

  Gideon came to his feet. “I need to go after her. Are we done, Agent Molina?”

  “Yes.” Molina surprised him by grabbing on to the sleeve of his suit coat. “Please tell her that I’m sorry.”

  “I will. Daisy?”

  She’d already risen and positioned Brutus’s bag on her shoulder. “Right behind you. Thank you, Sergeant Grimes,” she called, reminding Gideon that the forensic investigator was still at the table, watching their private stories unfold.

  “Yes, thank you,” he added, then took Daisy’s hand and they all but ran for the elevator, breathing a sigh of relief as they approached.

  Mercy sat on a bench next to the elevator. Rafe sat in the wheelchair, his face filled with helpless worry. Because . . . Shit. Mercy was crying, her face in her hands.

  Gideon knelt in front of her, panic tightening his chest. “Hey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything was okay without asking you. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to. Please don’t cry.” Please don’t leave.

  “I can’t,” she sobbed, rocking herself as she cried. “I just can’t.”

  “I know,” Gideon murmured. He hesitated, then, hoping he was doing the right thing, sat beside her and put his good arm around her shoulders, drawing her head to his shoulder. “I know you can’t. You don’t have to.”

  She turned into him then, touching him for the first time as she buried her face against his chest, her body racked with sobs that broke his fucking heart. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, but finally Mercy quieted.

  She shuddered out a breath. “I’m sorry. I cried all over you.”

  “I don’t mind,” Gideon murmured, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

  “If you want to talk to all those people, you can. I just . . . can’t.”

  “You won’t have to. But . . .” He was choking on the words, he wanted to say them so badly. “Will you talk to me? A little?”

  She nodded slowly. “But not right now, okay?”

  “Okay.” He tried not to let his disappointment show.

  “What are you doing this afternoon?” she asked, shocking him.

  “Daisy and I were going to drive up to Macdoel and spread Eileen’s ashes. Would you like to come?” he asked, knowing she’d say no.

  “Yes,” she said, shocking him yet again. “I think I should.”

  MACDOEL, CALIFORNIA

  THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 5:40 P.M.

  “It’s beautiful,” Daisy murmured, staring out at the mountains, the urn with Eileen’s ashes firmly in her hands. Gale Danton had led their little caravan up a small rise to a gorgeous overlook—Gideon and Daisy, and then Mercy and Rafe, who’d driven separately. Gideon had been a little hurt that his sister continued to put space between them, but Daisy had figured Mercy wanted to be able to leave if she changed her mind about returning to land with a view of Mt. Shasta.

  Gideon had understood then.

  “She liked it here,” Danton said gruffly. “Sammie or I’d bring her up here and she’d just sit and stare at the mountains. I asked her what she was thinking about and she said she was imagining a world far away from Eden.”

  “I can see why,” Daisy told him.

  At fourteen thousand feet, Mt. Shasta dominated the view, making the surrounding peaks look like mere hills. But the three mountains to the north and east were all over eight thousand feet and covered in snow.

  Mercy pushed Rafe’s chair up the plywood that Mr. Danton had used to create a makeshift ramp covering the short distance between the car and the overlook. That Rafe would accompany Mercy was not questioned, so Gideon had called the older man on their way up and asked if he could accommodate a wheelchair.

  Gideon stood at the edge now, turning a slow three-sixty. “It is incredible,” he agreed, and Daisy knew he was trying to reconcile the scene in front of him with the scene he saw in his mind’s eye when he remembered Eden.

  “Eileen hadn’t ever seen the mountains to the west,” Danton remarked, and Daisy pocketed that clue for when Gideon set out searching for Eden again.

  Because she knew that he would.

  She glanced around Danton where Mercy stood staring into the distance, her expression unreadable. Her sobs had ripped Daisy’s heart to pieces, back at the field office. But the helpless look on Rafe’s face had been almost as bad. They’d held hands wordlessly, she and Rafe, while Gideon comforted his sister.

  A truck pulled up behind them and Sammie Danton jumped down, her eyes sad. “Hi, Daisy. Gideon. Rafe.” Sammie had spent the day with Rafe, Erin, and one of Molina’s agents in Portland. “I read about your adventure. You’re looking better than I thought.”

  “Thank you?” Rafe said dryly.

  “Not a problem.” She went over to introduce herself to Mercy, who jerked back, as if she hadn’t heard Sammie’s approach. Sammie instantly changed her posture, her tone going smooth.

  Daisy knew the tone and posture. Taylor and their father had used it every time they’d gentled a restless horse. Sammie was gentling Mercy, and Gideon’s sister visibly relaxed, shaking the hand that Sammie off
ered.

  “Are we ready?” Danton asked.

  Gideon hesitated. “I’ve never done this before. Spreading someone’s ashes.”

  “Me either,” Daisy admitted, eyeing the urn with trepidation.

  Danton held out his hand. “Give it to me.” Daisy did and the older man walked to the edge. Daisy and Gideon followed him, their hands tightly joined. Sammie stood at her father’s side, tears on her face.

  “Do you have anything you’d like to say?” Danton asked.

  “Be happy,” Gideon whispered, and Daisy’s eyes burned.

  “Be safe,” Sammie said.

  Mercy came from behind them to stand at Gideon’s shoulder. “Be free,” she said.

  Danton swallowed hard. “Amen.” He slowly emptied the urn, the ashes fluttering to the ground in the canyon below them. “This hillside will be covered in flowers come summer. So she’ll have flowers.”

  “That’s nice,” Gideon said. “But we asked you if we could spread them here because you were the first and only kindness she ever knew.”

  Mr. Danton dropped his gaze to the urn, but Daisy saw the tears fall on his coat sleeve. He coughed, then looked up, handing Gideon the urn. “Well, if anyone else escapes that hellhole, they will find my door open.” He turned and pushed Rafe to Mercy’s rental car, helped him in, then got in his truck and drove away.

  “Thanks,” Sammie said, wiping her own tears away. “That meant a lot to him. He’s been taking her death hard. Eileen was with us for only two weeks, but it was like she was part of our family. You guys take care, y’hear? No more shoot-outs. And give my regards to Detective Rhee. I’m glad everyone on your team is going to be okay.”

  Gideon smiled at her. “Thank you. I’ll tell Erin.”

  When she was gone, Mercy hesitated, then leaned up to kiss Gideon’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Smile fading, Gideon turned to watch her get behind the wheel of her rental and drive away with Rafe. “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”