by Karen Rose
She flashed him a delighted grin. “I knew you’d have multiple phones. How many?”
He debated answering, then shrugged. “I carry at least three at all times. My work phone, my personal phone, and a burner.”
“Huh. So if I need a burner . . . You got extras?”
Tom chuckled. “Of course. You can choose any color as long as it’s black.”
“Then I guess I’ll take a black one. Is it okay if I text myself this photo?”
“Sure. Text away. Like I said, nothing on that phone that you don’t already know.”
“Kind of takes the fun out of it,” Croft grumbled, but she was smiling as she called dispatch to get the plate traced. A minute later her smile fell. “What? Where?” She scribbled something on the notepad she carried. “Can you have someone do a drive-by and see if it’s where it’s supposed to be? I’d like a photo of the vehicle. Thanks.” Ending the call, she sighed. “This plate doesn’t come up as lost or stolen. It belongs to a guy in San Dimas with a food truck business.” She typed something into her cell phone. “According to the guy’s Facebook, he was open today and had long lines. Ran out of Cronuts before lunch.”
Tom frowned, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance over at her. “So . . . what does that mean? I mean, either the food truck guy hasn’t reported his plates stolen yet or they were switched, right? Or—”
Abruptly he pulled the SUV to the curb and took his phone back, enlarging the photo with a frown.
“Or what?” Croft asked, seeming unperturbed by his abrupt stop.
He stared hard at the license plate in the photo, wishing it were an actual picture of the plate instead of a picture of another picture. “Or it could be a duplicate.”
Croft’s brows flew up. “A duplicate? How?”
“3D printer.”
Croft frowned. “Shit. I hate those things.”
“They certainly have their place for legit projects, but they do muck things up.” Guns were a particular concern, but license plates were also becoming a problem.
“Can a 3D printer really make a plate that looks real? Because that one looks real.”
“Google it. Include ‘toy’ and ‘custom’ in your search field. You should find a tutorial or two with no—”
“Shit,” she interrupted, having immediately done the search.
“No trouble,” he finished. Tom put his phone in his breast pocket as his personal phone buzzed in the pocket of his trousers, announcing an incoming text. “Give me a second.”
Croft watched him retrieve his personal phone. “Not the burner because it’s blue. Personal, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah. I’d normally let it go, but . . .” He didn’t want to admit it, but he was still unsteady at the thought of Liza standing in front of that glass door. He knew she was all right, but still.
The text was, indeed, from Liza. But not to tell him that she’d arrived safely at the Sokolovs’, as he’d asked her to do. No, this message was curt and to the point.
Abigail saw DJ’s *second* tattoo. Rodriguez says it’s a gang design. Thought u should know.
Oh wow. First Cameron Cook, and now this. Two leads in the same day after weeks of nothing. He showed the text to Croft. “Next stop, the Sokolovs’?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Absolutely.”
FIVE
EDEN, CALIFORNIA
WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 12:00 P.M.
Anything?” Hayley whispered when Graham sidled up behind where she sat on the makeshift bench.
Pastor had designated the largest of the caves to be the church. Because of course he would. Most of the parishioners would sit on the stone floor during services, but she, as a pregnant woman, was allowed to sit on a half-rotten plank balanced on two large rocks.
If the last site was primitive, this place was prehistoric. Please, don’t make me have my baby here. Please.
Graham palmed her shoulders, giving her a massage that nearly had her crying where she sat. Everything hurt. “Nothing that’ll help us get out,” he murmured. “I still can’t find the computer or the dish.”
Hayley had used her pregnancy as an excuse to visit the clinic as often as she could, and each time she attempted a peek into the office. There was no longer a door keeping everyone out of the office. Only a curtain. The outer entrance to the clinic was secured by a sliding wooden door, bolted into the rock itself.
They could only hope that the computer had been brought with them to the caves, because it wasn’t on the healer’s desk. Hayley had finally managed a glimpse of the clean desk when Sister Coleen had emerged from her office a few days ago. The older woman had looked pale and was coughing, like she needed a healer herself.
The caves were damp and cold. Only the areas near the entrance had ventilation, so fires were only allowed there. Most Edenites had no heat and had quietly grumbled—when no one in authority was there to hear them—and wrapped themselves up in handwoven blankets to stay warm.
Hayley had grown up in San Francisco, so the damp cold wasn’t anything new. Still, this was a miserable way to live. Pastor had promised it wouldn’t be much longer, that they were waiting for the roads to clear of snow so that they could move to an actual settlement site.
Snow. In freaking May. It was crazy, but it was their reality. She’d had a vague notion of areas in California where the snow lingered this late in the year, but that was up in Lassen National Park. Her class had been forced to cancel an end-of-year field trip to Lassen’s volcanic fields because the roads hadn’t been cleared in June.
She assumed they were somewhere near that now because of the snow and the caves, but she had no way to be certain. Especially since Graham had been unable to find the computer. He’d even risked being sentenced to the box by leaving the caves to search the surrounding area.
Fortunately, he hadn’t been caught. Graham was good at not getting caught. Except for the shoplifting arrest, of course, but he’d informed her that he hadn’t been caught at least a hundred other times. He’d also met some colorful characters in juvie and learned “ever so much.”
Hayley would have to do something about that when they got out. Graham would not become a criminal. Or at least a worse criminal, she thought with a wince. But first, they had to actually get out of Eden.
Unfortunately, even if Graham found the computer, it was useless without an Internet connection. Graham figured there had to be a satellite dish of some kind, but he hadn’t been able to find that, either. They couldn’t send out another message for help or use Google Maps to figure out where the hell they were.
Cameron had not come to help her. She didn’t even know if he’d received the e-mail she’d sent. Part of her mind taunted that he’d found someone new, that he didn’t love her anymore. But Cameron did love her. Of this she was certain, just as she knew that he wanted their baby.
We’re running out of time. Little Jellybean kicked, both a welcome sensation and one that filled Hayley with dread. This baby was coming soon.
She’d feared giving birth at the last Eden settlement, but at least the clinic there had been warm and somewhat clean. The thought of going into labor here was terrifying.
The fact that Brother Joshua had promised her baby to that awful Rebecca . . . The knowledge nearly brought her to her knees, every single time.
Graham stalled her anxiety attack by tightening his grip on her shoulders, leaning close to mutter in her ear. “Stick with me here, Hayley. I did find something else.”
The room was beginning to fill with worshippers, so their little bubble of privacy was coming to an end.
“So tell me,” Hayley said, speaking through her teeth while keeping her lips still.
“Drugs,” Graham whispered. “A lot. Some pot and what looked like coke. And shrooms.”
Hayley opened her mouth in surprise, forget
ting the danger for a moment. She snapped her mouth closed when Sister Tamar slid onto the pew beside her.
“People are watching you,” Tamar said, also speaking through her teeth. Her lips curved up in a placid smile and she folded her hands on her lap. She was the picture of serenity, resembling a painting of the Madonna that Hayley had seen in one of her textbooks.
Hayley had been trying to corner Sister Tamar for weeks. She needed to know why this woman had helped her when Rebecca had nearly caught her breaking into the clinic the night they’d moved. But Sister Tamar always managed to be somewhere that Hayley was not. Hayley hadn’t taken it personally at first, but it had become apparent that Tamar was avoiding her.
And now, here she was. Smiling like absolutely nothing was wrong.
Graham leaned forward, digging his thumbs into the stiff muscles inside Hayley’s shoulder blades. Again she bit back a moan as Graham whispered, “Meaning?”
“Meaning you need to stop wandering around the caves,” Tamar replied sweetly, her smile never faltering. “They’ve been watching you both.”
“Why do you care?” Graham asked in a near-silent growl.
“Because you’re trying to get out,” Tamar said, still speaking through her teeth. Her gaze was fixed on the pulpit, where Pastor was arranging a stack of hymnals. “I want to go with you.”
Hayley stiffened. Should she deny it? Refuse to allow Tamar entry into their club of two?
“It’s all right,” Tamar said, speaking normally, then turned to smile at Hayley. “I’d be happy to attend you at the birth. I’ve already cleared it with Sister Coleen. I’m also happy to answer any questions you might have about the birthing process.”
Fighting a blink at the rapid topic change, Hayley glanced over her shoulder at Graham, who’d pursed his lips like he’d just eaten a lemon, still trying to process having been spotted as he’d searched for the computer. Her brother prided himself on being nearly invisible when he wished to be.
“Are you a midwife or something?” she asked the other woman.
Tamar’s shuttered expression cleared for a moment, exposing a sadness and rage that made Hayley suck in a breath. And then it was gone, hidden behind her serene smile. “Or something,” Tamar replied sweetly. “I have . . . experience.”
Hayley frowned. Then straightened as Tamar’s words made sense and something else clicked into place. Tamar had vivid blue eyes, just like Rebecca’s youngest child.
Oh my God. The child that Rebecca had stolen from another woman because she’d been barren, unable to conceive her own children. Rebecca’s other two children had come from mothers who’d died in childbirth, but the youngest had been taken. Rebecca stole Tamar’s baby.
“Okay,” Hayley breathed, her hands cradling her belly of their own volition. “I understand. Thank you. I welcome your help. All your help.”
Tamar patted Hayley’s hand lightly. “It’s my Christian duty to provide it. I need to go now. My husband and his family await me.” She rose and glided across the stone floor with such grace she might have been an angel, joining the family belonging to Brother Caleb. He was an older man and not cruel like Joshua was, at least not that Hayley had been able to see.
Pastor rapped on the pulpit with his fist, silencing the quiet murmurs of the assembled group. “Please stand for prayer.”
Hayley struggled to stand, shooting Graham an appreciative glance when he helped her up. Bowing her head, she stared up through her lashes at Graham, who now stood beside her, one hand on her elbow to steady her. Be careful, she mouthed, and her little brother nodded grimly.
Someone was watching them. Someone was watching Graham.
This place kept getting worse. It wasn’t simply a prison, although that would have been bad enough. Now someone here was dealing drugs?
Cameron, please find us. Please.
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 12:35 P.M.
“These are so good,” Abigail moaned around a mouthful of the Caramel-Pecan Dream Bars that Liza had made that morning. She’d had three already, without dropping a single crumb—much to the dismay of her puppy, who lay beneath her chair, ever hopeful.
Liza nodded, her mouth too full to speak her thanks aloud.
“They are,” Irina agreed. “I want this recipe, Liza.”
“Anytime. It was my mother’s.”
Mercy gently tapped Abigail’s hand when she went for a fourth helping. “First, you’re going to get sick. Second, save some for your papa, Rafe, and Mr. Karl.”
Abigail’s sigh was long-suffering. “And Zoya, too. She likes a sweet treat when she comes home from school. When will that be, Miss Irina?”
Irina’s mouth tightened. “In three hours, but I don’t think Zoya will be having any treats.”
Recognizing the look on Irina’s face as one her own mother had worn too often, Liza’s brows lifted. “What did she do?”
Irina looked away, then huffed. “She decided it would be prudent to take her car and drive to San Francisco this morning.”
Mercy’s eyes widened. “Why? Is she all right?”
“She is fine,” Irina said with a wave of her hand. “I got a call from the school saying that she hadn’t been present in homeroom this morning. I was busy”—her gaze flitted to Abigail—“so I let the call go to voice mail. I listened to it after you all left for the eye doctor’s.”
“That doesn’t sound like Zoya,” Mercy murmured. “She’s so responsible. What happened?”
Irina rolled her eyes. “By the time I called the school, she’d appeared, claiming ‘car trouble’ made her late. Then I remembered that she’d already left when I came downstairs this morning. She does that sometimes when she has a club meeting or needs to get study help from a teacher, so I didn’t worry at the time. But it was not car trouble that made her late.”
“How did you know she went to San Francisco?” Liza asked, suspecting the answer.
Irina’s chin lifted. “I can track her car,” she said without apology.
Liza held out both hands in a stop gesture. “You get no judgment from me. My mom would have done the same if we’d had a car to track.”
“Why did she go to San Francisco?” Mercy asked, then turned to Agent Rodriguez, who suddenly was very interested in the chocolate drizzled atop Liza’s bars. “Agent Rodriguez?”
Irina had also turned to stare at the agent. “What do you know?” she demanded.
He shook his head, then shoved a bar in his mouth. He shrugged, pointing to his lips as if to say he couldn’t talk with his mouth full.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Irina muttered. She took out her cell phone and tapped a number. “Geri? Hi, this is Irina. Is Jeffrey home?” She listened to whatever Jeff Bunker’s mother was saying, her brows rising again. “I thought he might be involved. May I speak with him? Thank you.” She looked at Mercy and Liza. “He wasn’t home when she woke up this morning, but was recently returned by the FBI with a guest in tow. One Cameron Cook from San Francisco.”
Agent Rodriguez rose from the table. “I’ll wait outside.”
Irina pointed at him, then the chair. “I’d appreciate it if you would stay.” She nodded at him when he complied, then cocked her head, listening to her call. “Yes, Jeffrey. This is Mrs. Sokolov. Why did Zoya take you to San Francisco this morning?”
Right to the point. That was just one of the things that Liza loved about Irina Sokolov. Liza pursed her lips to keep from smiling. It wasn’t funny, but . . . it kind of was.
Abigail tugged on Liza’s sleeve. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Liza whispered, “but I think Zoya is about to get grounded.”
Abigail’s eyes widened, then narrowed contemplatively. “Then she won’t want her brownie.”
Liza snorted, covering her mouth with her hand, then let the chuckle escape
when Irina pushed the plate in front of Abigail.
Abigail’s grin was triumphant. “Yes!”
“No,” a voice said from the kitchen doorway.
Abigail slumped as her father strode across the room. Pushing the plate away, he sank to his knees and pulled her into a bear hug. Abigail patted Amos’s hair. “I’m okay, Papa. See?” She opened her arms wide. “Not a scratch.”
Amos pretended to examine her arms, tilting her face one way, then the other. “Not a scratch,” he agreed, but his voice trembled. He looked to Mercy. “And you?”
Mercy held her arms wide, just as Abigail had. “Not a scratch.” Then she stood up when Rafe rushed into the kitchen, letting herself be swept up into his arms.
Swallowing hard, Liza looked away. She was so happy for Mercy—her friend absolutely deserved all the good things life could bring. But at the same time, it was hard to watch when she knew she’d never have that.
“Thank you, Jeffrey,” Irina said into the phone. “You will put your mother back on the phone now.” She waited, rolling her eyes when Liza met her gaze. “Geri, I think we’re going to have to sit our children down for a little talk. Can you come for dinner and bring Jeffrey?” She smiled. “Of course Cameron is welcome, too. Tell his father he can pick him up here.” She ended the call and grimaced. “Zoya has some explaining to do.”
Rafe derailed Liza’s thoughts by sitting next to her, engulfing her in a huge hug before she could say a word.
“Thank you,” he whispered fiercely. “Thank you so much.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Liza said, patting his back.
“Yeah, she did,” Agent Rodriguez butted in. “And we’ll hear all the details in three, two, one—”
“Hello?” Tom called from the front door. “Anybody here?”
Liza stiffened. He was here already. She hadn’t expected him so soon. They must have used the flashing lights to beat traffic.
“In the kitchen, Tom,” Irina called back. She stood up and put the kettle on. “Who wants tea?”
