“Did anyone call them on the bullshit?” Rafe asked.
Gideon shook his head. “Speaking out was punished even more severely than stealing, and after seeing what happened to the man who’d allegedly stolen, no one was willing to risk it. Anyway, we moved and had to prepare new gardens for a fall crop, but it was a lean winter. I remember going to bed hungry a lot of nights and my mother crying about it, but there wasn’t anything she could do. The following year, no one stole anything—or tried to escape—and we had a big crop.”
“That makes sense,” Cindy said thoughtfully. “It would be a way to reinforce control over the community through fear. And subsequent deliverance from that fear.”
“It worked. I don’t remember anyone else being punished that severely for anything until the night I got away. Later, I went back to the last area I remember, found the view of the mountain, but there was no sign of them.”
“Did you tell anyone?” Erin asked.
“Yes.” Because even though he might have gone to prison for killing McPhearson, he wanted his mother and Mercy to be safe. Once Mercy got out and their mother was gone, there was no need for truth. Just vengeance. Which was why he’d never given up searching. “I told a cop when I was first found and he couldn’t find them, either. It’s a big country up there. Lots of places to hide a small community.”
Erin frowned again. “How many people were there? Seems like it would be hard to hide a community large enough to have people representing all those trades. Satellite photos would show their homes, their gardens, even. I mean, if we can identify pot growers using Google Earth, we should be able to find a farm community.”
“There were about a hundred members, give or take,” Gideon said. “Including women and children. And I have searched aerial and satellite photos. The FBI gives me access to government satellite photos. I’ve questioned law enforcement and store owners in every small town in the search zone. Wherever they shop for supplies, it isn’t around Mt. Shasta. They are hidden and take great pains to stay that way.”
Rafe looked surprised. “You reported them to the FBI?”
“Of course I did.” Gideon wanted to snap it out, but restrained himself. “I wanted them found. I want no more kids to be treated the way we were. I want no more women enslaved like my mother. I wanted the bastards to pay. But I wanted it done legally.”
“But the FBI couldn’t find them, either,” Rafe said, apology in his eyes.
“No.” Gideon swallowed. “Then the case went cold.” Until tonight. Until the locket.
“All right.” Erin’s expression had softened somewhat, like she’d remembered this was a real story about a real person and not just a case. “How long were you in the truck bed before you slipped out? And what bus station was nearby?”
“It was the Redding bus station—and yes, I’ve asked about them at the stores in Redding, too. But I don’t know how long we drove,” he admitted.
Again, Rafe’s eyes held understanding. They’d showered in a high school locker room. Rafe had seen his scars. And not once had he asked about them.
Erin’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you remember?”
Gideon swallowed hard. “I was unconscious for most of the trip.”
“He’d been beaten,” Rafe added.
Both Erin and Cindy gasped. “Got it,” Erin murmured. Finally. “I’m sorry, Gideon.”
“It’s okay. It’s in the past.” And anyone he’d want to find was gone. I’m sorry, Mama.
Cindy drew a breath, like she was trying not to become emotional. “I have sons the age you were then. It’s good that I stick to the lab. I’d probably cry all over the victims.”
“I have a few more questions,” Erin said, her face scrunching up in apology. “What was the name of the ‘new religious movement’?”
“The cult,” Gideon said flatly, just as she had. “The Church of Second Eden. They called the town Eden, although it’s not on any map. Its leader was called ‘Pastor.’ I never knew his real name.”
Erin nodded. “All right. Why were you beaten?”
“I refused my apprenticeship.” That was true. In a manner of speaking.
Erin’s head tilted curiously. “Why?”
“Because McPhearson had a reputation for being cruel.” Among other things.
Erin nodded again. “How did he die?”
Careful. Careful. “He was beaten,” Gideon answered. That was very true.
“Why?” she pressed.
Careful. Careful. “Because of what he did to me.” True. Technically.
She studied him so closely that he would have begun to sweat had he not been trained to keep his cool. Interesting that he hadn’t blurted anything out since Daisy Dawson had left the room. He’d have to think about that later.
“The best lead we have is that torn-up photo,” Rafe said. “Can you put it back together, Cindy?”
Cindy’s eyes gleamed. “Hell, yes. I’ve done a puzzle that was one thousand pieces and solid yellow. I can do this.”
Rafe grinned at her. “Excellent. By when?”
“Not sure. We’re assuming all the pieces are still here. But if she was married at twelve in the photo we have and thirteen in the torn up one, I can use the first one as a guide. Her facial features won’t have changed much in a year.” Cindy stood up and gathered her things. “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
Erin also rose. “I’ll write the report. Let me know if I need to take Daisy duty.”
Daisy duty. Gideon wouldn’t mind some of that. The woman had been kind when she herself was rattled, after she’d been assaulted. She’d calmed him when his mind had churned with things he hadn’t wanted to ever remember. She’d smiled at him like she’d understood.
Which wasn’t possible, but he’d appreciated the effort. Even more, he appreciated the opportunity she’d dropped into his lap. The locket she’d snatched from her assailant’s throat could be a link to finding Eileen. Finding Eden. Finding the men who’d raped his sister and murdered his mother.
When Erin was gone, Rafe turned to him, brows raised. “What’s next?”
Gideon frowned. “What do you mean?”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “How many times have you been out to Mt. Shasta in the year since you got back to Sacramento? And don’t tell me that you don’t know. I’m not buying it.”
“Fifteen,” Gideon admitted.
“And when you were stationed in Miami and Philly? How many times did you come back and search without even telling me you were back?”
Gideon’s cheeks heated at the mild rebuke in Rafe’s voice. “Six times. Total.”
“Twenty-one times. God, Gid. Why didn’t you ask me to go with you? I would have gone, if for no other reason than to keep you company. Have I ever pressed you for information you weren’t ready to share?”
“Tonight,” Gideon drawled, trying to break the tension.
Rafe’s lips thinned, his eyes rolling again. “Besides tonight.”
“No,” Gideon murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Rafe glared at him. “You’re too smart to be so stupid. Now, I want the goddamn truth. What do you plan to do next? You have the chance to find the men who hurt you. Both you and your sister. To bring them in. To make them pay for whatever they did to you and to Mercy. Don’t expect me to believe you’re going to sit there and do nothing.”
To me and Mercy and our mother. But Gideon had never told Rafe about his mother’s part in his and Mercy’s escapes. He would, but not tonight. He felt too raw, too exposed. For now, he regarded Rafe soberly as he considered his answer. What could he do? Truthfully, not much. Which sucked more than he could stand.
He felt powerless once again. Thirteen years old and powerless. He thought about McPhearson’s photo. Not that powerless, he told himself. McPhearson was dead. One fewer sadist was not a bad thing.
“I can’t do much without an ID of Daisy’s assailant,” Gideon finally said. “What’s your plan to find him?”
“Thought I’d start poking around the community center, see what the neighborhood surveillance cameras show. This guy wore a stocking over his face when he attacked Daisy, but he might not have had it on the whole time he was lurking on the street. Someone would have noticed him. Daisy gave a good description of his clothing, so maybe we’ll find him on someone’s security cam. What’s next for you? Are you going to tell your boss about this?”
Gideon nodded slowly. “At this point I have to.”
“And if she doesn’t decide to lend you to us?”
Gideon met his friend’s eyes. “I have leave saved up. I need to see this through.”
“I know,” Rafe murmured.
“Even if it’s not in an official capacity,” Gideon added meaningfully.
Rafe nodded, understanding. “I’ll do everything in my power to see that you do.”
FIVE
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1:45 A.M.
“What are you doing?” Sasha asked, having stubbornly insisted on staying at her parents’ house to keep Daisy company.