But he had the pictures. He had the proof. He wasn’t going to lose his job. He could take a goddamn sick day. He’d never called in sick before. He was allowed.
He eyed his gas gauge. He was nearing empty. Since it appeared the Fed and Daisy were down for the night, he’d fill up, get some coffee and snacks, then come back here and wait.
REDDING, CALIFORNIA
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 11:35 P.M.
Daisy left the hotel room’s bathroom, her spine stiff with uncertainty. She’d known on some level that going to Redding meant spending the night. She’d even known, on that same level, that it meant staying in a hotel room and that Gideon wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
She hadn’t thought about the logistics past that and she should have. Especially given what had happened between them on her sofa this morning, which now seemed like a lifetime ago.
She was in shock from finding Trish. From losing Trish. She got that. Still . . . She looked down at the plain shorts and camisole set that Sasha had packed in her overnight bag. The clothes belonged to Zoya, the youngest Sokolov, but fit pretty well since she and Zoya were about the same size.
It would have been nice to have worn something prettier for Gideon. Not that anything would happen tonight. It was presumptuous of her to think so. Especially since she still hadn’t picked up any protection. On the other hand, the room was a small suite, with a bedroom and a separate sitting room and kitchenette. But just one bed.
Her heart pounded harder when she rounded the corner to see the bed. The one bed. It looked huge and looming, its only occupant a snoring Brutus.
But then her pounding heart skittered in her chest when she saw him.
Gideon leaned into the window, arms crossed over his chest, his forehead pressed against the glass. He’d changed into black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt that stretched tight across broad shoulders that were stiff but seemed to sag at the same time. He looked as exhausted as she felt.
Without overthinking it, she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek into his back and felt his muscles flex slightly as his arms released the hold he had on himself, dropping to cover hers.
“Is something new wrong?” she asked quietly.
“No.” He laced their fingers together over his hard stomach. “I was just thinking about your sister. Which made me think of mine.”
“Mercy,” she murmured. “Will you tell me about her?”
He sighed. “She . . . doesn’t hate me.”
That was a curious way to begin, she thought and waited for him to say more. “But?” she prompted when he remained silent.
“But she resents me.”
“Like Carrie and I resented Taylor?”
“Something like that. She doesn’t want to. She tried not to. But she can’t help it. So she left.”
He sounded so bleak, so very hopeless. She squeezed his middle tighter. “Where did she go?”
“Lots of places. But she ended up in New Orleans.”
“Do you see her?”
“Last time was two years ago. I . . . well, I lied. I told her I had business there, but I really just went to see her. She looked . . . better.” The last word was a hoarse whisper that broke her heart.
“Better than what?” Daisy whispered back.
“She didn’t get away from the community until she was thirteen.”
An indirect answer to her question, but she understood. “You told me that. It means she was married for a whole year. Did her husband hurt her?”
“Yes.” Another hoarse whisper. “Badly. She also almost died.”
Daisy swallowed hard. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You don’t owe me quid pro quo, Gideon.”
He shuddered. “I don’t want to tell you.” He straightened and moved away from the window. “But I need to. Not all of it. Some of it . . . I can’t.”
She took a step back, releasing him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what you can,” she said, scooping Brutus from the bed and settling the dog on her lap.
He unexpectedly slid to the floor, his back against the bed, his shoulder against her thigh. Holding Brutus with one hand, she gently toyed with Gideon’s hair with the other, admiring how the light caught the threads of silver among the inky black.
“My mother left me at the bus station,” he said abruptly.
“Because Mercy was only nine years old and needed her.” Daisy kept her voice soft. “Not because she didn’t love you.”
“I know that,” he bit out, his vehemence startling.
Okay. So I put my foot in that. Shutting up now. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“No.” He sighed. “I get tense when I think about this and when I talk about Mercy. See, my mother went back for Mercy, but I don’t know if she understood what life was going to be like—for her or for Mercy—when she returned. Or maybe she did, I don’t know.”
“She was punished.”
“Yes.” There was an eternity of misery in that one little word. “Pastor knew that she’d smuggled me out, but before he could punish her, her husband gave her an alibi.”
“He protected her.”
Gideon’s laugh was bitter. “Not exactly. He was forced to pay Ephraim Burton restitution because I’d stabbed him in the eye. My mother was the payment.”
Daisy’s eyes filled with hot tears. “Oh, Gideon.”
“My mother’s husband took on another wife and my mother was transferred to Burton.”
Daisy continued petting his hair, not knowing what to say. The guilt he carried was so very obvious in that moment.
“The man who drove the truck . . . he’d gotten his payment also. Several times on the way to Redding and, I presume, on the way back.”
Daisy couldn’t swallow back her gasp. “In front of you?”
His shoulders moved in a sad parody of a shrug. “I was nearly dead. I guess he figured it didn’t matter.”
“Wasn’t he . . . well, wasn’t he worried about getting in trouble for smuggling you?”
“I never knew what was going on with that guy. He left the compound every week, so he could have run, but he never did. And he kind of did what he wanted, when he wanted. I always wondered what he’d had on the leaders.”
“You think he had incriminating information on them?”
“Yes. Something strong enough to give him the plum job of driving wherever he went for supplies every week. Whatever it was, he wasn’t punished for smuggling me out. Mercy told me that much. And she said no one else got out between her escape and mine. I’ve hoped others were able to get away. I even searched for lockets and similar tattoos but found nothing. Not until you found Eileen’s locket.”
“How did Mercy get out?”
“My mother got Mercy out. I’m not sure what she used to bribe the truck driver again, but she and Mercy made it to the bus station just like I had. Mercy was in bad shape and our mother wouldn’t leave her. She insisted on being left behind. Started to scream and raise a fuss. I guess she was hoping someone would help her.”
“Nobody did.”
“No. The truck driver shot her.”
Daisy couldn’t contain the cry that escaped her throat. “No. In front of Mercy?”
Gideon stared straight ahead at the dingy beige wall. “He shot Mercy, too.”
Daisy couldn’t speak. She just stroked his hair with one hand and wiped tears from her face with the other.
“He took my mother’s body back with him,” he went on stonily. “He left Mercy there. She nearly bled out. They airlifted her to UC Davis, just like they’d done me. A nurse noticed her lockets and remembered my tattoo.”
“Wait. Lockets?”
He nodded once. “Somehow Mercy had my mother’s locket, too. She was found with her locket and my mother’s hidden in her clothes. I asked her how their chains were cut, but she always shakes her head and refuses to answer me.”
“Her trauma runs deep,” Daisy murmured, then shifted the conversation when he shuddered. “Was Irina the nurse who noticed her lockets?”
“No, but the nurse was a friend of hers. By the time news got to Irina, Mercy was in foster care. I got to her as soon as I could. She’d gone mute, wouldn’t speak to anyone. But the foster mother told me that Mercy had been found at the Redding bus station. I begged Mercy to tell me where our mother was, but she just stared at me, her eyes so empty. And then I knew. I asked her if Mama was dead. She nodded.”
“What did you do?”
“Rafe carried me out. I was . . . a mess. He’d driven me there. I made him promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone. Mercy had been through enough. I didn’t want everyone else to know what had been done to her. I didn’t want anyone to know she’d suffered because of me.”
“Did you think Irina and Karl would stop loving you?”
He sucked in a harsh breath. “Rafe promised me and kept my secret to this day. Irina knows I found Mercy, but she thinks the foster family adopted her and moved away.”