“You promise? You won’t try to go alone if you do find him?”

“No, I won’t go alone. I promise.”

But she would go. Everyone else was either personally known to Eden—like Gideon, Mercy, Amos, and Abigail—or had been featured in the news stories about Ephraim’s murder spree.

Liza had the only face that nobody would know. And she liked tattoos.

She looked down at the rose and musical note twined together and inked over her heart. The tattoo had given her ease. It had made remembrance of her family a physical part of her. A visible reminder that she’d been loved and had loved in return.

She had a second tattoo that no one had ever seen. It covered the scar on her hip, the remnants of that awful day when her unit had been broken apart. It hadn’t been for comfort. She’d wanted to hide her scar, even from herself, out of guilt. But now she wanted comfort.

She closed Daisy’s e-mail and stared at the desktop image on her screen. Arrayed in front of a Humvee, twelve people smiled at the camera. All were in uniform, all held their weapons.

They’d all been happy that day. Even me.

The next day, only five of the twelve still lived. We weren’t happy anymore. But they had been once, which was why she’d kept this photo to remember her military family. Even in her nightmares about the day they’d died, she knew they’d protected one another with their lives.

Now she’d been invited into a new family. She’d protect them as well. Especially Mercy, who at times reminded her so much of her sister that it hurt Liza’s heart.

She took one last look at the photo of the twelve smiling faces. They deserved permanent remembrance. She was going to find Sergio Iglesias. For Mercy. And for myself.

Because she was considering a new tattoo.

EDEN, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY, MAY 25, 12:45 A.M.

DJ parked the truck close to the cave entrance. There was a rocky path that many of their members had found difficult to climb, but they were all inside the network of caves now with no need to leave.

Unless they got hurt. Way to go, Pastor, DJ thought with a sneer.

He found Coleen waiting at the entrance. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said in relief.

“How is he?” DJ asked, because he didn’t want the old man dead just yet.

“Conscious,” Coleen replied. “He’s talking, but he’s in a lot of pain.” She winced. “He’s babbled a little, but nothing I couldn’t explain away.”

“Good. Is he ready to go?” It was then that DJ spied the small bag leaning against the cave wall. “Is that his bag?”

“No, it’s mine.” Coleen met his gaze directly. “I’m going with you.”

DJ laughed and it wasn’t a nice sound. “No, you’re not.”

“I am. Pastor wants me there. The community wants me to go with him.”