Tom’s stomach roiled, because he recognized those scars. He had several. His biological father had given them to him, trying to make Tom into a man. He’d been six years old. He could still smell the tobacco. And the burning skin.

Someone had held Dixie Serratt down and burned her skin with cigarettes. He found himself unable to speak and was grateful when Croft stepped in.

“This boss person did this to you?” she asked. “With cigarettes?”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to do any more tats for his boys. The next time one of his boys came in, I said yes.”

Tom blew out a breath, trying to get hold of himself. “Can you tell us anything about him?”

Dixie’s eyes narrowed, like she saw his reaction and understood. “No. He’s a big deal in these parts. Dig into the Chicos and his name will come up. Talk to the high school kids. They know the dealers. The dealers know him.”

“Thank you,” Tom said, somehow keeping his voice level.

“When was the last tat you did for them?” Croft asked.

“Three years ago. Right before I went in again.” She grimaced. “I drove when I was high. My fault.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out an NA chip. “Two years sober. I’m trying to get my life right, but I draw the line at having my throat slit or getting a needle full of heart medicine.”

Tom’s eyes widened and Dixie’s slammed shut.

“Shit,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands. “I’m done talking to you. Please go.”

Croft glanced over at him, then gestured at the curtain with a tilt of her head. “Thank you, Miss Serratt. We’ll leave our cards here on the table. If you think of anything else or receive any threats from the Chicos or their associates, please call. We’ll see ourselves out.”

Tom waited until they were both in the SUV to lean his head back and close his eyes. “Fucking hell,” he whispered.

“You gonna tell me what got you going in there?” Croft asked.

“My biological father was abusive. I know what it feels like to get those scars.”

“Ah, shit, Hunter,” Croft murmured. “Good to know. For what it’s worth, you rallied well. So. You believed her?”

“I did. She’s no angel, but I don’t think she was lying today. I didn’t want to force her to talk. Felt like we wouldn’t have anywhere to go in the future if we shoved her over the edge.”

“Good instincts. I was in the same place. At least now we can confirm that DJ has a Chicos tat, like the little girl described. If we can track down other gang members, we might be able to find out where he’s hiding.”

The mention of Abigail made Tom think of Liza. Not now. “Where to?”

“The local precinct. They might know where the Chicos hang out. I agree with waiting to grab both DJ and Pastor until we know where Eden is, but we need to keep tabs on DJ until then. Mercy’s life depends on it.”