“I guess so,” Gideon said begrudgingly. “But why do you want a tattoo today?”

Liza pulled her sketch from her handbag and handed it to him. “This is what I want done.”

“It’s a memorial tattoo,” he said quietly, all irritation gone from his voice.

Liza thought of Fritz, of how he’d given his life for her. “For the friends I lost. And . . .” She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And for my husband, who died saving my life.”

The car went utterly silent.

Then Daisy whistled. “You are a vault, Liza Barkley. I never would have guessed that you kept a secret like that. Now I know who to tell if I ever have a burning secret I can’t tell Gideon.”

“Hey,” Gideon protested.

“Like a birthday present,” Daisy told him, then turned to Liza, her eyes gone soft. “If you ever want to talk about him, I’m always ready to listen. If you don’t, that’s okay, too.”

“Thank you. I might take you up on it.” Liza was surprised to realize that she just might. Telling them hadn’t been as hard as she’d anticipated. “I have nightmares about them. Last night’s was really bad. I’m hoping that carrying them on my back will help me lay them to rest.”

Gideon returned the sketch to Liza with a gentle smile. “I understand now. Do you want me to come in with you or wait out here?”

Liza folded the sketch and put it back in her bag. “I think I should talk to him first and feel him out. You might need to stay out here the whole time.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I can watch for trouble better from out here. What about Daisy?”

Liza turned to the back seat. “What do you think, Daisy?”

Daisy grimaced. “Maybe I should wait here with Gideon until you calm him down. Text me when I should come in. I’ve got e-mail to catch up on, so it’s fine.”

“Good luck,” Gideon said sincerely. “Wave if you need us.”

Liza hoped that she wouldn’t. Please let Sergio know something. Please let him tell me.

Sergio stood behind the counter, welcoming her with a wide smile. He appeared to be in his midthirties. “I’m Sal Ibarra.” His new name. “You must be Liza?”

“I am,” Liza said.

“Please come in.” He motioned her to a sitting area.

“Can we talk a little first?” Liza asked when they were seated.

“Of course. You’ve booked out my afternoon, so you must know what you want.”

“I do.” She patted her handbag. “I made a sketch.” She drew a breath. Forward, soldier. Just do it. “I’m hoping you’ll still be willing to tattoo me after we’ve talked.”

Fear flickered in his eyes. “What is this?”

“Nothing bad,” Liza assured him. “I’m not law enforcement. I’m a normal person.”

Sergio edged forward, looking like he was preparing to bolt. “A normal person,” he repeated.

“Well, I served in the army,” Liza amended. “But I’m not a cop and I’m not FBI or ICE. I wanted to talk to you about a tattoo you did.” From her handbag, she pulled a copy of the Eden tattoo that he’d posted on his old Instagram account. “This one.”