Croft looked up, her expression grim. “I wonder if Waylon’s brother suspected that Waylon was involved in DJ and his mother’s disappearance.”

“Waylon was a suspect at the time, mostly because of his prior record and the years he spent in the pen, but they never found him, of course. It’s all in the file.”

“Dammit. I need to read all of this, don’t I?”

Tom wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. “I’d recommend it.”

“I deserve that.” Croft frowned. “But didn’t I read that Pastor adopted DJ?”

“You did. It was a casual arrangement, according to Amos. Pastor’s own children had died and he wanted to raise DJ. But this was years before Waylon died.”

“Why would Waylon allow that?” Croft wondered. “Unless DJ was a hell-child even then.”

“Possibly. But Gideon remembers that DJ was nice to him when they were little. DJ was four years older and played with Gideon sometimes. But DJ changed when he was thirteen and became Edward McPhearson’s apprentice.”

“The pedophile blacksmith,” Croft said. “Who targeted adolescent boys.”

“Exactly. As opposed to his brother Ephraim, the pedophile who targeted adolescent girls.”

Croft rolled her eyes. “Their mother must be so proud.”

Tom grimaced. “She is. I listened when Mercy visited her in her nursing home last month. The woman was convinced her sons were angels. I don’t think that was her dementia talking.”

Croft tilted her head. “Liza Barkley was with Mercy that day,” she noted.

“Yes.” Which had been both a good and colossally bad idea on his part. “Liza worked with Alzheimer’s patients at the VA home and she’s levelheaded in a crisis, so I thought she’d be a good companion for Mercy.” It had also bonded the two women, creating an instantly deep friendship and further drawing Liza into Mercy’s troubles.

Which was why she’d been in a killer’s crosshairs the day before. I set Liza up for that.

“I read the transcript of the nursing home visit,” Croft said, interrupting his guilt fest. “Miss Barkley was really good at distracting and redirecting Ephraim’s mother.”

“She was.” Of course she was. Liza was good at everything she did.

Except picking men, apparently. Present company definitely included.

“But back to DJ,” Croft said, her gaze far too knowing for Tom’s comfort. “If he was apprenticed to McPhearson and his behavior changed, it’s not a huge leap that he was molested as well.”

“I agree. Doesn’t excuse him being a monster.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Let’s go talk to the aunt and uncle. And I’m going to go over Ephraim’s notes with a fine-tooth comb. I should have anyway. Glad you did.”

Tom nodded once, because she was right. She should have. He’d started to put the SUV in gear when his work phone buzzed in his hand. “I don’t recognize the number.” He answered, putting it on speaker. “Special Agent Hunter.”

“Tom, it’s Liza.”

He immediately sat up straighter, his heart taking off. “Liza? Why are you calling from this number? Are you all right?”