Except . . . this apartment was for Karl’s clients. Many who wanted anonymity. It was why the ownership of the unit and the registration on the SUV were—hopefully—untraceable.

She opened a text window to Karl. All is well. Am at apt. Do you have disguises here?

Okaaaay. Why? was Karl’s immediate reply.

Going to Mercy’s tonight. Don’t want to lead anyone there if someone is watching. Paranoid maybe but want to be safe.

Are you claustrophobic?

Liza frowned at the question. No. Why?

Her phone rang a moment later with a call from Karl. “I hate texting,” he said. “We sometimes have to transport celebrities who do our commercials. There’s a large box in one of the bedrooms. Big enough to sit in. It’s a nice box, and has its own chair. You get in, the driver takes you out on a dolly, and once you’re loaded in his delivery truck and he’s on the road, you can get out. Sound like something you can do?”

“Yes, I can handle a box. I should leave by five p.m. if that works. Thank you.”

“Five p.m. will work, and you’re welcome. Be careful,” he said and ended the call.

With a satisfied smile, Liza switched back to her conversation with Abigail. I’ll bring nail polish and scrunchies. See you soon, Shrimpkin.

She had a life. She had friends. She had a family in Chicago who cared about her. She had a new family in Sacramento who cared about her, too.

And if she didn’t have Tom Hunter? She’d cope. She always did.

EDEN, CALIFORNIA

FRIDAY, MAY 26, 2:00 P.M.

Graham crouched next to Hayley’s pallet, a plate in his hands. “How’re you?”

“Ready to pop,” Hayley grumbled, curled up on her side, grateful that at this time of day the other wives were elsewhere doing chores. She needed to talk to Graham about their mother. She’d been worried sick about him since he’d splashed their mother’s shoes with piss. “Like a huge pus-filled zit.”

Graham snorted. “I’m gonna rename Jellybean. From here on out, she’s Zit.”

Hayley shoved herself to a sitting position, patting her stomach. “I won’t let him call you Zit.” She eyed the plate, then sighed. “Jerky again, huh?”

“Sorry.” He dipped his head closer. “There’s a little bit of chicken hidden underneath.”

She frowned. “Hidden?”

“Nobody knows what’s going on right now,” he whispered. “Pastor’s gone to the hospital and DJ and the healer went with him. Nobody knows when they’re coming back. Or even if they’re coming back. DJ never did bring back the supplies he went for, and he took the only set of wheels. Nobody’s sure how to get more food. And even the jerky won’t last forever. That chicken was the last of the animals they were able to bring from the old site.”

Most of the animals—cows, goats, sheep, and pigs as well as chickens—had been slaughtered prior to their move to the caves. The meat had been cured and stored, but without DJ getting supplies from the nearest town, the food had been quickly consumed.