She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, but that would be wrong. It was necessary, if only to protect those she cared about. “All right.”

He hesitated a moment more. “Did I . . . did I push you into doing this?”

“No, Tom. You did not break my heart so thoroughly that I did the first cockamamie, self-harming thing that I thought of. I accepted this job because I thought I could help. Because I needed to help my friends. Not because you don’t love me.”

He flinched at her blunt words but then nodded. And then he was gone.

When Liza left the garage, Mercy was leaning against Rafe’s closed door, waiting for her. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

Liza managed to nod. “He was annoyed because Pebbles dug a hole under the fence and I forgot to tell him about it. He was worried that she’d gotten out.”

Mercy wasn’t buying it but had the grace to pretend that she was. Saying nothing, she held open her arms, and Liza took the hug. Took the comfort.

“It’ll be okay,” Mercy murmured into her hair. “Somebody told me so this morning, so I’m having faith that it’s true. You should, too.”

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

SATURDAY, MAY 27, 8:00 P.M.

Something was going on at the Sokolovs’ house. DJ was certain of it. He’d taken a break from his search for Kowalski when he’d noticed the SUVs driving back and forth. There were three different vehicles, none of which he’d been able to trace back to their owners. Each SUV had made at least two round trips, all spaced a few hours apart. The windows were so heavily tinted that DJ hadn’t been able to get a look at the driver or the passengers.

Seemed like Mercy’s team had upped their game. They were being a lot more careful. They had to know he was watching. Not from where he was watching, otherwise he’d have been surrounded by Feds already. But they knew he was watching.

Mercy could have been in one of the SUVs. She could be nearby, in the Sokolovs’ house, even now. So could Gideon. And Amos.

A well-placed explosive could take care of the entire house, but he wasn’t sure he could get close enough to plant a device, even if he could get his hands on one. Kowalski could, if he weren’t actively trying to kill him.

But DJ was getting closer to finding Kowalski’s family. Once he did, he’d put that on his list of conditions. He wanted Kowalski to back off from trying to kill him, first and foremost. But some weapons would also be good.

He frowned when one of the black SUVs passed by again, on its way to the Sokolovs’ house. Suddenly restless, he grabbed the keys to his truck, his rifle and his handgun, a new magnetic sign, and a new set of license plates. Tonight he’d be a septic service technician.