“Well, he’s not wrong about part of it. William Holly—a.k.a. Boaz Travis—can’t lead you to Eden. He was only eleven years old when his mother got him out.”

Tom hesitated. “He’s also dead.”

She gaped, shocked. “How do you know that?”

“We talked to DJ’s relatives—his aunt and uncle. They owned the house where Pastor’s wife and kids were living when Boaz Travis went to get the Eden tattoo. The aunt and uncle didn’t know who Pastor’s wife and kids were, but said that the elder Belmonts had grown fond of them while they rented. They said that ‘William’ committed suicide.”

Liza sighed sadly. “Sergio said he knew that he was an unhappy young man.” She sighed again. “Daisy and I were hoping that whoever we found could give us one of the more recent Eden sites. Amos said that they reused sites, so if we found other locations we might find Eden now.”

Tom hid his wince. Liza and Daisy had gone to a lot of trouble because they hadn’t known that the Bureau already knew all of the old sites. That was on him. Or on Raeburn, because he’d forbidden any information sharing.

He must not have hidden his wince well enough, though, because her eyes narrowed. “You know,” she whispered. “You already know the locations of all of the old Eden sites.”

He sighed. “I can’t talk about it.”

“How did you know?” she demanded, ignoring his reluctance.

“Ephraim left some notebooks in his safe-deposit box.”

She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “He mapped out the old sites, but you didn’t tell us.”

“I’m not allowed to discuss the case with Gideon and Mercy,” he said regretfully.

“I understand need-to-know. You’ll make sure I know what I need to know, right?”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “If it keeps you safe, I’ll tell you everything.”

“I trust you,” she whispered against his mouth, then jerked away with a gasp. “Pebbles, no!”

She leaped out of bed in all her naked glory and reached for Pebbles, who was headed out of the bedroom, Liza’s boot in her mouth. Tail wagging, the dog thought it was a game and ran. Liza chased her around the bed, then stopped in the doorway.

Whirling around, fists on her hips, she glared at Tom. “A little help? She listens to you.”

“Because I don’t let her lick my face,” Tom said dryly, then openly leered at her. “Plus I’m too busy looking at you.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was pleased. “That shouldn’t make me forgive you as easily as it does.” She stomped out and he could hear her calling to Pebbles from down the hall.

And then he heard nothing.

He waited another beat, then jumped from the bed, closing the bedroom door before running to his office. Pebbles was half in and half out, her tail still wagging furiously. When he pushed by her, he could see the boot still in her mouth. “Drop it,” he ordered.