With Mercy and Abigail at eye dr. Agent Rodriguez on duty. I saw flash of a scope on roof across street. Taking Mercy and Abigail to Soko’s. Rodriguez calling 4 backup. Advise.

She began to pace, wishing for her sidearm as she waited for Tom’s reply. It came ten seconds later. Send address of eye dr. On my way. Keep your head down.

There was a pause, then a final text from Tom. Be careful. Call me as soon as you’re back at Sokolovs’.

Liza finished texting him the address as the restroom door opened. “We’re going out the back,” she told the sisters with a smile that she hoped was carefree. “Let’s go, Shrimpkin.”

Abigail regarded her with her old-soul eyes. “He’s back, isn’t he? Brother DJ. He’s back.”

Yes, Liza thought, this child knows a lot more than anyone gives her credit for.

Mercy’s mouth fell open in surprise. They’d all taken great pains not to discuss DJ Belmont or any of the Eden founders in front of Abigail.

Liza took a moment to choose her words and decided to go with the truth rather than sugarcoating it. The child’s life could depend on her obedience, so she needed to understand at least some of the danger. “I don’t know, baby girl. I saw something outside. I could be wrong, but we’re not taking any chances, okay?”

“Go and chase him,” Abigail whispered fiercely.

It was almost a certainty that DJ Belmont—or whoever Liza had seen on the roof—was already long gone. “Agent Rodriguez is calling for backup.”

Abigail’s eyes filled with tears. “But he’ll get away. He’ll come back.”

Liza let out a careful breath. “Maybe. Probably, even. But the FBI will not let him win, Abigail. I need you to believe that. For now, I really need you to get into Agent Rodriguez’s SUV and lie down on the floor with Mercy and me.”

Abigail swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mercy put a protective arm around Abigail’s shoulders. “It’ll be all right, honey.” Her voice shook and her eyes held fear, but her jaw was firmly set. “I promise.” She looked at Liza. “Thank you.”

Liza gave her a nod, then shepherded them out. “Let’s go.”

FOLSOM, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 11:30 A.M.

Fucking hell. DJ scrambled to put his rifle in the guitar case he’d modified to carry it. He fumbled the buckles on the case and pulled his gloves back on, cursing that his clumsy right hand couldn’t feel the trigger with them on.

So much for Mercy Callahan letting her guard down. He’d been made. He jogged down the stairs from the roof of the office building across the street from the eye doctor.

He’d had Mercy in his sights. In my goddamn sights. Not only Mercy, but the little girl who was with her. He could have dragged Abigail Terrill back to Pastor after taking Mercy out.

He could have. If he hadn’t been made. Goddammit.