“We’ll see ourselves out,” Croft said quietly.

When she and Tom were on the street, she turned to him. “Well?”

“Liza texted me. She spotted the flash of a scope on a rooftop across the street from the eye doctor where they took Abigail this morning.”

“A scope?”

“She thought so. Rodriguez has reported it and called for a team. He remained with Mercy, Abigail, and Liza, getting them away from what, at that point, they believed to be an active shooter scene.”

“He followed protocol. Good man. You got the eye doctor’s address from your girlfriend?”

Tom blinked. “Liza isn’t my girlfriend.” Although it was a common mistake. Everyone assumed they were more than friends. But Liza knew the score, so Tom didn’t worry over the label too much.

It was Croft’s turn to blink. “Oh. I thought you lived together.”

Tom felt his face heat, because he’d recently found himself wishing that they did. Not actively wishing, of course. Just the stray thought every now and then. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. Because Liza was his best friend. Period.

“I own a duplex.” It was basically two town houses stuck together. Perfect for our needs. “Separate doors. She rents the other side from me. It was a mutually beneficial solution,” he added defensively when Croft continued to stare at him in confusion. “I needed a house and so did she. We were both new to town and didn’t know the area or anyone else. This way I get rental income and a tenant I know I can trust.”

“Oh,” Croft repeated. “So . . . you just happened to move to Sacramento at the same time?”

“Pretty much. I got my first assignment here when I graduated from Quantico and she’d already been accepted to school here.” He shrugged. “Serendipity, I guess.”

“I guess.” She shook her head. “Okay. Sorry. I just . . . never mind. Let’s go.”

FOUR

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 11:50 A.M.

Liza huddled on the floorboard in the back seat of Agent Rodriguez’s SUV, a pale Abigail on her lap. Mercy was on the opposite floorboard, still trying to calm Rafe down over her phone.

“My papa must be worried, too,” Abigail whispered.

Liza rubbed her back. “You want to talk to him?”

“Yes, please.”

Even terrified, this child was polite. Liza wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but she motioned to Mercy, then pointed at Abigail.

Mercy nodded, her expression weary. “We’re okay,” she said to Rafe for the tenth time. She’d described the situation at least three times. “I promise. Look, Abigail wants to talk to Amos. He must be as freaked out as you are.” A moment later, she handed the phone to Abigail.

“Papa?” Abigail said softly. “I’m here.”

Liza could hear Amos’s voice because Abigail’s hold on the phone was tentative. After growing up without technology in Eden, phones still made her nervous. “Are you all right?” Amos asked, his voice calm but with an underlying urgency. “Agent Tom said you were fine.”