And none of this is about you, Prince Charming. Get off the pity train.

“Maybe Gideon will remember something,” he said, his words coming out strangled.

Mercy shot him a glance so full of compassion that it stole his breath. “It’s not easy,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Not easy to go through. Not easy to hear if it’s someone you care about. Like your mom.”

“And you, Mercy.” He needed her to understand. “Wherever we end up, even if it’s just friends, I do care about you. And not because you’re my best friend’s sister. Well, not just because of that, anyway.”

“Thank you,” she said gently. “I only meant that this is a difficult topic, no matter which way you approach it. And just because you weren’t the victim of the actual crime doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter.”

“That’s very wise advice,” he said warily.

“That’s very expensive advice,” she corrected. “Took me years of therapy before I could even hear the words, much less internalize them. Still can’t quite adopt them, but that’s the journey.”

He didn’t want to think about how difficult those therapy sessions must have been for her. “When Eden moved after Gideon’s escape, where did it go? I mean, did the compound stay around Mt. Shasta? Gideon said he could see the mountain in the distance the whole time he was in Eden, even though they moved around.”

She tilted her head, thinking. “Not near Shasta,” she finally answered. “I don’t remember seeing the mountain after that. And it wasn’t as cold. Maybe a lower elevation? Maybe we went a little farther south.”

“And the poppy field?”

“They never replanted it, not in the new place. They may have gone back to harvest the existing poppies, but I don’t know.”

He tapped his pen against the notebook some more, thinking. “You said the move before Gideon left was when you were seven. Were there poppies in the location before that?”

She curled her legs, tucking her feet beneath her. “No, I don’t think so. Gideon might remember better, but I think there were pot fields before that.”

“Were the members aware of the illegal drugs? Did the leaders use the money for the community?”

“If the adults knew, they never spoke of it, not around us kids, anyway. As for using the cash to make our lives even a little better? No, that was not the case. We lived very simply. Made our own clothes, canned vegetables for the winter, raised a few cows and goats for milk. Kept chickens for eggs, pigs for bacon, and sheep for wool, that kind of thing. They brought a few things in from outside, like flour. But nothing to make our life less simple.”

“So there had to be actual money spent. Where did you get the fabric to make the clothes?”

“Some of the women had looms, but occasionally we had store-bought fabric on bolts. They told us they traded for it. There was one man who went into town once a week or so to trade and get supplies, like tools and certain medicines. The things we couldn’t make on our own.”