A retraction at the end of the article denied any responsibility of the site’s management regarding the uploading of videos portraying sexual assault and stated that they were against it.

Part of him wished he’d seen the video himself, but he mostly was glad he hadn’t. Then he’d have to go back to New Orleans and kill the bastard who’d taken the video in the first place. He did not want to go back there, because Louisiana was too damn muggy and it was only spring.

Plus he’d have to drive to New Orleans and the only way he’d do that was if Mercy ran home before he could grab her here. No more flying until Pastor made him a new driver’s license. It wouldn’t take the FBI long to track down the name he’d used to buy the tickets to and from New Orleans.

Luckily, he wasn’t going to have to return to New Orleans. He knew exactly where Mercy was, thanks to the articles by other reporters. She’d holed up in the Sokolovs’ house in Granite Bay, east of Sacramento. He just had to bide his time until her guard was down and she went somewhere alone. Or at least somewhere without a cop. Although he wasn’t afraid to take out a cop or two if it meant returning to Eden with Mercy in tow.

He wanted to prove DJ’s lies. He wanted to show that Mercy still lived, even though DJ had sworn that he’d killed her. He wanted DJ cast out.

He wanted all the money that Pastor had been quietly accumulating for the past thirty years.

He could be patient a little while longer, but he needed a better place to crash in the meantime. Granny’s little Boy Scout would be back from his camping trip by that afternoon, and Ephraim didn’t intend to still be here.

Opening a new tab in his browser, Ephraim searched for empty homes for sale in the Granite Bay area, quickly discarding his search when he saw the relative wealth of the community. Rich people alarmed their homes, even hiring security guards sometimes. He didn’t want a poor neighborhood, because he liked his creature comforts, so he searched for a middle-class area where nicer houses sat abandoned, preferably in a secluded location where nobody could either sneak up on him, surround him, or report him as a squatter.

He settled on three possible homes, copied their addresses, then gathered his belongings, taking great care to wipe off anything that he’d touched, wishing he’d had the presence of mind to do the same at Regina’s. He’d left his prints everywhere in Regina’s house, especially in the room where he’d killed her. That had been his room, every time he’d stayed with her. There was no easy way to erase his presence. Not that he was overly worried about that.

Because who are Regina’s people gonna tell? Quickly he clicked back to the first tab he’d opened that morning and refreshed the page, checking again for any reports on a murder at Regina’s address.