“What do you think that means?”

He hesitated in saying what he really thought, because with a single call to their boss, Erin could have him ripped off this case, and Rafe needed to see this through. But she’d put herself at risk coming to see him today, giving him this information she’d overheard. He’d always trusted her to have his back, so he blurted it out before he could change his mind. “His mother is in a nursing home in Santa Rosa.”

“Ohhh,” she breathed. “Maybe he’s been visiting her, too. Maybe we could lure him there.”

“Or maybe she knows where else he might hide. I need to tell Gideon.” Definitely about this development. Probably not that he’d already tried visiting Burton’s mother.

Erin frowned. “Remember, I am not—”

“Here. Got it. You are not here. He’s gonna figure it out anyway, you know.”

She shrugged. “I know. I’m okay with it. Just keep it off the record, okay?”

Rafe dialed and Gideon answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Is she okay?”

“Mercy’s fine, but we need to talk. I’m at my place. It’s important.”

“I’m on my way.”

ELEVEN

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 3:45 P.M.

Mercy sat at the farthest corner of the Sokolovs’ dinner table, trying to take up the least space possible. It was slightly less overwhelming now, at least. Thirty minutes earlier, the kitchen, dining room, living room, hell, the whole house, had been filled wall-to-wall with Sokolovs. Six of Irina’s eight children had shown up, along with nine grandchildren. Missing were only Jude the prosecutor, who’d moved to L.A.—much to everyone’s dismay—and Patrick the firefighter, who was on shift that day.

They’d come to meet Mercy, to welcome her, and it had warmed her heart—until the noise had grown so loud that escape was all she could think of. But she couldn’t take a walk outside because Ephraim was out there somewhere.

Thankfully all the Sokolov children except Rafe and Sasha had gone to their own homes. Zoya, the youngest, who still lived at home, had been “banished” to her room, in the teenager’s words. She hadn’t voluntarily vacated the kitchen, having immediately hit it off with Farrah. The high school senior wanted to be a doctor and had spent the meal asking Farrah a hundred questions about her research position at the university.

Mercy wouldn’t have minded if Zoya had stayed, because the discussion of ways to “help Mercy” had begun immediately after the mass exodus. Mercy, however, was finding it hard to listen, still reeling from everything Rafe had told her on the drive over.

At least she’d gotten some sleep. He hadn’t woken her until twenty minutes before they’d needed to leave for his parents’ home, just enough time to splash her face with some water and change into a proper outfit. Which had surprised him. He’d actually thought she’d show up to his family’s dinner table in yoga pants and a Hello Kitty sweatshirt. She’d never truly understand men.