Gideon shook his head. “Come on, Rafe, stop joking around.”

“I’m not,” Rafe protested. “You’re being all lord of the manor, Gid.”

“You are a little heavy-handed, Gideon,” Sasha agreed.

Gideon shot a questioning glance at Daisy, who cuddled her little dog, Brutus, to her chest. “I’m Switzerland,” Daisy declared. “Don’t look at me for help.”

Gideon sighed. “You did good work, Mercy. Thank you. But please leave this for law enforcement.”

Mercy nodded, keeping the same smile on her face. She and Rafe had done their parts—they’d informed the FBI of their suspicions. But she didn’t want to drop it in anyone else’s lap. She wanted to be involved. Now she knew what Rafe had been going through, keeping the work he’d been doing to himself for fear it would be taken from him.

“Of course,” she promised. “I’ll be a virtual sieve to the FBI.”

Gideon’s frown said that he did not believe her. “See that you are.”

“Do we know any more about where Ephraim went when he left the costume store?” Rafe asked, and Mercy was grateful for the subject change.

“No, not yet,” Gideon admitted. “But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m as much on the outside of this case looking in as you guys.”

Because he’d recused himself, taking vacation time to keep her safe. Again, she wanted to run away, far from everyone who hovered over her. Everyone but Rafe, who seemed to truly get her.

“What about the locket?” Daisy asked. “The Feds released a photo to the CNN interviewer last week. Has anyone said they’ve seen the design?”

Because that had been Molina’s hope—that other escapees would see the Eden symbol and come forward.

“So far, no,” Gideon said. “At least nobody’s contacted the FBI. Erin, has SacPD heard anything?”

Erin shook her head. “Maybe we should post only a picture of the locket and ask if anyone’s seen it. It got lost in the news report. It was just a one-sentence mention among a whole lot of details.”

Gideon shook his head. “That’s too direct at this point. We don’t want Eden to know we’re looking for them.”

Daisy bit her lip, hesitating. “What if Mercy wore Eileen’s locket during her interview tonight? We can direct the reporter not to mention it, but if someone sees it on her . . .”

No. Mercy wanted to scream it. No! But she didn’t say a word, drawing into herself.

“I’m sorry, Mercy,” Daisy said quickly. “It was a bad idea. Forget it.”

There was silence at the table then, everyone looking at her, as if expecting to see her disagree that it was a bad idea. They thought it was a good idea, Mercy could tell. But I just can’t.

Rafe covered her hand with his. “The interview itself will be difficult enough. Mercy needs to project confidence and she can’t do that if she’s having PTSD episodes over the locket around her throat.”

Rafe’s words hit home. PTSD was exactly what she was experiencing. It was real. But it wasn’t a good reason to reject what really was a good idea. It’s just a locket. Just silver. Just jewelry.