“You’re right,” Daisy agreed. “It was a dumb idea.”

“No, it’s not dumb.” Mercy was startled to hear her own voice. “It’s smart. It’s also a way to taunt Ephraim Burton if he’s watching. Maybe make him so angry that it lures him out, makes him do something rash.”

Rafe was shaking his head. “I don’t like that idea. At all.”

“Neither do I,” Mercy said, grateful that her voice didn’t tremble. “But he’s killed three people in the last twenty-four hours. Three people. At least two of them—the minivan lady at the airport and the college kid at the costume store—were killed as a direct result of his obsession with me.” About the brothel madam, she had no idea. “I don’t know why he’s obsessed, other than I got away and he can’t handle it, but if this continues, more people could die. It costs me nothing to wear the locket.”

“It costs you peace of mind,” Rafe protested.

“My peace of mind isn’t more important than the lives of innocent people who get in Ephraim’s way.”

Sniffling got her attention and she turned away from Rafe to see his mother wiping her eyes. “You’re a good person, Mercy.”

Mercy managed a small smile for the woman who’d given her comfort the night before. “Thank you.” She drew a breath and exhaled carefully. “But I don’t need to wear Eileen’s locket. I brought mine with me.” She met Gideon’s eyes. “And Mama’s.”

Gideon went very still. “You what?”

She nodded. “The locket was the only thing I had left of Mama and I didn’t think you deserved to have it, but I was wrong. So I brought it to give you.”

“You didn’t have to bring them, Mercy,” Gideon said quietly.

She sighed. “I know, but I’m tired of keeping things from you.”

He leaned across the table and gripped her hands. “Thank you. I was going to call John later today. Will you stay with me when I do?”

More sniffling from Irina had Mercy smiling again. “Of course.”

The table fell silent until Erin cleared her throat. “I have a question,” she started, then stopped when her phone began to vibrate on the table. She checked the screen, then looked up at Rafe, troubled. “It’s Tiff.”

“Please, take it,” Rafe said.

With a nod, Erin excused herself and stepped into the hallway off the kitchen.

“Who is Tiff?” Mercy asked.

“Our lieutenant’s clerk,” Rafe said. “She’s the one who passed on the information about the murdered madam in Santa Rosa and the discovery of June Lindstrom’s body this morning. She promised to let us know if any more bodies were discovered.”

“So more than three,” Mercy murmured, and no one said a word to dispute her. No one said anything at all until Erin came back in, her expression drawn.

“An elderly woman was found dead in her home north of the city, discovered by her grandson. She’d been shot in the chest twice. Bullet appears to be a .45, but we won’t know for certain until the ME does an autopsy and sends the bullet to Ballistics. Rigor had set in, so she’d been dead at least eight hours or so.”