“I do not,” Gideon insisted. “I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again.”

“Still right here,” Mercy called. “Still can hear you. And you won’t lose me.”

Which she genuinely hoped was true. But dammit. Ephraim had already killed four people, three of them innocents. I have to do something, right now.

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 3:50 P.M.

Nothing was happening at the Sokolov house. Ephraim had been here most of the day after his search for an unoccupied house had been a failure. Both unoccupied houses were actually occupied—one with about two dozen addicts and the other by two guys making meth.

Ephraim hadn’t wanted to tangle with any of them, so he’d headed over to the Sokolov house, and was glad he had. He’d arrived in time to see two SUVs filled with people pulling into what had to be a six-car garage, at least. Through his binoculars he’d spied Mercy sitting in the back seat of the lead SUV, a gray Chevy Suburban. The second vehicle was a blue Range Rover, with a small woman behind the wheel.

At least the windows weren’t tinted and the vehicles didn’t look like official law enforcement. Mercy had a personal guard, but no formal protection. That would make things a little easier.

The detective—Raphael Sokolov—had been sitting in the Suburban’s passenger seat, Gideon Reynolds behind the wheel. The sight of Reynolds made Ephraim want to charge and shoot him dead.

But the garage door had been quickly lowered, and Ephraim had been left to brood and seethe. He needed Mercy to prove to Pastor that DJ had lied about her death. But he wanted Gideon in a choke hold. Wanted to watch the fucker take his last breath, but not before he cut out the man’s eyes.

It was justice, after all.

He didn’t care about anyone in the house. He wanted Mercy alive, Gideon stone-cold dead, and the Sokolov cop to be permanently in that wheelchair, in pain for the rest of his miserable life.

So he’d sat and watched, growing more bored by the moment. A horde of additional people had arrived—more Sokolovs, Ephraim figured by the overabundance of blonds who carried covered dishes and wrangled noisy children. All of them had left in the last hour, but Mercy, Gideon, and the Sokolov cop remained. So Ephraim had stayed put.

He wanted to get closer to the house, but he didn’t dare. He’d seen Mercy arrive and now knew that she wasn’t actually staying in this house, which meant that he couldn’t leave. He needed to follow them when they left. He needed to know where Mercy was sleeping. He needed to catch her unaware.

He blinked hard when his view of the house grew fuzzy. He shouldn’t be tired. He’d gotten an excellent night’s sleep in Granny’s bed. He gave his head a shake, slapping his cheeks lightly to stay awake. Need to think. Need to plan. He might be AWOL from Eden for a while, depending on how long Mercy was going to stay. He would wait her out, but that could take days at a minimum.