A single nod.

“Okey-dokey then,” Ephraim said cheerfully. “Is it just you, wandering around this big old house?”

No nod. Nothing but a fleeting glimpse toward the far wall. Where there was a photo of a woman who appeared to be about forty, her arms around a little girl with red pigtails and Mickey Mouse ears. Sleeping Beauty Castle was in the distance. A man stood next to the woman, with a baby in one of those papoose things, or whatever the hell people called them these days.

“Your daughter?” Ephraim asked.

No response once again, but now the man’s eyes flickered in fear.

“Yeah, your daughter.” Ephraim constructed two sandwiches. He ate one, then the other before making a third for MacGuire. He pulled the tape from the man’s mouth, taking more care than he normally would. “If you try to scream or bite me—”

“You’ll kill me,” MacGuire said with a faint Irish accent. “Got it.”

Ephraim held the sandwich to the man’s lips, waiting until he took a bite. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked.

“Because I don’t care. As you’ve so noted, my ‘old lady’ is dead. We were married forty-nine years. I’m ready to go.”

At least he was honest. “All right, then. I’m quite willing to send you to her, just remember that.” He gave MacGuire another bite of the sandwich, then put it in the fridge. “You can finish it later.” Maybe. “I’ve got things to do.” Once MacGuire had swallowed, he applied another piece of duct tape to his mouth and went to find the router so that he could get the Wi-Fi password. He had some purchases to make, and then he’d post himself at the window until the party across the street broke up and Mercy went home.

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 6:00 P.M.

“You can call John back if you want to,” Gideon said, breaking the tense silence as Mercy stared at her phone. She’d been willing herself to do that very thing from the moment he’d brought her phone from the kitchen. It gave her something else to obsess about, she supposed. Something to help take her mind off Farrah, who was still in Karl’s office with André. I’m so sorry, Ro. So damn sorry. But there wasn’t anything she could do for Farrah right now, so she was trying to gather the courage to call her half brother and at least make that situation right.

They sat sideways on the edge of the guest room bed, hip to hip, silent until Gideon had suggested she return her brother’s call. No, our brother’s call. Mercy really wanted to be by herself for this, but she sensed that Gideon needed her. Or he needed her to need him.

Which I do. She could be honest with herself about that, at least. Finally.

“He’s got to be worried sick about me,” she murmured. John had called twice in the past ten minutes, had left two voice mails and ten texts imploring her to call him.