“Let me get this straight,” Mercy said to the table in general and to Tom and Erin in particular. “This . . . kid, Jeff Bunker, was duped by Stan Prescott’s roommate?”

She’d read the letter the young man had written with an initial skepticism that she was rethinking now that Hunter had confirmed the story Rafe had relayed to her in private before this family meeting. The letter was sincere, to the point, and very apologetic.

She didn’t want to let the anger at the kid go, but . . . hell. She’d held on to her anger at Gideon for all these years and it had nearly ruined whatever relationship they might have had.

Gideon had forgiven her freely. Maybe she should pay it forward.

“Yes,” Tom said simply. “His story checks out. He kept all the e-mails from his editor and all of the drafts of the article. He didn’t set you up on purpose, Mercy.”

Farrah wasn’t quite in the forgiveness phase and Mercy couldn’t blame her. “Could he have killed Aunt Quill?” Farrah asked.

“Maybe,” André said, “but his story checks out there too, from a timing standpoint, anyway. The apartment building didn’t have any cameras, but the home across the street did and we got a view of the front entrance. Ephraim Burton entered twenty minutes before Jeff Bunker walked up. Burton left and got in a rental car. Five minutes later, Bunker runs from the house looking like he’d seen a damn ghost. He hightailed it to the bus stop.” André rolled his eyes. “The kid was using the city buses because he’s too young to rent a car and he doesn’t actually have a driver’s license yet.”

“He’s some kind of whiz kid genius,” Rafe added. “But he’s still sixteen. Sounds like his editor used that to manipulate him.”

“I don’t want to feel sorry for him,” Farrah said stubbornly.

Mercy covered her friend’s hand with hers. “You don’t have to. Even if he didn’t kill Quill, he knew who did. Yes, he’s young. Yes, he was scared and, having been on the receiving end of Ephraim’s rage, I know he had a right to be. But he waited too long to do the right thing.” She bit her lip. “I actually can relate to that.”

“Not the same,” Gideon murmured.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Mercy murmured back. “But my point is, your feelings are your feelings and you don’t have to harbor kind thoughts about this kid. If he had come forward, we . . .” She trailed off.

“We what?” Farrah pressed.

“We wouldn’t have gotten on that plane. I wouldn’t be here right now, in this kitchen.” A thought struck her and she shivered. “I might not be here on the planet anymore, because Ephraim would have killed me there and no one would have known it was him.”

Silence descended over the table, heavy and thick.

Farrah let out a watery sigh that was half sob. “God, Mercy. Now I feel like I should thank that fool kid.”