She gave him the evil eye, then focused on Mercy. “Dammit, what?”

“I forgot about that interview. The one you set up, Daisy.”

“We moved it to tomorrow evening,” Daisy said uncertainly. “That way you can figure out what you want to say. Today was too emotional in every way. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

Mercy’s knees wobbled as relief swamped her. “No, you didn’t. Thank you, Daisy. I don’t think I could have managed that tonight.” After the day’s sorrow and fear and the walk down the haunted lane of Eden, the sexual assault video felt oddly . . . surreal. Like it hadn’t happened to her at all. Which was ridiculous, of course. It had happened to her, but the memory felt numb, like when an ER doctor had numbed her finger with novocaine before stitching up a bad cut. Kind of a distant throbbing. She’d been able to watch her finger tap the table and not feel it at all. That was how the memory seemed.

Which was all wrong for what she now knew she wanted to say. “I want to do the interview, but with the video being treated as only one part of a whole.”

Daisy tilted her head. “I don’t follow you.”

Mercy’s lips tipped up sadly. “The video represents less than five minutes of my life. Devastating and humiliating and damaging minutes, but not the worst I’ve experienced by far. I won’t talk about Eden, not if the FBI is still hoping to keep Pastor and the others unaware while they investigate. But I will say that the assault on that video wasn’t the first in my life. And that I wouldn’t have survived any of it without a therapist and the support of good people, whether I welcomed them at the time or not. There are other victims out there, other people who’ve been hurt who don’t have anyone. People who might be so alone that they give up. I don’t want this to simply be me clearing my name or turning public opinion in my favor. I want anyone hurting to know where to get help, and I need time to gather some resources to share. I assume you all can help me with this?” She glanced around the table, realizing she had cops, a retired nurse in Irina, a social worker in Sasha, a marketing mogul in Karl, and a radio personality in Daisy, who could give the message even more reach. If they couldn’t help her, they’d know who could.

Gideon looked up at her from where he still sat, his eyes wet. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, but there was pride mixed with the tears.

She walked to his chair and stroked a hand over his hair. “Yeah, I kind of do. Mama died so that I could be free. So, I’m going to be free. That can’t happen if I let this video or fear of Ephraim Burton keep me chained. She wouldn’t want that. It’s my turn to be brave, brother.”