That was what had made her run home, the straw that broke the camel’s back. That terrifying, beautiful, amazing kiss. He should be so angry. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to see her again. Maybe she should find a hotel, like right now.

Or maybe she should grow the hell up and stop being a frightened child. Deliberately turning her body, Mercy headed for the ladies’ room, trying to calm the butterflies in her gut that had changed to angry bees.

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 5:00 P.M.

Finally. Ephraim had been waiting for hours, his own flight from New Orleans having landed early that afternoon. Mercy had led him on quite the merry chase, with two cross-country flights in under a week.

He’d booked his flight to Louisiana as soon as he’d seen Mercy’s face on the TV on Monday night. Or at least as soon as he’d recovered from his shock at seeing her alive when he’d thought her dead for thirteen years.

The CNN interview had been full of shocks. Mercy was still alive. She’d survived being abducted by a serial killer. But there was another victim—Eileen, who’d been given the name of Miriam when Ephraim had married her. Now she was dead at this serial killer’s hands. And the most dangerous shock of all—Miriam’s locket had been found and was now in the hands of the police. Which meant that, unless Miriam had removed their wedding photo from the locket, the cops now knew his face.

Fortunately, he no longer wore the pirate patch like he had in the photo. Not out in the world anyway. Only in Eden, because no one in the community could know that he’d gotten surgery none of them would have access to.

But the real chances of the cops knowing his face were slim. If they had his picture, they’d have it spread all over the TV. Just like Mercy’s had been in that broadcast.

The CNN reporter had been so helpful, telling her viewing audience where Mercy now lived. Ephraim had followed Mercy around New Orleans for days, learning her routine. He’d planned his grab for last night, only to learn from her neighbor that she was flying back to Sacramento and he’d missed her.

He hadn’t planned to kill Mercy’s neighbor, but the woman had seen his face. He’d had no choice. His preferred method of eliminating threats was snapping his victim’s neck—and he was damn good at it—but he wanted the old lady to look like she’d died of natural causes, so he’d suffocated her instead, which took more effort. Tracking Mercy had been a lot more trouble than he’d expected.

But it had all worked out because there she was, walking toward the ladies’ room. Mercy Callahan, or so she called herself now. When she’d been his wife, she’d been Mercy Burton. And since Eden didn’t permit divorce, she was still Mercy Burton.

Slowly, he moved toward the restrooms, not wanting to attract any attention. He had no idea if Mercy or her bastard brother had told anyone about him, but there was a chance that his photo from Miriam’s locket might have surfaced, and he wasn’t going to be careless.