No more. Everything had changed, all because of Gideon and his passion for the truth. The FBI knew about Ephraim Burton now. They knew that he’d been Harry Franklin before robbing a bank had sent him into hiding. Had sent him to Eden. An FBI task force was looking for him.

If they found him, they’d arrest him for murder and sexual assault. So many victims. The FBI would want her to testify against him. She’d have to see him again. To look at the face that still haunted her nightmares.

The angry bees in her gut swarmed and she was abruptly glad she hadn’t had anything to eat on the plane. Ephraim Burton was out there. And so was DJ Belmont. Walking the earth as free men when her mother was dead. And I’ve been hiding all this time, afraid of my own shadow.

No more. Because she’d returned to do the right thing. “I may still be afraid,” she muttered quietly, “but I’m sure as hell not hiding anymore.”

She looked up, stared at her own reflection. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. But her eyes were clear and she straightened her spine, suddenly refilled with purpose. You are not weak. You have survived. You are here. And you are not a little girl anymore, cowering in fear as he raped you. You’re a grown woman, in charge of your future.

She was here in Sacramento to make amends. To Gideon, to Rafe. But if she could make amends and destroy the men who’d tortured her and her mother and so many others at the same time?

That was an empowering thought. “You can do this,” she said to the woman in the mirror.

She would make amends. She would make the men who hurt her mother pay. One step, one breath at a time. I’m back, you sons of bitches.

Mercy gave a hard nod to her reflection. She knew what she had to do now. She wasn’t sure how to do it, but she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

She had Gideon. And Rafe. They might hate her, but they’d help her take Ephraim and DJ down, because they were both good men who did the right thing.

And it wasn’t like she’d have to face Ephraim today. The FBI was searching for him, but it wasn’t like he was going to pop up and surrender himself. So she had a little while to bolster herself.

She turned to the mirror to give her face a light coating of foundation and to apply her lipstick. At least she didn’t look like death warmed over, even if that was exactly how she felt.

Gathering her things, she squared her shoulders and walked from the ladies’ room.

Only to come to an abrupt halt, her breath seizing in her lungs. No. It’s not possible. It’s a dream. A nightmare. It’s not real.

But then her nightmare smiled, a glass eye glinting as it reflected the overhead lights. “Hello, wife.”