“The outbuildings.” Mercy started walking, cutting through the huts to the land behind them, and Rafe had to lengthen his stride to keep up, careful not to slip in the snow. “The stables. Amos’s workshop. The smithy. I can’t see them being belowground huts.”

The smithy. Where Gideon had been attacked and accidentally killed his attacker.

She stopped walking when she got to an area about twenty by twenty. It was flatter than the common area had been. Crouching, she brushed at the snow, then looked up.

“Concrete slab. This was either the smithy or Amos’s workshop. They were a little away from the homes because of the fire hazard. The smithy always had a fire going, of course, and Amos’s workshop had so much sawdust.” She moved to a similar area with level snow cover and, crouching again, revealed another concrete slab. “This was probably Amos’s place. They were always placed the same way, going clockwise.” She settled on her haunches, looking out to the trees. “There was a generator between them that ran on gasoline. It powered Amos’s tools. His saws were the only things that ran on electricity, in all the compound.”

She stood up, frowning. “It doesn’t look so scary like this, does it? Just kind of sad.” She continued on a clockwise path, a circle concentric to the ring of homes. “The stable would have been here.” Her shoulders straightened. “Behind Ephraim’s house.”

“What was his job, Mercy?” Sasha asked quietly.

“He was responsible for the animals.” Her lips curved bitterly. “He was actually good with them. Treated them with respect. Even affection. Far better than he treated his wives and children.” Her frown returned. “How could they have lived in such cramped quarters? Ephraim had four or five wives at any given time. Plus children.”

“The houses extend out underground,” Erin explained. “At least the one that I went into did.”

Mercy’s frown deepened. “How horrible. To be stuck in a confined space like that. With him.”

She looked beyond where the stable would have been, peering through the trees, growing suddenly still. Without a word she headed in the direction she’d been staring, and they followed, stopping behind her when she fell to her knees in the snow.

“It was always behind the church,” she muttered as she frantically parted the snow with her bare hands.

Revealing a cross made from wood. Painted white. Now that Rafe knew what to look for, he saw four more crosses poking up from the snow.

She’d uncovered the graveyard.

Rafe carefully lowered himself to his good knee, stretching his bad leg out sideways. Leaning on his cane for balance, he dug into his pocket for his leather gloves. “Put these on.”

She took the gloves, looking taken aback. “I won’t touch them,” she said solemnly. “I know better.”

She was a lab tech, working with evidence every day. He supposed she had a right to look a little insulted. He smiled at her, keeping it gentle because she looked so fragile in that moment. “They’re so your hands don’t get cold.”