That someone could be you.

He’d considered it, of course. Many times. But it wasn’t going to happen until he was sure that his Abigail was safe. Yes, it was selfish, but his daughter was his priority.

Once he found Mercy, he’d let her decide what should be done. She’d been living in this world for the past thirteen years. She’d know the safe thing to do. She’d know which police he could trust.

Because going to the police was . . . well, it wasn’t smart. Police brutality was a real thing. He’d seen the evidence before he’d gone to Eden. He’d heard horror stories from the new community members.

The police were not to be trusted. Ever. They’d arrest him and take his child. They’d take Abigail.

His gut turned to ice at the very thought. No. He was not letting that happen.

Of course, given all the lies he’d been told, the stories about the police might have been a lie as well, but he wasn’t taking that risk. Not yet. Eventually he’d report Pastor, DJ, and Ephraim, but he needed to find Mercy first. He needed to be sure that someone he trusted would be there for Abigail, no matter what happened to him.

“Papa?”

Amos returned his attention to Abigail, who was watching him with open dismay. “Are you all right, Papa? You look sad.”

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” he confessed. “You know what that means?”

She nodded. “It’s when you have this much work”—she spread her arms wide—“and this much time.” She pinched her fingers together. “That’s what Deborah’s mama says when she does the washing.”

His chest flooded with emotion, so full that it hurt. And it occurred to him, not for the first time, that if DJ came looking for him, if he was caught, he wouldn’t survive. He’d never told Mercy, Rhoda, and Gideon how he felt about them. He hadn’t made that mistake with this child. If anything happened to him, she’d know exactly what was in his heart. “I love you, Abi-girl.”

Visibly pleased but blessedly unsurprised, she patted his hand. “I love you too, Papa. Where will we go next?”

“That is a good question. I need to find a phone book and make a call. On a telephone,” he added when she looked confused. “You learned about phones in school, right?”

Another nod, this one accompanied with a frown. “Not from Sister Mary, though. It was from Israel, one of the big boys. He’s ten. He said his big brother remembers phones from before they came to Eden.”

“What did Sister Mary say?” Amos asked carefully. Mary was the schoolteacher. She was also one of Pastor’s wives.

Abigail winced. “She told Israel to stop lying. Then she put him in the corner and after school, she whipped him with a switch.” Her eyes got big. “She made him cut it himself and everything. But he didn’t cry. Not at all. Even though she made his legs bleed.”