Straightening, the woman nodded. “Irina Sokolov,” she repeated.

“Detective Raphael Sokolov. He is your son?” he pressed.

Her smile bloomed wider. “He is. Do you know him?”

“I read about him. On the computer.” Amos gestured weakly to the computer table with the stack of books Millie had brought him to read. “He rescued Mercy Callahan.”

Irina and her daughter shared a glance. “He did,” Sasha said. “I was there. It was . . . awful. Do you know Jeff Bunker?”

“I read his name as well. On the computer,” he added again. “We thought he might be able to get a message to Mercy.”

Abigail tugged at his hand. “Papa? Is it the same Mercy as in the picture?”

He looked down into her puzzled face. “I hope so.”

“But Mercy died. Like my mama. You said so. You said.”

Oh. How was he going to explain this? “I know I said so, because I thought so. But she might not have.” He looked to the Sokolov women. “Did she? Is Mercy still alive?”

Please, God. Please let her say yes.

Irina’s smile was radiant. “Alive and well,” she said. “I think we should talk.”

“I think that would be a good idea. I was about to take Abigail outside for some lunch. Perhaps you can sit with us?”

“There’s a picnic table in the courtyard,” Millie offered. “Around the back of the building.”

“Thank you, Millie,” Amos said. “You’ve been so kind.”

She smiled at him, tears in her eyes again. “I’m a sucker for a happy ending, Amos.”

He smiled back, his chest now tight with anticipation. These women knew Mercy. His Mercy. Who was not dead. Light-headed with relief, he followed the Sokolovs out of the library, Abigail clinging to his hand even harder.

When they were in the sunshine, the Sokolovs went ahead to the picnic table and Amos stopped, crouching until he was eye to eye with his child. “You know how we hid in the woods last night?”

She nodded. “I was scared, Papa.”

“I was too, but you were so brave. You did everything I said and made me so proud of you. What we did last night was dangerous.”

She nodded, her eyes looking old again. “People aren’t supposed to run away from home.”

He swallowed. Because they get murdered when they try. “But I did and I took you with me. I had a good reason.”

Her face pinched. “Because Mercy isn’t really dead?”

“Partly, yes. Partly because I found out some things about Eden that weren’t so nice. Weren’t so safe. And I need for you to be safe, Abi-girl.”

She patted his cheek. “I am. You keep me safe.”

Her utter surety weakened his knees and he fell forward, landing on those weak knees and drawing her into his arms. “I love you, Abigail.”

She patted his back. “I love you, Papa.” Then she patted his pockets. “What is that?”

He laughed around the lump in his throat. “Miss Millie gave me a treat for you. Let’s find that picnic table so you can eat it.”