Rafe remembered her tortured words from the graveyard the day before. She’d been so scared he’d impregnate her, that she’d live, that she’d bring a child into Eden, a child that Ephraim would own.

I wasn’t blessed with children. Rafe wondered how hard those words had been for her to say, with such sad conviction. Mercy Callahan was the strongest woman he’d ever known.

The old woman sighed. “I have two sons. Two boys. Good boys.” It was if Belinda had drifted a bit, and was now swaying as she spoke with an odd cadence. “Good boys.”

“Harry and Aubrey,” Mercy said. “They are good boys.”

“Were.” Belinda began to rock herself. “Aubrey . . . he’s gone. My boy is gone.”

“I know,” Mercy said, reaching out to touch the woman’s arm. Just a light touch, brief, then she was back to stroking the cat’s fur. “It was terrible.”

Belinda stopped rocking, turning haunted eyes on Mercy. “My Aubrey is gone.”

In a move that surprised a gasp out of Mercy, the cat jumped from her lap to Belinda’s. Mercy started to reach for the animal, then curled her fingers into light fists and placed them on her own knees. The cat lightly head-butted Belinda’s hands, and the old woman began petting him, still rocking.

The locket she’d been holding slipped to the floor and Mercy rescued it, sliding it into her pocket.

“My Aubrey is gone, but I didn’t use the key,” Belinda said quietly.

What key? But Rafe didn’t ask. None of them did. They waited for Mercy and leaned closer to Hunter’s phone.

“What key?” Mercy asked, but Belinda wasn’t listening any longer.

“Didn’t use the key,” she muttered. “Didn’t use the key.” Her gnarled fingers petted the cat’s fur. “My Aubrey is gone, but I didn’t use the key.”

“But your other son is still alive.” Mercy reached out again, her touch now firm as she squeezed the old woman’s arm. “I think he needs help. I need to find him. Tell me where to find him.”

Belinda was looking straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. “Two leave on foot,” she mumbled.

Mercy’s indrawn breath was audible. “Two leave on foot, one strong and one bold,” she whispered.

Belinda startled, then froze before turning her head again, slowly. Her eyes were focused now, and harder than glass. “What did you say?”

“Two leave on foot, one strong and one bold,” Mercy repeated, louder this time.

Belinda stared at her and said nothing.

Mercy cleared her throat, but instead of speaking, she began to sing, her voice shaky and slightly off-key. “The sun on the mountain turns everything gold.” The tune was familiar, but Rafe couldn’t place it. “But night comes too swiftly, takes one in its hold.”

Exhaling on a shudder, Belinda sang the final line with Mercy. “And when the sun rises, only one will grow old.”

“What is that song?” Hunter asked Gideon.

Gideon shook his head. “The melody is an old hymn we used to sing in Eden, but I’ve never heard these words.”