Now a custodian was sweeping the front walk, keeping the exterior of the fancy school acceptably clean for all the rich kids who’d laughed their way from the school to the parking lot, which was like an advertisement for luxury cars. Some of the students had been picked up, some had driven themselves, but every one of the vehicles cost more than most people made in a year.

The Jeep he’d taken from the honeymooners didn’t fit in this neighborhood. He’d detached the camper, leaving it in the state park nearby, or he would have been even more obviously out of place. At least he’d washed the Just Married decorations off the Jeep’s windows, but the vehicle was too old for this fancy area.

He frowned, because the law would be searching for the Jeep once the honeymooners’ bodies were found. They hadn’t been found yet—he’d been listening to the news all day and there’d been no mention of two dead bodies turning up at a campground. Still, he’d need a replacement vehicle soon, but that wouldn’t be a problem after he got access to Eden’s offshore accounts. He’d be able to buy a fleet of fancy cars if he wanted.

Of course, to get the money he had to first get Mercy, and he was no closer to that goal than he’d been the day before.

He blew out a breath in frustration. The Sokolov kid hadn’t come to school today, and Ephraim was pretty certain that it was because Detective Sokolov was being careful with his family. Sokolov could keep his sister out of school for the foreseeable future, so Ephraim would need to find another way to lure Mercy’s detective away from her side.

He couldn’t wait them all out much longer. He’d left DJ to whisper in Pastor’s ear for too long already—

A knock on the window of the honeymooners’ Jeep had him dropping the binoculars and twisting toward the noise, earning him a bruise when the steering wheel jabbed into his side.

Fuck. Fucking hell. It was a cop. And he’d drawn his gun.

Ephraim didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to plan. Simply drew his own gun, shot at the cop through the window, and drove away like a bat out of hell.

So much for staying under the radar, he thought grimly. He might as well take out a skywriting ad now. Hey, Mercy, I’m back. Run and hide so that I can never find you.

But Mercy Callahan was not his biggest worry at the moment. He’d shot a fucking cop. They’d be looking for him. He circled the fancy private school, heading around to the back. The custodian had parked his truck in the back, so that was where he headed.

Leaving the Jeep behind, he was in the truck and had it hot-wired in under a minute. Stealing so many cars recently had sharpened his skills again. The truck was old, but it started. It was a far cry from the luxury vehicles the rich kids had been driving, but it would do for now.