“The government,” Mercy repeated flatly.

Amos sighed. “It was a paranoid time.”

“Waco was only a few years after that,” Gideon said.

“We heard a lot about Waco.” Amos shook his head. “I don’t know if half of what we heard was true, but we got an influx of new members after that. Anyway, he offered to allow his ‘chosen few’ to come with him. They’d get freedom from the government, freedom from the growing immorality of the world, fresh air, and back to basics. Their children would grow up without temptation and would remain pure.”

“And what did they have to promise in return?” Rafe asked.

Amos briefly dropped his gaze to his hands. When he looked up, Rafe saw shame in his eyes. “Everything,” Amos said quietly. “‘If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.’”

“Matthew 19:21,” Mercy said. “But you didn’t give to the poor.”

“You gave it all to Pastor,” Gideon murmured. “What did you sell?”

“My grandfather’s house. All of our belongings, except for his pocket watch. I couldn’t bear to sell that. He was so disappointed that he couldn’t come with me. He was sick. Lung cancer. His last wish was that I would go to Eden and ‘thrive.’ So I did. Or tried to.”

“How much did you give to Eden?” Mercy asked.

“Several hundred thousand dollars. My grandfather owned a lot of land and developers had been after him to sell for a long time.”

“Wow,” Mercy whispered. “Did everyone give him that much money?”

“Some gave him more,” Amos said. “Some less. Some brought nothing but themselves and their children, like your mother, but looking back I can see there were more wealthy donors than poor members.”

“What was Pastor’s name, back in L.A.?” Rafe asked.

Amos gave him an approving nod. “That was what interested Agent Molina the most. His given name was Herbert Hampton, but now I don’t know if that was true, either.”

Rafe was already entering the name into his phone browser. “Nothing comes up on his name, but that’s not surprising if he hasn’t used it for thirty years.” But he wasn’t discouraged at all. This was part of the hunt, his favorite part of the job.

“Tom’s probably already searching,” Gideon said. “He’s some kind of hacker whiz. If it’s on the Internet, or ever has been, he can find it.”

“Or we could search the newspaper archives.”

Everyone turned to see Jeffrey Bunker standing in the kitchen doorway with Zoya, Karl, and Abigail. The sight of the little bastard reporter had Rafe’s temper rising fast, and from the way Gideon’s jaw bulged, his friend felt the same way. But Bunker had done some good today. He was trying to undo the harm he’d caused, and Rafe resolved to give the little punk a second chance.

“This is a private conversation,” Gideon growled, having clearly not come to the same resolution.