“Do you need help, sir?” one of them asked.

“Not me.” Rafe showed them his police ID. “The injured woman is over there.” He pointed to where Sasha and Farrah were helping Mercy to her feet. “She doesn’t want medical attention.”

“Now that we’re here, we have to have her sign the form.”

“I’m sure she will. Be easy with her. She’s had a shock.”

“Of course.”

Rafe watched as the medics approached Mercy as one might an animal caught in a trap. Mercy’s expression remained unchanged as she reiterated that she didn’t want transport and signed the medic’s form. Her hand didn’t even tremble.

Rafe was trembling, though. Now that it was over, all he could see was Ephraim Burton’s snarling face. All he could hear was the way he’d called Mercy “wife.”

The man would try again, but there was no way that asshole was laying a finger on Mercy. He’ll touch her again over my dead body.

Rafe knew that Mercy wasn’t his. She might never be his, no matter how much he’d wished for it, for her to return to him. But he would make sure that she lived whatever life she wanted, with whomever she wished to live it, wherever she wished.

Even if it’s not with me.

Life had dealt her far more than any one person should have to bear. She deserved peace.

EDEN, CALIFORNIA

SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 5:25 P.M.

Amos left the healer’s clinic, still reeling from seeing a computer in Eden, but stopped short when he saw the crowd gathered around Pastor in the central courtyard. Amos scanned the group for Abigail, quickly making his way to her side, then kept his expression concerned, mirroring the rest of the community as Pastor gravely announced that Brother Ephraim was missing. The man had gone out to the mountain to fast and pray, as he did several times a year. And now he couldn’t be found.

Which, given that Ephraim was a killer, was also probably a lie.

A killer and abuser, Amos thought grimly. I knew. I knew, but I didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to admit that Ephraim Burton destroyed my family.

That he’d beaten Gideon. That he’d destroyed Rhoda.

That he’d been so cruel to Mercy that Rhoda had died saving her.

I should have been at Rhoda’s side. I should have been the one to save my daughter.

Because Mercy had been his daughter. Not of his blood, but of his heart.

And I failed her the most. He’d allowed her to be given to a brute, even though she’d cried and begged him, her father, to help her.

Amos swallowed hard, willing himself not to cry. Not here. Not now. Not again.

He had failed Mercy, but he would not fail Abigail. He held his daughter’s hand gently, feeling her dismay. Her fear.

He was afraid too, but not for the same reason. Abigail was only responding to the tension of the adults around her. Amos was afraid because he now knew that Eden was no paradise. The healer had a computer. Pastor had to know about it. Nothing happened in Eden that Pastor didn’t know about. Amos wondered who else knew. He wondered who he could trust.