“I don’t know. She seemed pretty lucid to me. We chatted. She said such nice things about Aubrey. Not so much you. You apparently don’t visit her often enough. We got along brilliantly. We even sang your song together. I was close enough to kill her myself and I know exactly where she lives.”

“You bitch,” Ephraim snarled. “You don’t talk about her. You don’t even say her name.”

“Belinda,” Mercy said flatly. “Belinda, Belinda, Belinda. You want to play games, Ephraim? I’ll play. I can have your mother in FBI custody before you can end this call. She harbored a fugitive. They can arrest her for that.”

“They won’t. She’s old.”

“So? They’ll put her in prison nursing care. They have those, you know. For the lifers who can’t take care of themselves. I can’t imagine it would be nearly as nice as the place you’ve been paying for all this time.”

“I’m not trading your friends for my mother and if you think I am, you’re the fool.”

Mercy could picture his snarl perfectly and she had to lock her knees once more. “I never thought you would. But if my friends aren’t breathing when we make our little trade, your mother will suffer, and I’ll make sure that she knows she’s hurting because of you. Am I clear?”

He said nothing, just breathed hard. She remembered that, too.

“Am I clear, Ephraim?” she asked again.

“Yeah. You come alone. No cops. And bring the key with you.”

But . . . I don’t have it anymore. He doesn’t know that. “What’s it worth to you?”

He snarled again. “Let me put it to you this way. When I get my hands on you, if I find that you haven’t brought that key, I’ll show your friend Farrah what I do to women who cross me.”

Mercy’s stomach rolled. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

He laughed at her silence. “I see you remember what that means. Oh, and if I see any cops, your friends die and my mother’s just gonna have to deal. Am I clear?”

She swallowed hard. “Crystal clear,” she whispered.

“Then wait for my instructions.”

The call ended and Mercy’s knees gave out. She sank to the floor, her back against the closet door. “Oh my God,” she whispered, rocking herself. “Oh my God.”

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19, 12:15 P.M.

Rafe blew out a breath, then, balancing on one foot, lowered himself to the floor beside her. Stretching his bad leg in front of him, he turned the volume on his phone back up and pulled Mercy close to him. She was shaking like a leaf, goddammit. “You get all that, Dad?” he asked.

“Yes,” Karl said. “Mercy . . . thank you. We’re not letting you trade yourself, just so you know, but thank you for being willing. And for making sure Damien was still alive, too.”

“Yes, lubimaya,” Irina said, no longer crying, but her voice was still thick and unsteady. “Thank you. But what did Farrah mean about her allergy medication?”