“Yeah?” he answered. If it was DJ, he couldn’t let on that he knew Mercy was alive. Ephraim wondered if DJ even knew. He had to assume that he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble not to bring back any current newspapers that covered Miriam’s murder and Mercy’s abduction by a serial killer. And that covered the locket.

Fucking hell. That stupid locket. Stupid wedding photo. The man with the cane had recognized him. That photo had to be in the hands of the authorities. That severely limited Ephraim’s options for moving around freely. Fucking hell.

“Ephraim?” It was Pastor, and Ephraim straightened in his seat out of habit. It pissed him off.

“Yes, Pastor?”

“When are you returning? You were supposed to be back this morning.”

I’ll come back when I feel like it, you old fucker. But Ephraim didn’t say that out loud. He wouldn’t cross Pastor until he had the bank account information. “I ran into some difficulties. I need another few days.”

“Difficulties?”

Shit. It was Pastor’s mild tone. Nothing good ever came from Pastor’s mild tone.

“I hit my head,” Ephraim said. Which was technically true. That blond asshole’s cane had clocked him but good. “I have a possible concussion and I’m laying low until I can drive safely.”

It was a ridiculous lie, but the best he could conjure at the spur of the moment.

“Oh, good heavens,” Pastor said, abruptly concerned. “I knew you had to have a good reason. DJ thought you might have decided not to come back.”

The little prick. He’d like it if I never came back. Then he’d get control of Eden and the money. It wasn’t like DJ wasn’t already skimming off the top of whatever payment he brought back to the community. Pastor was insane to have given DJ sole responsibility over transporting their products to the buyers and taking the payments. The prick was stealing from them. It was obvious to Ephraim. Unfortunately not to Pastor, and the old man ruled with an iron grip.

“Of course I’ll be back,” Ephraim said, injecting a little aw-shucks into his words. “When have I ever not come back?”

“That’s what I told DJ. He has so little faith.”

Ephraim rolled his eyes. Pastor had been drinking his own Kool-Aid for too long. All the praise and worship had blown his sense of reality. No one in the know had any faith, except in sex, drugs, and cold hard cash.

“I’ll be back, Pastor. I just need to take it easy for a few days. Is there anything wrong? Did you need me back for anything special?”

“No. Just checking on you, like a good shepherd cares for his flock.”

Oh please. “I have a splitting headache, Pastor.” Very true. “Is it all right if I call you back tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Call me every day, so that I know you’re okay. Where are you staying?”

“In Santa Rosa. With Regina.”

The madam operated the only place of business that Ephraim frequented. She kept a stable of young faces, replenishing them with fresh talent whenever Ephraim was due to visit. He paid her well, and she protected his privacy. Win-win.