Damn reporters. That was more information than Ephraim had expected them to know. “So?”

“So, you knew she was going to be there. I’m wondering how? Especially since I fielded three phone calls from a guy named Pastor, trying to find you. Apparently you left my number as your emergency contact.”

Ephraim’s heart stuttered in his chest, but he managed to meet her shrewd gaze. He’d forgotten that he’d given Regina’s number in case of an emergency, but he remembered it now. One of his wives had been about to give birth and Pastor had insisted on a contact number. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to give the man the actual number or that Pastor had remembered it. It had been at least ten years ago. “Pastor called here?”

“Three times. I told him that you were busy the first two times. The third time he demanded that I ‘fetch’ you. I told him that you’d gone out to the store. I don’t think he believed me.”

“When was the third time?”

“Tonight. A few hours before you showed up. I knew something was wrong. You were supposed to be here all week, but you left after one night. The same night that CNN aired a special report on that serial killer, the report that listed Mercy Callahan as one of the women who’d gotten away—aided, I should add, by Detective Raphael Sokolov, who helped to save her life.”

Ephraim grabbed his thighs, digging his fingers deep to keep from reaching for her skinny throat. “If you knew who they were, why did you ask me?”

“I got curious. You see, I’d expected you to stay longer than you did. I had two young lovelies all ready for you. Turned away other clients because I thought you’d be staying your normal time, but you walked out on me—without paying me. And then I find out that some guy named Pastor is asking about you, because you were obviously not where you were supposed to be. Where were you?”

He made himself smile, even though he wanted to wring her damn neck. “I don’t think that’s your business, Regina.”

“When I lie to cover for you, it is. Did you have beignets when you were in New Orleans?”

He gritted his teeth. She was too damn smart for her own good. “Back off, Regina.”

“Or what?” She seemed genuinely confused.

“Or you’ll wish you’d listened.”

Regina laughed. She actually laughed.

Ephraim was holding on to control by a thin thread. But he remained silent, already visualizing how he’d snap her neck. It was his preferred method of disposal—quiet and easily explained away. It was how he’d killed his first wife, which hadn’t exactly been planned. More like he’d lost his temper and grabbed her. He guessed she’d been more delicate than he’d thought. Regina was not a delicate woman, but he’d had a lot of practice since then, most recently with Miriam’s family. Snapping the necks of Miriam’s parents and brother had been incredibly satisfying, and justified. They shouldn’t have helped his wife run away from Eden.