But he needed to be more careful with Regina. She was armed. He saw the slight bulge of a pistol in the pocket of her housecoat.

When he said nothing, she smiled sweetly. “I watched that news report again after I heard that you’d tried to grab Mercy Callahan tonight,” she said. “They interviewed a woman who’d also escaped the killer’s clutches after being held and tortured. She wanted the viewing audience to remember the women who didn’t survive. She read all their names and mentioned that Mercy had also escaped, along with another woman. She said that Mercy had been childhood friends with one of the dead women—an Eileen Danton. Name ring a bell?”

Ephraim took a steadying breath. “Nope.” Because her name wasn’t Eileen. It was Miriam. Miriam Burton. And she was my damn wife.

And she’d run. He wasn’t exactly sure how she’d gotten away, but her family had had a hand in it, of that he was certain. For their crime, he’d killed them and buried them in an unmarked grave. And then, because he hadn’t been able to find Miriam, they’d had to consider that she’d gone to law enforcement for help. Which meant they’d had to move Eden. Again.

That had been a pain in the ass, especially in November, with winter approaching. “Never heard of her.”

Regina smiled again, way too sweetly. “That’s really interesting. Because, you see, the killer apparently took trinkets from his victims.”

Ephraim shrugged. “So? That’s normally what they do, right?”

“Right. But he took a locket from Eileen. They showed it on the news. Said that the third lady who’d escaped him—a Sacramento radio personality named Daisy Dawson—had ripped it from his throat while fighting for her life. It was an important clue, apparently.”

Stay calm. Just breathe. He’d seen the telecast, just as Regina had. He’d seen the locket on the screen. And he’d been afraid that his face would be recognized, that he’d be identified. The newscast had made no mention of finding any photos inside the locket, so he’d assumed Miriam had removed them. But now he knew better. That damn cop in the airport had recognized him, so clearly the police had the wedding photo.

Goddamn wedding photos. I’m going to murder Pastor as soon as I get back to Eden.

With Mercy in tow. There was no way he was going back without Mercy now.

“And?” he managed in a smooth voice that didn’t tremble at all.

“And there was a design on the locket. Two children kneeling in prayer under a tree, all under the wings of an angel holding a fiery sword.”

“Sounds pretty.”

“Oh, it is. Just like the tattoo on your right pectoral.”

Ephraim stiffened. What the fuck? “What makes you think I have a tattoo?” He never removed his shirt. Never. Except . . . motherfucking bitch. Except when he showered.

Her lips curved smugly. “Yes, I can see that you understand. Of course I keep cameras in the showers, Ephraim. It’s for your protection, you see.” She tapped a manicured fingernail on the edge of his laptop. “So this is what I think happened.”