Say Goodbye Page 7

  Croft turned back to Cameron. “We can’t promise you that we will find her, Mr. Cook, but we will do our best. The good news is that finding this cult is a priority of this office.”

  Cameron’s lips twisted in a grimace. “And the bad news?”

  “You’re one of our first leads,” she admitted. “But the other good news is that Agent Hunter is one of our best cyber experts. If you’ll give him access to your e-mail account, he might be able to trace the e-mail.”

  Tom smiled at Cameron. “It’s a fact. I’m good at what I do. You okay with giving me some passwords and access?”

  Cameron’s pent-up breath rushed out of him. “Of course. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “I do have a few more questions, though,” Tom said. “For both of you. Cameron, you said no one listened to you. Who did you ask for help? Who else has seen this e-mail?”

  “Dad and I went to the local sheriff nearest to the coordinates first,” Cameron said, his expression showing only desperate truth. “Once he and his deputies searched and didn’t find anything, he said he didn’t have any more time for ‘teenage drama.’ I was so mad, but my dad dragged me out of there before I could give the man a piece of my mind. Dad said I wasn’t doing Hayley any good by getting myself arrested.”

  “He was right about that,” Tom said. “Who else?”

  “I went to San Francisco PD and tried to file a missing-person report, but they said they couldn’t take it because Hayley left with her mother, who had custody of her. But one of the detectives talked to their old neighbors. Nobody knew anything about them. They kept to themselves. They heard screaming sometimes, but the kids didn’t look abused, so they never said anything to Mrs. Gibbs. The detective asked the real estate agent who was selling their house and the woman said that Mrs. Gibbs claimed she was moving to be closer to family. That her kids were ‘troubled’ and she needed help in getting them back on the straight and narrow.”

  Croft tilted her head. “Both kids were troubled? Or just Hayley for getting pregnant?”

  “Both. Graham went to juvie right after the holidays. He got caught shoplifting.” Cameron shook his head. “I tried to be a big brother to him, but he fell in with a rough crowd. He’s amazing with tech, though. He can hack into websites. He might be the one who figured out how to send the e-mail from Eden. If that’s the case, at least Hayley isn’t alone.”

  “How old is Graham?” Croft asked.

  “Twelve. But he’s a genius, for real.”

  Tom tapped the printed e-mail. “Who else knows about this?”

  “We live outside San Francisco and our town has a dinky paper, so I asked if they’d print something. I figured I could link to it on social media and maybe it’d go viral. If someone had seen Hayley, they’d call. The article went up last night.”

  “We’ll need to take it down,” Croft said to Tom, then looked at Cameron. “We don’t want the Eden leadership knowing that we’re getting close. They tend to move around, especially if they fear being found out.”

  “I’ll ask them to take it down,” Cameron said. “Or should you do it?”

  “If we do it, they’ll know they have a story,” Tom said. “Best you do it. Or we can do it together.”

  “Because you want to make sure I’m not going to say anything stupid,” Cameron muttered.

  “Partly,” Tom admitted. “Mostly because I need to be able to trace every piece of Eden information out there.”

  Cameron nodded once, mollified. “Jeff says you’re all right. I’m going to have to believe that, because I don’t have another choice.”

  Jeff had gone very still. “Are you worried that someone from Eden will come after Cameron if they see the article in the paper?”

  Cameron’s face drained of color. “Me?”

  Tom sighed, wishing Jeff weren’t quite so quick on the draw. “Well, yes. I might have approached that more delicately later, but since you’ve let the cat out of the bag—yes. Cameron could be in danger if Eden learns that he knows about them.”

  Cameron’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “They’re that bad?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Yes,” Croft said. “They’re that bad. Not trying to scare you, kid. Just want to keep you safe so that your Jellybean will have a mom and a dad.”

  Cameron’s lips lifted at the mention of his daughter. It had been the exact right thing to say and Tom was grateful that Croft had said it. “Thank you,” Cameron whispered.

  Tom turned to Jeff. “How did you find Cameron’s article? I have alerts set for Eden articles as well, and nothing pinged for me.”

  Jeff looked a little proud. And smug. “You might only be getting feeds from the big-city newspapers, or if you’ve got a broad enough net, you’re getting too many hits. I’ll show you how to set up your search to be more inclusive and discerning.”

  Tom had to laugh. The kid reminded him of himself at that age. “You little—” He cut himself off, but not before Jeff’s eyes sparkled.

  “Admit it, Big T,” Jeff said, using Tom’s nickname from when he’d played professional basketball. “I am the master.”

  “Gentlemen,” Croft warned, but she looked amused as well. She sobered as she met Cameron’s gaze. “We will make it our top priority to find Eden and bring Hayley and her family home. Thank you for coming in this morning. I know you must be exhausted. Can we drive you somewhere to rest before you start for home?”

  Jeff and Cameron exchanged weary glances. “We can’t go back until Zoya gets home from school,” Jeff said. “And she’s going to be tired, too. She’ll need a nap. If her parents let her take us back,” he added when Tom lifted his brows.

  “I can call my father,” Cameron said. “He’ll come get me when he gets off work. He won’t be happy to make the drive, but he will be happy that someone is finally looking for Hayley. Jellybean’s gonna be his first grandchild.”

  Croft patted the boy’s hand. “Call your dad. We’ll get you a ride to Jeff’s house and you can sleep till your dad arrives. For now, sit tight here. I need to confer with Agent Hunter, but we’ll just be out in the hall.”

  “Well?” Tom asked as soon as they left the room and closed the door behind them.

  “If this Graham kid is as tech savvy as Cameron says, he would know how to find their coordinates if he’d managed to hack into their computer to send a message.”

  Tom nodded. “But Cameron only found forest. The coordinates in the e-mail aren’t anywhere close to any of the Eden sites. Eden could have set up a VPN or anonymity software like Tor to redirect their ISP and mask their location.”

  “To hide,” Croft translated dryly.

  “Exactly. We know DJ Belmont is the runner for the cult. We also know he sells drugs for a living, because we found traces of psychedelic mushrooms in the truck that Amos Terrill stole when he escaped.” They’d also found evidence of the cult’s drug operation when they’d searched their most recent location. “If he was using the computer to communicate with customers, it’s likely he’s using Tor to get on the dark web. He could easily fake his location that way. He wouldn’t want customers to know where he was. I wouldn’t, if I were him.”

  “We know where the cult was when Hayley sent the message, because it was their most recent site, most recently vacated. Can you back-extrapolate or triangulate or whatever to find them?” Croft blew out a frustrated breath. “Does that make sense?”

  “It does. It’s not triangulation—that’s only possible if you have at least three locations. Or two locations and the nearest cell tower. VPN software bounces the data from server to server, all over the world sometimes. It’s not simple to trace communications that have been relayed thousands of times, but it’s not impossible. If Hayley can send another e-mail, I’ll have another data point.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Croft said. “What about Bunker and Cook? Do
we trust them not to talk? We need to keep this as need-to-know only. The wrong person could expose Eden to the press and then we’ll never find them.”

  “I don’t think either of the boys will talk,” Tom said. “Cameron has already talked and no one believed him. He wants his girlfriend and their baby back, so I think we can trust him. Jeff has known about Eden for a month. If he hasn’t talked by now, I don’t think he will.”

  “Agreed. Let’s get photos of Hayley and Graham if we can, so that we can show them around if we need to.”

  “Eden isn’t all that big a settlement,” Tom mused. “I bet Amos Terrill can positively identify Hayley and her brother. That way we can be certain that we’re not chasing our tails.”

  “Good idea. Let’s get a photo array and talk to Mr. Terrill. Do you know where he is?”

  “I do. He’s working on my friend’s house, renovating it.”

  “Of course they’d be your friends,” Croft said dryly. “Whose house?”

  “Rafe Sokolov. He bought a fixer-upper so that he and Mercy could have a place of their own. Amos is a master carpenter and has been helping him, usually just in the mornings. Amos is still recovering from being shot by DJ Belmont last month, so he’s only working part-time.”

  “Right,” Croft murmured. “Your friends have suffered at the hands of this Eden group.”

  “They have,” Tom agreed grimly. “And they’re trying to get on with their lives, but it’s hard, knowing that DJ might be back.”

  “So let’s find DJ and Eden,” Croft said, making it sound so simple.

  Tom smiled down at her. “Yes, ma’am. Cameron needs to request that his article be taken down and I need to get his e-mail password, then we can go to see Amos.”

  THREE

  FOLSOM, CALIFORNIA

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 11:00 A.M.

  You didn’t have to come with us today,” Mercy murmured, her gaze locked on the small girl who was dubiously gazing up at the rows of eyeglasses on the wall. “It’s your first day of vacation before nursing school.”

  “Of course I did. I promised Abigail that I’d be here to help her pick her new glasses.” But also to help protect Mercy and the little girl, because their lives were in danger every time they left the safety of their house. “Besides, I need a new pair of frames.” She dug her glasses from her handbag and held them up. “These are . . .”

  “Ugly?” Abigail offered over her shoulder, an impish grin on her face.

  “Abigail!” Mercy scolded, but Liza laughed.

  “Very ugly,” she agreed. “Military issue. I can’t believe I waited this long to replace them.”

  “Because you can wear contact lenses,” Abigail groused. “I wish I could have contacts, too.”

  “When you’re older,” Mercy promised. “Which I hope doesn’t happen for a while.”

  Abigail shot her stepsister a look that was far too wise for a girl of seven. “Because you want me to be a normal kid.”

  Liza’s heart contracted painfully, but before she could say a word, Mercy was on her knees in front of Abigail, hands on the little girl’s shoulders. Amos had been a stepfather to Mercy and was Abigail’s father in fact. Liza didn’t think Mercy could have loved the child any more if they had been sisters by blood.

  “You are a normal kid,” Mercy assured her. “I want you to be a happy kid. And a safe kid.”

  “I am happy.” Abigail’s eyes brightened. “I’d be happier with contact lenses.”

  Mercy chuckled and pulled her close for a hug. “The doctor said to wait until you’re ten.”

  “But you have them. And so does Liza.”

  “We’re older than ten,” Liza said. “By quite a bit.”

  Abigail sighed heavily. “But ten . . . That’s forever.”

  “I hope so,” Mercy murmured. “You have a lot of fun to catch up on.” She rose to her feet. “But right now, we’re shopping for new glasses. I can’t believe you managed as well as you have without them all this time.”

  Abigail shrugged. “Nobody back home had glasses except for the really old people.”

  Back home. Eden.

  Liza could see the sudden tension in Mercy’s shoulders. And, apparently, so could Abigail, because the child flinched. “I mean back there, Mercy. Home is here. With Papa and you and Rafe and Miss Irina and Mr. Karl.” She lowered her eyes, studying the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  Mercy’s sigh was quiet as she tilted Abigail’s chin up, cupping the child’s cheek in her palm. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just so very glad you’re here with me, and that your papa is here, too. I hate to think about the people you left behind, that’s all.”

  “But you’ll find them, right?” She glanced over at Liza. “Right?”

  “Agent Hunter will,” Liza said confidently. She’d given up hope on her own relationship with Tom, but when it came to his single-minded focus in finding Eden, she had no doubts. “Come on. Let’s pick out some kicka—um, kickbutt glasses. I need your fashion sense, Shrimpkin.”

  Abigail snickered. “You can say ‘kickass’ around me, Liza. I’m seven.”

  “I think I can’t.” Liza chuckled. “Miss Irina would send me to bed without dessert.”

  Abigail exaggerated a shudder. “That would be awful! We’ll get kickbutt glasses.” She returned to her study of the kids’ frames.

  Liza followed, looking over her shoulder to the optometrist’s glass door. The Fed who’d been assigned to protect Mercy was standing guard outside. Rodriguez was armed and experienced and took his duty very seriously.

  He’d chosen this optometrist because it wasn’t in the mall, which offered too many points of egress to cover adequately. This office had only two doors—the front door and one in the back, which was locked and alarmed. Liza wasn’t crazy about the wall of plate glass windows in the front, but it was covered by promotional displays, so that would have to be good enough.

  “Molina says that Rodriguez is a good agent,” Mercy murmured.

  “I know. She told me.” Liza trusted Special Agent in Charge Molina more than she trusted most people, which still wasn’t a lot.

  Mercy’s lips twitched. “I forgot you two were besties now.”

  Liza rolled her eyes. “We are far from besties. I just looked in on her a few times when she was on disability.”

  “You cooked her meals, changed her dressings, and did her laundry,” Mercy said. “She told me that you did, so no use trying to deny it. Molina doesn’t warm up to just anyone, you know.”

  Liza shrugged uncomfortably. “She doesn’t have any family in the area. Her daughter lives out east and had to go back to work, so she was alone. I was glad to help her.”

  “Which makes you a nice person. I wish I’d visited her more while she was laid up.”

  Liza patted Mercy’s shoulder. “You were a little busy taking care of Amos.”

  Abigail’s father still had a ways to go before he fully recovered, but he was improving daily, and Mercy’s care during his recovery in the hospital was one of the reasons.

  Abigail turned at the mention of her father’s name. “I helped!”

  “And he’s getting better faster because you did,” Mercy agreed.

  Abigail beamed, choosing a pair of purple frames, sliding them onto her face. “I like these.”

  Mercy leaned down until their faces were side by side in the mirror. “I like them, too. They make you look smart and very pretty.”

  Abigail shifted and bit her lip, but nodded.

  “It’s okay to look smart and pretty,” Liza said gently. The slump of Abigail’s shoulders told her that she’d guessed right. “It’s also okay to want to look smart and pretty. There is nothing wrong or sinful about that.”

  “It’s vanity,” Abigail whispered.

  Mercy shot Liza a grateful glance in the mirror. “M
aybe,” she allowed. “But as long as you understand that it’s not the most important thing in life, a little vanity is okay. I’m a little vain.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “You are?”

  “I am,” Mercy said, her eyes twinkling now. “I like to look good for Rafe.”

  Abigail’s sigh was wistful. “You’re beautiful.”

  Mercy kissed the child’s temple. “So are you. And these glasses make you even more so. I say we get them.”

  “Now me,” Liza said. “I think that purple will clash with my hair, though.”

  “I like your hair,” Abigail insisted. “It’s brown and red together.”

  “I like it, too. But it’s got a little too much red to go with that purple. What color do you think I should go for?”

  For the next ten minutes, Abigail considered the choices before picking out a pair of hot pink glasses in a retro cat-eye style. The corners were covered in rhinestones, sparkling in the overhead lights.

  “These,” Abigail announced. “They’re perfect.”

  “Perfect” might not have been the word Liza would have chosen. They were . . . “Wow,” Liza managed. “They’re about as far from military-issue specs as I could possibly get.”

  Abigail bounced on her toes while Mercy visibly struggled to swallow a grin. “Try them, Liza!” Abigail urged.

  “Yes, Liza,” Mercy said, her lips curving. “Try them.”

  Biting back a wince, Liza slid them on, then stared at her reflection, barely recognizing the woman staring back. She liked the frames. She actually loved them. “They really are perfect.” She hugged Abigail to her side. “You are a genius, Shrimpkin.”

  Abigail preened. “Agent Tom will like them, too.”

  Liza stiffened. Agent Tom couldn’t care less what she wore or how she looked. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re friends,” Abigail said simply.

  Liza’s throat tightened and she barely managed to smile. “Yes, we are.” And that’s all we are. All we will ever be.