Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “He took his shirt off,” Mercy said softly.

            Abigail nodded. “I wasn’t supposed to look. Not at a . . .”

            “A man,” Mercy supplied. She glanced at Liza. “The genders were kept very separate. Women weren’t supposed to speak to or even look at men unless they’d been spoken to.”

            Liza swallowed her sigh. Abigail’s information was more important than any indignation over Eden’s repression of women—including little girls. “Do you remember any of the letters in the word you saw? In his tattoo,” she specified.

            Abigail’s forehead wrinkled. “There was a ‘Z’ at the beginning. It was bigger than the other letters and”—she made a face—“it looked like a snake. Fangs and everything.”

            “Sounds scary,” Liza said, keeping her excitement tamped down. Tom would need this information, she was sure of it.

            “Just yucky,” Abigail said. “And mean. The snake was trying to bite a bat.”

            Liza heard Agent Rodriguez suck in a breath. She was about to ask what the significance of the tattoo was when the SUV slowed.

            “Almost there,” Rodriguez said. “I’m going to pull into the garage. I don’t want to see anybody’s heads until the garage door comes down. Okay?”

            “Okay,” Abigail agreed. She looked up at Liza. “Can we have cake when we get inside?”

            Liza nodded, lifting her eyebrows. “Cake or bars?”

            “Bars?” Abigail asked, then recognition sparked in her eyes. “You made Dream Bars?”

            “I did. Mixed them up when you guys were talking this morning.” Because she’d needed something to do with her hands, and clanging the pots and pans had covered the sound of crying from the bedroom upstairs. “Miss Irina promised to take them out of the oven for me.”

            Abigail’s eyes went sly. “I think it’s been a really hard morning, Liza.”

            “Oh?” Liza couldn’t hold back her smile, because she could see where the child was headed. “I suppose it has, at that. But what does that have to do with my bars?”

            “I think we need both.”

            “Bars and cake?” Mercy asked, chuckling. “I don’t know. What do you think, Liza?”

            Liza could see Rodriguez’s shoulders shaking in the front seat, laughing at Abigail’s soft-sell approach. “I don’t know, either,” she said. “Agent Rodriguez, what do you think?”

            He brought the SUV to a gentle stop in the Sokolovs’ garage and Liza felt her own shoulders slump in relief at the sound of the door lowering. They were back. Safe. No bullets. No blood. No dead eyes staring up at her.

            He turned around, leaning over the seat to look down at them. “I think cake, bars, and milk are in order. Small pieces, of course.”

            “Of course,” Abigail agreed, grinning. “Can I pop my head up now, Agent Rodriguez?”

            He smiled at her. “You can. You were very brave, Abigail. And very well-behaved. Your papa will be pleased.”

            Abigail beamed, carefully climbing from Liza’s lap to perch on the back seat. “You’ll be sure to tell him?”

            “You bet. Give me a second and I’ll let you out.” He helped Abigail out, then extended a hand, first to Liza, then to Mercy. “It’s a gang sign,” he murmured, so low that only they could hear. Abigail had already skipped into the house, going for the sweets.

            Mercy had started to stretch her back but went stock-still. “DJ Belmont is in a gang?”

            “It makes sense,” Liza said slowly. “The cult makes money selling drugs, right?”

            Mercy nodded. “Pot and opioids in the past. Shrooms more recently.”

            “I guess he was more deeply involved than just as a supplier,” Liza said.

            “He shot both Ephraim and Amos with a long-range rifle,” Mercy said, then turned to Agent Rodriguez. “He must have learned to shoot from the gangs.”