A God-size punch hit Mercy in the chest at the sight of Rose sitting in bed holding her baby.

She’s beautiful.

The few lights illuminated the head of Rose’s bed, giving her a Madonna-like presence.

“Mercy?” she asked, her voice muffled behind her mask.

“Yes.” Mercy was at her side in a split second, all eyes for the baby. The round head was so tiny, the nose and lips perfectly shaped, the closed eyelids nearly translucent. “Oh, Rose. He’s lovely.”

“I can’t stop touching his hair.” Rose softly stroked the dark fluff. “I can’t believe he’s really here.”

“Pearl wouldn’t tell me his name.”

“Henry Levi.”

Tears burned in Mercy’s eyes. Her brothers. One who had died at birth and another who had died the previous year. She couldn’t speak.

“Would you like to hold him?” Rose lifted him away from her chest.

Mercy took the tiny bundle, amazed at how light he was. Dulce weighed more. “Is . . . is he healthy?”

“Yes. Even though he’s a month early the doctor is pleased with his development. We shouldn’t be in the hospital any longer than normal.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Rose. I know I promised—”

Rose waved a hand, dismissing her words. “Besides Nick, five different people offered to take me to the hospital. Everything was fine. Dad said you were on a job without cell service.”

That is true. “Yes.”

“He sounded worried.” Her tone was inquisitive.

Dad . . . worried about me? “Everything turned out fine. I’ll tell you the whole story tomorrow.” Mercy changed the subject. “How are you feeling?”

“Very floaty. I don’t know if it’s the medication or Henry.” Her voice took on a dreamy tone. “Mercy . . . It’s like . . . a brand-new piece of my heart suddenly woke up. A huge section brimming with energy and soul-deep love. I can’t explain it.”

Truman came beside her. “Nice job, Rose.” He gently touched a tiny clenched fist and looked at Mercy with a passionate fierceness she felt to her bones. The tiny boy had stirred something inside him.

He held her gaze for a long moment, keeping her speechless, before turning to Nick.

“Congratulations, Nick.” Truman shook the tall man’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder.

“The wedding is next,” Nick stated.

Rose laughed. “He wanted to get married tomorrow, but Mom and I insist on a real wedding.”

Nick looked abashed. “I’m willing to wait two months. Deborah claims she and Pearl can pull a wedding together by then.”

“I’ll help,” Mercy said, her gaze back on the tiny human in her arms.

“How about you two?” Nick asked. “You pick a date yet?”

She exchanged a glance with Truman. They’d purposefully not announced a date, wanting to know Rose and Nick’s plans first. “We decided on December.”

“Definitely,” added Truman, meeting her eyes.

He’s still looking at me as if I’m his dinner . . . or dessert.

She handed the baby back to Rose. Without him, her arms felt weightless. How did such a small bundle do that? “We’ll be back tomorrow, Rose.” She kissed the top of her sister’s head and gave Nick a hug. His smile had stretched from ear to ear their entire visit.

She wasn’t sure who was luckier. He or Rose.

Outside Rose’s door, Mercy nearly sat on the floor as exhaustion slammed into her.

“Home?” asked Truman.

“Kaylie.”

“A short visit. Then home. You can see Bree tomorrow.”

“I plan on it.”

The next day brought two surprises for Mercy.

First she received word that Bree was conscious and talking.

Surprise number two was in her office when she arrived later that morning. Eddie was there, his arm in a sling to keep his shoulder still. She hugged him and stepped back, studying him from head to toe. “You look good, Peterson.”

“I feel pretty good . . . thanks to you.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have been as prepared as you. I’d have to stuff your wound with moss or leaves. I don’t think the doctors would approve.” He sat and pointed at the chair behind her desk. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

Mercy set her bag in a drawer and lowered herself into her chair. “I’m still processing it all.”

Eddie was silent as she relayed the story of hunting for treasure and Art’s suicide.

He sat quietly for several moments, staring out the window. “Do you believe Sandy didn’t know about the money?”

“I do. Trevor told us Bree’s real name is Leah Devries. A woman with that name and of the right age in Northern California went off the radar thirty years ago. No one reported her missing. No family to speak of.”

“She built a new life,” said Eddie. “A good one. According to all reports, she’s an amazing teacher.”

“Ironically that’s what brought her down. Trevor saw the coverage of her teacher of the year award and came after her.”

“But he walked away with his portion and Ellis’s. Greedy son of a bitch.”

“And blew it all somehow. He’s very vague about it, but I suspect a gambling problem.”

“How does someone spend a million dollars and have nothing to show for it?” Eddie shook his head in wonder, and then his eyes lit up as he leaned forward. “You remember Larry Tyler, the guy who told us that Victor Diehl flashed a stack of cash all those years ago?” Eddie was brimming with excitement.

“Of course. I still need—”

“I went to Larry’s house this morning while you were lazily sleeping in.”

Mercy stopped. “You did?” She’d planned to visit him.

“I’ve been wondering who told Victor Diehl that the FBI was coming for his guns and land. Since Larry was the one who pointed us in Diehl’s direction, I decided to start there. It took a while, but he finally admitted that he was paid five hundred dollars to tell a story to the FBI.”

“Who paid him?” Mercy whispered. I think I know.

“Trevor. I showed Larry pictures of Art and Trevor, and he positively identified Trevor.”

“I assume Trevor then called Victor to convince him he was about to be raided. He must have known how unstable Victor was. Trevor wanted us to walk into an ambush.” Images of that violent day exploded in her head, and she shuddered. “We could have all been killed . . . even Art. Trevor was trying to derail the investigation.”

“Larry is sitting in the county jail. He’ll be charged.”

“Good,” answered Mercy. “One more detail to cross off my list. Thank you.”

“We’re still missing the fourth thief,” Eddie pointed out.

“Nathan May.” Mercy sighed, tapping her fingers. “I have some thoughts on that, but I want to hear what Bree has to say about him first.”

Eddie stood up. “Let’s go talk to her.”

It was hard not to stare at Bree’s face.

Three days had passed since the attack, and she seemed puffier and more bruised than before. One eye was still swollen shut. Mercy asked Lucas and Sandy to leave while she and Eddie talked to Bree. She had total recall of her attack.

“Trevor walked right in my house.” Bree inhaled deeply. “I didn’t recognize him at first. He pulled a gun on me and then tied me to the chair.” A shudder racked her body. “He was the one leaving me notes, threatening to harm Lucas if I didn’t give him money. When the first note was left on my windshield, I spent the next two days at home, cowering in a ball in bed. I knew it had to be from either Trevor or Nathan May.” She looked at Mercy with her one good eye. “But I didn’t have any money. All I could think about was that Lucas would be attacked next because the money was gone.”

“The money is gone?” Eddie asked.

Bree nodded. “Nathan and I each got a half million. It’s trickled away year after year while maintaining the ranch. Facilities and health care for horses isn’t cheap. When I realized Shane would never get out, I gave some of it to charities. Mostly kids’ charities . . . some to the school district.” She gave Eddie and Mercy a pleading look. “It was dirty money. I understood that, so I tried to do something good with it. When I gave Sandy some for her B&B, it was nearly gone.” Bree shifted in her bed, moving her heavily bandaged hand to her stomach. “Trevor, Nathan, Ellis, and I spent a few days in that cabin, waiting for things to cool down. We didn’t know what had happened to Shane after we left him behind. We knew he’d been shot but didn’t know if he was dead or just injured.”

Mercy listened in fascination. This woman had been part of one of the most notorious heists in modern history. And patiently tutored Ollie twice a week.

Who would have guessed?

“There was no radio reception at the cabin,” Bree continued, “and as we waited, everyone’s paranoia grew. At first we were amazed that we’d succeeded, but the possibility that Shane had died was a black cloud over us; the robbery was his master plan.”

“You were dating him?” Mercy asked.

“Yes. For two weeks.”

“And he convinced you to rob an armored truck?” Eddie was flabbergasted.

Even through her swelling and bruises, Mercy could see Bree’s embarrassment. “I was only eighteen. He was very convincing. He has this way of talking . . .”

The interviews with Shane Gamble spun through Mercy’s head. I can see it. Especially on a young, impressionable teenager.

“I had nothing,” Bree said quietly. “My family had split up. No one cared if I lived or died. Shane cared and painted an amazing future for the two of us.”

“You’d been dating two weeks.” Eddie still couldn’t wrap his head around the concept.