A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(110)

“Hang on. It’s not just a highway; it’s a toll road. Liam’s wife told us that he avoided toll roads.”

“Then maybe he drove on this one,” Abby said, pointing at the alternative road. “The Taconic State Parkway. I drove on it once to take Samantha to camp. It’s a regular road. Probably not a lot of traffic, particularly at night.”

“And then he might have seen the kidnapper with Nathan. Suppose their car broke down or something. Liam stopped to help . . .”

“And the kidnapper murdered him, taking his car.” Abby said. “That’s possible. If that’s the case, the kidnapper could be keeping Nathan somewhere along that road.”

“It’s a hundred-mile-long road,” Carver said. “So that doesn’t narrow it down too much.”

“It’s a start.” Abby scrutinized the map. “A lot of small towns down this road. Maybe he bought a place in one of them.”

“He was the one who was in charge of buying the second farm in Long Island. If he bought another place, there’s a good chance he would have used the same real estate agent.” Carver paused for a second. “We might need a search warrant for her records.”

“Maybe. But we can try to convince her to give us information voluntarily. We just have to ask nicely. Do we have a phone number?”

“I think it’s in her email signature. Hang on.” Carver checked his phone. “There we go. Rachel Edwards.”

He read out the phone number for Abby as she dialed.

After a few seconds a woman picked up. “Hello?”

“Is this Rachel Edwards?”

“Yes.”

“Hi. My name is Abby Mullen. I got your number from a client of yours, Luther? He said you really helped him buy that lovely place on Long Island.”

“Oh yes! I remember Luther.” Rachel’s voice warmed up. “Such a sweet man.”

“He is! And he had only good things to say about you. Ms. Edwards—”

“Rachel, please.”

“Rachel, I’m currently looking for a farm in New York State. Do you think you might have something for me?”

“Absolutely. We have some amazing deals. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Well, I’ve recently been at a barbecue at Luther’s place. Not the one on Long Island. The one he bought after that. Did he buy it through you?”

“Of course, he bought both estates through me.”

Bingo. “I was hoping to buy a place near Luther’s. I really loved the area. Do you have anything there?”

“Let’s see. What’s the address?”

“Oh, I don’t remember. My husband does the driving; you know how it is. But, um . . . we got there by driving down that nice road with all the trees. Uh . . . I think it’s the Taconic State Parkway? It’s the one between Albany and Manhattan.”

“Oh, now I remember,” Rachel said. “It’s that place on Bowman Road, right? Let me see . . . yes, there it is, Bowman Road. Luther Gaines.”

“I think that’s the one!” Abby scribbled Bowman Road—Luther Gaines on a piece of paper and handed it to Carver.

“I’m not surprised you liked it there. Very peaceful. Those beautiful woods. I’m afraid I don’t have anything else there. But if you’re looking for somewhere similar, I have a place in the western part of the state that you might like.”

“I’d love to hear about it . . . oh, I’m late for my aerobics class. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Rachel, now I see why Luther spoke so warmly of you.” Abby hung up.

“You know, you could have said you’re a cop investigating a kidnapping,” Carver said dryly.

“Real estate agents prefer clients to cops.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Hang on, I can’t even find Bowman Road on this map. Let me check Google Maps.” He fiddled with his phone. “There we go. It’s really tiny. Not a lot of places there.”

Abby checked the time. Just after nine. “How long to get there?”

“About two hours, maybe a bit more.”

“Let’s check it out. We can narrow the addresses down on the way.”





CHAPTER 74


It was time.

He stared at his phone, the ransom donation fund website on-screen. The donations had gone past the $5 million threshold.

It had never been about the money, of course. It was about her. What she needed him to do. What she’d asked him to do. The money was a way to buy time. Time for her to shine. Time for her to be as famous as she deserved.

Time for him to befriend the boy.

The befriending hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. But still, he’d done it all for her. She would eventually see that. He would, in time, find a way to explain it. And even the boy would acknowledge that he’d gone through a tremendous effort just to make him feel at home.

Until that happened, he would have a lot of money to build her the house of her dreams. Nathan’s room would be just the start. After all, he knew what she wanted more than anyone else. She wanted a swimming pool like the one Ellen DeGeneres had (according to the post of July 2018). A huge dining room in which to throw dinner parties (Instagram story, November 2018). A bedroom like Sheryl Crow’s (one of her first posts, August 2016). He’d taken meticulous notes. He had sketches to show the architect he’d hire.