A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(114)

Three different images from the same occasion. It went without saying there would be a few. That was how everyone took pictures these days, right? You aimed the phone, snapped half a dozen photos, and chose the best one. But you didn’t share the rest.

So how had Luther gotten his hands on those photos?

He had to have been there—at that photo shoot. Maybe he’d taken them himself. She’d gone on the road trip with a few of her friends. Could Luther be one of Gabrielle’s friends? No, that didn’t make any—

The world tilted, something snapping in her mind. A connection she should have seen earlier.

She took out her phone and searched for the email from Ahmed, the one where he’d sent her a link to all the photos on Eric Layton’s computer. She tapped on the second-most-recent photo—the image of Nathan holding the newspaper. She examined it carefully.

“Oh shit,” she muttered. “Carver!”

He stepped into the living room. “What is it?”

“Do you have the photo that the kidnapper sent Gabrielle?”

“Sure, hang on.” He took off his latex gloves, then fiddled with his phone while Abby tapped her foot impatiently. “There.”

Abby held out her phone. “Put yours next to mine.”

He did, and they looked at both photos.

“They’re not the same,” Carver said.

The changes were minuscule. A tiny shift in perspective. And on Abby’s phone, one of Nathan’s eyelids was shut a fraction more than in the other.

“Eric asked Gabrielle,” Abby said, her voice hollow. “He asked her if this was the only photo she received. This is what he noticed. The photos aren’t the same. The kidnapper snapped a few photos of Nathan. These are two of them. But why would Gabrielle have them both? That’s what Eric thought. He figured the only reason Gabrielle would have both is if she took the photos. Especially since she told him repeatedly that the kidnapper only sent her one.”

“Are you saying Gabrielle is in on this?” Carver frowned.

“No, but that’s what Eric thought. Gabrielle didn’t send him this photo.” Abby shook her phone.

“Then who sent it?”

“The journalist. Tom McCormick.”

Carver squinted. “The journalist?”

“Remember the interview? Eric had seen Nathan’s photo for the first time when McCormick interviewed him. And he must have asked McCormick to send him that photo. But McCormick sent him the wrong photo.”

“And not the one he’d originally sent Gabrielle,” Carver said, catching on.

“McCormick later realized his mistake, so he killed Eric and wiped his phone. He didn’t know there was a copy of the photo on Eric’s computer.” Abby gritted her teeth. “Gabrielle told me McCormick interviewed her before. Of course he has. He’s probably the journalist who originally got her famous. The one who wrote that article about her photo that went viral. There are other photos from the same photo shoot in that collage on the wall. Remember what Will told us? A reporter tagged along on the road trip. He was there. He might have even been the one who took the pictures.”

She imagined Gabrielle asking McCormick to take her photo in that misty swamp. Him, taking a dozen photos, then sending her the best one. And keeping the rest.

I’ve been following you from the start.

“Tom McCormick is Luther Gaines,” Carver said slowly.

“And he’s been stalking Gabrielle for years under the guise of a journalist who’s interested in influencers.” She recalled how in his interview, McCormick hadn’t followed up on Eric mentioning the strange stories about the community Gabrielle had lived in. Any reporter worth his salt would have asked about that. But McCormick preferred to avoid the topic. Now it was clear why.

“Do you have McCormick’s number?” Carver asked, tapping on his phone, then putting it to his ear.

“Yes.”

Carver gave her the thumbs-up, then said, “Hello, Natalie? How are you doing . . . yes, I’ve been busy. Listen, I need you to ping a number for me.” He paused. “I know, but these are exigent circumstances. I’m taking full responsibility for—you’re a peach, thanks. Okay, you writing this down?”

Abby found McCormick’s number on her phone, and Carver read it aloud to Natalie. They waited.

“You have it?” Carver finally said. “Where—” The color drained from his face, and he bolted toward the door.

Abby hurried after him as he thanked Natalie and hung up the phone. He yanked the driver’s door of his car and slid in. Abby quickly entered, dropping into the passenger seat.

“What is it?”

“He’s within a hundred-yard radius from the LaGuardia Plaza Hotel,” Carver said.

Abby’s heart plunged. “That’s near Eden’s house.”

“Radio it in. Eden and Gabrielle might be in danger.”





CHAPTER 78


They’ve found Nathan.

The thought, almost too good to be true, kept floating in Gabrielle’s mind, a cloud of relief, of joy. They’ve found Nathan.

He was at the hospital, but Mom had already talked to the doctor, and he’d said Nathan was going to be fine; he just had some kind of infection. But they were treating him, and he was going to be fine.