A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(118)

“Do you want me to kill them, you asshole?” McCormick screeched at her.

And the fear faded. She was in control.

“Luther Gaines,” she said.

A stunned silence on the other end. She’d caught him by surprise, invoking his real name. His name gave her power, like in a fairy tale.

“Who the hell are you?” he finally snarled. “Put the other guy on the phone. I was talking to him.”

“Will had to leave. My name is Abby. I’m the one talking to you now.” A low voice, calm and controlled.

He let out a tortured laugh. “The famous Abby Mullen, huh? Well, the other guy should have told you I said not to call again. I said that—”

“It seems like you were caught in a bad situation.” She kept her voice low. “You did what Gabrielle asked you to do, right? For her undying gratitude.”



“Yes,” he breathed. “That’s right. I did it for her. She asked me.”

“She asked you,” the woman on the phone agreed. “She said she wanted more followers.”

“And I got them for her!” he said, eyeing Gabrielle with fury. “Twice.”

“You got them twice,” Abby said. “Once with your article that went viral, making her famous, and then with her brother.”

Finally, someone who understood. Who listened to what he had to say. “I sacrificed everything for her.”

“Sacrificed everything?” Abby asked, sounding curious.

“Everything. I left the community for her. I endangered myself for her. Even the money . . . I never wanted the money for myself.”

“No,” Abby agreed.

“I wanted to use it for her. It was all for her. I wanted to build her dream home. I know just what she loves—she told me; I have sketches. I would have been able to get her everything. I own a large plot of land. She told me last year she wanted to live outside the city.” The truth poured out of him, a torrent of words. Was he saying it to Abby? Or to Gabrielle, who listened mutely? He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop talking. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I even did my best to make that boy feel at home. I didn’t want him to be scared. She told me once that he loved his room. His man cave, she called it. So I made it for him so that he would be happy.”

“You wanted to make him more comfortable.”

“Yes! I wanted it to be the same. Literally identical. If she only knew how much time and money I put into it . . . would I do that if I wanted to hurt him?”

“You wouldn’t.”

He kept talking, explaining how he’d searched for the right plushy, how he’d even copied Nathan’s drawings. Abby listened, clearly impressed, and asked questions about the furniture. He told her how hard he’d worked copying Nathan’s signature, and Abby chuckled, and suddenly he laughed as well, realizing there really was something funny in it. All the while, as he and Abby talked, he had one eye on Gabrielle. Did she get it now? Did she finally understand?



He was vomiting information.

Abby kept egging him on, mirroring his sentences, pulling him further with simple open-ended questions, trying to judge his tone. Will listened in on the conversation, occasionally turning to Summers, instructing her, as she frantically scribbled on the board.

Information and time were a negotiator’s oxygen, and Abby was getting both. At first, when Luther had said that Gabrielle had told him something, she’d assumed Gabrielle had told him in an interview. But then she realized he meant that Gabrielle had posted it on her page.

For Luther, those posts were an ongoing conversation. He was clearly contemptuous of Gabrielle’s fans; he didn’t see himself as one of them. For him, the fans were like parasites, listening in on his chats with Gabrielle. As far as he was concerned, he and Gabrielle were already in a relationship.

She glanced at the board, where Summers had written delusional and obsessed. Could she use his obsession with Gabrielle in her favor?

“It seems like you and Gabrielle had a good connection,” she said when there was a lull in his monologue.

“We still do!” His tone sharpened. Will shot Abby a warning look.

“You still do,” she agreed, repeating his words, keeping her voice cheerful and light. She needed to get him to talk about the past. To remember better days. “When did you realize you had a special connection?”

“Two years ago.” There was a smile in his voice. “She bought a yellow T-shirt and took a photo with it. She said it was for a special someone, and I realized it was me.”

Will snapped his fingers at Summers, and she nodded, sitting by her laptop, searching for the post.

“How did it make you feel?” Abby asked.

“It was . . . it’s hard to explain. It made me feel special. It gave me a purpose.” His tone shifted, becoming angrier. “But now, this girl won’t even look at me. After all I’ve done for her. I’ve made her famous! Do you hear that? I’ve made you famous!”

A frightened sob in the background. Abby clenched the phone tightly, trying to control her own voice. “It sounds like you were expecting a different reaction.”

“You’re damn right. The whore won’t even look at me.”

Make him pause. Force him to think it through. “How did you imagine this meeting?”