A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(34)
“You’re angry, honey. Let’s talk about this when you’ve calmed down, okay?”
She was about to tell her mother that no, they would talk about it now, when she saw a new email from Will with the subject Nathan’s Father. She clicked it and skimmed the text briefly. Will had found a picture of Nathan and Gabrielle’s father in Gabrielle’s Instagram feed.
She glanced at the photo. Her mouth went dry.
“Hello? Abby?”
A man was smiling at the camera, crouching and hugging a girl that had to be Gabrielle as a child. Another man stood beside him.
She knew that man.
Eden had lied to her.
CHAPTER 22
Abby knocked on Eden’s front door and then almost immediately rang the bell. She was breathing hard, as if she had run all the way to Eden’s house. Gabrielle opened the door.
“Hi,” Abby said. “Is your mom home?”
Gabrielle moved aside, motioning for Abby to come in. “She’s in the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Abby shut the door behind her. The faint sound of running water could be heard in the small apartment. “I’ll wait.”
The negotiator on shift, Hernandez, sat in the kitchen fiddling with his phone. A young man sat on the living room couch.
“Hello,” he said hesitantly.
“Hi,” Abby said. “I’m Lieutenant Mullen.”
“I’m Eric.”
Abby kept her eyes on him, saying nothing, letting the silence stretch. He wore a baggy sweater and a worn pair of jeans. His hairline was receding, and as if to compensate, he had a stubbly beard.
“Eric Layton,” he blurted, fidgeting. “I’m Gabrielle’s . . . I work with Gabrielle.”
“Work with Gabrielle?” Abby asked.
“Just helping her out with image filters, and uh . . . social media maintenance.”
Abby nodded. “Eric, can you please let me talk to the family in private?”
“Sure.” He jumped to his feet. “I was leaving anyway.”
“Is something wrong?” Gabrielle asked. “Is there news about Nathan?”
Abby waited as Eric brushed past her, leaving the house. Then she shook her head. “No. I just need to talk to Eden about something.” She took out her phone and opened the image Will had sent her. She showed it to Gabrielle. “You posted this on your feed a while ago. This is your father, right?” She pointed at the man hugging the little girl.
“Yeah,” Gabrielle said. “And that’s me.”
“And who’s the other man?”
“He’s this guy we all used to live with. On his farm.”
Jesus. “His name is Otis, right? Otis Tillman.”
Gabrielle’s eyes widened. “You know him?”
Abby knew of him, but this wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have with Gabrielle. “Did you live there for long? At Otis’s farm?”
“Yeah. Most of my childhood. Is this related to Nathan’s kidnapping in any way?”
“It’s too early to tell.” Abby frowned. She could still hear water running. Damn it. She marched up to the second floor and knocked on the bathroom door. “Eden?”
“Just a moment,” Eden called from inside, her voice sounding panicky.
Abby twisted the doorknob and opened the door. Eden stood by the sink, washing her hands violently with a metal scrubber. The water pooling in the sink was pink with blood. She jumped, startled, as Abby stepped in.
“I was just—”
Abby yanked the scrubber from Eden’s grip. “That won’t help Nathan.” She turned off the water and then, more gently, took one of Eden’s hands and examined it carefully. The back of the hand was raw, beads of blood emerging on the pink skin.
“It’s just . . . when I’m anxious,” Eden said, her voice cracking.
“I know.” Exhaustion flooded Abby. “Let’s bandage you up. Do you have any gauze or something?” She opened the medicine cabinet and stared.
The bottom shelf was filled with what seemed like prescription pills, but that wasn’t what caught Abby’s attention. The shelf above it held a framed picture of Moses Wilcox, the “father” of the Wilcox cult.
“Mom?” Gabrielle stood in the doorway.
Without knowing why, Abby slammed the medicine cabinet shut, as if to hide the contents from Eden’s daughter. Eden’s face was flushed, her lips trembling.
“Is everything okay?” Gabrielle glanced at her mother’s hands. Abby saw no surprise in the girl’s eyes, only distaste. She’d seen Eden do this before; Abby was sure of it.
“I’m fine,” Eden blurted. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
Gabrielle strode out of the room. Abby gently closed the bathroom door, shutting both of them in the tiny space. Then she opened the medicine cabinet again. It was a picture she’d never seen before, Moses sitting in a chair in a hotel room, his signature benign smile plastered on his face.
“When you get anxious,” Abby said, trying to keep her voice steady, “you go here, open the cabinet, and scrape the skin off your hands as Moses looks at you.”
“Sometimes,” Eden whispered. She took a roll of gauze and wrapped it around her hands in practiced motions. Crimson dots materialized on the white sterile cloth. “Don’t you?”