A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(73)

Will took the phone and looked at it. It was a Reddit thread, twenty-eight upvotes to the original post. The Redditor Truth777 had suggested, like Gabrielle had said, that the entire kidnapping was made up. He’d “proved” in six bullet points that this was the case. A few Redditors had commented enthusiastically on the thread.

“Just ignore them,” Will suggested. “Don’t engage.”

“I can’t ignore them. That’s how it always starts,” Gabrielle said. “Someone says on Reddit that I’m a scammer, and the next thing you know the internet picks it up, and I start to see articles about it. It happened before.”

“I know,” Will said. Twice before to be exact.

He’d researched both scandals, found nothing interesting there. In one case Gabrielle had bungled an online order of one hundred signed photos. The other scandal was about her promoting a protein powder that later turned out to increase the risk of cancer. Gabrielle had been very publicly shamed in both instances.

“If the police comment on this thread, it’ll give them validity,” Will pointed out. “It won’t convince them. You know that.”

“If people start saying I faked this kidnapping, the ransom contributions will stop,” Gabrielle said tightly. “I need to make this go away.”

“Then keep posting on your regular page. Don’t say anything about this crackpot theory—or this Reddit thread. Just keep reminding people that your brother is still missing and that the police are searching for him.”

Gabrielle snatched the phone from Will’s outstretched hand. “Nathan’s room is over there.” She pointed at the adjacent door.

Will thanked her and entered Nathan’s room. He’d studied the image of Nathan holding the newspaper in that room for so long that he felt like he’d already been in it, even though it was his first time. He scrutinized the chair by the desk, where Nathan had sat in the picture. It wasn’t in the exact location as in the image. He walked over, adjusted it slightly, then took a step back.

He opened the image on his phone, then compared it to the room. The photo had been aimed at the desk and the chair. A pizza box lay on the desk in the photo, as well as a few crayons and a blurry drawing. The bottom left corner of the Harry Potter poster was caught in the frame, and a bit of the bed. In the top left part of the image, the corkboard with the drawings was visible, with two of the drawings on display. One was partially hidden by Nathan’s head, and the other was mostly out of the frame. The window was completely out of the frame in the photo; it was too high to be visible—

Will frowned. Was it? Something was wrong. Wouldn’t part of the window be visible in the photo as well?

He took a pillow from the bed and set it on the chair to simulate Nathan’s upper body. He doubted the height was an exact match, but it was close enough. Then, using his phone, he tried to aim the lens so that it more or less matched the photo they had. He took a step back, pointing the phone high to get Nathan just right, but then the corkboard was out of the frame. But if he included both the corkboard and the Harry Potter poster, he could easily see part of the window, and that didn’t match the kidnapper’s photo.

He tried to move the chair, positioning the photo farther to the left—no good, the bed was completely out of sight, and the corkboard was much more visible. And if he went to the right . . .

No matter what he did, he couldn’t get it to fit.

A different phone might have a different lens, but the rules of geometry still applied. To get the corkboard, the poster, and Nathan in one picture, a significant part of the window would have to be on display. He looked at the kidnapper’s photo again. Enlarged it so he could see Nathan’s drawings up close.

Then he compared them to the drawings on the corkboard.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

The drawings weren’t the same. There were minute differences. Unnoticeable unless you searched for them.

He dialed Abby.

“Mullen here,” Abby said. It sounded as if she was on speaker, driving.

“Abby, it’s me. I’m in Nathan Fletcher’s room.”

“Yeah?”

“The photo of Nathan? The one with the newspaper? It wasn’t taken here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The proportions of the room don’t match. And there are small differences if you look carefully. I think the kidnapper’s photo was taken in a room that was meant to appear like Nathan’s room.”

“What, like a studio with a setting?” Abby asked.

“Yeah, exactly.”

A long silence followed, only the sound of the car’s engine assuring Will that Abby was still on the line.

“Did you tell Eden? Or Gabrielle?” Abby finally asked.

“Not yet.”

“Okay, then don’t. It’ll mess with their heads, and I don’t want them mentioning it if the kidnapper calls. Send this to Carver. Oh, and Griffin. I’ll get back this evening, and we’ll talk this through.”

“Why would the kidnappers do that?” Will asked.

After a long pause Abby finally said, “I have no idea.”





CHAPTER 49


Over the years, Abby had talked to dozens of cult survivors and their families, and she already knew the scary truth. Cults could recruit anyone. Rich, poor, educated, ignorant, religious, atheist, it didn’t matter. Coming from a loving, caring family didn’t protect you. Being skeptical didn’t protect you. Having firm beliefs didn’t protect you. The misconception that people held, that “it would never happen to me,” was the cults’ best asset. Because there was only one vaccination against cult recruitment—being on guard. And if you assumed you were already immune, if you underestimated cults, then you were at risk.