A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(98)

CHAPTER 66


“Hey,” Abby said in a light, cheerful voice. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine,” Leonor said, her happy smile dissipating.

“You seem better,” Abby said. She didn’t let a fragment of her tension show, her muscles loose, her expression distracted, as if she were just passing by.

“I guess. It’s nice to be with Brian.” Leonor glanced at Penny, letting a little smile show. “Thanks for the chocolates.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said. “Can I make you both some tea?”

“I can make it,” Brian suggested.

“Don’t be silly.” Penny began her ceremony of banging all the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen.

Abby rolled her eyes at the noise. “Let’s go to the living room,” she half shouted over the din. “I can’t hear myself think here.”

They stepped into the living room. Abby sat on the armchair, and Leonor and Brian sat on the couch, huddled together.

“Brian, did you get your side mirror fixed?” Abby asked. “You shouldn’t drive like that.”

“Not yet,” Brian admitted.

“I think I can make a statement for the insurance,” Abby suggested. “Telling them that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe it’ll be easier to get them to pay for it that way.”

“That would be great,” Brian said, sounding relieved. “I don’t have a lot of cash at the moment, and my dad will have a fit when he sees the car.”

“I just need to understand what happened,” Abby said lightly. “There seemed to be some sort of problem; you lost control.”

For a moment no one spoke, but then Brian said, “It’s nothing. Forget it. It was my fault.”

“No,” Leonor said in a strangled voice. “I scratched him. I panicked.”

Abby frowned. “Why did you panic?”

“I just figured . . . I was scared.”

“What were you scared of?”

“I thought . . . look, it’s dumb. I was frightened. But I’m over it.”

“Did your brother do anything to—”

“No!” Leonor blurted, edgy. “I thought it was a trap, okay? I figured maybe there was a blockade waiting for us. And they would stop us and kill us. So I shouted at Brian to turn around. And when he didn’t, I scratched him.”

“Why did you think that?” Abby probed, searching for a crack. An indicator that Leonor had doubts. That she was ready to think and act on her own.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Abby repeated.

“Look, all the other people who left the community were killed, okay? There are people who hate us. Who want to stop us. People in the bureau and fundamentalist Christians who think we’re an abomination because we’re progressive. I guess you’re okay; you’re not one of them, but I didn’t know that back then.”

“You say the other people who left the community were killed. But you met Eden. She wasn’t killed, right?”

“I guess not. Maybe not everyone was killed. We might have gotten some bad info.”

Bad info. There it was. For Leonor to admit they had it wrong was a big step. Time to lean on that crack. Widen it.

“How do you think you got the impression that everyone died when they left? Who gave you that bad info?”

Leonor shut her eyes and prayed. Brian stared into his lap, despair etched on his face. Abby gave him a reassuring look and leaned back, waiting. She’d pushed too hard. She’d have to be gentler. After a few minutes, Penny walked in and handed each of them a cup of tea. Leonor stopped praying as if embarrassed by her own behavior. Penny left, caressing Leonor’s head on her way out of the room.

“Did you talk to Brian about the community in the past few days?” Abby asked as soon as her mother was gone.

“Yeah.” Leonor was staring at the floor.

“What do you think he feels about it?” Abby sipped from her tea.

“You’d have to ask him.”

“I want to know what you think he feels,” Abby suggested casually. She wanted Leonor to see herself through Brian’s eyes. To examine the cult from a different perspective.

“I guess he’s not happy about it. Because of that woman yesterday.”

“Eden?”

“She was pretty negative. But, I mean, she left. And Otis told us she stole money from us. So I don’t know how far we can trust her bullshit.”

“Was it all bullshit? Didn’t it seem similar to things you witnessed yourself?”

“Maybe, if you have a really twisted outlook. Like, anything can sound really horrible if you say it wrong.”

“Like Santa,” Brian said, smiling at his sister.

“Shut up, Brian.”

“So you think she was twisting reality?”

“Yeah.”

A slight hesitation there. An infinitesimal pause. Abby heard it. Somewhere, deep down, Leonor knew Eden had been telling the truth. Not a twisted version of it. Abby wanted that buried part in Leonor’s consciousness to come out.

“What would fourteen-year-old Leonor think about what Eden told you?”