The Devil's Daughter (Hidden Sins #1)(18)

Someone was lying. Zach just had to figure out who.





CHAPTER EIGHT


The gates of Elysia rose up like something out of Eden’s nightmares. She knew the scene by heart, every little detail tattooed on her brain over the years. Her mother had the same image painted in vibrant color in the chapel. It was a work of art, but that didn’t change the fact that Eden despised it. She knew what Martha had always wanted—mother and daughter running Elysia.

It was never a dream Eden shared.

But then, she didn’t have her mother’s total lack of moral code.

She pulled through the gates and parked her car in front of the main building. It was part chapel, part gathering place, part cafeteria. The members were here several times a day for various activities—or that was how it used to be. They cycled through so half were working and half were worshipping . . . and all were under the watchful eye of Martha and her inner circle.

Back when Eden had been a kid, Abram alone had been that inner circle. He’d been Martha’s first follower—or that was the story her mother told. She wasn’t sure if it was reality or fiction. Elysia had come into being before Eden’s living memory, so she was fuzzy on the truth. If her mother was to be believed—and she couldn’t trust a damn thing out of Martha’s mouth—the idea for a simpler place had come to her when she was pregnant. She’d traveled until she found just the right spot and began to preach. From there, followers had flocked to the one true way.

Bullshit.

She’d seen the records. Martha had inherited the land Elysia stood on from a distant uncle back when she was all of eighteen. She hadn’t done anything with it, but it seemed like one day she’d just appeared with a group in tow and set up camp. The commune had grown from there.

Through the years, some things had changed, but she doubted very much that Abram’s place at her mother’s side had. She just didn’t know. As much as she’d presented herself as an expert in all things Elysia to Zach, it wasn’t the truth. She had numbers, yes, but numbers were easy to get ahold of. Years ago, Martha had petitioned to have her “religion” recognized as a nonprofit, and won. Eden still wasn’t sure how she’d managed that, because the IRS had spent years fighting the Church of Scientology before buckling to the pressure. Either way, as a result, she had to report her numbers to maintain her status—and get her much-needed tax breaks.

In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.

Old Ben Franklin doesn’t know the half of it. Eden relaxed her grip. She wasn’t turning around and driving out of here like the hounds of hell were on her heels. She was going to let go of the steering wheel and get out of her car and face the demons from her past. Once she’d gathered enough information, she’d drive back to Clear Springs and compare notes with Zach. Simple.

But she couldn’t quite make her fingers unclench from the faded plastic.

A knock on her window startled her damn near out of her skin. She managed to keep her shriek inside, but only barely. She turned to find a man grinning at her from the other side of the window. Blond hair, brown eyes, attractive in the conventional way. She categorized his features before her memories caught up with her mind. She knew this man. Eden frowned. “Joseph?”

“So you do remember me.” He laughed. “You going to get out of the car or sit there all day?”

She got out of the car.

Eden couldn’t stop staring at him. They’d both grown up in Elysia, though he’d been four years older, an age gap that meant they were never quite in the same stage at the same time. She hadn’t liked him then, had found him too loud, too pushy, but when there were only so many children in the commune, they’d been forced into close interactions countless times over the years.

He’d still been in that awkward postadolescence stage when she’d left, all gangly limbs and bobbing Adam’s apple. He was a whole lot prettier now, having grown into his height and jawline, his blond hair cut and combed in an artful way that looked professional. He’s pretty enough to be a model now. I bet that suits my mother’s purposes nicely.

At least until a person met his eyes. Her mother could lie with her eyes—Eden had seen it time after time, and even now, she wasn’t sure she could tell the difference. Joseph wasn’t that skilled. His eyes gave him away as rotten to the core.

His grin turned downright flirtatious. “Damn, Eden, but you sure did grow up nice. Guess some things really do get better with age.”

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a single sweep, refusing to let him know how much his come-on revolted her. Joseph had been a bully when they were children, and bullies were like sharks—the scent of blood in the water would drive them into a frenzy. Show no weakness. The mantra of her life. “And some things don’t.”

He turned a mottled red and forced out a laugh. “You always were a bitch.”

And he’d always had a temper, now that she was thinking about it. Enough of a temper to murder someone in cold blood? Back then, she wouldn’t have thought so, but people changed—and often not for the better. She cocked her head to the side, letting the insult slide off her. “You spend much time with that girl who was killed a few days ago?”

His lips pressed into a hard line, his attractiveness fading with the ugly look on his face. “I told Martha you weren’t back for her, but hell if she was willing to listen. You go and break your mama’s heart, and I’m going to break you.”