“I stopped doing it when I was eight. My mom helped me.”

“Your mom?”

“My adoptive mother,” Abby clarified. “It’s a terrible habit. Implanted in our heads by a man who controlled us with fear. It doesn’t help with anything.”

“The germs—”

“The germs are not the issue here. You know that.” Abby watched as Eden finished bandaging her hands. How many times had the woman done this in the past years? “Where did you get that picture? I never saw it before.”

“Isaac sent it to me. Years ago. He managed to keep it when everyone . . . when we left.”

“He never told me that.”

“Maybe he realized you didn’t need it.”

“You don’t need it either. And neither does Isaac.” Abby sighed. This was not the time to fix years of damage. There was a more pressing case. She took the phone out of her pocket and showed the screen to Eden. “This is Otis Tillman.”

Eden leaned on the sink to steady herself. “Where did you find this?”

“Your daughter posted it on her Instagram feed. She told me you lived there.”

“Yes. But we—”

“He recruited you?”

“How did you know who—”

“How do I know who Otis is?” Abby asked. “He has a police file. He’s a local cult leader. Of course I know him.” She didn’t mention her own obsession with cults. The database she maintained on a daily basis. Otis Tillman had been on it for years.

He had a small following, never more than seventy people. As far as the police knew, there were just a few guns on the premises. Aside from a statutory rape accusation that had been investigated and dropped, the community on the Tillman farm stayed off police radar. But there was no telling what went on beyond those fences.

“It’s not a cult,” Eden said defensively. “It’s a community. I was searching for someplace to call home. A place where I could be loved again. Like I had been loved as a child.”

“And Otis found you. Recruited you to his community.”

“It was actually David, my ex-husband, who met me and introduced me to Otis. And they seemed so happy. So full of purpose. They didn’t recruit me. They invited me for a weekend there—to meet the rest of the community. And when I got there, people were so nice. And they liked me. They really liked me. I felt like I belonged.”

It was called a love bomb—a strategy cults used in recruitment. Abby didn’t bother pointing that out. Eden probably knew that on some level. After she’d joined, she must have done it to others. Showered them with endless affection when they came, made them feel like they’d finally found their place.

“Is David still there?” Abby asked.

“As far as I know, yes, he is.”

“You told me you don’t know how to contact him. You said he’s irrelevant. If he’s at the Tillman farm, he’s very relevant. He lives nearby, and he’s part of the Tillman cult. As you were, and Gabrielle, and Nathan.”

Eden lowered her eyes. “We left.”

“What if Otis Tillman decided he wants you back in his so-called community? What if he wants the kids?”

“He wouldn’t—”

Abby lost her patience. “Eden, you can’t know what he would or wouldn’t do. And if Tillman told Nathan’s father or anyone else from that group to take your child, to ‘bring the lost child home’ or whatever, would they hesitate?”

Eden said nothing.

“This is the first thing we needed to investigate. Before anything—”

“Mom!” Gabrielle sounded distraught.

“Just a second, Gabi, we’ll be out in a moment.”

“Your phone is ringing!”

Eden froze, a deer staring at the incoming headlights. Abby grabbed her by the arms firmly.

“Breathe. Talk to him. Remember, ask him open-ended questions; buy us time. Don’t mention the Tillman farm. Do your best to keep your voice steady.”

“Mom!” Gabrielle pushed the door open, holding the ringing phone as if it were a bomb about to go off.

Eden stepped out of the bathroom and took the phone in her bandaged hand. She put it to her ear.

“Hello?” she said.

It took Abby a second to gather her wits and activate the wiretapping application on her own phone. She caught the end of the sentence: “ . . . to your daughter.”

Eden blinked, paused, and then said, “I’m sorry, why do you want to talk to her?”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” the metallic voice answered. “Give the damn phone to your daughter right now, or I’ll hang up.”

Eden glanced at Abby, eyes wide. Abby gave a tiny shake with her head.

Eden took another breath and said, “How can I—”

“Put Gabrielle on now! If I hear you say another word, I’ll hang up, and Nathan will be hurt!”

Eden practically shoved the phone at Gabrielle. “He wants to talk to you,” she whispered.

Gabrielle took the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Gabrielle,” the metallic voice said. Despite the sound modulation, it was clear that its tone had softened. “I’m glad to talk to you again.”