Otis left them alone with the girl, and she led them down a gravel path.

“Ruth, do you remember me?” Wong said.

“Of course,” Ruth said. “It’s nice to meet you again, Detective Wong—”

“You can call me May.”

“I’m glad you came. I never got the chance to apologize about that whole mess,” Ruth said.

“There’s absolutely no reason to apologize,” Wong said emphatically.

Abby had no doubt Otis had left them alone with the girl intentionally. He knew Ruth would confess absolutely nothing. He wanted Wong to see that as well. And perhaps he was demonstrating his trust to Ruth, another test—and another measure of control gained over the girl.

“I was looking for attention,” Ruth said. “I have a very vivid imagination. But I never dreamed it would get so blown out of proportion.” She spoke casually, her voice genuine and full of sorrow.

Wong’s face twisted in pain again. “Ruth, if there’s anything you want to tell me, no one can hear you right now. Or you can come to the station whenever you want. If anyone touched you, or hurt you—”

Ruth seemed confused. “No. Like I said, I made it all up. I wanted to apologize.” She gestured ahead at the caravan. “The office is over there. Oh, and there’s David. He can take it from here.” She turned and left them.

Abby had only seen David in the one photo from Gabrielle’s feed, the one with Otis. Otis had hardly changed since that photo, and she’d expected the same from David—he had been wide shouldered, handsome, with a thick mane of hair. But the photo was ten years old. David Huff had spent them in the Tillman cult, away from his wife and children.

He was almost skeletal, his eyes hollow, his hair gone. His face was pale, almost white. At first, he didn’t move, and for one crazy second, Abby thought he was already dead. But then he walked over to them, his steps slow and weary.

It seemed like the past decade in the Tillman cult had sucked David’s life away. And all that was left was a dying husk.

CHAPTER 31

“David Huff?” Abby asked, thinking that it couldn’t be, that surely this was his father or grandfather.

“That’s right,” the man answered.

Carver flipped his shield. “Sir, we’re from the NYPD. I’m Detective Carver, and this is Lieutenant Mullen. Would you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Well, Sunday lunch is about to start. If you care to join us—”

“This will only take a few minutes,” Abby said. “We gathered from Otis that lunch starts at one o’clock. We have some time until then.”

“I usually help set up.”

“We won’t hold you for long,” Abby answered. “Were you married to a woman named Eden Fletcher?”

David’s eyes flickered behind them, over to the field where Otis was speaking to the workers. “Yeah.” His tone became sharper. “Is this about Eden? I signed the papers and gave her what she asked for. Did she come for more?”

“It seems like you’re still angry at her,” Abby said, her tone slowing down, softening.

David took a deep breath. “I’m not angry. It is the burden of God and his emissaries to be wrathful.”

“But you regret her decision to leave?” Carver asked.

“Yes. She didn’t consult me. She just left with Gabrielle and Nathan. Came a few weeks later with divorce papers.”

“And you signed them?”

David’s eyes flickered toward Otis again. “Yes. ‘No one, having put his hand to the plow—’”

“‘—and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God,’” Abby said, echoing Moses Wilcox’s voice from long ago.

“That’s right,” David said with a surprised smile.

“I do some Bible reading from time to time,” Abby clarified.

Some of the Bible, anyway. Cult leaders loved religious phrases about forgetting the past. It enabled them to change stances, to rewrite history, to confuse and obfuscate. Abby knew many of those phrases by heart.

Why had Otis Tillman told David to sign the divorce papers? She would have to ask Eden.

“Did you stay in touch with your children after Eden left?”

“No, I didn’t know how to get in touch. I decided to let them go.”

“You didn’t even try searching for them?” Carver asked.

A long pause. Then David said, “Like I said, I decided to let them go. I’m blameless and upright.” He smirked as if he’d made a joke that none of them got.

“Can you tell us where you were on Friday?” Carver asked.

David shrugged. “Sure, I was here on the farm.”

“Anyone see you?”

“The entire congregation, probably. We work together all day, Detective. This is a very close community. And it’s unusual not to see everyone both during morning and evening prayer.”

And there they were. Abby could already tell from the way he’d said it, smoothly, practiced, almost bored. This was a well-rehearsed answer given to outsiders all the time. She was certain all the cult members would say pretty much the same thing. An unbreakable alibi for each and every one of them.

It was time to shake things up. “Mr. Huff, on that day, on his way back from school, your son, Nathan, was kidnapped. Do you know anything about it?”