“Eden didn’t give me a lot to work with,” Abby said. “The Tillman cult have some automatic firearms on the premises, but she doesn’t know where. When she left, Otis was using his position for sexual gratification with the women in the cult.”

“So much for female empowerment.”

“He taught his cult members to be wary of the law, particularly the FBI.” Abby clenched her jaw. “I doubt we’ll be able to get much by questioning Karl, but it’s worth a shot.”

“I talked to Wong on the phone,” Carver said. “Otis showed her around and let her look inside each of the cabins and the rooms in the house. She didn’t see Nathan, but they didn’t exactly let her search the premises thoroughly.”

“We need a search warrant.”

“She’s trying to get one, but she’s getting pushback from the judge. Sounds like Otis made a lot of friends in Suffolk County. Since all we have so far is one cult member who followed Gabrielle online, the judge said it’s not enough for a search warrant. Can’t argue with that; she has seventy thousand followers.”

“More like ninety thousand,” Abby said. “She’s getting new followers by the bucketload. But Eden saw Karl by her house—”

“She didn’t ID him yet; all we have is a sketch, and apparently, sixty members of the Tillman community say Karl hasn’t left the farm for more than ten minutes in the past month.”

“We need to organize that lineup.”

“I have a guy on it. It’ll be ready in a few hours.”

Abby checked the time. “Damn it,” she muttered.

“Late for something?”

“I forgot to call Sam,” she answered. “I need to pick her up, but she won’t come home with me.”

Carver frowned. “Why not?”

“There’s a snake there.”

“In your house?”

“It’s my son’s new pet. Never mind, I’ll go pick her up from her dad as soon as this is over.” Abby was fairly certain Sam would go home with her without a fuss—if she sweetened the deal enough. If she couldn’t negotiate this, she didn’t deserve her job title.

She quickly sent a text to Samantha. I’m sorry, things are hectic at work. I’ll call you in an hour. She’d call Sam, negotiate a truce, and pick her up.

“Let’s have a chat with Adkins,” she said.

“Okay. I didn’t have any luck so far, but maybe together we might be able to squeeze him.”

That sentiment made Abby pause. She and Carver had interrogated together before, more than fifteen years ago when they were at the academy.

It hadn’t been great. To use their instructor’s own poetic description, “A debacle of epic proportions such as I’ve never seen in all my many years of service.” Which had been an exaggeration. Probably.

They’d kept interrupting each other. At one point, Abby had made a point, and Carver had contradicted her. They’d argued in front of the bemused suspect, or rather, the recruit who simulated the suspect.

“Can you let me lead the questioning?” she asked lightly.

Carver shrugged. “Sure.”

Abby strode into the interrogation room, her eyes adjusting to the harsh neon light. She smiled at Karl and his lawyer, taking the chair across the table. Carver sat by her side, folding his arms.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Abby said apologetically. “We’re organizing a lineup, but it’s taking longer than we anticipated. Can we get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

“No, I’m good,” Karl said, just as the lawyer said he’d love a cup of water please.

“We’ll get you that in a minute.” Abby smiled at Karl. “The lineup is a formality, really. We need to cross out even the most unlikely suspects. Obviously, you have a solid alibi. We’ve already talked to a few people who said they saw you on the day in question in the . . . how do you call it? Community?”

“The Progressive Christian Community,” Karl said.

“Right,” Abby said brightly. “Otis told me about it. Do you like living there?”

Karl’s muscles seemed to relax a fraction. “Yes,” he said. “It really changed my life.”

“When did you join the community?”

“Seven years ago.”

Abby’s face remained blank, hiding her surprise. Eden had told her she’d never seen Karl before. She’d left when Nathan was less than a year old. Assuming she was telling the truth, it sounded like Karl had joined the community immediately after Eden had left. Had Otis recruited Karl to the cult because of Eden’s sudden departure? “Do you remember the exact date?”

“How is that relevant to your case?” Styles asked.

“Just connecting the dots. You know how it is.” Abby had found out long ago that if she said you know how it is to an aggressive man, he often wanted to seem as if he knew how it was, which made everything easier. The lawyer nodded, satisfied. He knew how it was.

“I joined the community at the beginning of February. And the year would have been . . . 2012.”

Less than two weeks after Eden had left. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Could Otis have planned this seven years ago? “What were you doing back then?”