“But it’s not a neighborhood. It’s a cult.”

“I guess definitions differ. As far as that judge was concerned, it’s a religious community. He said that, and I quote, ‘there’s no legal definition for a cult,’ and therefore he can’t sign a search warrant based on such a definition. I told you. Otis Tillman has some friends in high places.”

“So you searched Karl Adkins’s cabin?”

Wong took a long breath. “I almost didn’t. A bunch of those guys blocked the way. Armed with shotguns. Things got very tense. I had a really bad feeling there, Mullen. I think we were close to things getting out of hand.”

Abby shut her eyes. She’d told Wong to be careful, but she should have gone there herself. “But they let you search it?”

“Yeah. Otis showed up and stopped it before things got ugly. Then he led us to Adkins’s cabin.”

“And?”

“No Nathan, no secret gun cache, no hidden compartments. Four men reside there, and for a bedroom of four men it’s unusually tidy. Almost no personal belongings, a few Bibles, and that’s it. No laptop or cell phone either.”

Abby sighed. “Thanks.”

“Sure. I’m going to get a drink, and then I’m off to bed. Good night, Mullen.” Wong hung up.

Abby had a new email from Tom McCormick, the journalist who’d interviewed Gabrielle. He’d sent Abby the article like they’d agreed. She skimmed it, making sure he hadn’t said anything about the photo or the voice message. The article was as clickbaity as it could possibly get, with a lot of pathos and little content, mostly focusing on Gabrielle’s rise to fame before the tragedy of her brother’s kidnapping.

Abby had promised the man a quote. She had to assume Nathan was still alive. It was more than likely that whoever held him now was involved in the murder of Liam Washington. They were violent and probably very agitated at the moment. She didn’t want them agitated. Agitated people made impulsive decisions. She wanted them to feel in complete control.

She replied to the email, writing that The NYPD’s first and foremost goal is to return Nathan back home, alive and safe.

It was an empty sentence, which was obvious to most. But the kidnappers, in their state of heightened fear, might think the NYPD was mainly after them. She wanted to reassure them this wasn’t the case. A ransom was being collected. It could be exchanged for the boy. As long as Nathan was alive, this was still a possibility.

She slipped the phone into her pocket and was about to return to the room when she had a thought. She dialed Wong again.

“What is it this time?” Wong answered.

“Did you see any extra boots in Karl’s room?”

There was a short pause. “Yeah. Three pairs of identical boots.”

“Three pairs?”

“I told you, the cabin housed four people. The boots were by the beds.”

“Were they Hawkwell boots, by any chance?”

“Do you think I have a boot fetish? How would I know if they’re Hawkwell boots? They were boots.”

“I’m sending you a link. Let me know if those are the boots you saw.” Abby hung up, and sent Wong the link from Ahmed.

A minute later, she got the response. Definitely the same boots.

Abby strode back into the task force room and sat down by Will. “Wong searched Karl Adkins’s cabin. Three of the men had the boots matching the footprint at the crime scene.”

“Three of them?”

“Tillman probably buys those boots wholesale for his people. Cheaper that way.”

“Okay.” Will listed on his fingers. “We have Eden’s ex, David, in the cult. Karl Adkins from the cult, who stalked Gabrielle online and in real life. And now multiple pairs of boots, same as the ones used in the crime scene.”

“Also, Karl Adkins joined the cult only two weeks after Eden left. With all the rest, it can’t be a coincidence.”

“What now? Get a search warrant for all the boots in the compound?”

“It might be difficult. The judge already made Wong’s life difficult with the first search warrant. And Hawkwell is a common boot brand; it’s not like this is a slam dunk. I think I’ll go there tomorrow, do more digging.”

Will leaned back in his chair. “How are you planning to do that?”

“Cults are mostly impenetrable to outsiders,” Abby said, looking at Otis’s photo taped on the whiteboard. “We need someone from the inside. Eden left too long ago. I need someone who left, or was kicked out, more recently.”

“What if you don’t find anyone?”

Abby thought it over. “Then I’ll have to create my inside man myself,” she finally said. “I’ll get someone to leave.”

CHAPTER 41

Carver counted to five before knocking on the door, Detective Turner standing behind him.

It was a strange quirk of humanity that dictated that if you got any news at nighttime, it was inevitably bad news. The lottery didn’t contact you at midnight to tell you that you’d won. A mother didn’t shake her child awake while the moon was still up to give him a puppy.

He knocked again and checked the time, though he knew it was half past one in the morning.

The woman who finally opened the door wore a faded green bathrobe, the eyes behind her spectacles swollen and red.