Was there any connection between the boys and either Charlene Rox or Christine Franklin? “Have you ever seen a psychiatrist?”
“God, no. I’m not crazy,” Davie said.
“Has Tommy?” Laurel asked.
Davie shrugged. “Maybe when he was up at the youth ranch, but he didn’t say anything about that.”
Dr. Rox hadn’t worked up at the youth ranch. Laurel opened a file folder from her stack to reveal photographs of Charlene and Christine. “Do you recognize these women?”
“No,” Davie said, staring at the victims. “I’m sorry.”
Laurel ran Davie through a few more questions and then decided it was time to let him go. “Haylee will drop you off at school. You need to stop being truant, okay?” At his nod, she smiled at Haylee. “I accept your offer to look through the greenhouse this afternoon. Can you meet there around two?”
“Yes.” Haylee’s smile was wide. “Looking forward to it.”
No doubt. Laurel stood and walked them out before returning to her office.
Abigail sat in Laurel’s chair on the other side of the makeshift desk, typing into her phone. “You need a decent desk. I have a sliver from touching this old door.” She didn’t look up.
“Remove yourself from my chair.”
Abigail sighed and unfolded herself from the white leather, standing to at least five foot nine in her dark red high heels. She crossed gracefully around the desk to sit in a guest chair.
It shouldn’t bother Laurel that her sister was so much taller than her own five foot two, and yet, it did. She hid the discomfort by claiming her chair and looking at her frozen screen. “You tried to hack into my computer.”
“If I had tried to hack you, I would’ve hacked you. I just tried to utilize your computer and used my three tries to guess your password. It wasn’t your mother’s name or birthday, interestingly enough.” Her smile was catlike and now her lipstick had been dimmed by a light pink sparkle.
Laurel opened the laptop bag by her chair to check the lip gloss she kept in there. Pink sparkle. “Did you go through all of my belongings?”
“Of course. It’s a pity you don’t have a real desk with actual drawers. I was bored within minutes.” Abigail crossed her legs beneath a black skirt she’d paired with a matching jacket over a silky white blouse. “Where did you get this gloss? It tastes delicious.”
Laurel took control of the situation fast. “Why are you here?”
Abigail lost her amusement. “The FBI contacted me today regarding the search for our father. I’ve told you, he left the church on his own accord, and that’s the end of it. Why are you still looking for him?”
“Because he’s missing,” Laurel said. She wouldn’t stop until she found him. If nothing else, he had to answer for what he’d done to her mother, although the statute of limitations had run out on the rape. “The current pastor of the church filed a missing person’s report for Pastor Zeke Caine, and I will find him.”
“You don’t want to find him. Trust me.” Abigail glanced down at her hands, looking vulnerable. Looks could be so deceiving.
Laurel cleared her throat. Their father had forced Abigail to hide her unusual hair color and odd eyes instead of embracing her uniqueness, and then he’d all but given her up when she was a child after her mother died. Abigail appeared to hold an abundance of resentment against their absent and now seemingly missing father, and Laurel couldn’t blame her for that. She’d been pretty much forced into college as a young teen without the support that Laurel had received from her own mother. Even so, Laurel needed answers. “What kind of experiments did you perform on Davie Tate?”
Abigail looked from her nails to Laurel’s face. She laughed. “Experiments? Come on.”
The moment was akin to looking in a mirror but a thousand times more uncomfortable. “Answer the question, Abigail.”
Abigail’s gaze zeroed in on Laurel’s neck. “Oh, little sister. Did a big bad wolf bite you?”
Laurel glanced pointedly at her phone.
“Very well, then. I’ll tell you what. We’ll go tit for tat.” The gleam in Abigail’s dual-colored eyes showed no give. The woman would walk right out no matter what Laurel did.
“That’s acceptable. You first. Answer my question. I assume the study was performed as part of your doctorate in social and decision neuroscience.” Abigail had degrees in computation and neural systems, social and decision neuroscience, game theory, biochemistry, and philosophy with a practical ethics emphasis. The latter was an oddity.
She rubbed at a mark on her boot near her knee. “Of course. My contract with Tech requires me to publish, as I’m sure you’re aware. So I’ve been conducting said research. Davie actually was an interesting subject, and I would’ve preferred to keep him in the study. However . . . laws and rules and all of that.” She waved her hand in the air.
“Your study. Was the focus on simple choices, trial and error, harm or hurt?” Laurel leaned forward. “Or more complex issues such as the way the brain processes information or becomes influenced? Or did you zero in on biology and behavior?” There were so many different avenues of study, and Laurel was fascinated by them all.
Abigail straightened. “Dear sister, you’ve been looking into my discipline? One of them? I’m honored.”
