Karin Slaughter - Faithless

“It’s fine,” Lena assured her, wondering why she felt like she should be the one apologizing. There was something strange about this family, and she wondered what secrets they were hiding. Her radar had been on high alert since the old nut at the farm. She didn’t imagine he fell far from the tree.

Lev said, “Lemonade would be nice, Esther,” and Lena realized how deftly he managed to control the situation. He seemed to be very good at taking charge, something that always made her wary in an investigation.

Esther had regained some of her composure. “Please make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.”

She left the room silently, only pausing to rest her hand briefly on her husband’s shoulder.

The men stood around as if they were waiting for something. Lena caught Jeffrey’s expression and she said, “Why don’t I go help her?”

The men seemed relieved, and as she walked down the hallway after Esther, Lena could hear Lev chuckling at something she didn’t quite catch. Something told her it had to do with a woman’s place being in the kitchen. She got the distinct impression that this family did things the old-fashioned way, with the men taking charge and the women being seen and not heard.

Lena took her time walking to the back of the house, hoping to see something that might explain what was so weird about the inhabitants. There were three doors on the right, all closed, that she assumed were bedrooms. On the left was what looked like a family room and a large library filled floor to ceiling with books, which was kind of surprising. For some reason, she had always assumed religious fanatics didn’t tend to read.

If Esther was as old as she looked, then her brother Lev had to be closer to fifty. He was a smooth talker and had the voice of a Baptist preacher. Lena had never been particularly attracted to pasty men, but there was something almost magnetic about Lev. In appearance, he reminded her a bit of Sara Linton. They both exuded the same confidence, too, but on Sara this came across as off-putting. On Lev, it was calming. If he were a used-car salesman, he’d probably be at the top of his trade.

“Oh,” Esther said, startled by Lena ’s sudden appearance in the kitchen. The woman was holding a photograph in her hand, and she seemed hesitant about showing it to Lena. Finally, she made up her mind and offered the picture. It showed a child of about twelve with long brown pigtails.

“Abby?” Lena asked, knowing without a doubt that this was the girl Jeffrey and Sara had found in the woods.

Esther studied Lena, as if trying to read her thoughts. She seemed to decide she didn’t want to know, because she returned to her work in the kitchen, turning her back to Lena.

“Abby loves lemonade,” she said. “She likes it sweet, but I must say that I don’t care for it sweet.”

“Me, either,” Lena said, not because it was true but because she wanted to seem agreeable. Since stepping into this house, she had felt unsettled. Being a cop, she had learned to trust her first impressions.

Esther cut a lemon in two and twisted it by hand into a metal strainer. She had gone through about six lemons and the bowl underneath the strainer was getting full.

“Can I help?” Lena asked, thinking the only drinks she’d ever made came from a package and usually went into a blender.

“I’ve got it,” Esther said, then, as if she had somehow insulted Lena, added in an apologetic tone, “The pitcher’s over the stove.”

Lena walked to the cabinet and took out a large crystal glass pitcher. It was heavy and probably an antique. She used both hands to transfer it to the counter.

Trying to find something to say, Lena said, “I like the light in here.” There was a large fluorescent strip overhead, but it wasn’t turned on. Three large windows lined the area over the sink and two long skylights over the kitchen table lit the room. Like the rest of the house, it was plain, and she wondered about people choosing to live in such austerity.

Esther looked up at the sun. “Yes, it’s nice, isn’t it? Ephraim’s father built it from the ground up.”

“You’ve been married long?”

“Twenty-two years.”

“Abby’s your oldest?”

She smiled, taking another lemon out of the bag. “That’s right.”

“We saw two kids coming in.”

“Rebecca and Zeke,” Esther said, still smiling proudly. “Becca is mine. Zeke is Lev’s by his late wife.”

“Two girls,” Lena said, thinking she sounded idiotic. “Must be nice.”

Esther rolled a lemon around on the cutting board to soften it up. “Yes,” she said, but Lena had heard the hesitation.

Lena looked out the kitchen window at the pasture. She could see a group of cows lying down under a tree. “That farm across the street,” she began.

“The cooperative,” Esther finished. “That’s where I met Ephraim. He came to work there, oh, it must have been right after Papa bought the second phase in the mid-1980s. We got married and moved in here a little after.”

“You must have been around Abby’s age,” Lena guessed.

Esther looked up, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right. I’d just fallen in love and moved out on my own. I had the whole world at my feet.” She pressed another lemon into the strainer.

“The older guy we ran into,” Lena began. “Cole?”

Esther smiled. “He’s been on the farm forever. Papa met him years ago.”

Lena waited for more, but nothing came. Like Lev, Esther didn’t seem to want to volunteer much information about Cole, and this only made Lena more curious about the man.

She remembered the question Lev had avoided before, and felt like now was as good a time as any to ask, “Has Abby ever run away before?”

“Oh, no, she’s not the type.”

“What type is that?” Lena asked, wondering if the mother knew her daughter was pregnant.

“Abby’s very devoted to the family. She would never do anything so insensitive.”

“Sometimes girls that age do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“That’s more Becca’s thing,” Esther said.

“Rebecca’s run away?”

The older woman skipped the question, saying instead, “Abby never went through that rebellious phase. She’s a lot like me in that regard.”

“How’s that?”

Esther seemed about to answer, but changed her mind. She took the pitcher and poured in the lemon juice. She walked over to the sink and turned on the water, letting it run so it would cool.

Lena wondered if the woman was naturally reticent or if she felt the need to censor her answers lest her brother find out she had said too much. She tried to think of a way to draw the woman out. “I was the youngest,” she said, which was true, though only by a couple of minutes. “I was always getting into trouble.”

Esther made an agreeing noise, but offered nothing more.

“It’s hard to accept that your parents are real people,” Lena said. “You spend most of your time demanding they treat you like an adult, but you’re not willing to give them the same courtesy.”

Esther looked over her shoulder into the long hallway before allowing, “Rebecca ran away last year. She was back a day later, but it put an awful fright into us.”

“Has Abby ever disappeared before?” Lena repeated.

Esther’s voice was almost a whisper. “Sometimes she would go over to the farm without telling us.”

“Just across the street?”

“Yes, just across the street. It’s silly to think we were upset. The farm is an extension of our home. Abby was safe the entire time. We were just worried when supper came and we hadn’t heard from her.”

Lena realized the woman was referring to a specific time rather than a series of incidents. “Abby spent the night over there?”