InSight

voice echoed in the emptiness; exhaust fumes permeated the stagnant air. He took her arm. She wanted to shrink away from him, but like so many other times in her life, she was at someone else’s mercy. Only the sound of their shoes and the tap-tap of the cane on the concrete floor broke the silence.
    “Be careful,” he said. “There’s an incline.”
    “Thanks.” She noted the irony. He didn’t want her to break her neck before he killed her .
    He stopped her. A grinding noise descended, doors squeaked open, and he led her inside the elevator. It inched up ― a creaky transport in an old building. A strange smell assaulted her when they exited the elevator. Chemicals of some kind. They walked down a long corridor, turning once. From the sound of the space, they had entered a large room. The familiar voice hit her like the crack of a whip.
    * * * * *
    Carlotta Gentry watched Collyer escort her ex-daughter-in-law into the room. Abigael appeared surprisingly calm, and once more she marveled at the woman’s perseverance as she turned her head toward the sounds in the room, listening with keen concentration.
    “Abigael, we meet again. And so soon.”
    “Mrs. Gentry.”
    “You’re not surprised, my dear?”
    “No, not really.”
    “The envelope, please, Mr. Collyer. Ha! Sounds like the Oscars.” Carlotta expected someone to appreciate her wit and scowled when no one did. “What, no one with a sense of humor?” Stone-faced, Collyer removed the envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket, and she plucked it from his hand, slipping a glossy crimson nail under the sealing tape. “And the winner is,” she announced, “as if I didn’t know.”
    Finally, she held the three sheets of paper that had caused so damn much trouble. After scanning them, a smile curled her lips. “Ah, Martin was so thorough. A thoroughness that unfortunately cost him his life.” She tucked the papers back into the envelope. “I bet you’re wondering what this is all about, Abigael.”
    “Considering that envelope caused the death of my daughter ― your granddaughter ― yes, I’d like to know.”
    “Tragic about Macy. You were supposed to be the only casualty. Then I intended to take the child to live with me.” She sighed theatrically. “No matter how well something is planned, one can never count on the results, can one?”
    Abby gasped, staggered to her right, and steadied herself on her cane.
    “Get Abigael a chair, Mr. Collyer. She seems a bit shaky.”
    “You were going to take Macy―” Abby stopped in mid-sentence and clutched the seat of the chair. “Why? Tell me why?”
    A break in the veneer. The woman’s normal after all. “Money, reputation, power. Martin wanted to take that away from me. I couldn’t let him. Personally, I doubted Stewart told you anything before speaking to me, but the two of you were so close, almost as if you split from the same egg. We needed to be sure. Dr. Scanlon applied his expertise, but no matter what he did, my son remained uncharacteristically tight lipped. So did you. My heart broke to see him slide away like he did.” She added a sniff of remorse for effect. “You have no idea.” Another sniff.
    “Why not kill him? The papers were well hidden. You’d be safe.”
    “I needed them destroyed. I couldn’t have them popping up later.”
    “You’re his mother!” Abby cried. “How could any mother ― ”
    “Oh stop it, my dear. I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I love Stewart. I love all my children. I loved my husband, too. But my allegiance has always been to my father. He did everything for me.” She stretched her neck and flipped her head in a show of pride. “He made me the woman I am today.”
    * * * * *
    A significant statement to a psychologist. Could Carlotta Gentry’s allegiance to her father be the result of crossing some perverted line? She hoped the question mark didn’t show on her face. Keep her talking as long as possible. Long enough for Luke to find me.
    “I had to keep Stewart under control until we found the papers,” Mrs. Gentry continued. “Dr. Scanlon used a mind control technique to erase the conversation that Stewart heard implicating me in his father’s death, then he performed wonders to make Stewart appear like he was losing it. It would have been perfect, except ― ”
    “The drug was too powerful,” Abby finished. “You couldn’t control him.”
    “I never imagined he would kill his daughter and try to