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If they trusted Gabriela, Delaney would have to offer something real.
Like a confession.
Or she would need to stop Gabriela in the act.
Delaney opened her laptop and pulled up the screenshots she’d saved from Gabbi’s various postings across different sites. One of the most common themes of her messages was about how much she hated people who had claimed their loved one’s death was Isabel’s fault with no actual proof.
Several times, she cited a woman named Essi Halla. Apparently, she had a book coming out soon, and it had been enough to send Gabbi into a full-on tailspin that had freaked out even some of her most devout followers.
Halla sounded familiar, and as soon as Delaney pulled up Isabel’s full victim list, she realized why.
Mikko Halla hadn’t made it into the official charges, but there he was. A bona fide victim of Isabel’s.
Delaney laughed at the idea that the honor should come with some kind of sticker for all their loved ones to wear.
It was funny, wasn’t it, that Gabbi had focused so much attention on Essi, only for her to have a valid reason to write a book about the experience?
Still, Gabbi didn’t know that. Delaney was the only living person who now had the full list.
She pulled out her phone.
“Do you know Essi Halla?” she asked when Roan picked up.
“Yeah, of course,” Roan said.
Delaney closed her eyes and breathed out. “Do you have contact information for her?”
“I have her phone number,” Roan said slowly. “But I should probably ask why you want it.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Delaney said. “It’s important. She’s in danger.”
“Danger?” Roan asked, his voice breaking. “Goddamn it, Delaney, just go to the police.”
“What’s Essi’s phone number?”
She had never really had anyone whipped before, but she thought Roan might be on the verge of being so. He rattled off the digits with only a breath more of hesitation. “Thank you.”
“Delaney—”
She hung up on him, and punched in Essi’s phone number.
It went to voicemail, as expected. No one picked up unexpected calls from strangers these days. She sent a text next.
It’s Delaney Moore—you might know me as Lana Parker. I’m going to call again and you’re going to pick up
“I don’t like being told what to do,” Essi said, though she’d answered on the first ring. She was too eager not to, just as Delaney expected from her online presence.
She was making her money off Delaney’s family—she would sure as hell seize the opportunity to talk to the elusive middle sister.
“I don’t know why you think I would care,” Delaney shot back.
Essi laughed. “Okay, fair enough. What do you want?”
“Where are you?” Delaney asked.
“I’m not just going to give my location to a stranger, especially with your sister sniffing around too close to my personal affairs,” Essi said. Her voice went tight, suspicious. “Is that why you’re calling?”
“Raisa,” Delaney murmured. Of course, it always came back to Raisa. “Why is she after you?”