“She left at around nine today,” Mrs. DePleur replied. “It takes her a while to get home. She lives near the outskirts, you see.” She sighed, almost wistful. “I wish it didn’t have to be like that, but she’s...not from here, if you know what I mean.”

Not from here. He knew. Not Enclave, not human. Abner felt strangely relieved—a suspect he wasn’t compelled to obey. But if she was from the outskirts...the same place he’d gotten ambushed...

No, whoever did it had to have insider information. Unless Mrs. DePleur was in on it, of course. He wasn’t sure what she did in the Enclave, if anything, but he wasn’t the one asking questions, even if this particular one was nagging at his brain. Anderson would know best anyway.

After all, Abner was just there to say ‘yes sir’ and look pretty.