Page 114 of We Are All Guilty Here

Jude caught the undertone of anger. She also thought it was interesting that Cole wasn’t insisting that Gerald had gotten it right. “The podcast raised an alternate suspect, Dale Loudermilk.”

“He was the choral director at school. They found a bunch of child porn on his computer, but he was ruled out as a suspect in the abduction.”

“Based on?”

“Based on Adam being more likely because of the preponderance of evidence. Adam had contact with Madison on the day she disappeared. He admitted to selling her the bag of weed that was found in her pocket. Aunt Millie saw them sitting together at her pond that morning. Plus, Adam dropped Cheyenne’s necklace outside his house. Plus, all the stuff with his father’s Jetta, and he wore a size eleven boot and didn’t have an alibi, and stuff like that.”

“Where is Dale Loudermilk now?”

“Mom checked yesterday when Paisley Walker went missing. He’s still in prison. He’s not eligible for parole for another four years.” Cole reached down and flashed his lights to slow down a speeder. “What did you think about the podcast?”

“I think for the most part that podcasters don’t have all the information that the police have, so it’s easy to latch onto an alternate theory. I’m not saying they’re always wrong, but they’re selling a story. Good and bad. Heroes and villains. Most of them are trying to make a name for themselves. They tend to forget the victims. They focus on the bad guy instead of the people he hurt.”

“This bad guy really hurt a lot of people,” Cole said. “My mom and Hannah used to be best friends. Like sisters, practically. Then that stuff happened with Madison, and they never talked to each other again.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s weird, like they’re not mean or anything, but they stay out of each other’s way.”

“Did you ask your mom what happened?”

“She told me I’d understand one day, but that’s what she usually says when she doesn’t want to talk about stuff.”

Jude could tell by his tone that the rift bothered him. He was still so young. He hadn’t fully developed that hard Clifton shell. “I assume you didn’t see who was holding the gun yesterday when Gerald was shot?”

“Nope.” Cole’s jaw clenched a few times. “You got any more questions about the podcast?”

Jude let the silence stretch until it threatened to turn awkward. “I thought it was strange Jack called itMisguided Angel, but he never mentions or plays the song.”

“There’s a song?”

“There’s a beautiful song by the Cowboy Junkies.” Jude cleared her throat, singing the soft ballad. “Misguided angel hangin’ over me … heart like Gabriel, pure and white like ivory … soul like Lucifer, black and cold like a piece of lead … misguided angel, love you ’til I’m dead.”

Cole was grinning by the time she’d finished. “You’ve got a pretty voice.”

“Good enough for grad school.” Jude tried to be careful. “Some people think the song is about a woman who’s trapped in an abusive relationship.”

All expression left Cole’s face. Maybe his shell was thicker than she’d thought. The podcast had skirted around the dissolution of Emmy and Jonah’s marriage, but even four decades on, Jude was still attuned to the coded language of North Falls people.

“Look.” Cole’s voice was hard. He was North Falls people, too. “I’m not a suspect, and I’m not gonna let you interrogate me about my mother.”

“Fair enough.” Jude looked out the window, trying to find a way to change the subject. “Are those Uncle Penley’s apartments?”

Cole cleared his throat. He was obviously still bristly. “Yeah, Mom wants me to move in, but since Grandma’s out of the house, I don’t know.”

“You’re too young to turn into Miss Havisham.”

He gave her a classic Myrna side-eye. “Grandma cleaned her stuff out before she got bad. Said she didn’t want us to have to go through everything. And Papa didn’t have much stuff anyway. Just his fishing poles and his albums.”

“Photo albums?”

“He made me show him how to print out pictures on his own.” Cole had a wistful smile on his face. “Only took him six tries to figure it out.”

They had reached the bar, which looked the same as before, but with a fresh coat of paint. Penley’s Hang Out sign had beenreplaced with blue neon that spelled Jonah’s Place. Jude could see a sheriff’s cruiser parked at the curb. Apparently, Brett Temple didn’t understand thecovertpart in Emmy’s order of surveillance. Neither did he get the memo that you weren’t supposed to fall asleep on duty. His head was back, mouth gaping open. Jude had been around men like Brett her entire law enforcement career. He was the type of man who would follow a woman into battle so long as she never, ever showed him weakness.

Jude told Cole, “You need to tell your mother Brett was sleeping on the job.”

“Uh—”

“Listen, sweetheart, there’s no brotherhood that usurps being a Clifton. That snoring jackass is going to run for sheriff if he thinks he has a shot. We need to shut him down now. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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