Page 139 of We Are All Guilty Here

He was turning the knob to light the gas when Walton appeared in the foyer at the top of the hallway. He was shuffling like an old man, but Emmy was on to his tricks. She knew whata frail seventy-eight-year-old looked like. They held onto walls and chairs because they were afraid of falling. Walton had his hands clasped in front of his belly. He was walking toward her in a straight line. This was a man who still had life in him—a life that he was using to hurt others.

She told Brett, “Deputy, use a teaspoon and a half of Sanka, otherwise it tastes like brown water.”

“Yes, chief.” Brett started opening and closing drawers looking for a spoon.

Walton had reached the kitchen. He told Brett, “Silverware’s over by the dishwasher.”

Brett looked nervous. “Thank you, sir.”

“Dr. Huntsinger.” Emmy stepped in front of Brett. She made herself smile at Walton. “I really appreciate your help with Adam. This isn’t like the last time. Paisley Walker is still missing. If she’s alive, we have to do everything possible to find her. And if she’s dead, we need to be able to bring her home to her mother and father.”

Walton looked sad as he shook his head. “I pray to the Lord that she’s still alive, but I’m sorry I don’t have better news. Alma is refusing to speak with you. She’s never been able to see Adam for what he is.”

Emmy wasn’t going to give up. “Would it be okay if I asked you some questions? Maybe there’s something you remember from before. Something Adam said that didn’t make sense at the time.”

“Adam never really talks to me. Even back then, he only ever reached out when he needed financial help, usually for a lawyer.” Walton shook his head again, projecting an air of sadness. “I helped him too much. Maybe if I’d let him go to jail all those times before, he would’ve straightened out. I’ll never forgive myself for what he did.”

Emmy caught the injection of pathos. She could see the game he played so clearly now. He leaned into his earnestness, his age, his good deeds, his position in the community, to cover for the sadistic cruelties in his heart. She took this revelation as a guide. “Dr. Huntsinger, I know you’ve done nothing all your life but try to help people. You’re a good man. I need you to do this one good thing for Paisley and her family.”

Brett had leaned against the counter. Emmy could hear the gas burning under the kettle as Walton pretended to think through the consequences. He glanced at the table, but she didn’t offer to sit with him. She leaned her back against the chair, making sure he couldn’t reach any of the weapons.

“Dr. Huntsinger, I’m begging you.” Emmy suffused her tone with desperation. “Help me bring Paisley back to Elijah and Carol Walker. She’s only fourteen years old. No more than a child. Surely you understand what it feels like when you know your baby is in danger.”

Walton took a sharp breath, like the very thought pained him to his core. Emmy waited out the next part of the show. She could tell he was thinking through all of the possibilities. He had to be nervous that a cop was in his house. He would want information.

She had one trick left. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. We’ll get out of your hair. Brett—”

“Wait.” Walton tried a weak smile. “I’m so sorry about your father. He was a decent man. Despite what Adam was, Gerald always treated us with respect. He never blamed me and Alma for how he turned out.”

Emmy let him talk.

“We were pariahs once he was arrested. Alma had to take retirement. I nearly lost my practice. Your family was always so kind to me.”

Emmy didn’t know how he’d managed it, but he had tears in his eyes. “Thank you. My father always said he admired you.”

Walton took a handkerchief out of his back pocket, dried his eyes. “I feel like I have so much to make up for. I shouldn’t blame Alma for coddling him. I didn’t see Adam for what he was, either. I can’t carry the loss of another little girl on my conscience. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Thank you, sir. I know this is difficult. I know you love Adam.”

“I do,” he said. “God help me, but I do.”

The kettle started to whistle. Emmy heard Brett slide it off the stove, stir granules into the mug. Her eyes stayed on Walton. A bead of sweat had rolled down the side of his face.

She said, “Dr. Huntsinger, please could you think back to the period before Madison and Cheyenne were abducted? Was there a place Adam liked to go to? Somewhere isolated where he could be alone?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t have any idea about that. Adam never told me where he was going or when he’d return. He’d come and go at all hours. Still does, if I’m being absolutely honest. I haven’t seen him much since he was released from prison.”

Emmy took a second, pretending to let that information sink in. “Do you remember if Adam had any friends or people he spent a lot of time with?”

Walton tapped his fingers to his chin, making a show of trying to recall. “You know, Adam never had a lot of friends. Not even in school. I pushed him to try sports or join a club, but he was always a loner.”

Emmy noted his inflection on the wordloner. “I know that Adam worked a lot of different jobs. Was there any place where he made friends with his colleagues?”

Walton pretended to think again before slowly shaking his head. “Not that I know of. I’m sorry. He’s always been secretive. I never understood what made him so angry. His mother and I tried our best. It was just so hard. We never knew what would make him explode.”

Loner. Volatile temper. Dangerous. It was like he’d googled the signs of psychopathy. She said, “That’s a terrible way to live.”

“You never want to say it out loud, but to be afraid of your own child …”

---