Page 141 of We Are All Guilty Here

“Dr. Huntsinger?” She waited for him to turn back around. “The Sanka?”

“Oh, right.” Walton reached for the mug Brett offered. “Thank you.”

Emmy watched him walk back up the hallway. The shuffle was gone. She could tell he was doing everything in his power to maintain a normal pace. He made it as far as the foyer, then he took a quick turn and hurried up the stairs.

“Jesus, you almost had him,” Brett whispered. “What now?”

There was nowhat nowas far as Walton Huntsinger was concerned. He hadn’t confessed. He hadn’t broken the law. Emmy had to find another way to get him.

She told Brett, “Bag the wallet.”

Emmy grabbed a pair of gloves from one of the evidence kits. She lifted the hammer between her thumb and index finger to place it in a bag. The coppery tang of blood hit her in the back of the throat as she logged it into evidence. She waited until Brett had done the same with the wallet to relay his orders.

“Search every square inch of this place. Secure any weapons or ammo. Keep a close eye on Walton. Let me know if he tries to leave. Look at paperwork, receipts, anything that might indicate there’s another location where he could be hiding Paisley. She’s still our priority. If we get him on Paisley, we’ve got him on Cheyenne and Madison.”

“Yes, chief.”

Emmy walked out the side door. Rain was spitting from the sky. She texted dispatch to send a unit to help Brett with the search. By the time she reached the road, the rain had started in earnest. The Verona police SUVs were gone. She ran to her cruiser, tossed the evidence bags into the passenger seat. She didn’t call Cole until she was turning down the side road that ran along the interstate.

“Mom?” He sounded excited and panicked at the same time. “You’re on speaker. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” It was harder to keep her voice calm for her son than when she was talking to a murdering pedophile. Emmy silently reminded herself that the only thing that mattered now was finding Paisley Walker. “Walton didn’t break, but he knows I’m on to him. He practically begged us to search the house. I guarantee he’s hidden another piece of evidence to frame Adam. He’s desperate to throw us off his trail.”

Jude asked, “What do you have?”

“Nothing concrete.” Emmy wiped the rain off her face. “I bagged up Adam’s wallet and the hammer. It’ll take days to get everything tested. We need to find a smoking gun we can point at Walton’s head right now. He won’t tell us how to find Paisley unless his back is against the wall.”

Jude didn’t respond. Emmy could practically feel her exchanging a look with Cole about the futility of believing there was still a chance that Paisley was alive.

Emmy couldn’t let herself go there. She was not going to give up hope. “Did you get those flight manifests out of Muscle Shoals and Bridgeport?”

Jude said, “I called in some favors. We should have it back within the hour.”

Emmy muttered a curse. An hour was too long. “Those cases I told you about in Arkansas and Texas. We should see if Walton was there with his charity.”

“Already in the works,” Jude said. “We’ve also been calling storage facilities within a 100-mile radius to see if Dale, Walton, Alma, or Adam’s names come up on rentals. What else do you need from us?”

Emmy tried to comb through her conversation with Waltonfor some kind of lead to follow. “The Audi A4. Search the title. Did Esther buy it new or was it a private resell?”

“Checking now,” Cole said. There was a stretch of silence, then, “Holy shit. We’ve got an overlap. Esther Loudermilk bought the Audi from Alma Huntsinger three years before the abduction.”

Emmy wanted to slam her fist into the dashboard. Everything she’d missed twelve years ago was suddenly coming into sharp focus. “Remember Dale said the paint on the Audi’s trunk got chipped when he took his lawnmower in for repairs? Obviously, one of the bikes chipped it, but guess who was doing lawnmower repairs out of the shed in the backyard twelve years ago?”

Jude answered, “Adam Huntsinger.”

“It gets better,” Emmy said, though it was exponentially worse. “Walton admitted that Dale was hanging around the house a lot back then. He was trying to implicate Adam, but he didn’t realize he was also implicating himself.”

“These narcissists always give the game away.”

Emmy wasn’t playing a game. She gripped the steering wheel to steady herself. Her body felt as if it was charged with an electric current. Part of her felt sick for all that she’d missed, another part felt terrified that none of this was leading them to finding Paisley. “Did Virgil get anything back on who had contact with Adam and Dale at the prisons?”

“Not yet,” Cole said. “I think he’s still in your office. I’ll go get him.”

“Cole, wait.” Emmy veered the cruiser into a quick U-turn, driving back the way she’d come. “Tell Virgil I’m going to swing by his house. I want to pick up that box that has Walton and Alma’s call logs. We might find a number on Walton’s line that doesn’t belong. If we can trace it back to Dale, then we can bring in Walton.”

Cole said, “Got it, chief.”

“Emmy.” Jude’s voice had a tense quality that Emmy had never heard before. She was afraid. “Think about what this means. He gave up one of his trophies.”

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