Page 158 of We Are All Guilty Here

Jude had to swallow her grief before she could speak. “Does she know you?”

“No, but I look older than her grandmother and she doesn’t want to be rude.”

Jude could hear the sadness in Millie’s voice. It must’ve been hard to survive everyone who’d ever mattered in your life. She tried to mend fences in the Clifton way. “I’m honestly shocked you’re still standing.”

Millie cackled. “No more than me.”

“I,” Myrna corrected. “No more than I.”

Emmy’s light laughter preceded her into the room. She gave Jude her usual nod. Her uniform was wrinkled. Her sprained wrist was in a brace. She was holding an ancient Whitepages phone book to her chest.

She said, “Mom will never forget to be pedantic.”

Jude smiled, but she saw Emmy look toward Myrna with the same hope for recognition. There was none. There would never be again. She really was gone.

Emmy cleared her throat exactly as Jude had. She placed the phone book on the table. Told Millie, “You left this in the car.”

“I guess I’m in the right place for losing my marbles.” Millie Frankensteined toward the chair and practically collapsed into the seat. “Tell Kaitlynn to bring me some horseradish when she picks me up. Oh, and sweet pickles, but not the big jar. I don’t want them wasting in the fridge.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emmy motioned for Jude to follow her out into the hall. As usual, she dove straight into work. “The marshals are transferring Walton Huntsinger to Atlanta. He’s agreed to speak with the Texas Rangers about the Hidalgo case. Apparently, the victim was a state senator’s daughter. There’s a lot of heat over there to get her case solved.”

Jude closed the door so she didn’t have to yell overGunsmoke. “I spoke to my contact at the Center. They’ve got three other possible cases that correspond with the trips that Walton took with the Tooth Troopers. DNA was tested in all of them. If we get a match to Walton, that will bring us up to nineteen total victims.”

“Jesus,” Emmy whispered.

“It’s going to get worse,” Jude warned her. “Walton’s been hurting people for a long time.”

Tension knotted Emmy’s brow. “What about Virgil?”

“The FBI is using face recognition software to scan CCTV footage from smaller airports within a 500-mile radius of CliftonCounty. They’ve already found Virgil flying out of Augusta Regional and Punta Gorda in Florida. He was using a stolen driver’s license that belonged to a con serving time in Calhoun State Prison. The photo was a damn good match. He didn’t pick it up by happenstance.”

“Calhoun is close to the Alabama border.”

“We’re coordinating with the State Bureau of Investigation,” Jude said. “The GBI is interviewing staff at Calhoun to find out who sold him the license.”

“Do Virgil’s clandestine trips track with Walton’s?”

“Some of them,” Jude said. “But you should know that up until recently, Virgil traveled to show his horses. I think he went solo. There’s no doubt in my mind that he left a string of unsolved cases. It’ll be harder with Virgil. He knew about evidence handling. I’m sure he covered his tracks. We might not ever find out how many girls and women he hurt.”

Emmy’s jaw tightened, the bone sticking out the same way Myrna’s used to. She looked down the hallway. Virgil’s betrayal was a wound that would not soon heal. Jude could see the delicate strands of her eyelashes when she blinked away tears.

“Okay,” Emmy said. “I’ve got to get out of this building.”

Jude expected one of her abrupt departures, but Emmy nodded for Jude to follow her up the hallway. They bypassed the elevator and headed toward the stairs. They’d both been raised by a woman who didn’t believe in dawdling. Jude held onto the railing so she could safely navigate her way down. She’d left her motorcycle boots and jeans back at the motel. The heels and pantsuit were a vestige from her previous life.

Emmy took in the outfit as she rounded the landing. “Does Hillary Clinton know you stole her look?”

“Does Andy Taylor know you stole his?”

Emmy shot Jude a blank stare. “Who’s Andy Taylor?”

“Congratulations. You’ve finally found a way to hurt me.” Jude followed her down the next flight of stairs. “I was at Dooley this morning talking to Dale Loudermilk. He wouldn’t give me the time of day if I showed up in jeans and a biker jacket. This is how he expects a female agent to dress, so this is how I have to dress.”

Emmy had stopped at the next landing. “What did he say?”

“We mostly talked about music, but I’ll get him to crack eventually, and he’ll tell me what else he knows.”

“I guess you have a right to sound sure of yourself.”

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