Page 105 of We Are All Guilty Here

Emmy knew she was right, but she couldn’t completely give up hope. “I’m not directing resources away from a missing, endangered child.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Jude said. “Tell me what your DFR is saying. Who should we be talking to? Where should we be looking? What are we not doing?”

Emmy couldn’t answer. Her DFR was depleted. Nothing felt right.

“Everybody out in that squad room, every agency—hundreds of people—they’ll keep looking for Paisley. Re-canvassing the neighborhoods, re-searching all the areas, interviewing teachers, other students, all the people in Paisley’s life. Meanwhile, we’ll look at the Adam Huntsinger case, and we’ll tap the weak spots. If there’s a break, it might lead us to Paisley.”

Emmy shook her head, but right now, she couldn’t come up with a better way forward. Giving in to Jude was a hell of a lot easier than she would’ve thought three hours ago. “All right, I’ll drive with Virgil to his house and help get the boxes. We can set up in the conference room inside the jail complex so we’re not in anybody’s way.”

“No,” Jude said, because apparently, she was in charge again. “You’re so exhausted that you’re slurring your words. It’s six o’clock in the morning. Let’s all meet back here at ten. That’ll give you four hours to get some sleep, take a shower and change.”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

“Yes, you do.” Jude stood up. “I’ll see you both back here at ten.”

Emmy was helpless to stop her from leaving. She looked up at Cole. His jaw was set. She reached over to turn on the lights, telling him, “You went real quiet back there.”

“She’s not wrong about tapping the old case for weak spots.”

“Is she right, though?” Emmy’s eyes blurred again. She had to give Jude one thing—her bones ached from weariness. But she still couldn’t leave. “Shut the door. Tell me what you’re not telling me.”

Cole closed the door and leaned his back against it. He stared her right in the eye. “I need to speak to my chief.”

Emmy tried to rally. “You’ve got her.”

Cole’s eyes shifted. He looked at the wall behind her. His nostrils flared. She watched tears pool into his eyes.

“Hey.” Emmy stood up, held his head between her hands so that he had to look at her. This wasn’t work talk. He needed his mother. Emmy caressed her hand to his cheek. “Talk to me, baby. I’m here.”

Cole took a deep breath. Tensed the muscles in his neck. Emmy felt her exhaustion disappear. Every part of her brain came into focus while she waited for her son to find the courage to speak.

“The photo of the guy’s junk on Elijah Walker’s phone,” Cole said. “He didn’t steal it from the internet. It’s somebody in town. I recognized the moles.”

“All right.” It wasn’t a surprise to Emmy that her son had a sex life. He’d come out to her when he was fifteen. “And?”

“It’s … uhm …” He stopped again. “It’s Jack.”

Emmy laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “Are you shitting me? The dick pic on Elijah Walker’s phone is Jack Whitlock?”

“Jesus, Mom.” Cole pulled away from her. “It’s not funny.”

“No, of course it’s not.” Emmy felt horrible for laughing, but it made a certain kind of cruel sense that Jack had made a terrible thing worse. The slimy asshole had put Emmy at the center of the production, repeatedly describing her as a “beautiful yet flawed” investigator. He’d also single-handedly revived interest in Adam Huntsinger’s case, which had directly led to Adam’s release from death row, which in some ways had led to the murder of her father.

And on top of that, he’d broken her son’s heart.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this is difficult to talk about, but I’ve gotta ask: is it possible maybe Jack posted a photo online and Elijah passed it off as his own?”

“That’s called cockfishing, and no.”

Emmy could’ve happily lived out the rest of her life without knowing that word.

Cole said, “Elijah is Jack’s insurance broker. We used to make fun of him because he’s such a prude.”

Emmy felt her throat constrict. She remembered that Elijah had mentioned Jack’s podcast in their earlier interview. At the time, she had passed it off as Six Degrees of North Falls, but now, she realized she’d missed it.

“I’m sorry.” Cole was shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. “You take care of my insurance. I don’t know how it works. Jack always met Elijah on the last Friday of the month. He said it was to talk about his policies. I thought it was normal to meet with your broker like that.”

He looked so devastated that Emmy wanted to wrap him in her arms like she had when he was a baby. Still, she had to ask, “Did you know Jack was taking money for sex?”

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