“Baby I hope you never have to make that choice, but I know you’re gonna be a good cop. You’re already on the right path. I’ve never been more proud of you. You’re very nearly perfect.”

Emmy tugged at his collar by way of things that needed improvement. Then she looked for a way to change the subject. She was too brittle right now to keep setting a stoic example. Fortunately, there was a low-hanging lever she could pull that would bring the difficult part of this conversation to an abrupt end.

“I need to tell you something, too. There’s no good way to get it out, so I’m going to be blunt. Tommy and I decided a while back that when Papa was gone and Grandma had to be moved into the facility, we were going to sell the house.”

Cole sat up in the chair. “What?”

“You need to clear out all your stuff by the end of the month.”

“Mom—”

“I’d put in a quick call to Uncle Penley if I was you. Celia told me there’s no way Tommy will move his hat collection out of the guest room.” Emmy stood up to leave. “Keep watching the interrogation. Let me know if I need to hear anything.”

“Mom—”

“Acting Sheriff,” Emmy corrected, which was enough to shut him up.

Emmy left the door ajar so the air would circulate in the stuffy room. She needed to check emails, arrange the duty roster, check in with the deputies. Her mind filled with a long to-do list as she started up the hallway. Her body had other ideas. A tingle shot through her spine, some kind of primal warning. Not the tickle or theDon’t Feel Right, but a long-simmering grief that she’d spent the last few days keeping at arm’s length. Her office was at the end of the hall. Gerald’s office, too. Thelights were still off. His rain jacket was still hanging on the hook.

She pushed open the door to the women’s toilet. To her surprise, Jude was standing at the sink. Her hands were braced on the counter, head down. The unflappable, ice-cold interrogator was gone. Tears were streaming down her face. It was as if every sick, twisted word that had spewed from Walton Huntsinger’s disgusting mouth over the last seven hours had finally caught up with her.

Emmy felt deeply ashamed to witness such a private moment. She started to leave.

Jude said, “Don’t go.”

Emmy felt trapped on the wrong side of the door. Jude looked utterly destroyed. There was no way she wanted anybody to see her like this.

Jude laughed at her discomfort. “I see Myrna taught you to be terrified of tears.”

“I think it’s a genetic predisposition,” Emmy said. “Like how some people think cilantro tastes like soap.”

“That’s a variation on the olfactory receptor genes reacting to the aldehydes in the leaves.” Jude had learned some tricks from Myrna, too. She seemed more composed as she used her finger to neaten her eyeliner in the mirror. Her eyes went to Emmy’s reflection. They had the bathroom to themselves. They were the only two women in the station. “It’s okay to feel your feelings.”

“Sure.” Emmy wasn’t going to stare at her navel in the toilet with her estranged older sister. She put them back on safer ground. “We’ve got Dale on felony murder for Cheyenne and Madison, right?”

“Yes.” Jude went into the stall to get some toilet paper. “He gave Virgil and Walton material support for the crimes. He cleaned the Audi afterward in order to help them cover up the murders. He’ll probably plead down to life in prison in exchange for testifying against Walton. The good news is, Dale will never be able to hurt another girl again.”

Emmy wanted to feel more relieved than she did. “What about Adam? Was he really duped?”

Jude wiped her nose. “That’s what my gut is telling me.”

Emmy’s gut was telling her the same thing. “Adam will still go down for threatening Brett’s life and violating his bail.”

“And rape,” Jude said. “Barbara Jericho deserves justice.”

Emmy hoped she got it. “Dale Loudermilk was on the hook to Virgil. It had to be more than child porn on his laptop. Dale might have actual victims in the real world.”

“You’re right.” Jude leaned against the counter. “I’m going to pull some strings with my old bosses. See if they’ll let me take on Dale as a side project. I think I can get him to talk.”

“Dooley Prison is only a thirty-minute drive from here.” Emmy shrugged. “I mean, I assumed you’d stick around for Dad’s funeral, but—”

“Are you sure, Emmy?” Jude’s poker face was gone again. She was raw, nearly breathless with need. “I’d really like to pay my final respects to Dad, but not if it makes you or Cole uncomfortable.”

Emmy couldn’t stand seeing her so vulnerable. “What about Tommy?”

“He told me he’s good if you’re good.”

Emmy knew that her brother could always be relied upon for at least that. “I’m good.”