Page 46 of We Are All Guilty Here

Emmy knew all Georgia Highway Patrol cruisers had license plate scanners mounted on their front grilles. Front Basin Road was the only way in or out of the county fireworks display, so Felix Baker was in the clear.

Gerald asked, “What about phone records?”

“I’m expecting Madison’s activity from yesterday to update any minute now. Meantime, I’m working with the phone company trying to get the call logs on the two burner numbers. The only thing I know so far is that the first burner number came online in August of last year.”

“And the flip phone?” Gerald asked.

“Felix sent Cheyenne’s call logs over this morning. The flip phone only communicated with four people: Felix, Ruth, Pamela and Madison.”

Emmy said, “That’s not surprising. Cheyenne knew that her parents were keeping a close eye on her digital life. Ruth donated her laptop to the church after she got caught bypassing the parental controls. I made a note to call them this morning, but then Dale happened. I can go—”

“No.” Gerald motioned for her to stay seated. “Virgil?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “The last thing is, I sent Brett to both the cell phone kiosk at the outlet mall and the GoodDollar. They sold a total of six phones with SIM cards on the day Cheyenne’s replacement number came online. We tracked down all the purchasers. One is a bookie, two are single moms down on their luck, the other three admitted they were using the phones to cheat on their wives.”

Emmy said, “Cheyenne’s first burner phone was reported stolen in Atlanta over a year ago. The second burner was probably stolen, too, but the SIM card could’ve been purchased locally. You don’t have to buy a new phone to get one. You just swap them out.”

“All the phone company could tell me was that both SIMs were activated in North Falls. I’ve got the twenty-digit ICCID numbers from the cards, but the things are sold in batches. They don’t have value until someone puts money on them. It’s like a gift card that hasn’t been activated. There’s no way to track it back to a seller.”

“Okay.” Gerald sounded ready to move on. He told Virgil, “Irma Woodrow goes to your church.”

“That’s correct.”

“Her grandson’s Wesley. Goes by Woody. Been selling drugs. Need to know if he had contact with Cheyenne or Madison. Maybe see if Father Nate will go with you.”

“On it, boss.”

Gerald ended the call. Emmy thought he was going to stand up to leave, but he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair.

He told her, “Tap the weak spots.”

This was another game they played, even when they were certain they’d arrested the right person. A good defense attorney would always look for the weak spots in the case. A good cop always made sure there weren’t any.

Emmy turned toward the monitors, following their prime suspect’s movements across the interrogation room. Dale was pacing, was still animated, undoubtedly still insisting that he’d had nothing to do with kidnapping Cheyenne and Madison.

What if that part of his story was the truth?

There was no doubt that Dale was a pedophile, but was he the pedophile who’d kidnapped two girls? Or was he anotherpedophile, just like the eighty seven pedophiles already on the register?

She said, “The FBI pulled Dale’s bank records. Between the mortgage, Esther’s car payment, and their student loans, there’s barely enough left over at the end of the month. She works in the church office. He has to take the job at the rec center every summer to make ends meet.”

“Okay.”

“Cheyenne had sixteen grand hidden in her room. Meanwhile, Dale’s handing out towels at the rec center eight hours a day for minimum wage?” Emmy thought of something else. “Kaitlynn overheard Cheyenne making a joke about the older man she was seeing. She said something like, ‘I wish his penis was as big as his wallet.’ Dale doesn’t have a big wallet.”

“Could be more than one older man.”

“The child porn Dale kept on his laptop,” Emmy said. “The girls he was looking at were tweens—nine, ten, eleven. Cheyenne and Madison had already gone through puberty. There’s a difference.”

Gerald looked at the monitors, too. Lionel was pointing his finger in Dale’s face. He’d finally stopped yo-yoing, though the new tactic looked about as effective as the old one.

Gerald said, “Let’s go for a ride.”

Emmy hadn’t realized how claustrophobic the room was until she was out in the hallway. She blinked at the bright overhead lights. Her eyes took so long to adjust that she heard Brett before she could see him.

“Boss.” He sounded excited. “That other FBI agent said I could sit in on the interview with Dale’s wife. That okay with you?”

“Nope,” Gerald said. “Find a man called the Perv. Hit the streets. Bring him in.”

---