Emmy needed a moment to put her heart back together. “Talia, you know all this is wrong? No one who loves you should ever hurt you.”
“I know, ma’am.”
Emmy hoped like hell that she did. “Was there anything else Mandy told you during your phone call?”
“That she didn’t know what she was gonna do if—when—her mom took Bill back. She was really destroyed. Like, Mrs. Vickery had promised her things would be different. That they would go somewhere new and start over again. That was the only reason Mandy was holding on.”
Emmy knew that the girl had been desperate. “What do you mean by ‘holding on’?”
Talia shrugged. “I guess until college? She only had two more years, then she was gonna go somewhere far away, like where her mom wouldn’t visit that much. Like Australia or something.”
Emmy leaned forward again. “Skylar told me Mandy called her mom all the time. That doesn’t sound like she wanted to get away from her.”
“She did,” Talia said. “But she knew if Mrs. Vickery came to visit, she’d bring Bill. You don’t know how gross it was watching him, ’cause he knew Mandy hated him, but that just made him get in her face more. Mrs. Vickery kept telling her to play along and protect Bill’s feelings, that he’d be better if she smiled at him more or listened to his stupid stories, but why would she do that? He’s, like, an old man. Mandy’s only sixteen. It’s not her job to be his friend.”
Emmy tried not to think about all the times she had pressured Cole to placate Jonah to keep the peace.
“Talia, is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Just that I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you all of this before.”
“You know what? That’s fine, baby. I understand.”
Talia sniffed again.
“Okay,” Emmy said. “Thank you both for coming in. I think that’s all I need.”
Valerie helped her daughter stand. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
Emmy followed them to the lobby. She watched Talia lean into her mother for support. Emmy remembered being that age, pushing away your mother every chance you got, pulling her close when you really needed her. It was so damn hard to grow yourself into a woman. Especially with men like Bill Garrison and Shane Russell around.
“Boss?” Julian came up behind her. “I talked to Sonny Singh. Texted him Shane Russell’s photo. He says the guy goes by Carl. Started working there three months ago. Saturday was his day off, so Sonny can’t alibi him for the shooting.”
“Did Louis recognize him?”
“No, but the old guy doesn’t talk to anybody in the store much on account of his dementia,” Julian said. “You were rightabout the Singhs paying cash off the books, though. All Sonny’s got is a phone number that goes to a prepaid phone.”
Emmy took the scrap of paper he handed to her. The area code was local. “Put a subpoena together for the number.”
“Already on it.”
“Tell dispatch to blanket motels, liquor stores and bars off the highway in Clayville. Send a cruiser to Clifton Gardens. Show Russell’s photo door-to-door. See if anybody noticed him hanging around the neighborhood.”
“You want me to peel Gregg off Bill Garrison?”
Emmy had forgotten about the tail. “Give it another hour, then put him on the manhunt.”
“Yes, boss.”
Emmy dialed Russell’s number as she walked into her office. She heard the sharp tone, then a recording saying the number had been disconnected.
She looked at her desk, her laptop, her chair. She was filled with a frenetic kind of energy that had nowhere to go. Emmy put on her duty vest. Checked her gun. She couldn’t sit around all night while her deputies looked for the suspect. She was going to drive up and down every street in Clifton County until she found Shane Russell herself.
She had made it as far as the parking lot when Cole buzzed her phone.
She answered, “Hey, what’s up?”
“I’m at the nursing home where Grandma died.”
