Page 101 of Bring Them Home

“Who says we did?”

She should have expected denial, not that she bought it for a hot second. Hernandez would make it his business to be familiar with his surroundings. She wasn’t going to let his attitude weaken her position. “Why did you put Valerie and Brooke Archer in the bottom of a well? Why not just kill them? Was it because they were rats?”

Hernandez started to smile, but a wince of pain killed the budding expression. “You were listening before. But I can only imagine whoever put them there at the bottom of that—well, you say?—did so because rats aren’t worth burials. Rats scurry around until their deaths.”

“That’s why you had them lowered down and didn’t toss them in. You didn’t want to break any bones. This wasn’t even about prolonging their physical suffering. You wanted to mess with their minds, have them feel hope that they’d get out.”

Hernandez shrugged.

This man was the devil. “The lab has confirmed blood found in the basement of your house was that of Paul Archer and Abigail McGee. You killed him in that room, or Nina had, more precisely, at your command, and sliced out Abigail’s tongue there.”

“Then you should be talking to her,” the lawyer said.

“We would, but she’s dead.” Amanda watched Hernandez for any reaction to that news, but he gave her nothing. “We know from your own words that Nina was loyal. Nina wouldn’t act of her own accord or against your orders. We all know what would happen if she did.”

“Do we, Detective?” Wilson warned. “Any of what you’re suggesting isn’t anything you can prove.”

“How did you find Abigail McGee? She was in hiding for a long time.” They had their suspicions, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear the answer directly from Hernandez. That he’d been watching her family for a while and had gotten lucky when she popped up her head to meet Valerie Archer at the coffee shop.

“Not everyone in law enforcement is honorable, Detective,” Hernandez said cooly.

Shivers tore through her. This wasn’t the response she’d expected, but she received his unspoken message. “Someone tipped you off she was in Woodbridge?”

He said nothing, but amusement lit his eyes.

“Tell us who.” Though I have my suspicions…

“Who has known her whereabouts for the last eight years?”

Shit. “Are you telling me that US Marshal Russell Holden tipped you off?”

Hernandez flailed a hand that was more confirmation than denial.

If the drug kingpin was telling them the truth, then Holden must have more recently turned corrupt. Otherwise, he would have exposed Abigail McGee’s location years ago.

“I’ve made you speechless,” Hernandez said.

Not exactly… “Why would Holden do that?”

He shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”

It was likely that Hernandez had found his weak spot and exploited it. Though he’d have to know who in the US Marshals’ office was handling her case. From Judge Anderson? She shoved the traitorous thought aside, unable to stomach the possibility. And the situation was new if it was Holden. Possibly hinging on two weeks ago when Abigail left to meet with Valerie Archer. Holden’s agitation with Abigail may have taken him to Hernandez. He’d said she was problematic. Had Holden lost patience with her disappearing tricks and decided to tip off the bad guy, end his own problem? Or had he needed money and saw an opportunity to make some from Hernandez for information on Abigail’s whereabouts? But then why not sell her out by pointing to her safe house? For easier deniability?

Amanda squared her posture. “We will. In the meantime, we have a solid case against you, Mr. Hernandez. The video of you with a murdered woman moments before her death is indisputable. The blood in that house belonging to Paul Archer, alongside Abigail McGee’s, implicates you as a coconspirator in his murder, as well as being involved in the abduction of Valerie and Brooke Archer. You are facing two charges of murder and four charges of abduction.” That included the holding of Abigail McGee before her murder. “You’d better get yourself ready, Mr. Hernandez. You’re headed to prison this time, and it will be for the rest of your natural life.” Amanda turned to leave but not before catching the glare in Hernandez’s eyes.

“Detective Steele,” Hernandez said, stopping her in her steps. “Yes, go. You’ll want to get home to that little girl of yours.”

She spun around and had a grip on the neck of his gown in seconds. “You stay away from her, or I swear to you⁠—”

“Detective,” Trent barked, breaking the spell of rage she was under.

She let go of Hernandez and ran from the room with her phone to her ear.

FIFTY-TWO

Amanda called her mother as she raced through the hospital. “Come on, pick up.”

She answered on the third ring. “Amanda?” Her mother was laughing.