Page 92 of Bring Them Home

“Out of the rig now,” the paramedic barked.

Amanda got out, keeping her eyes locked with Valerie the entire time. Trent touched Amanda’s shoulder.

“We’ll get Hernandez without them if we have to,” he told her.

She wanted to lap up his confidence. “I hope you’re right about that.”

“But you can’t blame her for not wanting to talk.”

She looked at Trent. “She’s afraid right now, and I get that. Who knows all that they suffered. I just hope they decide to talk because unless forensic findings come through that put Hernandez and Nina concretely in the frame, he will walk.”

Nothing more passed between her and Trent as the fire department gathered its equipment and headed out. Amanda was standing there with Trent, feeling like she’d been knocked out and this was the final round. The seconds were ticking. It was either time to surrender or get up and fight. And hell, she had more fight left in her.

FORTY-SEVEN

Amanda and Trent had left the Mannings’ farm before Crime Scene had arrived. On the drive back to Central, Amanda left a message for CSI Blair, desperate for updates on forensic findings and ballistics. A quick follow-up text she’d sent to Briggs hadn’t netted a response, and she was starting to obsess. Why was it so much to hope everything would fall into place against Hernandez sooner rather than later? After all, that man deserved to be locked up for the rest of his life. “The only reason Hernandez left them alive is because he’s sadistic. He wanted them to suffer even more than they already had.”

“On the upside, we found them alive. It will take time, but they will heal and move forward. At least they have that chance.”

“It won’t be easy, though.” A knot in her chest had her closing her mouth. Just like it wouldn’t be for Zoe. Just like it hadn’t been for Amanda. Grief was twisted and sadistic too, making one think the worst of it was over, then boom it resurfaced with a vengeance. But it was best not to dwell on this. It didn’t get them any closer to getting Hernandez off the streets. Nor did it tie up another lingering question. If they could answer that, it might accomplish the former. “I want to know the name of the judge who dismissed Abigail’s witness statement all those years ago. Presumably, Hernandez paid them off. This judge might have something to incriminate him. We find this judge, have a conversation with them, sway them to talk out against Hernandez.”

“Except you mentioned a key point. Paid off. And for a judge to be bought, Hernandez must hold something on him or her too. They’d have something to lose if they spoke out, aside from their life.”

If this week confirmed anything, it was that Hernandez killed anyone he perceived as a threat against him. He also had a long memory. But something Trent said sparked an idea. “What if we used that to our advantage? We find out what this judge is hiding, what made them vulnerable to a bribe, and they’ll have nothing left to protect.”

“One, we’d have to figure out what that was, and two, what do you suggest we do with that information? Blackmail the judge?” Trent looked over at her, brows raised.

When he puts it like that… “I don’t know then. What do you suggest?”

“I’m with you in that we can’t ignore the judge angle altogether. Why did they dismiss Abigail’s testimony? It’s not like Marshal Holden provided any clarity on the matter. And it obviously seemed credible enough in the beginning or she wouldn’t have been taken into WITSEC.”

She was the first to get out of the car when Trent parked in the lot at Central, and she hustled to her cubicle. Sitting at her desk, she rolled her chair in and searched the court docket, or case management system. She could have looked before, but finding the Archers took priority. But now that this judge could be the same one holding up the search warrant for Hernandez’s residence, delaying justice, it flew to the top of the list.

She found the case number against Hernandez associated with the fatal raid on his warehouse. When she saw the name of the judge assigned the case, her breath froze. This judge was a man she respected, who she and Trent had as their first choice of contact for securing warrants.

“Amanda?” Trent looked at her, then her screen. “Shit. Judge Gene Anderson.”

“Looks like.” There must be some mistake…

“Why did he dismiss Abigail’s testimony?”

She shook aside the feelings of betrayal, for the moment, focused. “Hernandez’s attorney, Wilson Duran, who we’ve met, filed a motion to suppress on Abigail’s testimony being nothing but an assumption.”

“But she was there. She overheard him.”

“Enough of this.” She pulled out her call history and selected the number for the US marshal, putting her phone on speaker.

“Deputy Marshal Holden,” he answered.

“We found Valerie and Brooke Archer.”

“You did? That’s great.”

He didn’t make it sound great. If anything, he came across as both surprised and disappointed by the news. “That was the outcome we were hoping for.”

“Yes, of course. Where were they?”

Amanda told him.