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Silence. The kind of echoing, reverberating silence Tean associated with bottomless holes. Jem looked marginally horrified.
“Thank you,” Emery said in a tone of complete and utter vindication.
Jem covered his eyes. John-Henry rubbed his forehead again.
“He’s going to be unbearable for a week,” North said.
“Please don’t,” John-Henry muttered.
“She’s not in any of the photos,” Auggie said. “I’ve got a couple of short videos, and she’s not in those either.”
“That doesn’t prove anything—” Emery began.
At the same time, Tean said, “That doesn’t necessarily mean—”
Auggie rolled his eyes.
“When’s the last time she shows up?” North asked. “In your photos, I mean.”
Auggie checked his phone again. “Yesterday afternoon. I did some publicity stills in the lobby.”
“So, we start there,” North said, “figure out the last time anybody saw her.”
“What we should do,” John-Henry said in an even voice, “is answer the questions from the police, and let them do their jobs.”
Theo held out a hand. “Finally.”
Emery snorted. “Good luck with that.”
“You know this guy?” Jem asked. “Cassidy?”
Shaw squirmed on North’s lap. “I really feel like I need to mention that North’s middle name—”
But Emery cut him off with “I know him.”
“And?” Jem asked.
“And he’s the chief of police in this town—” John-Henry said.
“A dubious distinction, considering it’s a position hired out to politicians and people-pleasers,” Emery said. Then a scarlet fringe brightened his cheeks. “And, of course, occasionally to properly qualified candidates.”
“Nice save,” John-Henry said.
“What’s your beef with him?” Jem asked. “You say he’s no good at this; how do you know him?”
Emery opened his mouth, but when John-Henry shook his head, he made a face. “It’s a long story.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Jem muttered.
“But he’s arrested the wrong person,” Tean said. “Can’t you tell him? It wasn’t Missy; she never would have done something like that.”
Emery and John-Henry traded a look. “I understand how you feel,” John-Henry said, “but you’ve got to understand, in a murder investigation, there’s always someone who thinks it’s impossible their friend or family member could have done something terrible. I’m not saying your friend is guilty, but if there’s forensic evidence—”
“But that evidence is wrong,” Tean said. “Or it’s been planted. They haven’t even done a DNA test.”
Unhappiness etched John-Henry’s face, and he didn’t reply.
“Well, it doesn’t matter if your friend killed her or not,” North said.
