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“Focus on Emily for me,” Rachel said, maintaining steady eye contact with the man. “What was she wearing when you last saw her?” She leaned in closer, her body language open and attentive.
“Uh, she had on a blue sundress, with little white flowers. And her favorite straw hat,” he replied, his voice starting to steady as he recalled the details. “She always wore that hat when we went out.”
“Good, that’s good,” Rachel encouraged, nodding along. “Now, did she have any communication with anyone suspicious? Any strange phone calls or messages?”
The man furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “Why… why are you asking me this? Is she here or not?”
His voice was growing more agitated.
Rachel redirected. “Anyone contact your wife? Anyone you can think of?”
“I… no. Just…” He trailed off, frowning.
She pointed sharply at him. “What did you just remember?”
“Just a phone call. Someone wanting to speak with her. I answered and he was… odd.”
“Odd how?”
“Just off.”
“Did you let him speak to your wife?”
“Hell no. He got angry.”
“When was this?”
Callen was looking around the area, swallowing as he did. But at her words, he just shrugged. “I… I don’t remember. Last week? Two weeks ago?”
“Can you recall anything specific about his voice?” Rachel asked, her mind already working through potential leads.
“Deep… and kind of raspy. He had an accent, too,” the man said, struggling to pinpoint exactly what type of accent it was. “Maybe Southern? But not like Texas, more like… Louisiana, or Mississippi.”
“Interesting,” Rachel mused, filing away the information. She knew that accents could be faked, but it was still another piece of the puzzle. “Do you happen to remember the number he called from?”
“Blocked,” he responded. “Now where the hell is my wife?”
Rachel reached out, gripping his shoulder tightly. She looked him in the eyes, and didn’t say a word.
He met her gaze, staring.
Then he swallowed.
“No…” he whispered. He shook his head. “No… no, no…”
“I’m sorry. We found her a few hours ago.”
“Where is she! Where’s Emily?”
“She’s gone, sir. Killed. You don’t want to see her like this.”
His legs gave out at her words and he collapsed like a marionette with snipped strings.
She tried to catch his arm to ease his fall, but there wasn’t much she could do.
Rachel watched as Callen crumpled to the ground, his grief palpable. She stood silently, giving him the space he needed to process the news. The rain continued to fall around them, a steady drumbeat.
He didn’t look up, didn’t move. He lay there, weeping in the mud.
