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Emmy held her breath again when Adam’s hand moved, but he only grabbed the bottle.

His eyes stayed on hers as he drank. His throat made a loud gulping sound.

Then he slammed the bottle back on the table.

She watched his left hand slither up next to the shotgun.

The snake tattoo practically pulsed around his arm.

She knew that he was trying to scare her. To make her show fear.

Emmy wasn’t going to give it to him. “Where’s Paisley?”

“Why the fuck do you keep asking me about that stupid little bitch?”

Emmy let the silence play out until Adam got antsy. He shifted in his chair. Started to tap his fingers against the bottle of Jack. She asked, “Adam, what are we doing here?”

“I’m having a drink.” His lip snagged on the gap between his teeth when he grinned. “You want one?”

“No.” Emmy let her hand move from her Glock and rest on the counter behind her.

She knew that she could reach her weapon far more quickly than Adam could reach his.

“You called me on the emergency line. You are clearly drunk. You told me you had a shotgun. You threatened to kill my deputy. Did you think I was going to come in here and shoot you? Or did you want to talk?”

He stopped tapping. “You’re not gonna believe me anyway.”

“Try me.”

He held up his hands in an open shrug. “I didn’t hurt ’em. None of ’em. I don’t know where Paisley is. I didn’t have nothing to do with Madison or Cheyenne. Jesus Christ, who named these kids? It’s like a shirt, a street and a fucking city in Montana.”

“Wyoming.”

“Shit.” His hands dropped back on the table. “Just like your smartass sister. Always correcting people. Still thinks she’s fucking better than everybody else.”

Again, Emmy waited a few seconds to make sure he was finished. “If you didn’t kill Madison and Cheyenne, then who did?”

“That podcast bitch said Dale did it.”

“Okay,” Emmy said. “What’s your proof?”

“Don’t you think I would’a said twelve years ago?” He slammed his fist so hard on the table that the hammer jumped to the edge. “Do you know what it’s like sitting on death row just waiting for somebody to stick a needle in your arm and kill you for something you didn’t even fucking do?”

“Tell me who else it could be.”

“You stole twelve years of my life,” he said. “You and your daddy. He wouldn’t even listen to me. I told him I didn’t do it. I told everybody. Nobody believed me. Not even my own goddam family. I’d still be waiting for my execution date except for that prick with the podcast.”

Again, Emmy waited for his anger to dial back down. “Who would want to frame you, Adam? Who would put that hammer in your toolbox?”

“The person who killed them girls!” he yelled. “The same dude that took Paisley! For fucksakes, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!”

Emmy waited again. “I thought you said that Jude put the hammer in your truck.”

“Maybe she’s in on it, too.” He waved away the inconsistency. “Somebody’s trying to jam me up. I never did nothing wrong. Just sold pot to kids so I could have a little fun.”

“Who would frame you?”

“You’re the fucking police. Why don’t you figure it out?”

“Let’s talk it through. Is there someone in your life who would want to do you harm?”

“Only the whole fucking town. Didn’t you see ’em out there screaming for my head when your daddy got shot?”

“What about a friend?” Emmy asked. “Somebody who might want you to go back to prison.”

“Fuck, nobody talks to me. I don’t got no friends.

I’ve got lawyers. I’ve got that podcast prick trying to get me to sit down for an interview like he’s Walter Cronkite.

” Adam pointed his finger in her direction.

“Don’t think I don’t know he’s trying to trick me.

Hang me up on that rape charge from that bitch I don’t even remember. ”

Emmy watched him grab the bottle, take another swig. Again, she waited until he was finished. “Let’s go back to twelve years ago. Talk to me about before you were arrested. Who’d you hang around?”

“People. I don’t know. They all peeled away once you motherfuckers told everybody I was a goddam pedophile.”

“Did you have somebody you were close to back then?” Emmy asked. “Somebody you shared your interests with?”

Adam didn’t explode again. His demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed. He started drumming his fingers on the table. Moved his hand an inch to the left, then the right, then back, like he was trying to decide whether to grab the hammer or the shotgun. “What are you asking me about?”

She shrugged. “I’m trying to help you figure out who put that hammer in your truck.”

“Why ain’t you asking Dale these questions?”

“Dale Loudermilk is in Dooley State Prison serving out the rest of his sentence.”

“Shit.” Adam crossed his arms, sat back in the chair. “You know that fucker was here, right?”

Emmy felt her heart tremble. This time, she needed to stretch out the silence to regain her composure. “When was Dale Loudermilk here?”

“Changed out the blade on his lawnmower when I was doing repairs in the shed.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the backyard. “Motherfucker didn’t even pay me.”

Emmy remembered Dale’s lawnmower story. He’d used it to explain away the chipped paint on the Audi’s trunk. “When was this?”

“What do you care?”

“I care because you just told me that Dale Loudermilk was at your house. I want to know when exactly he was here.”

“ When exactly ,” he mimicked.

“Adam—”

“You know who did it, don’t you?” Adam started tapping the table again. “You know, but you’re protecting him.”

Emmy tried again, “Adam—”

“North Falls people,” Adam said. “They always protect their own, don’t they?”

“He’s from North Falls?” Emmy couldn’t keep the eagerness from her voice. “The man who has Paisley lives in North Falls?”

Adam’s mouth twisted into a smirk. He wasn’t looking at Emmy. He was looking at the phone in her vest. “I want a lawyer.”

“Adam—”

“I want a lawyer.” Adam slowly raised his hands into the air. “I want a lawyer. I want a lawyer. I want a lawyer.”

Emmy stared at him, silently begging him to change his mind. But he didn’t. He kept his hands raised. Emmy turned to the door, nodded for Brett to come in.

She broke the shotgun. The damn thing wasn’t even loaded. “Adam Huntsinger, you’re under arrest for threatening the life of a law enforcement officer and violating the terms of your bail.”

Adam made a show of keeping his mouth tightly closed.

“Stand up.” Brett’s handcuffs came out. He grabbed Adam’s arm.

Emmy remembered her phone was still recording. She took it out of the vest pocket, stopped the video. She told Brett, “Take him out to Rick. Let Verona have him.”

“What the fuck?” Adam’s hands were already cuffed, but now he was resisting. “You can’t hand me over to Verona. They’ll put a bullet in the back of my head.”

Emmy asked, “Where’s Paisley?”

“I don’t know where the fuck she is!” Adam lunged at her, but Brett yanked him back. “You can’t give me to Tuttle! Jesus Christ!”

“Last chance,” Emmy said. “Where’s Paisley?”

Adam’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Fuck you!”

Emmy stepped back, knowing what was coming.

Adam hurled a glob of spit in her direction.

Brett slammed him face-down onto the counter, started patting him down, emptying his pockets.

Keys to the Chevy truck. Packet of Marlboro Reds.

Wallet. Android cell phone. Ziploc with stray stems and seeds.

A pack of rolling papers. A plastic Bic lighter.

Emmy told Brett, “Read him his rights. Get some evidence kits on your way back in so we can process all this.”

“Yes, chief.”

Emmy tuned out the sound of Brett’s voice as he recited the Miranda Warning. She could hear Walton’s familiar shuffle down the hallway. His expression turned heartsick when he realized what was happening in the kitchen.

“Dad!” Adam screamed. “Dad! Get the lawyer! They’re trying to murder me!”

Walton stood silently by while Brett shoved Adam out the side door. Emmy could still hear Adam screaming for help as he was escorted up the driveway.

“My Lord.” Walton steadied his hand on the counter. His head was bowed. He’d deflated like a balloon. He couldn’t look at Emmy when he asked, “Is it that other girl? Paisley Williams?”

“Paisley Walker.” Emmy inserted some gentleness into her tone. “I’m sorry, Dr. Huntsinger. I think Adam had something to do with her abduction.”

“This is my fault. I should’ve never hired that lawyer.” Tears dropped onto the floor. He still couldn’t look at her. “Is there anything I can do now? Could she—could she still be alive?”

Oddly, some of the tightness left Emmy’s chest. Both Walton and Alma had stopped helping with the Madison and Cheyenne investigation once they’d realized they could possibly be responsible for sending their son to death row.

Maybe now with Paisley’s life on the line, they would make a different choice.

She asked, “Can you and your wife answer some questions for me?”

Walton took a raspy breath. He knew what she was really asking. “It’s not me you want. Alma’s always been closer to Adam. He always confided in her. It was just easier between them. Maybe I wanted too much. Asked too much.”

“Paisley could still be alive.” Emmy tried not to push him too hard. “Her parents, Elijah and Carol, they’re desperate to find her. Their hearts are breaking. She’s their only child.”

Walton took another raspy breath. “I don’t know that Alma will agree to speak. She’s always doted on Adam. Never seen the bad, only the good.”

“Would you ask her?” Emmy tried to make it easy on him. “I could make some coffee or tea. We don’t have to talk about Adam if she’s not comfortable with it. I can answer any questions about what’s going on and why he was arrested.”

The neutral offer pulled him over the line. “Alma’s Sanka is in the cabinet by the sink.”