Page 79

Virgil had sat at the conference table listening to Jude lead the case against Madison and Cheyenne’s killer.

He had offered to track down Dale Loudermilk’s prison contacts because he knew one particular name would appear on the list: Virgil Ingram, a white man working in a skilled position that required education and training.

Whose job brought him into frequent contact with children. Who was married with kids of his own.

Emmy’s hand went to her mouth, but she couldn’t make a sound.

The blood had stopped pumping through her heart.

The ice water in her veins was frozen solid.

She was stunned beyond reason. Every part of her life, every step of the way, Virgil had always been there.

He was her father’s most trusted deputy.

The man who’d taught Emmy how to be chief.

The pedophile who had raped and killed Cheyenne Baker and Madison Dalrymple.

The monster who had taken Paisley Walker.

The door slammed open.

Emmy jumped, dropping the phone, nearly tripping over the boxes.

In an instant, she knew that there were no excuses to be made, no lies to tell, that would get her out of this situation.

Virgil had seen her through the window, probably watched as she made each discovery.

He held a pistol by his side. It looked like something out of a World War II movie.

Ruger .22 rimfire. One-button takedown. Bolt-action. Drop-down mag.

Instinctively, Emmy tried to step back. Her boot thudded against the heavy box of call logs. She said the first thing she could think of. “Jude knows about Walton. She knows about you, too.”

Virgil grinned, but his eyes were a flat, menacing black. “She knows about Walton because I led her to his door, but you wouldn’t be alone in my basement right now if she knew about me.”

The coldness in his voice brought out a shiver. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was already out handling some business. Cole called to let me know you were dropping by.”

She knew what business he was handling. Paisley Walker was dead. It was only a matter of time before Virgil murdered Emmy, too.

“Gotta say baby girl, you would’ve made a good sheriff. Gerald would’ve been proud.”

Emmy should’ve been terrified, but a stillness had washed over her body. It was the same feeling she’d had on the road with her father. This time, Emmy held onto her senses. Her vision sharpened on Virgil. She slowly reached for her Glock. She felt the rough, plastic grip with her fingers.

He said, “Don’t.”

She wrapped her hand around the weapon. The safety strap was already hanging loose.

Virgil lifted the Ruger, pointed it squarely at her chest. “I said stop.”

Emmy gripped the gun, but kept it holstered. She did the calculations. From fifteen feet, the .22 caliber round would punch the hell out of her, but it wouldn’t penetrate her armored vest.

He seemed to make the same assessment. He raised the gun so that it was aimed at her head. “What you figured out, I want you to know you were right. I met Cheyenne at the outlet mall. I was working security for extra money to help Peggy set up the storefront.”

Emmy made herself shrug. “I don’t care.”

“You’re still going to listen.”

He waited for her to argue, but Emmy realized she needed time. “How long did it take to groom her?”

“It’s not grooming if you’re giving them what they want, and believe me, baby, Cheyenne Baker wanted to be fucked.” He studied her face, clearly hoping for a reaction. “She was a virgin our first time, but goddam, she knew what she was doing. Nothing was off the table. She never said no.”

Emmy’s hand had started to sweat around the Glock. She used her peripheral vision to take in her surroundings. Wall to her left. Barber chairs to her right. Nowhere to duck. Nowhere to hide.

“I had to go slower with Madison. Build up her trust. Make her feel like she was special.” Virgil let his tongue show between his lips. “You remember what she was like. So damn prickly. I love a challenge.”

She crooked her finger around the trigger, felt the sliver of the built-in safety. She would have milliseconds to draw and fire. She couldn’t waste time.

“Girls that age, they’re so fresh and open. All they want is to be loved. They need somebody to guide them. Somebody to show them how their bodies work.”

Emmy slowly started to inch the Glock out of the holster. There were fifteen rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber.

“You were right about the video on the Nokia, too. Walton’s always been careless, but I should’ve known better.

I didn’t know she was filming us with her phone.

All that glorious fucking and sucking would’ve buried both of us under the prison.

” His eyes scanned her face again. He wanted a reaction.

“It’s one thing to say a stupid little bitch is lying, but Cheyenne had the actual proof.

The second she tried to blackmail us, both of their lives were over. ”

Stress caused tears to slide down Emmy’s cheeks. She mentally walked herself through drawing the Glock, pulling the trigger.

“Don’t cry, Emmy Lou. You were that age once. So young and stupid. All arms and legs.” Virgil licked his lips again. “Do you know how hard it was for me to leave you alone?”

Emmy stopped moving. She was paralyzed by the question.

“If Jonah hadn’t had you first, I could’ve shown you how good it feels to be with a man.”

Emmy took a shaky breath. Her resolve faltered. The stillness started to ebb.

“Emmy Lou,” he whispered. “Beautiful, misguided Emmy Lou.”

She was sickened by his intimacy. “What about Dale?”

“Madison and Cheyenne weren’t his type.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” Virgil waited for an answer that wouldn’t come. “I figured Dale out years before it happened. He did me some favors. I didn’t send him to prison.”

“We figured him out, too.” Emmy struggled to throw him off balance. “Walton drove Esther Loudermilk’s Audi to Muscle Shoals. He used Adam’s driver’s license to fly to West Virginia and back. Then he drove back to North Falls so he could abduct the girls with you.”

Virgil laughed. “God, you’re so fucking sharp.

That’s exactly what he did. Adam was always leaving his wallet lying around.

Dumbass had no idea Walton was using his ID.

The photo outside the American Legion was my idea.

And it was a good one, too. Once you saw that picture, you stopped looking at Walton. ”

“Tell me where you left Paisley. Let me bring her home to Carol and Elijah.”

“Baby girl, that’s not gonna happen.” Virgil’s chest rose as he took a deep breath. “I’ll make you this promise. For Cole’s sake, I’ll leave your body where he can find it.”

Emmy felt something click inside of her head. A timer going off that she hadn’t realized was counting down. She kept her eyes locked with Virgil’s, her body as still as possible, her hand wrapped around the gun, her finger resting on the trigger.

Then she banged the heel of her boot against the box behind her.

Virgil looked down for a split second, but a split second was all that Emmy needed. She pulled the Glock out of the holster, raised it into the air and started firing as soon as the muzzle cleared.

The first bullet ricocheted off the floor.

The second hit his foot. The next shattered his kneecap, then another dug into his thigh, then two more ripped open his groin and hip, another three blew apart his chest, then she lost count as Virgil’s body flailed back and forth like a boxer was beating him down to the floor.

He didn’t fall so much as sink onto his back.

Emmy heard a rapid clicking. The sound echoed into the corners.

The clip was empty. Her finger wouldn’t stop pulling back on the trigger.

She panted out a sharp breath. She couldn’t let go of the gun.

Her muscles were too cramped. The stiffness went into her arm, locked her elbow.

She had to bang the back of her hand against a barber’s chair to make her fingers release.

The gun clattered to the floor. Knocked into the broken Nokia. Came to rest against a cardboard box.

The stillness was back. Her training took over.

She kicked the Ruger out of Virgil’s hand.

Pressed her fingers to the side of his neck to make sure he was dead.

Patted down his pockets to look for other weapons.

Lifted her phone from her vest to call dispatch.

Emmy’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t speak.

Her vocal cords felt paralyzed. She texted Cole instead.

It was Virgil. He’s dead.

Emmy watched the dots bounce as Cole tried to compose an answer. Then they stopped, and the phone started to ring. Her finger hovered over the green button to answer the call, but she couldn’t press it, couldn’t even control her hand. The phone dropped. The glass cracked.

The tremble started in her chest. She felt it spread down into her belly and up into her shoulders.

She watched it move down her arms, flutter into her fingers.

Everything was shaking. Her teeth began to chatter.

Her eyes felt jittery. She couldn’t focus.

Couldn’t see. Couldn’t even breathe. She stumbled toward the door.

The rain had passed. She blinked in the sudden burst of sunlight, tried to clear her vision.

Virgil’s truck was in the driveway. Emmy’s cruiser. The horse trailer.