Chapter 17: Suspect

Emily knew something had happened the moment her feet touched the front step. She felt the shift in energy in the house, heard the sound of raised voices. By the time she slammed the door and raced to the kitchen, Jack was hanging up the phone.

Pamela cried again. This time, however, her mother looked furious.

"They found him." Emily's chest tightened. It was the only explanation.

"The man who took Cole." Pamela came forward, hugged her hard. Not the him she hoped for, but she'd take it. Emily clung to her mother while Jack watched. Something in his face made her pause.

"Dad?" She pulled free of her mother, took a step toward him.

"They found the car you described," he said, "and the man who drives it. A registered sex offender." Her skin crawled convulsively. Not like she didn't know. But there it was, out in the open.

"Cole?" She needed him to be okay. Needed it like the air she breathed. If he was... gone, she would have nothing left, either. Nothing.

"No." Jack's eyes shone in the dim light. Tears threatened. There was more. "Not yet. But the man... the man who took him..."

Pamela spun Emily around. Her tears were dry, but the rage remained.

"Jake Hind."

She knew that name, didn't she? Had heard it before? Something to do with...

Emily just made it to the sink. Everything inside her heaved in disbelief, her stomach convulsing and forcing its way up her throat, toxic emotions choking her as they spewed in a gush of puke and bile, pattering against the stainless steel. She clutched at the counter top, tears blurring vision, turning the stinking mass into a swirling, wavering nightmare. She heaved again and again, remotely aware someone held her pony tail while the other rubbed her back, soothing noises trying to reach through the roar of her blood in her head, the silent screams of agony and pain assaulting her over and over again.

It eased at last. Emily gasped against the counter, spitting out the last strings of mucus clinging to her lower lip. The tears finally fell, straight down into her vomit, chased by a stream of cool water as her mother reached forward and ran the tap. Emily stayed there, unable to pull her eyes away until the last of it was gone, cleaned away. She helped herself to a double handful and splashed it over her face, swishing a bit in her mouth. That, too, disappeared into the dark hole at the bottom of the sink.

Pamela handed her a towel. Emily held it over her face for a long moment, breathing in the scent of fabric softener tainted by bile, closing her eyes behind the gentle darkness. When she lowered the cloth, she exhaled.

"Son of a bitch," she said.

Neither of her parents chastised her. They were thinking the same thing, she was sure of it. Jake Hind. The driver of the truck who killed the girls, now the fucking sick bastard who took her brother away from her.

"I need to see him."

The waited long enough for her to change her shirt and brush her teeth before heading for the precinct.

***

"I'm telling you, I never saw his face." At least not that day. She had seen it, the night of the accident. His terrified face gone from fear to relief he was alive when her friends were dead, dead and it was all his fault... Emily's hands tightened on the arms of the chair, whole body tense and trembling. Hate surged upward like a rising volcano, overflowing into every part of her. Pamela was right. She knew who to blame.

Brandsom continued to push her. Did he care at all what he was doing? Even for a moment? She knew he didn't and wondered how the heartless jerk could have ever had a son like Todd.

"Are you sure? You told us originally you never saw anything, then you came up with the station wagon. You may have seen him. A line-up will help."

Was he really that much of an idiot?

"I know him." She shuddered, letting go of her grip on the chair, hugging herself. Maybe he didn't have all the information. "From the accident."

Gerret cursed and shuffled through a file while Brandsom spun on him.

"What?"

Gerret's smile was sympathetic. Emily liked him way more than his partner.

"Emily, I'm so sorry. I knew I'd heard this bastard's name before." He handed a file to Brandsom, intercepted by Harris, there to defend her, he said. She wondered if he was just snooping.

"And what police screw up do we have here, detective?" His mustache was like a living thing, quivering its contempt.

Gerret exchanged a look with Brandsom. "My ball drop, Mark. Hind was the driver of the truck that derailed the train."

She was almost distracted by the satisfied huffing coming from Harris. Almost. For a moment, Emily saw something flicker across Brandsom's face. It looked like... panic. But how did that make sense?

"Damn it." He tore the folder from Harris' hands. Scanned it. Slammed it down on the desk.

"Any ID Miss Underman makes would be compromised." Why did Harris seem so smug? They wanted to catch the bad guy didn't they? Emily wondered how much of the lawyer's presence was just a chance for him to piss off the police. Not that she was against it, at least in principle.

"What do we do now?" Jack paced, stopping long enough to ask before resuming the soft back and forth.

"We'll get it out of him." Emily almost believed Gerret. He was very good at being reassuring.

"If it's him." Harris was definitely going for Brandsom's buttons, hitting them over and over again. Her hero.

"It's him." Brandsom got to his feet. "We'll have a confession within hours. Why don't you folks go home and get some rest?" He helped Pamela to her feet, herding her to the door of the office. Jack followed willingly. Emily didn't want to leave, hanging back when Harris did.

"I want to see him." The need hadn't left her.

"It won't help," Gerret said. "Mark is right. You just need to go home. We'll take care of this, I promise."

She shook her head and held her ground.

"I'm not leaving."

Pamela turned to her with hurt eyes. "Please, sweetie. Let's just go."

The door swung open. Emily's eyes drifted over her mother's shoulder.

Time stood still as Jake Hind looked back at her.

He was under escort, an officer on either side. By the hunch of his shoulders, he was handcuffed. His face looked hollow, eyes sunken and dark. A moment passed between them in that frozen slice of time and Emily's rage flooded her to the brim. He knew her as much as she knew him. Registered and accepted the fury she aimed at him. Did nothing to shield himself from the intensity of her hate.

She tensed to lunge, to tear at him, to hurt him like he had hurt her. But there was nothing left for her anger to hold. He was beaten, pathetic, wide open. In his eyes she saw he knew what he had done, was haunted by it as much as she was. And in that heartbeat, her rage crested, peaked and fell away.

Jake Hind looked terrified. Hunted. And totally innocent.

Emily found herself back in normal time, her body forced aside. Someone was yelling, it sounded like her father. Gerret dodged past her, mostly blocking the view of the hallway. Jack's upper body spun, his fist impacting Hind's jaw. The man went down, the two officers toppling over him. Pamela screamed her husband's name. Gerret tackled Jack from behind as he tried to kick at the fallen Hind, ending up a part of the human pile, all arms and legs and fists and fury. Jack got in one more blow before Gerret was able to wrestle him aside and to his feet while the officers dragged Hind away.

"Damn it!" Gerret yelled at the retreating cops. "What the hell is he doing out here?" He spun Jack around to face him. "I'm sorry. But you need to get a hold of yourself."

Jack shook, whole body vibrating with tension. A thin pool of blood grew near his right shoe, droplets falling from his damaged knuckles to feed it.

"Where is my son?" Jack's roar made Emily cringe. But Hind was already gone.

"Mr. Underman." Brandsom put himself in the path between Jack and the prisoner. "I will get him, I swear. He will pay for everything he did."

Like he paid for the accident. Emily remembered the ultimate betrayal. The judge had given him three months and a fine.

"You do that," Jack said. "You do that." He drew Pamela to him. She wrapped his hand in a tissue. "You just make sure you do."

They were leaving, already ahead of her. She needed to tell them, to explain what she had seen. They had the wrong man. Cole's abductor was still out there, loose, maybe targeting other boys. But there was no way to say it, no way to share what she knew without them realizing the truth about her. That she was losing her mind.

There was no other explanation. And, therefore, nothing she could do.

She met Harris' eyes, caught him watching and registered the smile he gave her. His encouraging look said, 'Good girl.' It pissed her off at the same time it made her feel better. He moved up behind her, forcing her to make a decision one way or the other.

Emily's toe made a hesitant, apologetic smear out of her father's blood as she trailed along behind her parents on their way out the door.

***