Chapter 9 - The Person Who Watched Emma Walk
The photograph changed the investigation again.
Until that moment, everyone imagined Emma’s journey as solitary.
She had pushed the twins mile after mile.
She had crossed gravel roads.
She had dragged the wheelbarrow from mud.
She had followed power lines toward town.
But somebody had seen her.
Somebody had photographed her.
And that person had not stopped to help.
Emma studied the picture from across the room.
“Do you know where this was taken?”
Daniel asked.
She nodded.
“Near the broken barn.”
“Did you see a car?”
Emma thought.
“A gray one.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Big or small?”
“Small.”
“Did it stop?”
She nodded again.
“Was Grandpa inside?”
“I didn’t see.”
“What happened?”
“A man got out.”
Rachel’s head snapped toward her.
“You never told us that.”
Emma’s face tightened.
“He told me not to.”
“Who?”
“The man.”
Daniel crouched.
“What did he say?”
“He asked where I was going.”
“I said hospital.”
“He looked at the babies.”
“Did he touch them?”
“No.”
“He said he would call somebody.”
“Did he offer you a ride?”
Emma shook her head.
“Did you ask?”
Another shake.
“Why?”
“He scared me.”
“How?”
“He knew my name.”
Daniel felt a chill.
“What did he call you?”
“Emma.”
“Anything else?”
“He asked where Mommy put the blue folder.”
There it was again.
Documents.
Evidence.
Someone had intercepted Emma while two newborn babies lay cold in a wheelbarrow and asked about paperwork.
“Can you describe him?”
“Brown hair.”
“Beard.”
“Old.”
“Grandpa old?”
“No.”
“Mommy old.”
Sarah managed a weak protest from the bed.
“I’m twenty-nine.”
Emma shrugged.
For one second, even Daniel smiled.
Then the child added:
“He had a bird on his hand.”
“A tattoo?”
“I think.”
Daniel showed her photographs of Frank’s known associates.
Curtis Vann.
Former Sheriff Mercer.
Employees.
Security contractors.
Emma stopped at one man.
“That’s him.”
The photograph showed Aaron Pike.
Thirty-four.
Former Dalton Farm Supply employee.
Criminal record for burglary and assault.
Currently worked private security.
Daniel found recent phone records.
Frank called Aaron eleven times during the three days Sarah lay unconscious.
Aaron’s phone went offline shortly after Emma arrived at the hospital.
Another man had disappeared.
Police searched his apartment.
Empty.
His car was gone.
But his computer remained.
The browser history showed searches from the afternoon Emma made her journey.
St. Catherine’s emergency entrance.
County police scanner.
Frank Dalton warrant.
More disturbing was a deleted text recovered from a synchronized tablet.
Frank to Aaron:
Watch the road.
If the girl leaves, stop her before town.
Aaron:
What about the babies?
Frank:
I need the folder.
Aaron:
She’s seven.
Frank:
Then it shouldn’t be difficult.
Daniel read the messages twice.
The room around him seemed to narrow.
Frank had known Emma might leave.
He had ordered someone to stop her.
Yet Aaron had not.
Why?
Police found another message.
Aaron to Frank, sent eighteen minutes later:
I couldn’t do it.
Frank:
Where is she?
Aaron:
Gone.
Frank:
You idiot.
Aaron had watched Emma continue toward the hospital.
He had taken the photograph.
Then, apparently, he had chosen not to stop her.
Maybe that single moment of conscience had saved four lives.
But if so, why send the photograph to the hospital now?
Was Aaron warning them?
Threatening them?
Trying to communicate?
Daniel issued an appeal.
Within six hours, Aaron Pike walked into a police station two counties away.
He carried no weapon.
He asked for an attorney.
Then he asked one question.
“Did the little girl make it?”
Daniel arrived before midnight.
Aaron looked exhausted.
“What happened on that road?”
Daniel asked.
Aaron stared at the table.
“Frank told me Sarah stole from him.”
“He said she was drugged out.”
“He told me she might run with the kids.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I used to.”
“What changed?”
Aaron rubbed his hands together.
“I saw that wheelbarrow.”
“What about it?”
“Those babies weren’t moving.”
“The girl could barely stand.”
“Frank told me to take a folder from her.”
“He never once told me to help the babies.”
Aaron looked up.
“That’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Whatever Frank was protecting, it wasn’t his family.”
“Why photograph Emma?”
“Proof.”
“For yourself?”
“For Luke.”
Daniel froze.
“You know Luke Bennett?”
Aaron nodded.
“He’s the one who convinced me Frank was lying.”
“Where is Luke?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Yesterday.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Where?”
Aaron swallowed.
“At Frank’s old hunting cabin.”
“Why was he there?”
“Looking for evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Something Evelyn hid.”
Daniel immediately called tactical officers.
The hunting cabin stood seventy miles north.
By dawn, police surrounded it.
The door was unlocked.
Inside they found blood on the floor.
A broken chair.
Luke’s backpack.
And Frank Dalton’s signet ring.
Neither man was there.
May you like
But carved into the wooden tabletop were four fresh words.
HE TOOK LUKE NORTH.
