Page 44 of We Are All Guilty Here

Dale looked down at his hands, but not before Emmy saw the stunned expression on his face. Hedidthink he was smart. Hehadpanicked.

Lionel leaned forward again, elbows resting on his knees. “My partner’s the one who spoke to your wife.”

Both rooms were so quiet that Emmy heard Dale’s throat gulp as he swallowed.

“He told me Esther works a part-time job as a secretary at the Baptist church. He says she comes across as a good Christian lady. Do you agree with that description of your wife, Dale?”

He breathed out the word, “Yes.”

“Esther’s devastated, Dale. She couldn’t stop crying. She actually threw up when we told her. My partner had to call in a doctor.”

For the first time since all of this started, Dale looked concerned for someone other than himself. “She suffers from anxiety.”

“She’s suffering right now,” Lionel said. “She’s worried about Madison and Cheyenne.”

Emmy saw Dale’s lower lip start to tremble. His eyes were wet with tears.

Lionel said, “One of the most important tenets of Christianity is forgiveness. Do you think Esther will ever forgive you for this?”

Dale swiped under his glasses, wiping away the tears.

“I think Esther will forgive you eventually, Dale. Your wife believes in the Bible. She’s a God-fearing woman.” Lionel paused. “But she can’t forgive you if you don’t tell the truth. And that’s what you really want, isn’t it? You want to tell the truth.”

Dale started to nod, but he didn’t say the words.

“The laptop belongs to you, doesn’t it?”

Dale shook his head.

“Tell me where the girls are, Dale. Let me take them home to their families.”

He kept shaking his head, but still didn’t speak.

“Dale, help me bring Cheyenne and Madison home. Ruthneeds to see her baby. Hannah wants to hold her little girl one last time.”

Emmy felt her own tears flooding into her eyes. She looked at her father. Gerald hadn’t moved. His gaze had stayed locked on the same monitor as before—the one that showed Dale Loudermilk’s face.

“Tell me,” Lionel said. “Unburden yourself, man. Tell me where they are.”

Dale finally broke down. A loud sob shook the speaker. He threw his glasses on the table, covered his face with his hands. He started to cry, but then his cries turned into a kind of wailing. He rocked back and forth as if to soothe himself.

Emmy gripped the arms of her chair as she watched him. She could only think of Madison and Cheyenne. Had they cried like this? Had they felt terrified, helpless, abandoned? Was Cheyenne thinking of the end of her life when Dale shot her in the head? Was Madison wailing like a child in the dark place he’d taken her?

“Dale, listen to me, man.” Lionel put a hand on Dale’s shoulder to steady him. “Look at me, okay? The way you free yourself from this guilt is to tell me where they are. That’s all anybody cares about. Tell me where they are.”

Dale kept his face in his hands. He was mumbling something. His voice was too muffled for the microphone to pick up.

“What is it?” Lionel couldn’t hear him, either. He pulled away Dale’s hands, looked at his face. “Tell me.”

“I said I didn’t do it!” Dale screamed. He pushed away from the table. Started waving his arms, shouting, “I didn’t fucking do it! I didn’t fucking do it! I didn’t fucking do it!”

Emmy could hear his screams in echo, coming from the hallway first, then half a second later, from the speaker.

“Shit,” she hissed. She wanted to punch the monitor. She told her father, “He’s never going to give it up. You know that.”

Gerald reached toward the speaker and clicked off the sound. The muffled screams stopped just as abruptly. Emmy saw that Lionel had stood up. His hands were out as he tried to get Dale to calm down.

Gerald said, “Cheyenne’s locker. Show me.”

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