Page 32 of All the Missing Pieces

Grabbing a yellow highlighter, I popped the top and leaned over the map. It didn’t take me long to find the local park where Emerson had been taken—it was where I now stood. I placed anXthere and circled it. Then I found all the other points of interest—her house, Cowboy Coffee, the school—and placedX's there as well. I was sure there were other places she frequented, but I wasn’t certain how I’d find out what they were.

Next I went in search of the area Trey had told me he’d found Emerson in. It took me a couple of minutes to locate County Road 33. Once I did, I traced it with my finger until I came across Cattle Run Road. I placed anotherXin the section between there and Pine Butte, then circled it.

I covered the yellow highlighter and went back to the box. There was orange, pink, blue, purple, and green left. I went for orange first. Taking my time, I mapped out every possible route the unsub could’ve taken. There were seven.

It would’ve taken me a hell of a lot less time to drive them all, but driving them wouldn’t give me time to take in the details. Plus filming a route or two would give me good content to post on my social media accounts. The videos would really let people feel like they were in Emerson’s shoes. And if they felt that connection to her, they would do more to help. Maybe the locals would feel the same if they saw them too.

Glancing at my watch, I realized that I wouldn’t have time to ride one before my first meeting. My first interview. My first puzzle piece. I’d spent hours after my video call with Baker and Sully going over the files and sending countless emails for interview requests. I’d had exactly two bites. But they were two I didn’t have before.

Folding the map, I placed it back in my bag along with the highlighters. Then I swung the bag over my shoulder. I left my bike locked to the rack at the park and headed toward the tennis courts. I wanted to get a feel for it. To see what Emerson would’ve seen that night.

A yipped bark sounded, making me turn. A pack of three dogs strained against their leashes. There was a tiny fluffball whose eyes you couldn’t see, a midsize beagle mix, and a larger dog of indeterminant origin. And the woman gripping their tethers with all her might was familiar.

I grinned as I crouched down to greet them. “Hi, Celia.”

“Hello,” she said with a smile. “How’s Tater?”

I scratched the fluffball’s chin while the largest pup licked my face. “Living the dream and judging everyone who crosses her path.”

Celia chuckled. “As she should.” She studied me for a long moment, curiosity in her gaze. “Visiting the crime scene?”

News in small towns was no joke, but I straightened and nodded. “I’ve got an interview in a few minutes.”

Her mouth thinned into a hard line. “It was a dark period for us.”

“Would you want to tell me what it was like to live through?” I asked gently.

Celia’s brows flew up. “On your radio show?”

I fought the grin that wanted to surface. “It’s not actually on the radio.”

“You know what I mean. I can’t be bothered to keep up with what they call all this stuff. From the Ticker Tocker to the graham cracker. It’s all too much for these old bones.”

My lips twitched. “I don’t know. You don’t look too old to me, wrangling those three beasts.”

Celia cackled and bent to pet her dogs. “That they are. We’ve got to work on leash training before they can be adopted, but we’re having minimal success there.”

“You’re getting them used to new sights and sounds. I think that’s a victory.”

“You’re danged right,” she agreed, chest swelling with pride.

I pulled a card from my back pocket and handed it to her. “If you do ever feel up to sitting down, on the record or off, I’d love to get your take on everything.”

Celia frowned down at the rectangle of cardstock as if it held some sort of secret. “Don’t want to hurt anyone by flapping my gums.”

“I don’t think speaking the truth is ever a bad thing, especially not if it’s done with kindness and goodwill.”

She stared at the card for a moment before her gaze lifted to mine. “Grew up with Julie Sinclair’s mama. Would’ve broken her heart to see what happened to her family.”

Julie Sinclair was Emerson’s mother and I guessed Colt’s too. After finding out she’d died of a heart attack, I’d done as much research as I could on her, but there hadn’t been much to find. She married young to her high school boyfriend, who went intothe army not long after they wed. He had been killed in a training exercise while serving.

What I hadn’t found in that research was the son they’d apparently had. Four years after her husband’s death, she remarried to a Shady Cove local, Franklin Sinclair. But Franklin had split when Emerson was six, leaving Julie a single parent.

“Julie never recovered from what happened to her little girl,” Celia whispered. “Even though she got her back, she saw monsters everywhere.”

“It’s easy to do when you’ve seen the evil out there,” I told Celia. “It just means we have to hold onto the good that much more. The only thing that can cast out darkness is light.”

Celia studied me for a long moment. “That’s a profound thing to have realized for someone so young.”

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