Page 116 of The Secrets We Hide
“Avoidance.” Jude shrugged again. “You don’t need me anymore. You’re on the hunt. I know you’ll find the shooter.”
“I—”
“Emmy Lou.” Jude braced her hands on Emmy’s arms the same way she’d shored up Cole at Myrna’s graveside. “It’s been such a pleasure working with you today. Thank you for letting me tag along.”
Emmy studied her face. She was so damn hard to read. “Why does it sound like you’re breaking up with me?”
Jude laughed again. Then she released Emmy from her hold. “I need to go back to San Francisco for a little while.”
The shard of glass lodged itself back in Emmy’s throat. There, finally, was the truth. She wondered how long Jude had been sitting on this. Probably since Myrna struggled to stop her last breath. There was no reason for her to be here anymore.
Emmy asked, “When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
She felt the familiar ache of needles racing through her heart. “How long?”
“Not long.” Jude’s smile had a weird tremble to it. “As soon as you have this case wrapped up, I want you to call me. I’ll come back, and we can talk.”
Now Emmy was the one gripping together her hands like a fool. The wrongness felt like a wave that was threatening to crush her body into the sand. She had missed something important. Said something stupid. Done something wrong. “What did I do?”
“Sweetheart.” Jude cupped her hand to Emmy’s face. “You’ve never done anything wrong. Even if you had, I would always forgive you.”
Emmy felt ridiculous for wanting to cry. “Okay.”
She grabbed her phone off the counter. Pushed open the bathroom door. Her ears strained for the sound of Jude’s boots thudding behind her. All she could hear was keyboards clacking and coffee brewing. Emmy shook out her hands to loosen her grip.
“Boss, take a look at this.” Julian turned his monitor so she could see it. “Shane Marcus Russell. I’ve seen his name somewhere before.”
Emmy felt herself snap back into her body. “Where?”
“In the old files you told me to look at.” Julian walked back to Brett’s desk fort. “I can’t remember the year.”
“Try 2002 to 2003.”
Jude came out of the bathroom. Emmy looked at the monitor. Shane Marcus Russell had chosen a defiant expression for his mugshot. His greasy brown hair was pulled back behind his head. He glared at the camera the way some cons do when they’re terrified.
Emmy heard the thud of Jude’s boots on the floor. She scrolled down Russell’s rap sheet. She counted sixteen domestic violence charges between 1996 and 2004. Only one of them had resulted in a conviction, but no jail time was given. He’d finally been sent to prison for battery in 2006. He’d been given the maximum five-year sentence but only served four. In 2010, he’d been sentenced to ten years in prison for transportation with intent to distribute a Schedule one substance.
While inside, he’d attacked another inmate and gotten another four years added on to his sentence. Drug paraphernalia found in his cell added another two. There had been no reduced sentencing or time off for good behavior. Russell had served every second of his additional time until he’d been released back into the world three months ago. Because he’d done his full ride, he wasn’t on parole.
Emmy looked behind her, saw Jude had made it as far as the lobby. “Jude, you were right. Look at his sheet.”
Jude turned, but she didn’t come over.
“Boss?” Julian was reading from the file as he walked back over. “Shane Marcus Russell was picked up in North Falls in 2010 with two hundred OxyContin tablets.”
She asked, “Who was the arresting officer?”
Julian looked up from the file. “You, boss.”
Her surprise traveled around the room.
Jude started to walk over.
Levi sat up at his desk.
Emmy took the file from Julian. Her mind was drawing a complete blank. That was the year heroin started jockeying to replace Oxy. Every overnight shift had been a slow-moving horror. She flipped the page to read the incident report.Recognized her own handwriting. Her own signature at the bottom.
