out. I can’t trust that John will keep quiet about our suspicions. I don’t want to tip Henry off that we’re looking into him for the murders.”
Bennett rocked back on his heels. “There may be another way to approach it.”
“How?” Emilia asked.
“John indicated Malcolm may be involved in the murders. Let’s use that.” He removed the photograph from his pocket. “This picture taken on the night Alice disappeared has Henry in it. We can ask if Malcolm was at the party.”
She drummed her nails on the desk. “Let Henry think we’re focused on someone else as Derrick’s partner. Yes, that could work. We should do it at his house since it’s less confrontational that way. And I should be there.”
Bennett wanted to argue, but Emilia was right. The killer had an obsession with her. If Henry was their man, then it would be hard for him to hide it while she was close by.
He sucked in a breath as a realization slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer. Emilia and Henry had met in foster care. He’d tormented her. Bennett had always believed the killer became fixated on Emilia during the first investigation, but that assumption could be wrong.
If Henry was the killer, he may have been obsessed with Emilia for decades.
They were getting closer to the truth, Emilia could feel it. She strategized with Bennett about the case during the twenty-minute drive across the county. It wasn’t possible to rule out John or Malcolm, but Henry was turning into their top suspect.
Bennett turned onto a small country road. A quaint wooden bridge appeared, big enough for only one car to pass through at a time. Down below, was a river. The water rushed and tumbled, threading its way through a few rocks.
Emilia stretched in her seat to get a better view. “This is so pretty.”
“I’ve always liked it. When we were teenagers, during the summers, we used to raft down this river.” Bennett gestured to the left. “There’s a dock up that way where you can get in. The hardest part is carrying your raft back to the starting point.”
His tires rumbled over the wooden bridge and then the GPS directed them to turn. A small ranch-style house came into view. It needed a fresh coat of paint, but the flower beds were meticulous and the porch railing was wrapped with red ribbons for Christmas. A sedan sat in the carport next to a black truck.
Emilia exited Bennett’s vehicle. The wind whipped her hair and snaked down the collar of her jacket to chill her skin.
Henry came around the side of the house on a riding lawn mower. He raised a hand to block the sun from his gaze. A flash of recognition passed across his features when he spotted Emilia. He killed the engine on the lawn mower and closed the distance to them on long strides.
“Emilia, hi.” Henry removed his work gloves. Grass clippings clung to his pants and dirt stained his shirt. “And Bennett, right? I’d shake your hand, but I’m filthy. Planted a bunch of new flowers in the backyard and it shows.”
“That’s all right.” Bennett smiled. “Sorry to drop in, but we’d like to ask you a few questions about an investigation we’re conducting. Is there someplace we can sit and talk?”
Henry’s brow furrowed. “Uh, sure. I have a sunroom in the back. If you don’t mind, we can circle the house using the yard. I don’t want to track all this dirt and grass clippings inside.”
“Not a problem.”
The backyard was as pretty as the front. Bushes and flowers were artistically laid out in a gorgeous garden surrounding a sunroom. A mermaid fountain sprayed water into a tiny pond complete with goldfish.
Emilia stopped to read the inscription on the metal bench next to the walkway. “With God all things are possible.”
“Matthew 19:26.” Henry paused on the walkway and turned to face her. “That scripture saved my life. I was on a bad path in my teens and twenties. In fact, I owe you an apology for the way I treated you when we were in foster care together, Emilia. I wanted to say something at the hospital, but it was awkward.” He flashed a smile. “I suppose this is, too, but better awkward than not at all.”
Doubt wormed its way into the certainty Emilia had formed about Henry’s guilt. His apology seemed genuine, and Henry hadn’t been arrested since his twenties. Did they have the wrong man?
She glanced at Bennett and saw