Chapter 14
Images of Emma’s newly-rented apartment flooded the New York City suburban media for several days before the court of public opinion decreed she had likely left of her own volition.
She was, after all, nearly twenty years old, and had recently broken up with her boyfriend.
He was interviewed on channel six, telling the world that Emma longed for bigger and better things, and that he, for one, was unconcerned as to her whereabouts.
Colin had interviewed the boyfriend, though he had no legal authority to do so.
The U.S. Marshal’s Office had no interest in the disappearance of Graham Walker’s daughter, but Colin certainly did.
He clearly remembered the older man’s devastation, a vacant look that haunted him as he sat at his desk and stared at nothing for what seemed like months.
One minute Walker would be there, appearing to be engaged in his work—a meeting or paperwork—and the next he’d be gone, not to return for hours or even days on end.
The conversation with the boyfriend convinced Colin he knew nothing about Emma’s disappearance, and despite Colin’s best investigative efforts, the case soon disappeared off the radar of every legitimate agency.
That was when Walker really got bad. His clothes hung off his body, the collars of his shirts loose and awkward around his neck like so much knotted rope.
His skin was ruddy and pale, his once-sharp eyes watery and bloodshot.
Colin wondered if it was booze or sheer exhaustion, a lack of hope, that had gotten to the older man and destroyed his spirit.
Then came the day Colin stepped into Walker’s office and was startled to see an older woman with short dark hair. “Where’s Walker?” he asked.
She took off stylish reading glasses and eyed him frankly. “He’s taken a leave of absence.”
Walker lived for the job, had been good at it before his daughter vanished. He had run this department like his own personal kingdom, and it was unsettling to see anyone else sitting behind the big dark desk. Colin narrowed his eyes. “His request, or yours?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“It’s an indefinite leave. Perhaps you should contact him directly.”
Colin tried. He called repeatedly, sent email messages like he was throwing rocks into a lake.
He’d gone to Walker’s house, only to find the old white colonial deserted.
Colin stood in the driveway of his mentor’s Connecticut home, taking in the peeling paint, the overgrown grass.
Years earlier, Colin had stood in this exact same spot and thought what a lucky man Graham Walker was—the father of two beautiful children with a gorgeous house and a loving wife.
Now Walker’s son was dead, crashing his motorcycle into a tree with a blood alcohol level of .
21, Emma had vanished, and Walker’s wife was living in an assisted care facility, though the reason she needed such help had never been offered.
Perhaps the happy household was not what it seemed, or maybe it was simply a tragedy. Everything Walker cared about was gone.
Three months after Walker’s sudden leave of absence, he returned just as unexpectedly.
“You’re back,” said Colin.
“Yes.”
Colin took in Walker’s straight posture, the clear eyes. “Anything on Emma?”
Walker didn’t even blink. “She’s not coming back.”
“Is she…”
“She’s fine, Mitchell,” he bit out. “She has her own life now.”
Colin nodded, understanding he would not be given an explanation. “I’m glad you’re back, sir.”