As she gets out of the pickup, Emma feels that twitch in her legs again—she’s spent too much time in cars over the past three days.

“So did they figure it out, why Huxton wasn’t arrested earlier? What went wrong?” Bell locks the truck, shrugs on his jacket as they walk.

“They had some circumstantial evidence but nothing solid.”

“The same thing that went wrong with Bundy.”

“I haven’t read much about Bundy. He was smart, right? Educated? Huxton wasn’t smart like that, but he had animal cunning—he covered his tracks. And the FBI didn’t know about the mountain house. They were chasing their tails.” That sharpness again. But Emma likes her sharpness—it’s kept her alive. “Then two more girls went missing. And then he caught me.”

“And you brought him down.”

“It was a group effort.” She pulls open the door to the restaurant.

They order coffee and food, and Emma uses the bathroom. It’s clean enough. They eat at the counter. The pie is not as good as she hoped, so she smothers it with cream.

“So, this interview,” Bell says, finishing his waffles. “We got a plan for that? Or did you want to play it by ear?”

Emma hesitates. “Not sure.”

“Are you going to cope with the interview okay?”

She hasn’t wanted to express those doubts to herself, so she’s surprised Bell picked up on them. “I don’t know. I hope so. Are you?”

He nods. “It’ll be uncomfortable. But I usually find I feel better going into an uncomfortable situation if I’ve got a plan. Then I’ve got something to fall back on if I need it.”

“A plan like what? Good cop, bad cop?”

“Maybe. Do you think that’d work with a guy like McMurtry?”

Why is Bell deferring to her on this? Emma blinks with the realization: It’s because he thinks she’s an expert. Three days of horror in a serial killer’s basement—that’s all it takes to make you an expert. Jesus. She toughs out the urge to vomit or cry, takes a breath. Chases the last of the cream around with her spoon, considering the question.

“I think McMurtry will have had plenty of adult officers trying to nail him down with questions. I think we should keep it conversational.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Bell smiles softly. “I don’t know how to run good cop, bad cop anyway. That was more my dad’s thing—he and my mom used it on me more times than I can remember.”

Emma’s voice gentles. “You were close with your dad?”

“Yeah.” He looks at his plate. “It’s kinda weird, doing this. Wearing his suit, working the job. But it’s what I always wanted.”

“Is your family okay with you going into training, after what happened to your dad?”

“I guess.” Bell leans his forearm on the counter and sips his coffee. Even without the tie, he really couldn’t look more like a cop if he tried. “My mom’s fine with it. She understands. One of my sisters keeps getting on my case about it, though.”