Emerson wore a black shirt and black jacket. She broadcasted a regal brand of calm as she introduced herself and her attorney. Kurt introduced everyone else to her.
“Shall we begin?” she asked.
“Please,” Chief Warner answered.
Emerson stacked one palm on top the other on the table’s surface. “I’m willing to provide you with all the information I have on Tom Randolph, the man who kidnapped Britt Bradford. Are you familiar with Tom Randolph?” she asked Agent Delacruz.
“I am.”
“Then you know that his operation is huge and has been, up until now, impenetrable to law enforcement. In exchange for my testimony against him, I want immunity and I want witness protection.”
“That will take time,” Delacruz said.
“We’ll have to work with the DA’s office in order to make that happen,” the chief said.
“Yes,” Emerson responded. “I’m aware.”
Zander had been right about Emerson. She was here because she’d decided it was in her own best interests to turn on Tom and align herself with the police and FBI. He didn’t care why she helped them. Or what she got out of it. Or whether the FBI would be able to bring Tom Randolph down. He only cared about Britt. “We don’t have time to spare,” Zander said unequivocally. “We can’t wait for the DA.”
“Which is why,” Emerson said, “in an act of good faith, I’m willing to tell you at this time the things I know that might help you find her.”
“Good.” The chief gave a businesslike nod. “Go ahead.”
Emerson straightened her posture. “Tom and I run in the same circles and have for many years. The difference between us is that I’m an independent contractor, and Tom has put together a kind of syndicate. He deals in art, diamonds, and jewelry. Almost a year ago, I contacted him because I needed financial backing in order to pull off a very large job. He gave me the money. Unfortunately, the job went bust. Tom wanted his money back with interest. I had funds but not enough to cover what I owed Tom, so I flew to Washington to talk with Frank. I knew he had a painting worth the kind of money that would clear my debt.”
“Young Woman at Rest,” Agent Delacruz said.
“Young Woman at Rest,” Emerson concurred. “In order to assure Tom that I was good for the money, I told him about Frank and the painting. Then I came to Merryweather to see if I could convince Frank to let me sell it.”
Kurt’s pen scratched against his pad of paper as he took notes.
“For the first few months after I arrived here,” Emerson continued, “Tom allowed me to work on Frank my own way and at my own pace. At the end of March, Tom’s patience ran out. He sent some of his men here.” Her gaze sought Zander’s. “One of them was Nick Dunlap. Was he there today?”
Zander nodded.
“Nick and the others picked me up, and then Nick called Frank at his jobsite. He told Frank he wanted to speak with him and that if he declined they’d be forced to grab Carolyn or one of his daughters to compel him to talk. Then they recited the address of Carolyn’s workplace and of his daughters’ homes.”
“So Frank agreed to speak with them,” Zander said.
“Yes. Nick gave him the address of a remote spot north of town. As soon as Frank got there, they handcuffed us both. They put hoods over our heads and pushed us into the back seat of the van they were driving. They took us to a holding room and chained us to a pipe.”
Zander swallowed back the image of Britt, hooded. Britt, chained to a pipe.
“Nick called Tom to ask him what he wanted him to do next. Tom was relatively close at that time, in California. He told Nick to wait, that he’d fly up the following morning, and speak to Frank and me personally. Nick left.”
“And?” Zander asked.
“And Frank was extremely upset. He was fearful for Carolyn and his girls. As the hours went by, he began to complain of chest pain. He was panting, struggling to breathe. Dizzy. I yelled for help but no one came.” Emerson frowned. “I could twist my arm just enough to see my watch, which is how I know that Frank died at 5:11 a.m.”
His uncle had died tied to a pipe, robbed of medical intervention, as well as the ability to contact the people he loved.
“By the time Tom arrived, Frank had been dead for more than two hours,” Emerson said. “Tom was furious. He had Nick and the others take Frank’s body back to Frank’s car and park it on a road where Frank would be found.”
“Did they set you free at that point?” Chief Warner asked.
“They did, yes. They put a hood over my head and returned me to my car. Tom decided to leave Nick in Merryweather with me. The two of us were given the task of finding the painting.”
“And you hoped Carolyn would lead you to it,” Zander said.
