Owens and a few of his men were at the nursing home when the dispatcher’s voice came through all three men’s radios. Miller heard the words bank and woman in her thirties and told Owens he had to go. Owens refused, saying something about how suspicious it was that he was the one who kept finding the bleach syringes. Miller wasn’t about to stick around. “You’ve got my number,” he said and took off, making it to the bank in time to see the paramedics load an unconscious Emily into the back of their truck. Newton Longbow filled him in. The first time Alan had come in, he claimed he was there on police business and needed to get into the box. Newton told him to come back with a warrant or the right papers and the key. Yes, there was a young girl with them. In all the commotion of taking care of the lady, he didn’t see where she or Alan went. Miller went to Alan’s and then home. There was no sign of Alan or Abby. So there Miller sat, waiting for Abby to call and tell him she was okay, waiting for Emily to wake up so she could tell him where Alan took his daughter and he could tell her he wasn’t any closer to finding her son, waiting for Sheriff Owens to come back so he could confirm what Miller already knew.
