Chapter 12

"Greater truth……

Francesca St James

Present day

You watch your son. Thinking about what a miracle it is that he is alive. Promising yourself you will never take him for granted again. Promising yourself you'll be a better person. Someone worthy of being his mother. Promising yourself that you will find a way to pay Emily back for the things she did to save your son.

Something has been on your mind for weeks.

"Nicholas?" You ask him.

He looks up at you. "Yeah Mom."

"What is it that you came for?"

He looks confused.

"At Emily's office, that's what you said, that you 'got what you came for'."

"Oh." He tells you, nodding. "I wanted to tell Emily something."

"What?"

"Ask her."

That frustrates you instantly. Secrets between her and your son. You want to push it further but the insistent knocking at your door distracts you.

"Francesca St James?" The blond woman asks you.

"Frankie." You correct her. You recognise these two women at your door. The first, the one who had spoken, from Emily's apartment. The second woman you recognised from the FBI building the day you had collected Nicholas.

Guilt rises up in you, even though you know you haven't committed any crime. There is something alarming about the FBI showing up at your door.

"Can I help you?" You ask nervously.

"We're looking for Emily Prentiss." The first woman speaks.

You laugh. "Well you're certainly in the wrong place then."

"Do you know where we might find her?" The other woman asks.

"She would have told you if she wanted you to know." You answer defensively.

"It's really important that we find her." The first woman pleads with you.

"You're the FBI, isn't it your job to find people?" You ask.

"We're not here as the FBI." She answers. "We're here as Emily's friends."

"If you're her friends shouldn't you know where she is?" It seems logical to you.

"She wasn't at her mother's funeral, and we wanted to make sure she was ok."

You're not sure what to make of that. On the one hand they seem sincere. But on the other, they are keeping something from you.

You look over your shoulder. Your son is safe. Emily still hates you. What the hell.

"She's in Australia." You answer finally.