"Sheriff Morgan's been out of the office, oh...seven years now," the young officer informed Emily, back turned to them as he shuffled through a filing cabinet, not sounding particularly interested in being of assistance to them.

Emily had taken them on a slight detour from their path to North Dakota to look in on a small town Sheriff's station where she thought she might find an old friend who could help them track down where Killian had taken Maggie and Finley. As she was finding out, though, things had changed in the years since she'd retired.

"Good man," she replied with a slight laugh, remembering the man she'd once been privileged to call her friend. "He helped me track down a couple of men I was looking for, back in the day." She didn't say exactly when that day had been, for fear of dating herself to the baby-faced officer assisting them.

"The Turner Brothers," the officer said with a knowing nod, suddenly seeming much more interested in the conversation. "I remember that. That was you?"

Emily nodded slowly. (She was pretty sure it was hard for someone not to remember that story – it had been big news around the several surrounding counties... Two pig farmers who had kidnapped a young girl, being tracked down by the only female Sheriff in the area's history.)

"Well, how can I help?" the officer asked, gesturing widely to show his willingness to be of assistance, in stark contrast to his earlier disinterest.

Emily glanced over at Alex, as if to ensure that she was serious in her desire to press forward with this... "We're trying to locate a Killian Doyle," she said at length. A beat. "He's got family over in North Dakota."

The officer nodded. "I know the name. Not Killian, but Doyle sure..."

Again, Emily looked to Alex in search of certainty. "Well, he married our son's widow. Got our grandson with him." That seemed to earn them some suspicion from the officer, so she was quick to clarify, "We just want to know where they are, make sure they're safe."

"Let me call around some," he said after several long moments of scrutinizing them.

After a quick lunch in the little local diner, Emily and Alex were strolling down the main street, hand in hand, when they passed a liquor store. Alex heaved a weary sigh as Emily slipped her hand out of her grasp, knowing she couldn't resist the siren song of whisky. She didn't blame her of course, ever since Ethan died, they'd both done what they needed to do to survive and for Emily, that was drinking... That didn't mean she had to like it, though.

When she reemerged from the shop, bottle of whisky hidden in a paper bag, she was quick to unscrew the cap and take a generous swig.

"Happy?" Alex asked pointedly as Emily rejoined her, jogging slightly the few steps to catch up with her. She didn't bother to lecture her, knew that they'd already gone round and round endlessly about the matter and neither had anything new to say on the subject. So, she let it be.

"Happy not to hear a lecture," she replied. As they approached the car where it was parked outside the Sheriff's station, she said, "Gonna hide the evidence..." She moved to stow the bottle under the front seat, only to have the glass clink sharply against something already stashed under there.

Curious, she groped around under the seat for a few moments, emerging with something solid wrapped in a tea towel. When she unwrapped it, she was quick to whirl around and hammer on the window with her fist. "Alex!" she snapped.

Alex knew immediately that she'd been found out...

"What the hell, Alex?" Emily asked, gesturing to the gun where it sat on the driver's seat on top of the towel it had been wrapped in. She shot Alex a pointed look, almost daring her to try to come up with a reasonable explanation for the presence of a weapon.

Alex was silent for several moments. "That was before..." she started to explain.

Emily didn't let her finish, snapping for a second time, "What the hell?"

"That was before I knew you were coming," she finished resolutely, crossing her arms over her chest as if to emphasize how unapologetic she was on the matter.

Emily opened the chamber to check whether it was loaded. "You thought you'd need it?" she asked, perhaps a little snidely.

"I didn't want to find out I did and not have it..."

"Christ, Alex, was this going to be part of your argument?" She quickly wrapped the gun back in the towel and moved around the car to find someplace in the trunk to stash it.

Following her around the back of the car, she insisted, "Emily, I would never..."

"It's got bullets in it!" she hissed, opening her suitcase and hiding it among the folds of her clothing. They both knew that when she shut the suitcase again, that would be the last they ever spoke of the matter.

"Think they're trying to run?" the young officer asked Emily, the two sharing a quiet conversation as they watched Alex assist the officer's wife in the kitchen, having been invited to have dinner with them.

Emily shook her head. "No," she added needlessly. "But they did take off in a hurry." A beat. "Forgot to say goodbye..." She sighed, shook her head again, sadly this time. "I'm just looking to give her that. To let her say goodbye."

She didn't add, 'The way she never got to say goodbye to Ethan...' She didn't have to. The sentiment was implied in the sudden sadness of her tone, the devastation written clear across her face, the heavy set of her shoulders.

From across the room, Alex caught Emily's gaze, offered her a faint smile, blissfully unaware to the heavy conversation transpiring in hushed tones between them. As far as she knew, they were coming home with Finley.

Emily knew better, though. Knew that wasn't the way this was going to end.