Cut to the school -- Spanish mission-style architecture, a lot of palm trees -- letting the children out for the day. Horatio's Humvee and a cop car pull up; the principal looks out his window and sighs, "Oh, no. It's that freak who was hanging out on the benches and glowering at the kids. Again." (Y)Elena comes over to tell Horatio that she just talked to Emma's teacher, and class was already out when Horatio called over there. Horatio's all, "We gotta find Emma." He heads over to a clump of girls, and one asks, "Are you looking for Emma?" Horatio hunkers down and asks nicely, "Yeah, I am. Have you seen her?" I'll say this for him -- and David Caruso by extension: Horatio never seems like he's patronizing the children he's talking to, and he's got a nice rapport with them. It's rare on TV and nice to watch. Anyway, we find out that "the new teacher" -- who, as we see in a menacing shot, is none other than Stewart Otis -- absconded with Emma by telling her, "Your mommy told me to come get you." You know, when I was a little younger than Emma, I was once at CCD class and a friend's mother pulled up and told me to hop in the car because she was taking me home. Remembering that my parents had told me that kidnappers often snagged their prey with this line, I naturally refused to hop in, and Sister Mary Ann's reassurance that my mom had called ahead to verify my ride only made me sure the Church was in on my possible abduction. To make a long story short, Sister Mary Ann ended up calling my mother to tell her that I was busy sprinting the two miles home, crying and screaming at the top of my lungs about would-be kidnappers, while the neighbor whose offer of help Mom had accepted was left in the parking lot, telling anyone who would listen that she had no intention of stealing anyone's kids. The moral of my story: teach your kids from an early age who is and who isn't a safe adult, and you'll save your kids the experience young Emma is about to go through. Surely this idea didn't fall out of vogue since my 1978 road trip home. Anyway, Emma's parents fell down on the job, possibly because most of their free time has been spent making sure Randall does not have to pay any debt to society for mowing down a pedestrian and dragging him or her to his death. Horatio realizes this, and broods for a moment before decreeing, "He's got her." I bet he's really dreading the call to Ruthie Crichton's mom at this point. "Hello? Mrs. Crichton? Look, you know how I promised no other kids would get hurt? Well..."
Enter Randall's wife Dawn, who's looking around for Emma. Horatio comes over and says, "Are you Mrs. Kaye?" She admits that she is. Horatio says, "Mrs. Kaye, about five minutes ago, a man took Emma from the school." While he's delivering the bullet (I wonder if he's all, "I love this -- I mean, 'breaking the bad news is the most difficult part of the job'"?), (Y)Elena's checking out the car, which had a lot of luggage in the back. Dawn's not looking too upset. Horatio points this out, and Dawn improvs badly. (Y)Elena comes over to compliment Dawn on her luggage, and to ask, "When was the last time you spoke to your husband?" Dawn does not reply, "Who are you people and why are you talking to me as if you're cops, since you haven't identified yourselves as such?" Dawn is all, "My husband is in jail." Horatio gets to deliver a second piece of bad news in under five minutes -- breaking his previous record by a substantial margin, no doubt -- and says, "Ma'am, your husband was killed this morning escaping from that jail." Dawn's taking the news well, quite possibly because she doesn't understand English. Maybe she's looking around for the JFX cameras.