Into the Devil's Underground (13 page)

“So, why’d you let him get away?” Her tone was light, but her eyes gleamed. She knew how to push his buttons, and this was her way of punishing him for risking his life. “Things got awfully messy.”

No one pushed him harder than Kelsi. She was only eleven months older than he, and they’d always been close. When Nathan skipped third grade and joined her in the classroom, she’d helped him to fit in. Kelsi encouraged him to step outside of his comfort zone and to appreciate his gifts. If it weren’t for his sister, he never would have had the guts to do anything but bury his nose in books.

“We couldn’t believe it, Kels,” he said. “A bootlegging room with an escape route into the storm drains. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Why’d he try to take the branch manager?” Kelsi loved to play armchair detective, and her psychology background made her a good sounding board. “You think he was after her all along?”

“Yep.”

“At least he didn’t manage to kidnap her.”

“But that’s what I can’t figure out,” Nathan said. “Why didn’t he just go ahead and take her? The partner had the time.”

“If you want me to analyze the guy without speaking to him, I’d guess he was a control freak,” Kelsi said, “Sounds like his planning was meticulous, and something didn’t go his way. People like that don’t react well to sudden change.”

Kelsi was no stranger to violent criminals. She’d worked in the psychiatric ward at Nevada State Prison for her required internship before getting her doctorate in clinical psychology and going into private practice.

“And we know absolutely nothing about him.” Nathan wanted to throw something. How could the guy disappear so easily? Surely someone out there knew of the man.

“Good thing he’s no longer your concern,” she reminded him. “You know Aunt Kay is freaked out you got shot.”

He glared at her. “Why’d you tell Aunt Kay?”

Kelsi rolled her eyes. “I didn’t, jackass. She does read the paper, you know.”

Nathan grunted and poured too many sugars in his coffee. He hated the black goop, but his body was begging for caffeine.

Kelsi took a sip of her tea. “Any leads?”

“You know I can’t discuss specifics with you, Kels.”

“He could be anywhere by now,” she said. “Remember the Weber case in 2002? He escaped into the tunnels with no prior knowledge of them and eluded cops for three weeks. The partner obviously had prior knowledge.”

A group of laughing tourists wearing sun visors and carrying bags stuffed with souvenirs entered the café. They sat down at the table next to Nathan and Kesli and chatted about all the amazing things they’d enjoyed in Las Vegas.

“What were they like?” Kelsi asked.

“What?” He was surprised she’d taken this long to ask, but he’d make her spell it out.

“The tunnels. How far did you guys go?”

“Few hundred feet at most.” He couldn’t describe the feeling of being underground surrounded by the darkness of tossed away lives. “They stunk.”

“Did you see any of the camps?”

“Nah, they’re much farther in,” Nathan said. “The drains are a giant maze, and cops don’t know them very well.”

“Any idea who helped him? His dead buddy, maybe?” Kelsi asked.

“Couldn’t have been him. He had help from someone with inside knowledge of the bank.”

“What about the branch manager? Paper said she was taken to the hospital. How’s she handling it? Did anyone refer her to counseling?” Kelsi’s rapid questions probably lagged behind her even quicker mind.

“Yeah, me,” Nathan said. “I ran into her today at the station. She had a flashback and was really shaken up.”

“Poor thing,” Kelsi said. “What do you think he wanted with her? Did she know the guy? Any dangerous exes in her past?”

“Stop asking questions I can’t answer.”

Kelsi smirked, making the family resemblance even more pronounced. The Madigan siblings had fair complexions, blue eyes, and black hair—Irish traits inherited from their father. “In your opinion, then.”

He coughed as the hot coffee burned his throat. “In my opinion, she was clueless about his interest in her and has no idea who he might be. I don’t think she associates with too many people.”

“You should have been a detective, you know. You’d be damned good at it.” Kelsi stirred sugar into her second cup of tea.

“You’re biased.”

“I’m also right. You’ve always had a sense about people, Nathan.” His sister launched into the same speech she’d given him for years. “I know that’s what makes you such an excellent negotiator, but you’d make a great detective too.”

His mouth watered as a huge plate of pancakes was placed in front of him. He hadn’t eaten since scarfing down a protein bar sometime yesterday afternoon. “I like to be where the action is, Sis. Detectives have to do too much legwork.”

“Remember the guy at the police academy said to get some experience and then apply to the Bureau?” Kelsi didn’t take no for an answer very well. “I specifically remember him saying you have instincts that can’t be taught.”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean the FBI would agree,” Nathan said.

“I just think you should keep your options open. You’ve been in SWAT four years now, and you’ve spent a lot of that as a hostage negotiator. I’m sure the FBI—”

He held up his hand. His headache didn’t feel like encouraging her anymore. “Kels, I like my job, okay?”

“Whatever. We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’m sure you will.” He went back to his pancakes.

“Anything else you can tell me about this guy?”

“Not a lot to tell,” Nathan said. “I should have found a way to stop him.”

“Don’t be an idiot. He had to have spent months working out his escape. I’m sure he considered every scenario. You never had a chance to catch him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do we have to go through this again?” Kelsi clunked her glass down on the table. “You set unfair standards for yourself. If another negotiator were on the scene and didn’t figure out what was going on, would you be this hard on him? My God, Nathan. You went in as a hostage. Isn’t that enough?”

Nothing was ever enough. “I wasted too much time talking to Joe.”

“You’re not seriously blaming yourself for this.”

“Like I said, I should have figured him out. Isn’t that my job?”

“Even if you’d realized what he was up to sooner, you couldn’t have done things much differently. The team would have gone in the same way, and he would have still escaped.”

“Maybe. Guess we’ll never know.” Nathan snatched a French fry off her plate.

“This goes deeper than the ridiculous expectations you put on yourself. This is about Jimmy.” Kelsi dropped the name he’d been waiting to hear. “Every time you think you fail, that sense of failure goes back to him. You blame yourself. You force yourself to atone over and over again. Now you’re putting your life at risk”

“Don’t pull your shrink stuff on me today.” Nathan glared at his sister. “That’s not what it’s about. I just wish the bastard wasn’t still out there. That’s it.”

She matched his nasty look. “We’ll revisit the subject later when your head’s out of your ass.”

“Whatever.” He took a handful of her fries this time. “How’d things go after I left yesterday?”

“Annual mourning session, like always,” she said. “We stuffed ourselves with food and wine. We talked about Jimmy. Dad was quiet. Didn’t say a word when we visited the grave.”

“I saw the flowers.”

“You went?” She sounded surprised. Nathan didn’t know why. He went every year.

“This morning.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Sure it wasn’t.” Nathan watched the laughing tourists cackle over their gaudy souvenirs. “I was just the reason Jimmy was there in the first place.”

“You made a mistake.”

“And it got Jimmy killed. Please, can we talk about something else?”

A devious smile spread over her face. “Fine. How’s Ava?”

Nathan groaned. “Here we go.”

“You said to change the subject. Have you seen her lately?”

“No, and I’m not going to, either.”

Kelsi didn’t quit. “She still begging for a second chance?”

“Yeah, but it’s not happening,” Nathan said. “Catching her with another guy once was enough.”

Kelsi snatched the check from the server. “I’m paying. And good for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. That bitch was never good enough for you, Nathan. She was too concerned with the prestige of dating a cop instead of being with you. Good riddance.”

For all of his people skills, Nathan had lousy luck with the opposite sex. The ones who weren’t turned off by his job ran for the hills after they learned the truth about the long hours and the risks. Ava was one of the few who lasted more than three dates. But she’d cared more about his looks and status than about his safety or company.

“Again, you’re biased,” he told his sister. “I’ll never find anyone good enough by your standards.”

“Sure you will. You just have to stop letting your buddies set you up.” She smiled in the wicked way that usually ended up with trouble. “I know a girl who would be perfect for you.”

Nathan ignored her and rose to leave. “Gotta run, Kels. Have a meeting.”

“I bet.”

“No, I really do. We’ve got two raids scheduled this week. The boss wants to discuss the logistics of being a man short if I can’t go. Which, of course, I will.”

Kelsi wrapped her small arms around Nathan and squeezed hard. “Can I ask one more question about last night?”

“Go ahead. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Do you think this FBI agent is good enough to catch the partner, especially with Avery as her handicap?”

Another group of laughing tourists walked by. So easy for a man as nondescript as Creepy to disappear forever in a city like Las Vegas. “I don’t know. What this guy did—finding that tunnel and how it connected to the storm drains—tells me he’s way too invested to allow himself to be caught or to give up on Emilie. We haven’t seen the last of him.”

The idea struck Nathan with a fear he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to think about. Not yet.

*   *   *   *

E
MILIE TOSSED AND
turned in the queen-sized bed. She kicked off the blankets and then pulled them back on. The air conditioning blasted, her bedroom ice-cold. But every time she snuggled underneath the blankets, the smothering torment of darkness crept up on her. She couldn’t stand it.

She flicked on the bedside lamp and stared at the ceiling fan. Round and round it turned, the base rocking slightly. She needed to tighten the thing before the sound drove her mad.

Her mind would not shut off. Her Creep was out there somewhere. Was he planning his next move? Had he crawled out of the tunnels and slipped back into a normal life, or did he remain down below, hiding like a coward? And who had helped him? Was it someone she knew, a person she’d have to work with?

Nathan Madigan’s words came back to her. Was he right? Was Creepy so good no one could catch him?

Nathan didn’t actually say that. Emilie thought about the hostage negotiator’s kind smile. He was definitely the kind of cop that looked good in a uniform, but his sense of honor and compassion made him compelling.

Otis crept beside Emilie and flopped against her head. His purring motor rumbled in her ear.

That’s how he got me running off at the mouth about my parents.

Thankfully, she wouldn’t be seeing Nathan again. He posed too much of risk to her carefully walled-in secrets and made her want to talk about things she’d sealed away years ago.

Emilie closed her eyes. The fan continued its rhythmic turning, and she began to count the clicks as the base rattled. Her body relaxed.

A masked face hovered above her. Eyes, their depths black and soulless, gazed into hers.
Such a shame,
Creep murmured.
Far too often, the great historical places of this country are
tossed aside because of financial burden. Or because no one can see their potential. We know all
about burdens, don’t we, Miss Emilie?

Emilie sat straight up in bed, her skin soaked in sweat. Just as her mind finally slowed down, the memory had overtaken her.

She did know all about burdens. She’d spent most of her life as one. The feeling that the partner knew about her past returned. There were too many coincidences in his words, too many hints that he knew more about her than he let on.

And the Blake poem. How had he known
?

Bach’s “Prelude in C Major” filled the room. Wary of the early hour, Emilie picked up her cellphone.

Bile rose in her throat.

12

“H
ELLO?”

Emilie waited for the voice she hadn’t heard in sixteen years. Would her mother’s two-pack a day smoking habit finally have caught up with her?

“It’s Sam.”

Unexpected disappointment washed over her. Her mother hadn’t called. She’d had her husband do her dirty work.

“Emilie, you there?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat in an effort to dislodge the lump that had formed. “Sam. How are you?”

Her stepfather wasn’t a bad person. She had been eight when Claire remarried, and when he wasn’t working a seventy-hour week, Sam tried to keep the peace between mother and daughter. He’d even taken Emilie to the zoo once without Claire. Those three hours were the happiest Emilie had known since Mémé had died.

“Fine,” Sam answered. “I—we—read the papers. It’s awful what happened to you.”

“Claire did more than read.”

“I told her to keep quiet about all that. She’s got a mind of her own, though.”

More like Claire wore the pants, and Sam didn’t have the guts to put his foot down.

“Are there any leads?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you need protection? I could get a full-time security team out there today.”

Her mother would love that. She’d find a way to make the entire ordeal about herself. “Does Claire know you’re calling?”

Silence.

She wouldn’t allow the hurt to drag her down. Claire’s lack of concern was nothing new. “I guess not. Are you hiding in the closet?”

“She’s out.”