Into the Dark (23 page)

He’d known Claire Chambers was a vile woman long before he first laid eyes on her. But to hear the words she’d shouted at his poor sweet Emilie infuriated him. Hidden in the alley, he’d barely been able to keep his anger in check.

Julian had risen from his crouch, ready to whisk her away to their secret hideout. She would escape the torture of this life and be at peace with the new reality he’d created for her. But the opportunity had never presented itself.

And then she drank her sorrows away. That was not his Emilie. In all the months he’d observed her, not once did he see her in such an establishment. She never purchased alcohol at the store, either.

His fury at Claire morphed into anxiety as Nathan Madigan appeared and entered the bar in a hurry. Had she called for him? What could he possibly have to offer her?

Julian waited for Emilie to exit. Would she and the negotiator be locked in a heated embrace? Was she dating Madigan behind his back?

His answer came soon enough. Madigan emerged, supporting a very inebriated Emilie. She drunkenly clung to him, but Madigan’s stance was gentlemanly. He handled her with care, easing her into the passenger seat of his car and fastening the seatbelt.

Emilie paid him no mind, leaning her head against the glass. Perhaps she hadn’t made a bad decision after all.

But how long would Madigan stay at her home? Going near Big Horn Condos was out of the question. He resolved to trust Emilie and left for home, praying her innocence was still intact.

A chiming brought him back to the present. After more than a hundred years, the English grandfather clock still told perfect time. Julian rose from his chair and poured himself a midnight brandy. He looked again at the text message he had received several hours ago.

Claire Davis had attempted to buy her daughter’s silence. The entire bank staff had witnessed the altercation and Emilie’s subsequent breakdown. She was unstable and relying on the wrong sort of man to steady her.

Something had to be done.

Chapter Twenty-Five

A ten-pound weight had taken up residence inside Emilie’s head. Strange voices and annoyingly cheery music rang in her ears. She forced her sticky eyelids open to find herself watching a commercial for dog food. She’d slept with her mouth open, and slimy drool plastered her right cheek to the couch. At least her impromptu nap had lasted long enough for the room to stop spinning.

She smacked her lips together. Her tongue tasted like she’d spent the last hour licking a dirty sock. Emilie rolled off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. She stuck her mouth under the faucet and slurped as much of the liquid as she could.

Otis sat on the toilet seat, his eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“Clearly I can’t handle my liquor.”

She had passed out seconds after Nathan deposited her in his car. He’d practically carried her to her condo, and then insisted she eat something. Emilie grumbled in protest, but sat obediently at the counter as Nathan sat a bag of food in front of her.

“When did you get Subway?” she asked in confusion.

“While you were passed out. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so it’s just turkey and cheese. Do you want me to put anything else on it?”

Emilie shook her head. “It’s all good.”

Nathan had offered to stay, but Emilie didn’t trust herself. The alcohol was still strumming her libido. She wasn’t going to put him in another compromising position.

“Lock this door behind me,” he said. “I’m standing on the other side until I hear it click.”

Emboldened by the rum, Emilie wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted to be close to him one last time.

Nathan returned the embrace. She could feel the hammering of his heart against her ear.

“Call me tomorrow. I can take you to work if you want.”

“Don’t you have a shift?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“I’ll call you. But I’d better take myself to work.”

“Please let me know you’re there safely.”

“Yes, Officer Madigan. Wait, is that your title?”

“Close enough.” He still held her. “You’re going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Nathan gazed down at her and ran his tongue over his lips. He wanted to kiss her. She didn’t think she had the strength to stop him.

A loud beeping shattered the intense moment.

“Shit.” Nathan yanked a pager from his pocket. “I have to go. SWAT just got called to help bring in a fugitive.”

A wave of sobriety washed over her. “Is it the Taker?”

“No. A dealer Narcotics has been after for months. They’ve got him cornered.”

“Will you be negotiating with him?”

“No hostages. I’ll be going in, probably with Chris and Sarge. That’s usually how we run it.”

“Your job is dangerous,” she said, realizing that fact for the first time. “You could be killed.”

“We know what we’re doing.”

“Shit happens.”

“It won’t.” The pager sounded again. “Call me tomorrow. And lock this door.”

“Please, be careful.”

“Always.”

Now mostly awake and sober, Emilie sank down to the bathroom floor and ran her fingers over the chocolate brown rug. Nathan was a good man, the sort of person she’d always wanted but never thought she’d have a chance to be with.

He was also a cop. Until tonight, she’d only thought of him as the hot negotiator standing safely outside the danger zone. Nathan had promised he would never hurt her, but his job put him at high risk. His life could be taken at any time.

Then again, so could her own.

Otis hopped down from the toilet and stood on his hind legs to sniff her face. He blinked, trying to figure out why she was lounging on the bathroom floor.

Why had she gotten drunk?

Claire’s horrible words came back to. Her real father wasn’t Mark Chambers but some random stranger.

Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe Claire
had
been lying in one last attempt to shatter her daughter. The father’s name on the birth certificate was marked ‘unknown.’ Claire could have simply taken an extra step to cover her tracks.

Asking Mark Chambers for a DNA test was the only way to know for sure. Whatever anger she’d felt at Mark had dissipated the moment she’d gazed at her birth certificate. He was a victim of her mother’s selfishness too. He deserved the truth.

Emilie resolved to call a private investigator tomorrow. He would find Mark, and together they would discover the truth, once and for all.

“And God help Claire if she lied to me again.” She climbed into bed. “Or that nosy reporter will find herself with one hell of an exclusive.”

* * * *

Nathan dumped his Kevlar vest into the SWAT truck and took a long pull from a water bottle. Locals hung out on the fire escapes and sidewalks as the suspect was loaded into a waiting squad car. Nathan kept silent as the rest of the team celebrated the bust. His mind was on Emilie.

“What’s going on with you?” Chris asked as he unloaded his assault rifle.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Either you got man PMS or something’s up. Talk.”

“I can’t here. Too many sensitive ears. Let’s go to Ike’s after shift’s over.”

“I only need one guess to know what—or should I say who—you’re referring to.”

“The correct phrasing would be ‘to whom.’”

“Shut up, nerd.”

Ike’s was an all-night diner just a few blocks from the station. Cops usually filled the seats, but between the shift change and the early hour, the place was mostly empty. A few early birds—or late-nighters—sat at the counter. Nathan and Chris settled into a back booth.

“So Emilie Davis has your panties in a twist?” Chris dumped a load of creamer into his coffee.

“Yeah.”

“Not smart.”

“I know.”

Chris sighed with pleasure as the server placed a large plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. “She must be one hell of a woman to pull your head out of the sand.”

“She is.” Nathan slathered mustard onto his bacon cheeseburger. “She’s smart and funny. She’s been through a lot, and she’s tough.”

“I’ve never heard you talk about a girl like that. The closest thing was that bitch Ava, and you settled for her.”

“Emilie’s different.”

“You’re walking a fine line.” Chris dumped ketchup onto his eggs. “She’s an open case.”

“We haven’t done anything inappropriate.”

“Yet.”

“I can keep myself in check.”

“Right. No one’s perfect, dude, not even you. Hormones get the best of us all sometimes.”

Nathan didn’t want to admit how right his friend was. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay away from her. Hell, I can’t even stop thinking about her.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Why?”

“I’m sure she’s great, but she’s also damaged goods. Whatever her story is, she’s got a ton of baggage.”

“I know what it is,” Nathan said. “Her mother was awful, and so was her ex. The fact that she’s a functioning member of society is a testament to her strength.”

“I trust your judgment about anyone’s character, you know that. But I can’t let you fuck up your career over a woman.”

“I’m being careful.”

“You’re going to slip. It’s inevitable.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“There’s only one option.” Chris polished off his eggs and started on the bacon.

“I’m not abandoning her.”

“Did I say that?”

“Then what?”

“Snake turned up in the system yet?”

“Nothing,” Nathan said.

“So he’s either dead or in the drains somewhere.”

“What’s your point?”

“For a genius, you’re as dumb as a rock sometimes,” Chris said. “If we can find Snake, we have a shot at the Taker.”

“Ronson’s on it.”

“She going back into the tunnels? Because that’s where he’ll be.”

“Not yet. She wants to canvass the jails and streets.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. Nathan finally realized what he was getting at.

“You want to search the tunnels for Snake.”

“Think of it as a field trip.” Chris grinned. “Even if we don’t find him, we’ll see all sorts of new and exciting things.”

“I’ve seen enough of the tunnels to last a lifetime.”

“Snake’s your best chance. And since the Taker planned to hide Emilie in the tunnels, getting to know them might not be a bad idea.”

A chill settled over Nathan at his friend’s implication. “All right. We’ll go back in.”

* * * *

Leaving her car had been so stupid. Emilie’s late afternoon pity-party yesterday had landed her in a cab that reeked of sun-dried leather and stale vomit. The vehicle’s shocks were non-existent, and her cabbie managed to hit every pothole, sending the tremors straight to her pounding head.

“You want off in front of the bank?”

“In the parking lot, please. I need to check on my car—the white Impala.”

He swung sharply into the lot and bounced hard off a speed bump. “That it?”

“Yeah.” Emilie dug into her wallet.

“Looks like you got a ticket.”

Her hand paused in midair. She had a parking pass. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” He looped around the lot and beat a path to the street.

Dread flashed through her as she approached the car. Stuck underneath her driver’s side windshield wiper, a piece of ordinary notebook paper fluttered in the gentle breeze. Her futile hope for a solicitor’s flyer was dashed by the neat handwriting peeking out from the folded paper.

Claire must have come back. What other gems had she left for Emilie?

Emilie snatched the letter and began to read.

Your pain is my pain. To watch your misery and not be able to intervene was torturous. Dearest Miss Emilie, you are a delicate flower that must be lovingly nurtured, tended to each day with kindness and adoration. Your mother never saw your immense worth. But I do, my sweet. Every day. Do not fret. Everything will be as it should very soon.

“Oh, my God.” Emilie leaned against the car ignoring the hot sting of metal that had been cooking in the sun. He’d been right there
when she’d argued with Claire. Had the Taker been close enough to touch?

“I’ll never escape him.” The taste of salty tears landed on her upper lip.

This would be the rest of her life until he chose to end it. Emilie was nothing but a pawn in his sick game.

She caught sight of herself in the driver’s window: a pale, thin face with dark circles underneath wide, frightened eyes. Cheeks soaked with tears and lips trembling in defeat.

Why didn’t the Taker just get it over with? He could snatch her now if he wanted to. She was alone in the parking lot. But no, he would rather toy with her, manipulating her until he’d grown bored.

She couldn’t live like this anymore. Nathan was foolish to think there was any chance of catching the Taker, and Emilie was stupid to believe she and Nathan had any real shot at a future. That would be snatched away before they had a chance to begin.

Emilie glared at her reflection. Her face scrunched as a fresh onslaught of tears started.
You weak bitch.
She smacked her hands against the window.
Standing out here crying like a goddamned, simpering damsel in distress. You’re just going to curl up in a ball and let the Taker win, just like you did with Evan. Nothing has changed.

Not this time, little coward.
She stepped back and mopped off her face.
You’re going to stand up for yourself instead of letting the bad guy walk all over you. You’re not giving up. Not this time.

A loud thump behind Emilie quelled her outburst. Fear gripped her as she realized she wasn’t alone. Then, the anger returned. “Is that you hiding again, you bastard? Don’t you have the balls to talk to me like a normal human being?”

She moved toward the direction of the noise and reached for her cellphone. She scrolled to Agent Ronson’s number.

Another thump, this one louder. Emilie was certain it had come from the other side of the Mazda parked three cars away from her own.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are. Let’s end this today.”

The thumping increased, the frantic sound of something hitting metal. She paused at the Mazda. The noise was definitely coming from the rear driver’s side, near the dumpster.