Into the Dark (3 page)

“She wanted to tell us something,” Nathan said. “Something worth risking Joe’s anger. Chris, what’s happening now?”

“Looks like the partner’s running his mouth. She’s rocking back and forth.”

“Goddamnit.” Nathan kicked the bumper of the SWAT truck. “What’s that bastard up to?”

* * * *

“Don’t let him get to you.” Creepy Guy patted her shoulder. “Although I don’t see why you needed to talk to that negotiator again.”

“Because I want out of here.” Emilie jerked away from the contact. “I’m tired of sitting in the dark, waiting for something to happen.”

“Josephine was always afraid of the dark.” Melancholy crept into his normally serene tone. “She said the dark held the powers of black magic, of witchcraft, and bad luck. Poor girl slept with a candle burning.”

Emilie risked another glance at him. Narrowed in either anger or grief, his eyes glistened with moisture. “She was wrong. All of those exist in the daylight as well. Poor Jo didn’t need to fear the dark. Her bad luck came on a hot, sunny afternoon.” His voice faltered.

“What happened to her?”

“That’s none of your business.” Her captor jumped as though jolted with electricity. “Josephine belongs to me and to me alone,” he snarled.

Emilie scooted as far away from the man as the small space would allow.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was contrite. “Forgive my rudeness. That was extremely ungentlemanly.”

Intimacy had crept back into his tone. Emilie cringed.

“Don’t be afraid, Miss Emilie,” Creepy Guy pleaded. “I would never hurt you.”

“You already have.”

He edged closer until his covered arm brushed her bare one. The material was soft and lightweight. Breathable. Expensive. Not cheap rags like Joe wore.

“Only because you’re scared. But I knew we were connected the first moment I saw you. Once you allow me to explain my actions, you will understand everything. You carry our connection with you every day.”

“We have no connection.”

“Oh but we do. I’ve watched you for so long, my dear Miss Emilie.” He spoke softly now, like a lover would. “So many times, I was close enough to reach out and touch you, to make you mine. But the time and place weren’t right. Waiting for you has been torture.”

* * * *

A uniform hurried to the SWAT truck, pulling a scrawny teenager with him. “Sergeant. You’ve got to hear this.”

Nathan looked at the boy: acne-marred face, greasy hair slicked back with sweat. His dirty clothes smelled musty. Street kid.

“What?” Johnson didn’t look up from the blueprints he studied.

“This kid delivered flowers to the bank this morning.”

“So?”

“They didn’t come from a florist. Some guy off the street asked him to take them in.”

“To who?” Nathan asked.

“Emilie Davis.”

“What kind of flowers?”

“Don’t know.” The kid shrugged. “Big white ones.”

“And he wanted them to go to Emilie Davis?” Nathan mopped the sweat off his forehead.

“Yep. Paid me a hundred bucks to make sure she got ’em.”

“Did you get his name?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“What’d he look like?” Johnson stuck the blueprints under his arm.

“A dude. Tall, kinda skinny. Sorta dark skin.”

“Could be anyone,” Johnson said.

“You’re telling the truth?” Nathan glared at the boy. The last thing they needed was some douche-bag kid wasting their time.

“Yeah, man. Dude kept going on about how important it was she had the flowers today. Today was special to them.”

“The partner sent those flowers.” Nathan’s suspicions were confirmed. “He’s here for Emilie, not the money.”

“You don’t know that for sure. This kid could be full of shit.”

“You really wanna take that risk? I’m telling you, boss, Joe’s just a patsy. The partner’s using him to get to Emilie. He’s going to let Joe take the fall. And I don’t think Joe has a clue.”

Johnson waved the kid and uniform off. “What’s your plan?”

Chapter Three

“What are you thinking about, Miss Emilie?” Creepy Guy cocked his head toward her. “You look sad. I don’t like that.”

Emilie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Did he really think she ought to be having a good time? She turned to glare at him, but the compassion in his eyes quelled her retort. She didn’t understand him at all.

“Your skin has the loveliest pink undertones, Miss Emilie. Its paleness matches your beautiful auburn hair and green eyes, but I see a gold tone as well. The soft white color of your blouse sets it off perfectly.”

A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. Her skin crawled with disgust.

“White means purity and innocence, of course. Most people who choose to wear it have no business doing so. Few in this world do, except children, for isn’t innocence the essence of childhood? As adults, do we not strive to protect that innocence by any means necessary?

“There is nothing so precious as a child, my dear. So many are tossed to the side like garbage, free to roam about the world unprotected from the evils of man and pure fate. There is no sin worse. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Miss Emilie?”

Emilie couldn’t take another second of his rambling.

“Joe,” she called, awkwardly jumping to her feet. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“No,” he snarled. “Sit back down.”

“Please. It’s just down the hall.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Joe leveled the gun at her. Emilie shrank back a step. “I’m waiting for the call that’s going to get me out of here. I can’t be worrying about taking you to the can.”

“I’ll take you.” Her hovering captor stood and took Emilie’s elbow in his gloved hand. His hand trembled against her bare arm. Nathan’s words came back to her. She couldn’t allow him to get her alone.

“I can wait.” Emilie yanked her arm away and sat back down.

Creepy Guy stiffened. His hands clenched into fists. Pure venom overtook the excitement in his eyes. Emilie held her ground and stared right back at him.

Finally his expression relaxed. He returned to his spot beside her. “I see you’re not quite ready, then. I understand. You will be soon enough.”

* * * *

“Madigan,” Joe snarled into the phone. “You better have something good to tell me.” Nathan heard the huff of his breath and the clunking of his boots as they hit the bank’s floor.

“I want to talk to your sidekick.”

“Why?”

“I just want to make sure he’s with us.”

“He’ll do what I say.”

“You sure you can trust this guy to not leave you hanging?”

Joe didn’t respond. Nathan gave him time to stew.

“Hey, jackass,” Joe yelled. “Why don’t you get away from that woman and back me up? This ain’t no social call.”

“We’re inside,” Chris murmured over the radio, “in a back hallway by the vault. Keep him talking.”

“I thought you were the boss, man,” Nathan said.

“Fuck you, Madigan.”

“Holt, you got eyes on the target?” Johnson’s voice echoed in Nathan’s ear.

“About ten feet ahead and to the left. He’s still got Davis separated from the others.”

There was a sudden female cry. Nathan’s body went rigid. One of the hostages had seen a member of the SWAT team.

“Go, go, go!”

“What the hell?” Joe slammed the phone down. Nathan focused his attention on the radio noise.

“Stand down,” Johnson ordered as Joe shouted obscenities. “Do not draw your weapons.”

Pop, pop, pop!
The clatter of gunshots, breaking glass, and the firecracker-like noise of assault rifles rang in Nathan’s ears.

“Suspect down.”

“In pursuit,” Chris shouted. “Partner heading down the east hallway with Emilie.”

Nathan snatched the bank’s blueprints from a nearby officer. The east hallway led to more offices—there was no sign of another exit. The only other option was the basement.

“He’s trapping himself, Chris. Nothing down there but more rooms. Watch your backs.”

A nervous feeling bubbled up in his stomach. They were missing something.

Nathan pressed the earpiece to his head, listening as Johnson and a rookie SWAT member raced after Chris while other SWAT members evacuated hostages.

Another gunshot. “Keep your heads down,” Chris yelled. “He’s just firing at random.” A woman’s scream came over the mic. Emilie? “Shit, he’s taking her down the basement stairs.”

The partner’s haphazard shots forced SWAT to halt at the top of the stairs and take cover.

“There’s no place for him to go,” Johnson insisted, breathing hard. “Hold your positions.”

“Can you see him at all?” Nathan hated being stuck outside.

“No,” Chris replied. “He’s too quick.”

A gut-wrenching sound screeched over the radio: the crack of a gun discharging and the dull thud of impact as the bullet connected with flesh.

“Officer down,” Johnson shouted.

“Adam,” Chris yelled. “Adam, talk to me.”

Adam Briggs had been a member of the team for only three months. Chris was his mentor, and the two had grown close.

Adam’s ragged breathing was loud in Nathan’s ears as the rookie struggled for air.

“Just my side,” Adam gasped. “Don’t worry about me. Get that bastard.”

“Holt, give me some light,” Johnson said.

“Entry point’s in his right armpit, just above the Kevlar. He’s bleeding pretty badly. “

“Goddamned lucky shot,” Johnson huffed. “Put pressure on it.”

Nathan found his voice. “Paramedics are coming in now. Chris, what’s going on with the partner and Emilie?”

“Shit. It’s quiet, Nate,” Chris said. “Too quiet.”

“You need to get down there.”

“Madigan, you know damned well I can’t send Holt down there,” Johnson cut in. “Perp’s got too much of an advantage. We’ve got to wait for backup.”

Nathan listened as the paramedics arrived and Johnson ordered the rest of the team to reassemble in the hallway. “This sneaky bastard has no way out. But he does have the advantage, and we’re not taking any more risks. We’ll set up here and cover the stairs. If we have to wait him out all night, then fine. He’ll crack.”

“What about Emilie?” Nathan gripped the barricade so hard that pain shot through his hand.

“We need you in here to establish contact with this guy. Try to negotiate her release. Come in armed—”

“Did you hear that?” Chris interrupted. “I could have sworn I heard her calling for help. Ms. Davis? This is SWAT officer Chris Holt. Can you hear me?”

Nathan’s anxiety grew as the team waited for a response.

“Ms. Davis?” Chris repeated.

Her voice was barely audible over Nathan’s earpiece. “Gone.”

“Say again, Ms. Davis?” Chris asked.

“He’s gone. He just let me go and…disappeared.”

“He can’t be gone,” Johnson said. “Maybe she’s an accomplice.”

“No way she’s in on this.” Nathan had no doubt of Emilie’s innocence. “She was too scared.”

“She’s probably just confused,” Chris said. “Emilie?”

“I need help.”

“We’re coming, I promise. I need you to help us first. Our guy has to be down there. He’s got nowhere to go but up—straight into us. Is he injured? Can you see him?”

“No. I’m telling you, he’s gone. It’s dark down here, but he’s gone.”

“She’s not thinking clearly. He’s using her to lead us into an ambush,” Johnson said. “She needs to turn on the light and draw him out.”

“Emilie, can you get to the light switch so we can come down and help you?” Chris’s voice was muffled. Nathan strained to hear.

A startled cry came from the basement.

“Emilie, what do you see?” Chris said.

“An old door,” Emilie shouted.

“Where does it lead?”

“I…I don’t know. It’s closed, but he must have gone in there.” She sounded frantic. “The bank was built on top of the foundation of one of the city’s original buildings, but I’ve never seen this door.”

“Emilie, back away from it,” Chris said. “We’re coming down.”

* * * *

Emilie collapsed against the wall. The track lighting flickered, threatening to plunge the room back into darkness. Her stomach twisted violently at the thought.

She recoiled as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Two men dressed in black fatigues and brandishing assault rifles slowly entered the room.

“I’m Chris.” The taller one raised the shield on his helmet, revealing an average face and deep-set, brown eyes. Chris nodded to the stocky man standing behind him, still in full uniform. “This is Sergeant Johnson. The paramedics are coming. They’re going to take care of you. You’re safe now.”

Emilie pointed to the west wall. A tremor shot through her arm. “There. I didn’t know.”

“Let us worry about the door,” Chris said. “Get yourself checked out.”

“I want to know what’s behind that door.” Emilie waved the paramedic off. “Where did the partner go?”

“Stand back.” The one in charge hoisted his rifle onto his back and carefully approached the door. He ran his hands over the faded wood. Chris hovered behind him, his rifle poised to shoot.

Emilie’s heart stuttered as Johnson’s gloved hand closed around the rusted metal handle and yanked hard. Nothing happened.

“Son-of-a-bitch wedged it shut,” he said. “Get the ram down here. And where’s Madigan?”

* * * *

The lobby was a mess: paper strewn everywhere, desks and chairs knocked over, bullet holes scattered across the gray walls. Paramedics lifted Joe’s lifeless body into a black bag, and Nathan felt the same hollowed sense of loss he always did when a mission took a fatal turn. Despite his criminal acts, Joe belonged to someone. Now that someone’s life may be in shambles.

Nathan made his way down the back hallway stepping carefully around the pool of Adam’s blood. A ninety-degree turn at the bottom of the stairs revealed the alcove the partner had used as a shield.