Into the Dark (37 page)

Emilie swallowed. Her skin turned hot. She’d made a huge mistake.

“I don’t care to hear his sad story. He’s of no interest to me.”

“I just meant your situations are similar. Terrible losses that changed you both.”

“Do not compare me to him,” the Taker shouted. He leaped from the chair. “You lied to me.”

She stepped backward. The Taker’s face had morphed into that of an angry monster. His dark eyes shined with fury. Air rushed between his bared teeth as his chest heaved. His fists were clenched, his neck muscles rigid.

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie. It’s most unbecoming of a lady.”

“Julian, I didn’t.”

“Nathan Madigan is more than a friend.” Spittle flew out of his mouth. “Your eyes told the truth when you spoke of his pain. You care for him.”

“Only as a friend,” she cried. “I swear.”

“On what? Your dead mother’s grave? As if that woman’s spirit could save you.”

Emilie tripped and banged against a shelf. The wood dug into her back, the objects on the shelves rattled. Three feet away, the sliding glass door could be easily unlocked. She held her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up. Your loss is nothing like his. Josephine—”

“Do not speak her name,” the Taker’s voice boomed. “You are not worthy of her.”

“Please, don’t say that. I want to help,” Emilie begged. A small statue sat on an end table next to the sofa. Two steps forward and Emilie could reach it.

She changed her course and inched toward the table. “You can’t replace her, Julian. No matter what you do, no other woman is going to live up to Josephine.”

“That’s not true. I can teach you.” He stopped his advance. “With some training, you will be a suitable stand-in.”

“I don’t want to be a stand-in. I want to live my own life. What would Josephine say if she saw what you’re doing to me? What you did to that woman in Louisiana?”

“She was unteachable. I still have hope for you.”

“Josephine’s gone.” Emilie had almost reached the table. “You can’t bring her back. You’re only ruining lives, and you’ll never be satisfied. No matter what you do, I’ll never live up to her.”

“Don’t say that.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I need her.”

“She’s dead.” Her hip made contact with the table. She took a step back. If she moved fast enough, she had a chance. “She’s dead, and she’s never coming back.”

The Taker covered his ears. “Stop saying that.” His voice broke. “She’s still here with me. This is what she wants.”

“She wants to rest in peace. You’re not honoring her memory. You’re destroying it.”

“Stop it,” he shouted. “You don’t know her. Only I know her heart.” He clenched his eyes shut.

Emilie seized her chance. She stepped forward and grabbed the statue. She swung as hard as she could, the iron landing against the Taker’s jaw with a sickening crack.

He screamed and dropped to his knees. Emilie ran for the door and slammed the lock up. The Taker howled behind her. Without looking back, Emilie yanked open the sliding glass door and stumbled into the night.

She raced across the small patio. Her foot caught the leg of an outdoor table, and she pitched forward.

“Shit.” The flesh on her knees tore and pain shot up her arms as she caught her fall.

She looked back. The Taker gripped the small end table and was getting to his feet.

Emilie pushed herself up. Blood seeped from her right knee. She plunged forward into the night. She didn’t know where to run. All she could see was desert: no houses, no headlights.

There has to be a road nearby. A driveway, find the driveway.

She had to get to the front of the house.

A moan came from behind her. The Taker leaned against the door, clutching his jaw.

Their eyes locked. Emilie saw a fury she’d never experienced.

She ran like hell.

* * * *

Nathan sat in silence as Ronson whipped through the traffic on Interstate 15. She stared at the road ahead. Avery tapped his fingers against the dash. Nathan wanted to snap them off.

SWAT had raced ahead to set up a perimeter around the property. Nathan clutched the radio, desperate for any reports.

The sprawling city gave way to desert. Bright stars hung low over the dark landscape. Nathan leaned against the window and attempted to count the stars. Jimmy used to love sitting in the backyard and counting. He once claimed to have gotten up to a thousand before falling asleep.

“Entering the town of Jean,” Ronson said. “Batier lives in the boonies five miles east.”

The Taker had plenty of room to hide Emilie, dead or alive.

* * * *

Emilie dodged cacti and Joshua trees as she ran through the landscaped yard. The sky seemed lower in the desert, the stars within reach. They acted as her guide through the fog of fear. A wooden fence loomed ahead and then, open desert.

“Emilie.” The strangled shout sounded close. “You’ll never get away. If I don’t find you, the coyotes will.”

She’d take her chances with the dogs.

In a final burst, she reached the fence. Her lungs screamed for air. Her legs burned for rest. She couldn’t stop. Her tied hands found the top rail and she began to climb.

Footsteps thundered and the Taker’s ragged breaths rattled behind her. Her skin crawled, but she heaved her body upward. Her left leg swung over the fence. She was halfway there.

“I won’t let you go.” The Taker’s hand closed around her right ankle. “Josephine, stay with me,” he cried.

She kicked backward with all her might. Blood rushed to her head as her top half dangled over the fence. Her hands clawed at the ground.

The Taker clutched her ankle. His other hand snatched the waistband of her shorts.

Dizziness washed over Emilie. She refused to stop fighting. She grabbed at the grass in an effort to gain leverage. Her hand closed over something hard and smooth. A rock.

“You’re not leaving me.”

She screamed as the Taker heaved her back over the fence. The rough wood scraped her stomach. He threw her on the ground. Another scream left Emilie as her ribs banged against the hardened soil.

“You aren’t good enough to replace her,” the Taker shouted.

He stood over Emilie, his lips twisted and moisture leaking from his mouth. “You’re just like Marie. Both of you imposters, tricking me into believing in you and then destroying me.” He beat his fist against his chest. “I won’t let you do it. Not again.”

The Taker dove for her. Her body shouted in protest as she turned in flight. The Taker stumbled and then jerked her back, twisting her so quickly Emilie heard the crack of her ribs.

Her shriek of agony echoed through the desert night.

“I’ll put you where no one will find you.” The Taker grasped her shirt and pulled her face near his. He looked like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. “You should have just loved me. That’s all you needed to do.”

“I’d rather die.” Emilie summoned all her strength and slammed the rock into his head.

The Taker’s eyes rolled back. He fell to the side with a groan. Emilie scrambled to get up, but the sharp pain in her ribs refused to allow her to move with any speed. She dug her elbows into the ground and crawled back to the fence. Tiny pebbles and dirt tore into her already bloody knee.

She gripped the wooden rail and paused. She struggled for air against the damaged ribs. Her head grew fuzzy.

Something moved in the dirt behind her. Emilie glanced over her shoulder. An enraged face and a silver blade rushed toward her: the Swiss Army Knife.

Mémé’s
face flashed in her thoughts. They’d be together again soon. But Nathan would be left behind. More guilt for him to carry, another love to mourn.

Firecrackers exploded in the air. Emilie waited for the sky to burst into brilliant colors. Instead the Taker’s eyes widened and his body grew slack. He fell forward, blade still in his hand.

Emilie wrenched back to her stomach. She tasted dirt as she pressed her face against her bound wrists. A sharp sting ripped through her shoulder, followed by a grind-like noise that reminded her of the dentist. Heavy weight landed on her. Pinned to the ground, she couldn’t move or breathe. Blood dripped down her arm and pooled in the dirt. The Taker had succeeded.

Her shoulder throbbed. Desert sand invaded her eyes.

Shouts came from all around, voices she didn’t recognize. And then the heavy mass disappeared.

“Emilie,” a gruff voice next to her said. “Don’t move. The paramedics are on the way.”

Manicured hands and brown eyes appeared—a familiar face.

“Agent Ronson?”

“It’s me. It’s over.”

Emilie closed her eyes as peace swept over her broken body. Freedom. If the only way to achieve it was death, then so be it.

More rapid footsteps came at a frantic cadence. “Is she all right?”

Nathan.

Emilie tried to call his name. Her body hurt too much. Ronson’s face disappeared, and then Nathan was there. His skin was ashen and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. His unsteady hand reached out to brush her cheek.

“You’re okay. You’re safe.”

She wiggled her fingers. White-hot pain seared through her shoulder. Nathan understood and wove his fingers through hers.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Cold crept up her body. The knife’s blade jabbed her bone. She couldn’t waste the time she had left.

She licked her dry lips and forced them to move. Her voice was no more than a murmur.

Nathan leaned close and rested his forehead against her. “I love you, too.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Her thick hair spilled over the pillow as she slept. Her skin still looked too pale. The bruise on her left cheek had lost some of its angry purple hue and yellow had taken its place. Emilie’s white nightshirt did nothing to cover the scrapes on her arms and knees. Wedged under her right side, a second pillow took pressure off her cracked ribs.

Nathan crept toward her bed. After four sleepless nights in the hospital, Emilie had passed out when they arrived at her apartment that morning. She needed her pain pills, but Nathan hated to disturb her. She looked like a slumbering angel after a battle with the devil.

The orange fluff ball curled against her other side yawned and stretched, then cracked open an eye.

“Otis.” Nathan scratched the cat between his ears. “You missed her, didn’t you?”

The cat hadn’t left Emilie’s side since Nathan brought the two of them home. Her scraped hand rested on his fur, a contented smile on her lips.

Nathan brushed his fingers across her cheek. She stirred and sighed.

“Wake up,” Nathan whispered. “You have meds to take.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Then you can go back to sleep.”

Emilie shifted, her eyes still closed. Otis rolled to his feet and arched his back. He took two steps forward and then stretched his back legs out in the odd contortion only cats can do.

He tapped Emilie’s face with a chubby paw.

“No, Otis.”

Another impatient tap, followed by a nose to the face.

“Not the wet nose. Little shit.”

Nathan ruffled the cat’s fur. “I guess I know how to wake you up now.”

Emilie opened her eyes and smiled. “I’d probably have a different reaction if you nuzzled me like that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She sat up with a groan, her face set in a pained grimace.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Hurts.”

The knife had missed major arteries but sliced through muscle. Emilie had huffed about physical therapy, but she had no choice.

“I don’t mind,” she continued. “Reminds me I’m alive.”

Nathan ran his hand over her exposed leg. Her knees were rough, patches of tattered skin still red on her calves. The terrible moment when he’d arrived with Ronson and Avery had stopped his heart. Emilie’s tortured screams were forever ingrained in his memory. The shots had come, then the shouts for paramedics.

SWAT’s shots had sent the Taker on a forward momentum, and his raised hand had almost carried out his final wish. Emilie lay trapped beneath him, her blood tangled with his, the knife still in her shoulder.

Emilie touched Nathan’s cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” He kissed her fingertips. He tried to contain his emotions as he’d done the last few days, but his strength waned. “When I saw that knife, I thought I’d lost you, just like Jimmy. I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Come here.” She brought his face to hers and pressed her warm lips to his mouth. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

Otis wedged his way between them and mewed.

She stroked his fur. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be my number one boy.”

Nathan handed her a glass of water and her pain pills. “Thanks a lot.”

“You know I love you.”

Emilie swallowed the pills and then looked out her window. Afternoon sunlight streamed in beneath the drawn curtains. “How’s Jeremy?”

“Getting better,” Nathan said. “Doctors think he’ll make a slow recovery. He’s a lucky guy.”

Stupidity had saved Jeremy. He hadn’t taken enough sleeping pills. He’d have to pay for conspiring with the Taker and would likely face a lifetime of health concerns thanks to the damage from the sleeping pills.

Nathan couldn’t think of a more appropriate punishment. He didn’t have Emilie’s forgiving heart. Jeremy could have manned up at the beginning and prevented the death and destruction the Taker had created.

“I want to see him soon.”

“I’m sure you do.” Nathan lay down next to her, his hand on her arm. He couldn’t touch her enough. The feel of her skin assured him she was alive and would be well soon.

“What about Julian?” Emilie asked. Her empathy for the Taker amazed Nathan. Yes, the man had an awful childhood experience, but so had thousands of other kids. They didn’t turn out to be psychopaths.

“He’ll be buried in a family plot in Cloutierville,” Nathan said. “Josephine’s buried there, too.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “He’ll finally be reunited with her.”

“As long as you’re with me,” Nathan kissed her again. “That’s all I care about.”

Her mouth opened and her hand clenched around his shirt as she pulled him closer. Nathan slipped his leg between hers and trailed his fingers up her arms. Emilie shivered and tossed her leg over his hip.