by Green, Stacy
“This is for Emilie,” Julian whispered as he sunk the knife into her stomach. “My ultimate gift to her before I bring us together for eternity.”
Claire had slowly blinked and then moaned in understanding.
“Yes, I am her Taker. And now you will pay the ultimate price.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Give me twenty minutes, and we’ll bust out of here early.” Jeremy dug through the teetering mound of papers on his desk.
“Don’t worry about me.” Emilie rubbed her pounding temples. She was too tired to care. She’d hardly slept, and when she did her dreams were of dark passages full of crying children. They pleaded for help while an unknown woman screamed in the distance. Emilie had woken in terror just before dawn. She had been the one screaming and begging for her life.
“You never said anything about the tunnels.”
“What did you want me to say?”
“How bad were they?”
She thought about the tattered baby doll. “Worse than I could have imagined.”
“Good thing you didn’t get a hair up your ass and go in alone then.”
“I don’t know what I would have done if Nathan hadn’t been there.”
Jeremy scrawled a comment on the report she’d just given him. “He’s good for you.”
“He is.”
Her phone vibrated. “Agent Ronson. Have you been able to release Claire’s body?”
“No. But I’ve got some information from the Louisiana field office. Can you come downtown?”
“I’m on my way.”
She hung up the phone. “I have to go to the police station.”
Jeremy closed the report. “I’ll take you.”
“You don’t—”
“Save your breath. Let’s go.”
Lisa stood at the teller’s counter talking with Mollie and Miranda. She glared as Emilie walked past. “Where are you both going? It’s only three.”
“Emilie has to go to the police station,” Jeremy said. “I’m taking her.”
“Sorry about your mother.” Lisa’s eyes were empty. “Such a tragedy.”
“Thank you.”
“The paper said police had proof the Taker did it. Is that true?”
The note had been withheld from the press. “Yes.”
“What’s the proof?”
“Emilie can’t discuss that, Lisa.”
“Of course.” A snide smile crossed her narrow face. “Well, at least you’ve got a sexy cop willing to protect you.”
“Excuse me?”
“The black-haired hottie from the other day. The one who slugged that pencil-necked detective. He sure seemed into you.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Hey, I think it’s awesome. About time you had a man back in your life. Although,” she looked down at her manicured nails, “isn’t that against cop rules? Dating a victim?”
Emilie squeezed her phone to keep from smacking Lisa. Was she fishing for information or just trying to screw up her life?
“That will be enough,” Jeremy said. “We’ve got to get to the station. Call me if you need anything.”
“She’s the Taker’s informant,” Emilie spat as soon as they were outside.
“Who? Lisa?”
“Yes. It’s obvious, Jeremy.”
“I don’t know.”
“You just don’t want to see the bad in anyone. I don’t have that problem. That bitch is a snake, and I’m making sure Ronson knows it today.”
* * * *
“Just lay it on me.”
Detective Avery and Agent Ronson sat across from Emilie at the small table in the conference room while Jeremy fidgeted on her right. “I know it’s going to be bad, so just get to it.”
“In 2004 a woman matching your description disappeared from New Orleans,” Agent Ronson said. “She’d filed a stalking complaint a month prior. Cops didn’t have much to go on.”
Cold sweat broke out across Emilie’s forehead. “What happened to her?”
“They found her body in a shallow grave in the Cane River Valley area weeks after her disappearance. Animals had dug it up.”
“Cane River. That’s thick Creole area and very historical. Old South.”
“He’s from that area,” Ronson said. “He took the victim back to the place he knew best.”
“Why’d he leave Louisiana?” Emilie asked.
“To keep the heat off him.” Detective Avery opened a manila folder. “Vic’s name was Marie Adrieux. Twenty-five, a French Creole from New Orleans. She was a grad student at Loyola and was putting herself through school waiting tables at a popular French Quarter restaurant. In 2004, she reported a stalking incident to the New Orleans PD.”
“What was the incident?”
“A man she once waited on showed up on her doorstep asking for a date. She declined and after that noticed him following her.”
“Did she give police a description?”
Ronson slid a composite sketch across the table. Emilie gasped. He was clean-shaven, but she recognized the eyes. They were the only distinguishing features. “He looks average.”
“Exactly,” Avery said. “Girl could only remember his eyes in detail.”
“What about his name?” Jeremy asked.
“Lawrence Dupart,” Ronson said. “An alias.”
“Two days before her disappearance she received flowers.”
“Casablanca lilies,” Emilie guessed.
“White jasmine,” Avery said. “Grows in abundance in the South. Adrieux called the police. They told her they’d check into it. Then she disappeared.”
“Where was she taken from?”
“Outside her apartment complex around eleven at night,” Ronson said. “She was just getting home from work.”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
Agent Ronson slid a photograph across the table. An attractive woman smiled back at Emilie. Her skin was light enough to easily see the freckles scattered across her nose. Her hair was a darker red than Emilie’s.
“I don’t see the resemblance.” Jeremy peered over her shoulder. “Same face shape, but Emilie’s hair is lighter. And she’s fair skinned.”
“It’s in the eyes,” Emilie whispered. Framed with thick lashes, Marie’s eyes were almond-shaped and green, just like her own. “Look into mine, and then into hers.”
“I agree,” Ronson said. “The Taker obviously saw the similarity between you two and latched on. Your necklace just fed into his delusion.”
“So you think he’s trying to replace this girl with Emilie?” Jeremy asked.
“Looks like it. He probably took her thinking he could get her to reciprocate his feelings and then when she didn’t, lost it,” Ronson said. “Based on the time between her disappearance and estimated time of death, the coroner believes she lived for at least three weeks after she was kidnapped.”
“He fled Louisiana and started a new life,” Avery said. “He either didn’t act on his compulsion or couldn’t find the right woman. Then he saw you.”
Emilie looked into the woman’s smiling face. She had been so young, her entire life ahead of her. “There’s more to it.”
“What do you mean?” Ronson asked.
“Josephine is the key.”
“Why?” Avery closed the file.
“I’m sure she was a child. Something happened to her. I don’t know how, but this all goes back to her. I feel it in my gut.”
“We went back ten years and couldn’t find any record of children with that name going missing or dying.”
Emilie looked at the sketch of the Taker. “Go back further. He’s at least my age, if not older.”
“She could have been a sister,” Ronson said.
“It’s a long shot,” Avery countered.
“One that’s worth taking. We need all the information we can get.”
“Where exactly was Marie Adrieux found?” Jeremy still stared at Adrieux’s picture.
“In a low-lying field in the Cane River Valley area. A hundred feet or so from the river. Smack in the middle of plantation alley,” Ronson said.
“Plantation alley?”
“The Cane River Valley is a historical area heralded for its plantations,” Emilie said. “Many of them are restored and are big tourist attractions.”
“They never found his hideout.” Avery put the picture of Adrieux back into the folder. “From the looks of her, she was kept somewhere very primitive, most likely underground. He definitely put a lot of time into planning her abduction.”
“How’d she die?”
“You don’t need the details.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Strangled. There’s evidence he revived her more than once.”
“So he wasn’t sure he really wanted to kill her?”
“He was torturing her,” Ronson said. “We’ve seen it before, especially in serial homicides.”
“Because she didn’t want him.” She wondered what Marie’s last days were like. Had she known her ultimate fate? Had she done anything to save herself? Maybe she had complied but the Taker was too smart to be fooled.
“She wasn’t sexually assaulted,” Avery said.
“Why?” Jeremy asked. “Isn’t that what he wanted her for?”
“He’s not sexually motivated,” Ronson answered. “He’s trying to replace something he lost, and he wants the affection in return. Physically forcing himself on her would have given him no gratification.”
“Then what would have?” Emilie couldn’t understand how the Taker’s motivations weren’t sexual. He’d had a hard-on when he dragged her into the basement.
“Compliance. Attention. Interest,” Ronson said. “He wanted her to love him.”
“But wouldn’t that lead to him wanting sex? If he thought she felt the same?”
“Possibly.” Ronson looked directly at Emilie. “But making him believe the feeling is truly mutual would have been Marie’s only chance at survival.”
“How was she supposed to know that?” Jeremy asked.
“By taking her cues from him. Paying attention to what he says and does. Making him feel rejected in any form would have been a fatal mistake.”
“What about forensic evidence?” Jeremy asked. “There had to have been some.”
“There was. But the FBI had nothing to match it to until now. Hair taken from Emilie’s blouse matches hair found on Marie’s body. Your mother also managed to scratch him. It’s the same guy.”
“So you have a DNA profile?”
“He’s not in CODIS,” Avery said. “Until we get a suspect to match it to, the DNA is worthless.”
The only way to get anything concrete on the Taker was for him to make a mistake. Or attempt to grab her again. Emilie shuddered.
“Agents are looking at all the suspects in Marie’s case and trying to find matches here, but there are a lot of people to go through,” Ronson said. “Good thing is we’ve got this composite without any facial hair now. We’re hitting the streets with it. I’m sending a squad back into the tunnels as well. Someone’s seen this prick. It’s only a matter of time.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Julian drove past the hookers strolling Bonanza Road and pulled the clunking old Chevy Malibu into one of the many in-and-out motels in the area. He’d purchased the car for two hundred dollars cash at an auction. His black Lexus stood out like a rose in a neglected flowerbed.
The motel consisted of a dingy office and eight “bungalows”: small boxes with creaking beds and dirty bathrooms. It was a high traffic–area full of people with their own secrets.
Julian and his informant had been coming to the same motel since meeting through HELP of Southern Nevada, a program designed to help individuals and families overcome various hardships . Julian had been happy to sponsor the informant’s new lease on life in return for a few favors.
He parked in front of the last room and killed the rattling engine. It continued to knock as he walked to the door. The Chevy was soon destined for the junkyard.
The informant opened the door. “You’re late. I’ve been here twenty minutes already.”
Julian took care not to touch anything in the soiled room. God only knew how much bodily fluid lay about. “Pardon my tardiness. I had a last-minute client.”
“Whatever. I don’t know why this couldn’t be done on the phone.”
“I explained that already. Even a disposable phone can be traced back to a tower. We don’t want to give the police any kind of starting point, do we?” Julian made it a point to stay one step ahead of the cops at all times.
“Guess not.”
“So, what do you have for me? I trust it’s good news.”
“Good for Davis. Not so good for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Something’s going on between her and the cop. She was in the boss’s office today talking about how good he was for her. When she was harassed about it, she didn’t deny it. Said it was no one’s business.”
“I see.”
“Thing is, I didn’t need to hear any of that to know she’s got the hots for him. The look on her face when his name was mentioned was more than enough. It was sickening.”
Sickening indeed. Emilie’s betrayal enraged him. Didn’t she understand yet? Didn’t she care about all he’d done for her? She would be harder to tame than expected, and Julian would be devastated if she went the way of the last girl.
He couldn’t allow that to happen. Emilie was too perfect, their match undeniable. This time, he would have more patience, counseling her as to her true destiny. She would acquiesce. She must.
“You got my money?” The informant stood with crossed arms, foot tapping. She reeked of smoke as usual. “I got you the information. You promised me payment.”
Julian coughed and withdrew the bulky envelope tucked underneath his arm. “Your reward, as promised.”
It was time to tie up some loose ends.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Has anyone told you why the coroner hasn’t released her yet? It’s been nearly a week.”
Emilie swallowed two aspirin dry. “Tomorrow.”
“Good.” Sam sounded exhausted. “I just want to put this awful mess behind me.”
“You and me both.”
“By the way, the PI found out Mark Chambers moved to Dallas about a decade ago. He’s moved his search down there.”
“Keep me updated.”
A red-faced Lisa suddenly appeared in Emilie’s doorway. “Did you sic that FBI Agent on me?”
“Sam, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Be careful out there.”
“I will, I promise.”
Lisa swung the door shut. Her painted lips curled into a hateful sneer. She tapped her index finger on the edge of Emilie’s desk. “Well, did you?”
Emilie closed the report she’d been working on. “I told Agent Ronson you may be the Taker’s informant, yes.”
“Why the hell would you do that? Do I look like someone who associates with psychos?”
“No, but you act like it.”
“You’re crazy. Or are you just trying to destroy my life?”
“Your life? I’m the one with the stalker. You’re the one making threats.”
“What threats?”
“Innuendos, whatever you want to call them,” Emilie said. “You’re enjoying my suffering, and you’re the only person I know cruel enough to want to see me gone.”
“I may not like you, but I’m not a criminal.”
“Then I’m sure Agent Ronson will see that.”
“She’s questioning my family and friends, Davis.” Lisa clutched her head with both hands. Some of her blond hair slipped from the knot she wore. “Snooping around my neighborhood. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
“Sorry to inconvenience you, but the Taker killed my mother and is determined to kidnap me. I want to know who’s helping him.”
“And you don
’t care whose life you screw up along the way. Typical.”
“I’ve done nothing to you.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “You stole my job. I should be sitting in that chair right now, but you sucked up to Jeremy and did God knows what else to get that promotion.”
Emilie’s office chair hit the wall with a thud as she jumped to her feet. “You didn’t get that promotion because you treat people like crap. No one likes you. No one wants to work for you. And if you’re implying that there’s anything other than friendship between Jeremy and me, you’re absolutely out of line.” She thrust her finger in Lisa’s face. “I am your boss, and I can fire you.”
“You don’t need to. I quit.”
“Fine. I’ll need a letter of resignation, your keys, and your parking pass. Should I consider this your two-weeks’ notice, or do I assume you’re foregoing any chance at a decent reference?”
Lisa yanked a pink lighter out of her pocket. “I need a smoke.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Davis. And not all of them are bad.” Lisa stormed out, the sound of her heels ricocheting through the lobby as she made a beeline for the back doors.
Her cellphone rang. Emilie nearly threw it against the wall.
“Agent Ronson.”
“Are you missing an employee today?”
“Mollie. She hasn’t come in yet. Hasn’t called either, which is unusual.”
“I think we may have found her.”
* * * *
“She fooled us all. I didn’t have a clue.”
Nathan stepped off the treadmill and headed for the locker room. Chattering cops and loud music in the station’s exercise room made it nearly impossible to hear Emilie. He pressed his phone against his ear. “Ronson’s sure she’s the Taker’s informant?”
“She left a full confession. Probably coerced by her killer.”
He closed the locker room door. “Start from the beginning.”
“The manager at the Cascade Motel on Bonanza discovered her body after he realized she’d exceeded the hour she’d paid. Her throat was slit.”
“Mollie?” Nathan asked. “The teller?”
“Yes.”
“When was she hired?”
