Into the Dark

by Green, Stacy

  “Just a few weeks before the robbery. Her background checked out. She was nice. Normal.”

  “She was an expert con artist.”

  “She also had help.”

  “The Taker.”

  “It was all in the confession.” Emilie’s voice had dropped to a monotone. “He found her working on the street, took her in, gave her money. Guess he didn’t help her kick her meth habit, though. They found some in her purse. Ronson said that’s probably how he controlled her.”

  “What else did the confession say?”

  “Robbing the bank was supposed to be a big score. Mollie wanted her share of the money, or she was going to the police.”

  “Did she know you were his target?”

  “Ronson doesn’t think so. The note says she just figured the Taker decided to kidnap me on the fly and that I was going to be a casualty. She didn’t care as long as she had her money.”

  “She was so nice,” Emilie sobbed. “Always had a smile on her face. I can’t believe she could be as callous as the note sounds.”

  “You’d be surprised at different masks people can wear. Some of the world’s worst criminals appeared perfectly normal.”

  “Ronson says the Taker probably dictated the note, so we’re likely not getting the full story.”

  Jesus Christ. Just when Nathan thought the Taker couldn’t get any more complicated, he turned things upside down again.

  “Maybe Mollie fought back. Did she have anything underneath her fingernails?”

  “Ronson said probably, but it will be several days before she finds out if it matches the DNA found with Marie Adrieux, me, and Claire. And there’s still no suspect to compare it to.”

  A raw, aching gasp echoed through the receiver. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. How many more people are going to die before he makes his move?”

  “No one,” Nathan said. “His informant is gone. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “Until he decides someone else is in his way. I should just go to the tunnels and let him take me.”

  “You’re at Jeremy’s, right? I’m coming over.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I’m not going to hang around while you’re feeling guilty and terrified.”

  “I’m too selfish to say no.”

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  * * * *

  Emilie padded through the quiet house. It should have been full of the sounds of a happy family, but because of her, Sarah and the kids had been banished from their home.

  Because of the Taker. He was the bad guy, not Emilie.

  She stopped in front of a closed door. Jeremy had taken the news of Mollie’s betrayal hard and shut himself in his private office. Everyone’s lives were falling apart. How hadn’t she seen Mollie for what she was?

  She knocked on the heavy oak door and then pushed it open.

  “Emilie.” Jeremy sat in a worn armchair with a bottle of gin next to him. “I was just going to yell for you.” He waved toward the sofa. “We need to talk.”

  She looked around the room. It was tidier than she’d ever seen it. Even Jeremy’s desk was clear. “Why are you drinking? You never drink.”

  “Figured now was the time to start living it up.” He poured a shot and thrust it toward her. Some of the liquor slopped onto the floor.

  “I don’t feel like celebrating.” She set the glass on his desk. “Nathan’s coming over.”

  “Good, that’s good. You’ll need him here.”

  A sheen of sweat covered Jeremy’s face and dark circles ringed his eyes. “You’ve lost weight.” She had been so preoccupied with her own problems she hadn’t noticed until now.

  “Stress has that benefit.” He threw back another shot and coughed. “Damn, that’s strong.”

  “I’m sorry.” Emilie moved the bottle of gin out of his reach. “Your wife and kids had to leave, and you’ve been worrying about me. I never intended for you to become so involved in my screwed up life.”

  “I’ve been involved from the very friggin’ beginning.”

  “Only because I leaned on you too much.”

  “For Christ’s sakes, stop. Please.” Jeremy lurched out of his chair and staggered over to the bookshelf. He shoved a stack of hardback books onto the floor, revealing a small bottle of Jack Daniels. Jeremy eagerly twisted off the cap and downed the whiskey.

  “Jesus, Jeremy. You need to slow down. All that’s going to be coming back up soon.”

  “Better not.” He fell back into the chair. “We don’t have much time.”

  “You’ll be passed out before Nathan gets here.”

  “Listen to me,” he shouted. “I’m trying to tell you something important.”

  Emilie sat down across from her drunken boss. She’d never seen him like this. “All right, talk.”

  “You know we’re almost broke?” Jeremy coughed. “Sarah has no clue. She thinks I pay the charge cards off every month, but we’re living on them.”

  “What are you talking about? You make three times as much as me, and Sarah’s a nurse.”

  Jeremy swayed in the chair. “I’ve got a gambling problem, Em. Started online about two years ago, then wound up at the casinos. It’s such a rush. When you’re winning, anyway.”

  “You—what?”

  “Yep. ’Parently I’ve got addictive tendencies. Least that’s what a shrink told me once. Figured she was right, ’cause I can’t stop no matter how deep a hole I dig myself.”

  Nathan had said she would be surprised at the different masks people wore. Jeremy had just donned the ugliest one yet. “We’ll get you some help. Gamblers Anonymous.”

  “It’s too late for me now, but you need to know the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “I’d lost almost three thousand that night.” Jeremy’s speech slurred. He paused and rubbed his face with a chubby hand. “Sarah was working nights,” he finally continued. “Kids were with friends. Was so depressed I sat at the bar and drank myself into a stupor. Guy comes up and starts talking like we’re best buddies. Next thing I know I’m spilling my guts.”

  “It happens.”

  “Listen to me.” Jeremy inhaled an unsteady breath. “I swore that night was the end of my gambling. I had to take out almost eight grand on my platinum card just to pay the mortgage. But I came back. So did he. He was there when I got on a sweet roll at the craps table. I was up thirty grand, Emilie. Thirty!”

  “Who are you talking about?” Something prodded at her brain, a nagging voice she didn’t want to hear.

  Saliva pooled at the corner of Jeremy’s mouth and trickled down his chin. He shook his head. “Understand, Em. I couldn’t let…” He leaned toward her and almost slipped off his chair. “I…debt. Blackmailed me. Threatened…”

  Jeremy closed his eyes. Emilie grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

  “What? Threatened what? Who threatened you?”

  “To tell…Sarah. I had to help.”

  Dread bubbled in Emilie’s stomach. “Jeremy, please don’t say it. Please.”

  “Was me.” His eyes half opened. “I helped the Taker.”

  “No.” Emilie pushed her chair away from Jeremy. “Mollie was his accomplice. She confessed.”

  “She was just his spy. I had to find the tunnel for him, make sure the door was unsealed. Supposed to get 20 percent of the cut.”

  “You knew?” All this time, the answer was right next to her, comforting her, protecting her.

  “Not about you, I swear to God. I thought he just wanted the money. I was willing to sacrifice my dignity to save my marriage.”

  “We only had eighty thousand dollars that day, Jeremy,” Emilie screamed. “You did all this for sixteen grand. Was it worth it?”

  “Sixteen grand would have paid the bills for two months. His voice was slow, weak. He slumped forward. “I’d get help.”

  “And you got nothing, you idiot.” She leapt to her feet. “Two people are de
ad because of you. My mother is dead because of you. And you’ve stood by like a coward the entire time.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Who is he? What’s his name?”

  Jeremy gazed up at her with dull eyes. His breathing was labored. His face contorted every time he swallowed. Emilie hoped the alcohol left a hole in his esophagus when it came back up.

  “I don’t know. Thought if I could keep you safe…maybe I’d have a chance at getting out of this.”

  “You didn’t say anything because you didn’t want the whole world to know who you really are.”

  Jeremy blinked once as if to agree. “Fixed that. Followed him. Found some things out. I don’t know his name, but I have information.” His eyes closed again.

  “What is it? You’re going to tell me, and then Nathan and I are driving you to the station where you can give Ronson a full confession.”

  “Look for the letter,” he mumbled. “In safest…place.”

  Jeremy fell out of the chair and began to convulse. Vomit erupted from his open mouth.

  “Jeremy!” Emilie knelt down and lifted his head up. His body gave a final shudder, and then went limp. His breath stopped. She shoved him away from the mess and lunged for the phone.

  “Please don’t die, you selfish bastard.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Fear seized Nathan when he saw the ambulance’s flashing lights. He screeched to a halt behind the patrol car and leapt out of his Camry, waving his badge at the officers. “What happened? Who’s the rig for?”

  “Overdose of sleeping pills. Looks bad.”

  Nathan raced up the front walk. The door stood open. Paramedics blocked the hallway, hefting a figure onto a gurney.

  “No.” Guilt-laced pain gripped Nathan. If only he’d been here sooner. How had the Taker gotten inside the house to drug her? “How bad is she?”

  “Nathan.”

  The ache stalled at the sound of her voice. Emilie squeezed past the paramedics and flung herself into his arms. “Thank God you’re here. I didn’t know he’d taken anything, or I would have dialed 911 right away.”

  Nathan kissed her temple. “Who?”

  “Jeremy. He’s the Taker’s real informant,” she cried. “He knew about the robbery but not that the Taker was going to kidnap me. I could tell he wasn’t feeling well, but he’d already had gin. I thought it was the alcohol.” Hard sobs wracked her small body. “He betrayed me, and now he’s dying.”

  Nathan held her close as she cried. Shock rendered him speechless. Jeremy had never even been a blip on his radar. What could have provoked a family man to make such a horrendous partnership?

  “Don’t say it’s going to be okay.” Her tears saturated his shirt. “There’s no way to fix this.”

  He tucked her head under his chin and let her cry. The Taker’s reach was far deeper than anyone had suspected. He’d managed to shatter Emilie’s trust and peace of mind without even making an appearance.

  Paramedics wheeled Jeremy down the hall. Nathan shielded Emilie’s eyes.

  “Does he have a chance?” Nathan asked.

  The woman securing the oxygen mask shook her head. “I doubt it. It may take a few days, but I don’t expect him to make it.”

  Emilie reached for the gurney and grabbed Jeremy’s hands. “Please don’t die. I understand why you did it, and I forgive you. Don’t leave your kids without a father.”

  “Let him go.” Nathan wrenched her hands away, and she went limp in his arms.

  “I’ve got to call Sarah. We should go to the hospital. Someone should be there for him.”

  How could she forgive Jeremy for practically handing her over to the Taker?

  “I’ll drive,” Nathan said. “And you can tell me on the way exactly what Jeremy said.”

  * * * *

  Emilie had nothing left. She sat in the minimally decorated waiting room next to Nathan. They were on deathwatch. Jeremy was still hanging on.

  Sarah had arrived only minutes ago. Emilie stammered through the story. There was no gentle way to tell her friend her husband was a gambler and accessory to bank robbery.

  Emilie said nothing as Sarah cried. She couldn’t. The walls were steadily closing in on Emilie. Jeremy’s betrayal cut deeper than anything she’d ever experienced. Even as she entrusted Jeremy with her life he’d been at the beast’s right hand.

  Jeremy had never meant for Emilie to get hurt. He was only trying to save his family but he could have swallowed his pride and gone to the police. The Taker might be in jail, and Jeremy wouldn’t be dying.

  A warm hand closed over her trembling one. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

  She laid her head on Nathan’s shoulder. “You’re making it better just by being here.”

  “Ronson just texted me.” Detective Avery spoke from his position across the room. “So far the search of the house has come up empty. They’ve torn his study apart. No sign of any letter or information about the Taker.”

  “What about his computer?” Nathan asked.

  “Clean so far.”

  “It’s got to be there somewhere,” Emilie insisted. “He said it was in the safest place.”

  “They’ll find it,” Nathan said.

  So many questions would now go unanswered. Why was Jeremy still meeting with the Taker? Was he playing him in order to keep Emilie safe? Or was he still angling for a way to salvage his finances?

  A tired-looking nurse appeared. “Emilie Davis?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Vance is asking for you. She’s sitting with her husband.”

  Emilie didn’t want to see Sarah again. The woman didn’t deserve the pain being inflicted on her.

  “Want me to come with you?” Nathan asked.

  “No. I should do this on my own.”

  Jeremy lay in bed hooked to a respirator. His skin was translucent. He looked a step away from being a corpse.

  Sarah sat beside the bed. “He’s in a coma.”

  “I’m sorry.” Emilie didn’t ask if Jeremy would wake up. She already knew the answer.

  “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “He was ashamed.”

  “So he does this?” Sarah’s head dropped onto Jeremy’s motionless arm. “Takes the coward’s way out?”

  “I’m sorry.” What else could Emilie say? Jeremy was a coward. But he was also a good father and a decent man who could have been helped if he’d only had the strength to ask for it.

  “Please stop apologizing,” Sarah snapped.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know. Be angry, yell at me. Tell me I’m stupid for not seeing the truth. Blame me for everything’s that’s happened to you. Just stop being so damned nice.”

  “I don’t have the energy.”

  Sarah peered up at her. Her usually perfect make-up was marred by her tears. “He didn’t know about the kidnapping, right? He was only trying to get the money?”

  Emilie nodded.

  “He should have gone to the police.”

  “He didn’t want to lose you.”

  “And now I’ve lost him. Selfish asshole.”

  “I have to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “Before he lost consciousness, Jeremy said all the information he had on the Taker was in the safest place. Do you have any idea where that might be?”

  “No. Apparently I don’t know a damned thing about my husband.”

  Emilie couldn’t stand being in the room with Jeremy’s dying body and Sarah’s pain any longer.

  “The police are searching the house. I can be out by morning.”

  “No.” Sarah wiped her eyes. “You’ll stay. I don’t want to go back there.”

  Neither did Emilie.

  * * * *

  “You sure you still want to be here?” Nathan asked. Emilie hadn’t said a word the entire drive back to the Vance’s. She’d looked down at her hands, brow creased and jaw set. Oc
casionally she shook her head as though reliving the terrible day, but her expression never changed.

  “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  “You can stay with me.”

  “You’re probably in enough trouble already. My shacking up with you won’t help your case.”

  He touched her cheek. “Ronson gave me the okay. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “Are the cops still here?

  “The forensics team is gone.”

  “They left the lights on.”

  He followed her up the flower-lined sidewalk and waved at the patrol car sitting outside. Even Avery had agreed Emilie shouldn’t be alone tonight and hadn’t complained when Ronson told Nathan to stay with her.

  Emilie halted in front of the red door. Her body had gone still except for her right hand. Nathan took the jingling house keys from her and turned the lock.

  The Vance’s normally welcoming home seemed sinister. Thinly covered by a recently sprayed air freshener, the foul odor of vomit and excrement lingered in the air. A squeaking ceiling fan did nothing to suppress the smell.

  “We should open the windows to air this place out,” Nathan said.

  “It’s too hot.” Emilie’s head snapped toward the study. “That room needs to be cleaned.”

  She dumped her purse on an end table and then ran to an adjacent room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s cleaning supplies in here.” She kicked a basket of clothes out of her way and dug into the laundry room storage. “How do you get puke off a hardwood floor? Does it soak in? I guess I’ll start with soap and water and go from there.”

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  She grabbed a blue plastic bucket and pushed past Nathan. “I need to fill this up with water—warm, I think. Then I’ll put some detergent in it and just start scrubbing. Where’s the mop?”

  “Emilie, stop.”

  “I can’t stand the smell. Sarah’s so proud of her floors. I can’t just leave it there,” she yelled. “What kind of houseguest am I?”

  “Then let me. You’re exhausted.”

  “I’ve got it.” Emilie dumped a cap full of Tide into the bucket.

  She moved on to the kitchen, dragging the mop behind her. Once the bucket was half full of water, she lugged it toward the hall, mop now tucked under her arm.