by Stacy Green
In her apartment, she stripped to her tank top and got into bed. Otis joined her, pawing at the blanket until he’d tunneled his way underneath, snuggling against her arm. Emilie would sleep now and deal with life tomorrow.
10
Twenty-three years ago.
AN EARLY MORNING fog bathed the landscape in an eerie mist. In a nearby cotton field, strange figures moved through the vapor like long-dead slaves returning to tend the crops. He knew the wandering forms were likely the neighbor and his hired man examining the cotton, but reality lacked imagination.
To the east, a faint pink glow merged with the fog. Still sleepy, he scrambled out of his narrow bed. He wanted to see the sun break through the mist from a favorite place in the swamp where the cypress trees ruled and the vapor would be at its thickest.
The fog was not as thick in the village, but it still gave the old homes a sad, haunting quality. The old Kate Chopin house stood over them all, still grand despite its age.
As he walked, a strange sensation crept over his skin. Something was different—a rare change in the village’s everyday routine. At first glance, the community was still mostly quiet. A few lights were on, and there was little traffic. A rusted, white and green Ford F100 lumbered by. Henri Coulon waved, a Marlboro dangling from his lips.
But at the southern end of Main Street, the new addition emerged out of the dim cover of fog like an angelic spirit. A girl sat alone on the front steps of a weather-beaten cottage. She was about his age, the frayed hem of her white dress scarcely reaching her bare knees. A cluster of white lilies, probably picked from the Chopin yard, lay beside her. Her black hair lay draped over her shoulders, her toffee-colored skin glowing in the sun-tinged fog.
She stared as he approached. Chill bumps erupted across his arms. His insides began to churn, and his legs grew wobbly.
In her delicate hands she held an empty Mason jar.
“What’chu gon’ to put in that thing?” He could barely get the words out.
“Don’t know yet. Maybe a frog or even a dragonfly if I can catch it.”
His body quivered at the melodious sound of her voice. “How you gon’ catch a dragon fly?”
“Run faster than him, I reckon.” Her eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes, were a brilliant green scattered with tiny flecks of gold.
“You gon’ to keep it for a pet?”
“Of course not. I just wanna watch him for a bit. Then I’ll let him go.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why let him go? Jus’ keep him until he’s done for.”
“What’s your name?” She cocked her head and leaned back on the cracked step.
“Julian.”
“Well, Julian, you can’t keep something trapped forever. Living things is meant to be free, jumping or flying or whatever else they was made for. And my mama says killin’ another living thing is the worst sin there is, so I’m going to make sure whatever I catch lives. God don’t want killers in heaven.”
Julian didn’t understand. His father and brothers hunted in the swamps all the time.
“What ‘bout eatin’ what you kill?”
“Like hunting? That’s different. You’re making use out of it. God understands that. Just don’t be hurting or killing animals for fun, you hear?”
Julian nodded. He would have done anything she asked at that point. She was the most beautiful and fascinating creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
“How old are you?” she asked, her eyes once again boring into him.
“Eleven.”
A small smile flickered across her face. “I’m twelve, just last week. We just moved here.”
Julian paced the floor of his large study, his footsteps muffled by the Persian rug covering the Brazilian hardwood floor. Thick drapes were drawn over the picture window, blocking out the sun and the rest of the world. One wall of the study was devoted entirely to books, while the other exhibited his favorite works of art, including a commissioned oil painting that displayed a place forever frozen in his mind, a place where the oak trees were swathed in Spanish moss and the spirits still ran wild. The piece was a reminder of a dark past he didn’t want to think about today.
His mind raced with the need to see Emilie. He needed to smell the scent of jasmine drifting from her neck—to be with her. She’d ruined everything. Her rejection burned hotter than the Nevada sun.
He’d nearly forgotten the original reason he’d sought her out. She had something that belonged to him. He’d still like it back, of course. But now he had to have her as well. She’d fill the void after so many years.
One replacement had already failed. She now rested in the earth not far from the place that had ruined his life. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes with Emilie.
Alongside the paintings, Miss Emilie’s face adorned the walls of his study—sketches he had drawn from memory. Every picture was different, but each was perfection.
He had to be free once again to observe her life and figure out a new way for them to be together.
But that would require a carefully thought out plan. Police were undoubtedly watching her apartment, hoping he would make a mistake. Common sense said to pack up and move on as he’d done before. There were plenty of warm places to go, and he could adapt anywhere. The past few years had proven that. But he just couldn’t leave her. Not after spending those blissful hours together.
He had to send her a message. She had to know he would find another way for them to be together. And perhaps her memory could be tweaked. If Miss Emilie could only recall their first connection, she would understand. Maybe even come to him on her own.
11
NATHAN LAID THE fragrant white roses at the base of the graying stone and brushed away dried leaves and grass. The flowers would soon wither and die. But for now, they were beautiful.
“I miss you, Jimmy.” A hot breeze rustled the bright yellow flowers of the Palo Verde trees. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about what happened to you. About what I did to you.”
Guilt had consumed Nathan for the past fourteen years. His life was literally a gift—that’s why he’d become a cop. Atonement, his sister called it. Maybe it was. Nathan figured saving others was the least he could do.
While Nathan negotiated for the hostages’ lives yesterday, his family had gathered here for Jimmy’s anniversary. Kelsi left yellow daisies like she did every year. Nathan always chose roses. The flowers on Jimmy’s casket had been roses.
The wind blew one of the delicate flowers away from the rest. Nathan caught it before it was damaged. Turning it over in his hand, he thought of Creepy and his fixation on the color white.
White meant innocence. Purity. Was that how her attacker saw Emilie? Did he see himself as some sort of savior or protector?
“Not my problem anymore.” Nathan traced the words etched across the granite: Loving son, brother, and uncle. Beneath this simple stone that marks his resting place, our precious darling sleeps alone in the Lord’s long embrace.
Knees aching, Nathan stood. He dropped the escaped rose to the ground. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. It should have been me.”
* * * *
NATHAN WHIPPED HIS Toyota Camry into a vacant spot two blocks away from Chicago Joe’s. He and Kelsi had been having their weekly lunch dates at the popular Italian restaurant since Nathan joined the police force.
He wasn’t looking forward to today’s meeting. The story of the bank and the partner’s astonishing escape had been all over the news, and Kelsi would no doubt have a thousand questions. Questions he had no idea how to answer.
His mind was also preoccupied with Emilie Davis. The torment from her past and present bubbled just underneath the surface of her bravado, and he felt like she teetered on the edge of a breakdown.
Kelsi lounged in a booth, impatiently tapping her foot. Nathan kissed the top of her head. “I see you got new highlights. Purple, huh?”
“You’re color blind. They’re dark red.
And you’re late, as usual.”
“Only a couple of minutes, so that doesn’t count.”
Kelsi huffed and flagged down the waitress, ordering the usual for both of them. “First off, how’s your arm?”
Nathan showed her the wrapped bicep. “I’ll live. Long as I remember to clean it.”
“Good.” She narrowed her eyes, and Nathan braced himself. “I cannot believe you allowed yourself to be taken hostage. What were you thinking? Do you know how scared we all were when we found out?”
He was tired of answering this question. And Kelsi, of all people, knew damned well why he’d gone in. “I didn’t have a choice. And I’m sorry for scaring you all. But I’m fine.”
“Physically,” his sister snapped. “Nathan, you don’t have to keep paying for past mistakes.”
“He would have killed the hostage.”
“That’s better than him killing you.” Kelsi jerked her head back and forth. “I didn’t mean that. I know you didn’t feel like you had a choice. But I’m still angry with you.”
“I’m sorry.” No use saying any more. She’d stew and get over it.
“So, why’d you let him get away?” Her tone was light, but her eyes gleamed. She knew how to push his buttons, and this was her way of punishing him for risking his life. “Things got awfully messy.”
No one pushed him harder than Kelsi. She was only eleven months older than he, and they’d always been close. When Nathan skipped third grade and joined her in the classroom, she’d helped him to fit in. Kelsi encouraged him to step outside of his comfort zone and to appreciate his gifts. If it weren’t for his sister, he never would have had the guts to do anything but bury his nose in books.
“We couldn’t believe it, Kels,” he said. “A bootlegging room with an escape route into the storm drains. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Why’d he try to take the branch manager?” Kelsi loved to play armchair detective, and her psychology background made her a good sounding board. “You think he was after her all along?”
“Yep.”
“At least he didn’t manage to kidnap her.”
“But that’s what I can’t figure out,” Nathan said. “Why didn’t he just go ahead and take her? The partner had the time.”
“If you want me to analyze the guy without speaking to him, I’d guess he was a control freak,” Kelsi said, “Sounds like his planning was meticulous, and something didn’t go his way. People like that don’t react well to sudden change.”
Kelsi was no stranger to violent criminals. She’d worked in the psychiatric ward at Nevada State Prison for her required internship before getting her doctorate in clinical psychology and going into private practice.
“And we know absolutely nothing about him.” Nathan wanted to throw something. How could the guy disappear so easily? Surely someone out there knew of the man.
“Good thing he’s no longer your concern,” she reminded him. “You know Aunt Kay is freaked out you got shot.”
He glared at her. “Why’d you tell Aunt Kay?”
Kelsi rolled her eyes. “I didn’t, jackass. She does read the paper, you know.”
Nathan grunted and poured too many sugars in his coffee. He hated the black goop, but his body was begging for caffeine.
Kelsi took a sip of her tea. “Any leads?”
“You know I can’t discuss specifics with you, Kels.”
“He could be anywhere by now,” she said. “Remember the Weber case in 2002? He escaped into the tunnels with no prior knowledge of them and eluded cops for three weeks. The partner obviously had prior knowledge.”
A group of laughing tourists wearing sun visors and carrying bags stuffed with souvenirs entered the café. They sat down at the table next to Nathan and Kesli and chatted about all the amazing things they’d enjoyed in Las Vegas.
“What were they like?” Kelsi asked.
“What?” He was surprised she’d taken this long to ask, but he’d make her spell it out.
“The tunnels. How far did you guys go?”
“Few hundred feet at most.” He couldn’t describe the feeling of being underground surrounded by the darkness of tossed away lives. “They stunk.”
“Did you see any of the camps?”
“Nah, they’re much farther in,” Nathan said. “The drains are a giant maze, and cops don’t know them very well.”
“Any idea who helped him? His dead buddy, maybe?” Kelsi asked.
“Couldn’t have been him. He had help from someone with inside knowledge of the bank.”
“What about the branch manager? Paper said she was taken to the hospital. How’s she handling it? Did anyone refer her to counseling?” Kelsi’s rapid questions probably lagged behind her even quicker mind.
“Yeah, me,” Nathan said. “I ran into her today at the station. She had a flashback and was really shaken up.”
“Poor thing,” Kelsi said. “What do you think he wanted with her? Did she know the guy? Any dangerous exes in her past?”
“Stop asking questions I can’t answer.”
Kelsi smirked, making the family resemblance even more pronounced. The Madigan siblings had fair complexions, blue eyes, and black hair—Irish traits inherited from their father. “In your opinion, then.”
He coughed as the hot coffee burned his throat. “In my opinion, she was clueless about his interest in her and has no idea who he might be. I don’t think she associates with too many people.”
“You should have been a detective, you know. You’d be damned good at it.” Kelsi stirred sugar into her second cup of tea.
“You’re biased.”
“I’m also right. You’ve always had a sense about people, Nathan.” His sister launched into the same speech she’d given him for years. “I know that’s what makes you such an excellent negotiator, but you’d make a great detective too.”
His mouth watered as a huge plate of pancakes was placed in front of him. He hadn’t eaten since scarfing down a protein bar sometime yesterday afternoon. “I like to be where the action is, Sis. Detectives have to do too much legwork.”
“Remember the guy at the police academy said to get some experience and then apply to the Bureau?” Kelsi didn’t take no for an answer very well. “I specifically remember him saying you have instincts that can’t be taught.”
“Just because he said that doesn’t mean the FBI would agree,” Nathan said.
“I just think you should keep your options open. You’ve been in SWAT four years now, and you’ve spent a lot of that as a hostage negotiator. I’m sure the FBI—”
He held up his hand. His headache didn’t feel like encouraging her anymore. “Kels, I like my job, okay?”
“Whatever. We’ll talk about it later.”
“I’m sure you will.” He went back to his pancakes.
“Anything else you can tell me about this guy?”
“Not a lot to tell,” Nathan said. “I should have found a way to stop him.”
“Don’t be an idiot. He had to have spent months working out his escape. I’m sure he considered every scenario. You never had a chance to catch him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Do we have to go through this again?” Kelsi clunked her glass down on the table. “You set unfair standards for yourself. If another negotiator were on the scene and didn’t figure out what was going on, would you be this hard on him? My God, Nathan. You went in as a hostage. Isn’t that enough?”
Nothing was ever enough. “I wasted too much time talking to Joe.”
“You’re not seriously blaming yourself for this.”
“Like I said, I should have figured him out. Isn’t that my job?”
“Even if you’d realized what he was up to sooner, you couldn’t have done things much differently. The team would have gone in the same way, and he would have still escaped.”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll never know.” Nathan snatched a French fry off her plate.
“This goes de
eper than the ridiculous expectations you put on yourself. This is about Jimmy.” Kelsi dropped the name he’d been waiting to hear. “Every time you think you fail, that sense of failure goes back to him. You blame yourself. You force yourself to atone over and over again. Now you’re putting your life at risk”
“Don’t pull your shrink stuff on me today.” Nathan glared at his sister. “That’s not what it’s about. I just wish the bastard wasn’t still out there. That’s it.”
She matched his nasty look. “We’ll revisit the subject later when your head’s out of your ass.”
“Whatever.” He took a handful of her fries this time. “How’d things go after I left yesterday?”
“Annual mourning session, like always,” she said. “We stuffed ourselves with food and wine. We talked about Jimmy. Dad was quiet. Didn’t say a word when we visited the grave.”
“I saw the flowers.”
“You went?” She sounded surprised. Nathan didn’t know why. He went every year.
“This morning.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” Nathan watched the laughing tourists cackle over their gaudy souvenirs. “I was just the reason Jimmy was there in the first place.”
“You made a mistake.”
“And it got Jimmy killed. Please, can we talk about something else?”
A devious smile spread over her face. “Fine. How’s Ava?”
Nathan groaned. “Here we go.”
“You said to change the subject. Have you seen her lately?”
“No, and I’m not going to, either.”
Kelsi didn’t quit. “She still begging for a second chance?”
“Yeah, but it’s not happening,” Nathan said. “Catching her with another guy once was enough.”
Kelsi snatched the check from the server. “I’m paying. And good for you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. That bitch was never good enough for you, Nathan. She was too concerned with the prestige of dating a cop instead of being with you. Good riddance.”
For all of his people skills, Nathan had lousy luck with the opposite sex. The ones who weren’t turned off by his job ran for the hills after they learned the truth about the long hours and the risks. Ava was one of the few who lasted more than three dates. But she’d cared more about his looks and status than about his safety or company.
