by Stacy Green
“Did he give you his name?” Avery asked.
“Jay.”
Emilie gasped. Nathan laid a hand on her arm. “What did you talk about?”
“He said he was new down here and needed someone to show him the ropes. I thought he was full of shit, ‘specially when his accent popped up, but I was curious. He liked to talk about Biblical stuff. Purgatory and all that. Got on my nerves after a while.”
“Did you ever see him leave the tunnels?” Nathan asked. If Snake had seen Creepy coming and going, police might be able to get some idea as to what side of the city he lived on.
“Nah. He was all over the place, exploring.”
Exploring for a place to stash Emilie. “Did he spend more time in any one area? Or have you happened across a camp that looked like someone was trying to hide it?” Nathan said.
“I stick to my places. It’s hard to hide a camp, ’less you want to deal with even more water. Best to be in the open places.”
“You’re not,” Emilie said. “You’re way out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yeah, but I’m on higher ground. And I pay attention to the weather and know when to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Does it flood down here a lot?” Ronson asked.
“Enough to be a pain in the ass. Lucky Vegas don’t get that much rain.”
“Where’s the best place to truly hide?” Nathan tightened his grip around Emilie’s shoulders.
“From the cops?”
“From everyone,” Nathan said.
“Deeper in. In the black areas where no one goes.”
“Isn’t this deep enough?” Avery glanced around and then shivered. Nathan rolled his eyes.
“This ain’t nothing. Go in another fifty feet and it’s like a crypt. Air’s so stale you can hardly breathe. Even I get the bubbleguts down there.”
“Burrell told us you thought the man was after more than money,” Ronson said. “That he talked about a woman.”
Snake shifted, his eyes settling on Emilie. “Now listen, I thought he was off his rocker. Maybe I should have gone to the police, but really, would they have taken me seriously?”
“It’s okay,” Emilie said. “Just tell us what he planned for the woman. Did he talk about a specific place?”
“Naw.” Snake crossed his legs, looking at home on his plastic bucket. “More like how much she was going to love it, how she would understand once he explained it all, that this time things would be right. He gave me the creeps, and I steered clear of him.”
Ronson shifted forward. “He specifically said, ‘this time?’
Snake nodded. “More than once. ‘This time’ll be better. This time will last. This time I’ve got the right one and the right place.” He shuddered, pushing his bandana back and then reaching out to touch Emilie’s arm. “If I’d known he was really gonna try something…”
She nodded. Nathan gripped her tense shoulders, wishing he could take her out of this horrible nightmare.
“Jesus,” Avery said. “He’s done this before, just like you thought.”
“Not around here,” Ronson said. “We’ve checked every case in the last two decades. It’s got to have been down South.”
“Have you seen the southern man recently?” Emilie’s voice was oddly calm.
“Right after the night Burrell let it slip about the tunnel.” Snake picked at what was left of the lettering on his shirt. “Saw him snooping around the drain near Fremont Street.”
“What did you talk about?” Emilie tensed. Nathan rubbed her shoulders.
“More than what I wanted to hear,” Snake’s hand dug around under the chair and emerged with a battered, plastic water bottle. “I tried to get the hell away, but he rambled about how he’d been the happiest since he left the Cane River. Wherever that is. Said Josephine would have loved it.”
Emilie nearly came off the bucket. “It’s in Louisiana. Did he talk about New Orleans? Or Marie Lanier or her daughter Claire?”
Snake shook his head. “Just Josephine. Got the impression she was someone he lost. Talked about how sweet she was, how she’d have been scared to death of this place. Afraid of the dark, I guess. To tell you the truth, I figured that was the “she” he was talking about. Got the impression they were going to be reunited again soon.”
Dread flooded Nathan’s system. “What exactly did he say?”
“That he’d found her again, and they would be seeing each other soon.” Snake again reached out to Emilie. “By then, I figured maybe I had it all wrong. That he wasn’t going after nobody, but maybe trying to impress someone in a really screwed up way. I just didn’t want no part of it.”
“Did he say how he knew the woman he’d found was Josephine?” Ronson asked.
“Some necklace,” Snake said. “Guess he gave it to her.”
Emilie had gone silent. Her foot-tapping ceased, her breathing deepened. “It’s my bell. It has a fleur-de-lis etched in emeralds. Mémé gave it to me. And I guess she got it from him.” She shined her light on the bell. “Snake, did he ever mention the fleur-de-lis?”
Snake leaned forward, squinting. “No, but that design looks just like the ring he wore.”
“What ring?” Emilie jerked, her body poised to spring.
“He usually had on gloves, the kind with the fingers cut off at the knuckles. Only saw it once. Shoulda stole it. Stone had to be real.”
“What did it look like?”
“Old. Big fat emerald with gold. That design,” he pointed to Emilie’s necklace, “was on the side of it. I’d say they were a pair.”
This was the missing piece. Nathan was sure of it. Creepy saw Emilie as a replacement for Josephine, whoever she was, and the necklace confirmed their connection. Somehow, his twisted mind had melded his obsessions together.
Emilie said nothing on the long trip back to the drainage ditch. Nathan kept her close, his hand latched onto hers. Her skin felt clammy.
“This is good news.” Nathan tried to reassure her. “Ronson can narrow down the search.”
“This necklace has been my talisman. Now it’s tainted.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the same necklace your grandmother gave you. Those memories are still there.”
He squinted as they emerged into the bright sunlight. Emilie stumbled out and leaned against the dirty culvert. Her face was pale, her eyes closed again the sun.
Avery’s phone rang. “Detective Avery.”
Nathan touched Emilie’s arm. Heat sparked at his fingertips. She jerked in surprise and then attempted a smile.
“At least we found Snake.”
“We’re going to find Creepy too.”
“Emilie.” Avery stood at the mouth of the drain. He never called Emilie by her first name. Dread crept over Nathan.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Avery began.
“What is it?” Emilie dropped Nathan’s hand and stepped forward.
Avery cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s your mother. She was found in an alley just two blocks from her hotel.”
Emilie swayed. Nathan caught her before she fell.
“What happened?” Ronson dropped her gear and dug her phone out of her pocket.
“Homicide.” Avery shifted from foot to foot, looking like he’d rather be back in the drains than out here having this conversation.
“She was murdered?” Emilie sagged against Nathan.
“I’m sorry,” Avery said.
“How?”
“You don’t need the details,” Nathan said.
“Yes, she does,” Avery countered. “She has a right to hear everything. Your mother was stabbed.”
Emilie’s eyes filled with tears. “But who? Claire is…was a real bitch unless she thought it was advantageous to be kind. But I’m the only person she knows here. Who could have done this?”
“There was a note with your mother, addressed to you. It matched the handwriting from the one on your car yesterday.”
“What are you saying
?” Emilie pushed herself away from Nathan and stared up at Avery.
“Your mother was murdered by the man stalking you.”
29
“THAT’S HER.” EMILIE stared through the thick glass at her mother’s lifeless face. Claire Chambers lay on the steel gurney, a blue paper sheet draped over her body. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slack in death. A gray pallor colored her skin.
“When did it happen?” Nathan stood behind Emilie, his chest against her back. His presence was the only thing holding her together.
“Coroner put time of death at around ten last night,” Ronson said. “I’m sorry we had to put you through this, but we needed a formal ID.”
“How many times was she stabbed?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Claire’s face. Her plastic features had begun to droop.
“Multiple times.”
Nathan’s hand slipped around her waist. “We should go. You’ve seen enough.”
The coroner covered Claire’s face, her final shroud a regulation-issue material used on every other body in the morgue. Claire would have been horrified.
Emilie turned her back on her mother’s body. “I want to see the note.”
Ronson handed her the evidence bag. Emilie recognized the handwriting immediately. It was the same elegant scrawl, written by the same fine-point black pen.
Dearest Miss Emilie,
I promised you everything would be as it should very soon, and I have taken the first step to fulfilling that pledge. Your mother has caused you such pain, and her arrival only sent you on a further tailspin. I will never forget the anguish in your voice or the sadness it caused me to see you drown your anger with drink.
Claire Chambers will no longer be a threat to your happiness. Your burden is lifted. Please consider her judgment my gift of love.
I know now why you were not ready in the bank. Your life had too many loose ends. I have tied them off, and we are one step closer to spending eternity together.
Until we meet again.
“Sonofabitch.” Nathan read the note over Emilie’s shoulder, his breath warm against her neck. “He thinks he’s done her a favor.”
The words blurred together through Emilie’s tears. Her last conversation with Claire had been cruel, with insults slung back and forth amid bitter truths. Now, Claire was gone, with no way to make right the injuries of the past. The mother who’d never wanted Emilie had departed this world in the most horrific way.
Because of her. But she hadn’t asked for Creepy to murder Claire. Still, he’d done it for Emilie. It was all her fault.
As if he read her mind, Nathan grabbed her arms. “Listen to me. You’re not to blame for any of his. We know his trigger, we know his connection to your past. We’re getting closer.”
“Not close enough.”
“We will catch him.” Ronson pried the note from Emilie’s clenched hand. “I’ve already got a call into the Louisiana field office. It’s only a matter of time.”
But what else would happen before he was caught? Who else would die?
“You can’t go anywhere alone,” Ronson said. “Not even to drive to work.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Nathan said.
“I just want to go back to Jeremy’s.” She was tired and dirty. The stink of the tunnels clung to her clothes.
“Is there anyone we can call for you?” Ronson asked. “We’ll inform her husband if you wish.”
“I’ll call Sam. He deserves to hear from me.”
“He can’t claim the body for burial until the coroner releases it. That could be several days.”
“I’ll make sure he’s aware.”
“It’s time to go.” Nathan’s hand was firm on her back as he led Emilie out of the morgue.
“A patrol car will be stationed outside the Vances’ home and the bank,” Ronson said. “Limit your movements as much as possible.” Emilie barely registered the real concern in the agent’s eyes.
Emilie waited in UMC’s massive entryway while Nathan retrieved his car. She sat on an island alone while the rest of the world moved in fast forward, whirling by Emilie without noticing her pain.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Ronson stood a foot away. She’d sent Avery to the station to start the Louisiana search. Emilie was grateful she didn’t have to listen to the pompous detective spout theories about her mother’s murder.
“Just find him. That’s the only way this is going to end.”
* * * *
NATHAN FOLLOWED EMILIE inside the Vances’ empty home. He hadn’t seen this coming. Creepy had elevated his obsession to a whole new level, and the worst part was he truly believed he was doing what was best for Emilie. He saw himself as her savior. He wasn’t going to stop until he was caught.
Emilie had been silent on the ride over. Now she marched into the Vances’ big kitchen with purpose. She pulled two glasses out of the cabinet and filled them with water.
“Let’s go outside.” Emilie handed him a glass. “We stink.”
The back deck stretched across two-thirds of the Vances’ house. She kicked a toy car out of her way and then sat down on a large glider. Nathan settled next to her. He slipped his arm behind her shoulders.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “Patrol’s watching.”
“I won’t stay long.” Nathan took a long sip of blessedly cold water.
“I should run away and hide. Maybe he’ll eventually stop looking.”
“He won’t. He’ll just find another way to get to you. And you’re not going to pull away from everyone who cares about you.”
“That’s exactly what I should do, Nathan. He’s killed once.” Her small hand flew to her mouth. “He killed my mother. What’s to stop him from going after someone else?”
“He murdered your mother because of her abuse.” Nathan set his glass on a small table. He had to make Emilie see this was not her fault. “In his twisted mind, he believes he’s making your life better. No one else is in danger.”
“You don’t know that,” Emilie said. “If he sees someone as an obstacle…if something happened to any of you…”
“It’s not going to.”
She dropped her head into her shaking hands. “I’m putting Jeremy’s family at so much risk. What if Creepy just decides to break in and kidnap me? Jeremy’s kids—I can’t risk their lives.”
She had a point. Creepy had been patient so far, but he was escalating. How long would he wait?
“Talk to Jeremy about getting Sarah and the kids out of the house for a couple of weeks.”
Emilie shook her head. “That’s not fair to them.”
“This isn’t about being fair. It’s about saving your life. You’ve got to stop worrying about everyone else and focus on you.”
“I did that with Claire, and look where it got her.” Emilie jumped to her feet. “She’s dead. He killed her because of me.” Her voice rose. “I killed her. I killed my mother.”
Emilie buried her face in her hands and began to sob. “I hated her, and now she’s dead. Do I even have the right to mourn her? Should I go on like she meant nothing? What am I supposed to do?”
Nathan stood and gently pulled Emilie’s hands away from her face. “Look at me.”
She obeyed, grabbing his T-shirt with trembling hands. Tears dripped off her long lashes and rolled down her pale cheeks.
“She was your mother. No matter what happened between the two of you, she gave you life. And somewhere in your heart, you cared for her. Now she’s gone, and you blame yourself. It’s not your fault, but I understand. God, do I understand.”
“You couldn’t possibly.”
Nathan sucked in a deep breath. “I told you my Uncle Jimmy died because of me.” He flinched at hearing the words spoken out loud. “When I was fourteen, there was a string of robberies and assaults in North Las Vegas. A curfew was imposed for anyone under eighteen.” He hadn’t told this story in years, and yet the details were vivid, as if it had just happened.
> “I screwed up one night. Curfew had come and gone, and I had to be home. I called my sister to tell her I was walking home. Dad was working late. Kelsi called Uncle Jimmy to come get me.” Kelsi yelled at him for being late. Jimmy laughed and said he’d be there in a few.
“I took the same route home as always. It was really dark, pouring down rain. A block from the house, I got jumped by two guys. They were older and bigger than I was. They wanted money. I had four dollars in my pocket.”
A burning ache shot through his throat. “They had me on the ground, kicking me, when Jimmy found us. Jimmy was a big guy too—as tall as I am, and thicker, more muscular. But they had a knife.”
“I’m so sorry.” She touched her warm fingers to his jaw.
“I’ve spent years blaming myself, just like you’re doing. I’ve asked myself what I could have done differently a thousand times. You’re going to do the same thing. You’ll question every decision to see if there was any way you could have prevented your mother’s death.”
Fourteen years Nathan had punished himself. But he was wrong. Nathan hadn’t jammed the knife into Jimmy’s gut. Nathan and Jimmy had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Claire. She’d come to Vegas for selfish reasons and wound up a gruesome token of Creepy’s affection. That was no one’s fault but Creepy’s.
The heavy guilt Nathan carried for so long slipped off his back, and he felt weightless, like he could do anything. Like everything would work out as it was supposed to.
Nathan brushed her hair back and gently took her face in his hands. “Sometimes things are set in motion we can’t control. We can only respond to the immediate situation in the best way we know how. Creepy made his choice, not you.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“I know. But it’s true.”
“You didn’t kill Jimmy, either.”
“No, I didn’t.” Nathan could finally accept those words.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.”
She choked back a sob. “What do I do now?”
“Whatever you need to do. Cry, get angry, mourn her. Talk to your stepfather.”
“I don’t know if I can go to the funeral.”
