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 a.s.sociates with too many people."

"You should have been a detective, you know. You'd be d.a.m.ned good at it."

"You're biased."

"I'm also right. You've always had a sense about people, Nathan. 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? 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-"

"Kels, I like my job, okay?"

"Whatever. We'll talk about it later."

"I'm sure you will."

"Anything else you can tell me about this guy?"

"Not a lot to tell," Nathan said. "He stayed in the background most of the day. I didn't figure him out soon enough. If I had, we might have had a chance to catch 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 gla.s.s 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?"

"If I'd realized his intentions, the team could have gone in earlier and surprised him. We 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed a french fry off her plate.

"This goes deeper than the ridiculous expectations you put on yourself. This is about Jimmy. 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."

"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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d wasn't still out there. That's it."

"We'll revisit the subject later when your head's out of your a.s.s."

"Whatever." He took a handful of her fries this time. "How'd things go after I left yesterday?"

"Annual mourning session, like always. 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?"

"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."

"She still begging for a second chance?"

"Yeah, but it's not happening. Catching her with another guy once was enough."

Kelsi s.n.a.t.c.hed the check from the server. "I'm paying. And good for you."

"Really?"

"Of course. That b.i.t.c.h 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 s.e.x. 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.

"Again, you're biased," he told his sister. "I'll never find anyone good enough by your standards."

"Sure you will. You just have to stop letting your buddies set you up. I know a girl who would be perfect for you."

Nathan ignored her and rose to leave. "Gotta run, Kels. Have a meeting."

"I bet."

"No, I really do. We've got two raids scheduled this week. The boss wants to discuss the logistics of being a man short."

Kelsi wrapped her small arms around Nathan and squeezed hard. "Tell Adam I said hi."

"I will."

"Can I ask one more question about last night?"

"Go ahead. Doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Do you think this FBI agent is good enough to catch the partner, especially with Avery as her handicap?"

Another group of laughing tourists walked by. So easy for a man as nondescript as the Taker to disappear forever in a city like Las Vegas. "I don't know. What this guy did-finding that tunnel and how it connected to the storm drains-tells me he's way too invested to allow himself to be caught or to give up on Emilie. We haven't seen the last of him."

Emilie tossed and turned in the queen-sized bed. She kicked off the blankets and then pulled them back on. The air conditioning blasted, and her bedroom was cold. But every time she snuggled underneath the blankets, the smothering torment of darkness crept up on her. She couldn't stand it.

She flicked on the bedside lamp and stared at the ceiling fan. Round and round it turned, the base rocking slightly. She needed to tighten the thing before the sound drove her mad.

Her mind would not shut off. The Taker was out there somewhere. Was he planning his next move? Had he crawled out of the tunnels and slipped back into a normal life, or did he remain down below, hiding like a coward? And who had helped him? Was it someone she knew, a person she'd have to work with?

Nathan Madigan's words came back to her. Was he right? Was the Taker so good no one could catch him?

Nathan didn't actually say that. Emilie thought about the hostage negotiator's kind smile. He was definitely the kind of cop that looked good in a uniform, but it was his sense of honor and compa.s.sion that made him compelling.

Otis crept beside Emilie and flopped against her head. His purring motor rumbled in her ear.

That's how he got me running off at the mouth about my parents.

Thankfully she wouldn't be seeing Nathan again. He posed too much of risk to her carefully walled-in secrets and made her want to talk about things she'd sealed away years ago.

Emilie closed her eyes. The fan continued its rhythmic turning, and she began to count the clicks as the base rattled. Her body relaxed.

A masked face hovered above her. Eyes, their depths black and soulless, gazed into hers. Such a shame, the Taker murmured. Far too often, the great historical places of this country are tossed aside because of financial burden. Or because no one can see their potential. We know all about burdens, don't we, Miss Emilie?

Emilie sat straight up in bed, her skin soaked in sweat. Just as her mind finally slowed down, the memory had overtaken her.

She did know all about burdens. She'd spent most of her life as one. The feeling that the partner knew about her past returned. There were too many coincidences in his words, too many hints that he knew more about her than he let on.

And the Blake poem. How had he known?

Bach's "Prelude in C Major" filled the room. Wary of the early hour, Emilie picked up her cellphone.

Bile rose in her throat.

Her mother was calling.

Chapter Twelve.

"h.e.l.lo?"

Emilie waited for the voice she hadn't heard in sixteen years. Would her mother's two-pack a day smoking habit finally have caught up with her?

"It's Sam."

Unexpected disappointment washed over her. Her mother hadn't called. She'd had her husband do her dirty work.

"Emilie, you there?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat in an effort to dislodge the lump that had formed. "Sam. How are you?"

Her stepfather wasn't a bad person. She had been eight when Claire remarried, and when he wasn't working a seventy-hour week, Sam tried to keep the peace between mother and daughter. He'd even taken Emilie to the zoo once without Claire. Those three hours were the happiest Emilie had known since Meme had died.

"Fine," Sam answered. "I-we-read the papers. It's awful what happened to you."

"Claire did more than read."

"I told her to keep quiet about all that. She's got a mind of her own, though."

More like Claire wore the pants, and Sam didn't have the guts to put his foot down.

"Are there any leads?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you need protection? I could get a full-time security team out there today."

"Does Claire know you're calling?"

Silence.

"I guess not. Are you hiding in the closet?"

"She's out."

"Ah, it's Thursday." Emilie smacked her forehead. "Brunch with the girls. How could I forget? Guess some things never change." Her bitterness oozed out in the form of tears. She rubbed them away. Claire wasn't worth the effort.

"I'm sorry. I knew calling would upset you, but I wanted to hear for myself you were all right. What happened between the two of you...please know I had no idea what your mother had hidden. If I had, I would have made her tell you, I swear."

She doubted that. Sam couldn't even stop Claire from running her mouth to the newspaper. Her stepfather had good intentions, but Claire was a skilled manipulator and would have likely convinced him keeping the secret was 'for the best,' just as she had done with Meme.

"I know you didn't, Sam. You were good to me when you were around. You deserve better than my mother."

"Let's not talk about her," Sam said. "I was sorry to hear about your divorce."

Emilie could imagine her mother's glee when she heard that juicy detail of her daughter's life. Her big mistake had ended exactly as Claire had said it would. Then again, Claire could easily spot her own kind-selfish and controlling.