"All he cares about is the branch manager," Landry said. "She tried to sit with the rest of us after she talked to you, but he wouldn't let her."

"Thank you, Mr. Landry." Johnson waved an officer over. "Get checked out by paramedics."

He turned to Nathan. "Warrant came through. Detective Avery's going through her records but nothing sticks out so far. Looks like the partner's obsessed with Davis."

"Avery's working the case? G.o.d help us," Nathan said as Landry and the officer walked toward the ambulance. He pushed his issues with Detective Avery aside. "So partner's all over the one woman guaranteed to be at the bank today. That's no coincidencehe's after Emilie."

Johnson lit his own cigarette. "Maybe not. Maybe it's a ploy. Could be the men think acting separately will make our jobs tougher."

"Not in Joe's mind. He thinks he's running the show."

The crackling static of the radio filled Nathan's ears. "Davis is standing up, talking to Joe," Chris said. "Partner jumped right up like he was glued to her a.s.s."

"d.a.m.n," Nathan cursed. "She's going to get him all riled up."

"She just pointed to the phone."

"You get a better look at the partner?" Johnson gnawed on his cigarette.

"Not really. He's tall. And agitated. Took a couple steps to follow her and then stopped. Joe's pointing at Davis, yelling something I can't make out. She just sat back down and covered her face. Partner sat next to her."

"Why'd she try to use the phone?" Johnson asked. "She's got to know Joe wouldn't let her."

"She wanted to tell us something," Nathan said. "Something worth risking Joe's anger. Chris, what's happening now?"

"Looks like the partner's running his mouth. She's rocking back and forth."

"G.o.dd.a.m.nit." Nathan kicked the b.u.mper of the SWAT truck. "What's that b.a.s.t.a.r.d up to?"

"Don't let him get to you." Creepy Guy patted her shoulder. "Although I don't see why you needed to talk to that negotiator again."

"Because I want out of here." Emilie jerked away from the contact. "I'm tired of sitting in the dark, waiting for something to happen."

"Josephine was always afraid of the dark." Melancholy crept into his normally serene tone. "She said the dark held the powers of black magic, of witchcraft, and bad luck. Poor girl slept with a candle burning."

Emilie risked another glance at him. Narrowed in either anger or grief, his eyes glistened with moisture. "She was wrong. All of those exist in the daylight as well. Poor Jo didn't need to fear the dark. Her bad luck came on a hot, sunny afternoon." His voice faltered.

"What happened to her?"

"That's none of your business." Her captor jumped as though jolted with electricity. "Josephine belongs to me and to me alone," he snarled.

Emilie scooted as far away from the man as the small s.p.a.ce would allow.

"I'm sorry." His voice was contrite. "Forgive my rudeness. That was extremely ungentlemanly."

Intimacy had crept back into his tone. Emilie cringed.

"Don't be afraid, Miss Emilie," Creepy Guy pleaded. "I would never hurt you."

"You already have."

He edged closer until his covered arm brushed her bare one. The material was soft and lightweight. Breathable. Expensive. Not cheap rags like Joe wore.

"Only because you're scared. But I knew we were connected the first moment I saw you. Once you allow me to explain my actions, you will understand everything. You carry our connection with you every day."

"We have no connection."

"Oh but we do. I've watched you for so long, my dear Miss Emilie." He spoke softly now, like a lover would. "So many times, I was close enough to reach out and touch you, to make you mine. But the time and place weren't right. Waiting for you has been torture."

A uniform hurried to the SWAT truck, pulling a scrawny teenager with him. "Sergeant. You've got to hear this."

Nathan looked at the boy: acne-marred face, greasy hair slicked back with sweat. His dirty clothes smelled musty. Street kid.

"What?" Johnson didn't look up from the blueprints he studied.

"This kid delivered flowers to the bank this morning."

"So?"

"They didn't come from a florist. Some guy off the street asked him to take them in."

"To who?" Nathan asked.

"Emilie Davis."

"What kind of flowers?"

"Don't know." The kid shrugged. "Big white ones."

"And he wanted them to go to Emilie Davis?" Nathan mopped the sweat off his forehead.

"Yep. Paid me a hundred bucks to make sure she got 'em."

"Did you get his name?"

"Didn't ask."

"What'd he look like?" Johnson stuck the blueprints under his arm.

"A dude. Tall, kinda skinny. Sorta dark skin."

"Could be anyone," Johnson said.

"You're telling the truth?" Nathan glared at the boy. The last thing they needed was some douche-bag kid wasting their time.

"Yeah, man. Dude kept going on about how important it was she had the flowers today. Today was special to them."

"The partner sent those flowers." Nathan's suspicions were confirmed. "He's here for Emilie, not the money."

"You don't know that for sure. This kid could be full of s.h.i.t."

"You really wanna take that risk? I'm telling you, boss, Joe's just a patsy. The partner's using him to get to Emilie. He's going to let Joe take the fall. And I don't think Joe has a clue."

Johnson waved the kid and uniform off. "What's your plan?"

Chapter Three.

"What are you thinking about, Miss Emilie?" Creepy Guy c.o.c.ked his head toward her. "You look sad. I don't like that."

Emilie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Did he really think she ought to be having a good time? She turned to glare at him, but the compa.s.sion in his eyes quelled her retort. She didn't understand him at all.

"Your skin has the loveliest pink undertones, Miss Emilie. Its paleness matches your beautiful auburn hair and green eyes, but I see a gold tone as well. The soft white color of your blouse sets it off perfectly."

A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. Her skin crawled with disgust.

"White means purity and innocence, of course. Most people who choose to wear it have no business doing so. Few in this world do, except children, for isn't innocence the essence of childhood? As adults, do we not strive to protect that innocence by any means necessary?

"There is nothing so precious as a child, my dear. So many are tossed to the side like garbage, free to roam about the world unprotected from the evils of man and pure fate. There is no sin worse. You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Miss Emilie?"

Emilie couldn't take another second of his rambling.

"Joe," she called, awkwardly jumping to her feet. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"No," he snarled. "Sit back down."

"Please. It's just down the hall."

"I don't give a f.u.c.k." Joe leveled the gun at her. Emilie shrank back a step. "I'm waiting for the call that's going to get me out of here. I can't be worrying about taking you to the can."

"I'll take you." Her hovering captor stood and took Emilie's elbow in his gloved hand. His hand trembled against her bare arm. Nathan's words came back to her. She couldn't allow him to get her alone.

"I can wait." Emilie yanked her arm away and sat back down.

Creepy Guy stiffened. His hands clenched into fists. Pure venom overtook the excitement in his eyes. Emilie held her ground and stared right back at him.

Finally his expression relaxed. He returned to his spot beside her. "I see you're not quite ready, then. I understand. You will be soon enough."

"Madigan," Joe snarled into the phone. "You better have something good to tell me." Nathan heard the huff of his breath and the clunking of his boots as they hit the bank's floor.

"I want to talk to your sidekick."

"Why?"

"I just want to make sure he's with us."

"He'll do what I say."

"You sure you can trust this guy to not leave you hanging?"

Joe didn't respond. Nathan gave him time to stew.

"Hey, jacka.s.s," Joe yelled. "Why don't you get away from that woman and back me up? This ain't no social call."

"We're inside," Chris murmured over the radio, "in a back hallway by the vault. Keep him talking."

"I thought you were the boss, man," Nathan said.

"f.u.c.k you, Madigan."

"Holt, you got eyes on the target?" Johnson's voice echoed in Nathan's ear.

"About ten feet ahead and to the left. He's still got Davis separated from the others."

There was a sudden female cry. Nathan's body went rigid. One of the hostages had seen a member of the SWAT team.

"Go, go, go!"

"What the h.e.l.l?" Joe slammed the phone down. Nathan focused his attention on the radio noise.

"Stand down," Johnson ordered as Joe shouted obscenities. "Do not draw your weapons."

Pop, pop, pop! The clatter of gunshots, breaking gla.s.s, and the firecracker-like noise of a.s.sault rifles rang in Nathan's ears.

"Suspect down."

"In pursuit," Chris shouted. "Partner heading down the east hallway with Emilie."

Nathan s.n.a.t.c.hed the bank's blueprints from a nearby officer. The east hallway led to more offices-there was no sign of another exit. The only other option was the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"He's trapping himself, Chris. Nothing down there but more rooms. Watch your backs."

A nervous feeling bubbled up in his stomach. They were missing something.

Nathan pressed the earpiece to his head, listening as Johnson and a rookie SWAT member raced after Chris while other SWAT members evacuated hostages.