Chapter Forty-Three.

Nathan shoved two caplets into his mouth. The dry pills rolled down his throat. If he wasn't careful, he'd be chewing antacids next.

Footsteps clunked behind him. "Madigan."

"Sarge."

"Apartment was empty."

Ronson had discovered two addresses under 'Batier.' The first was a small residence in northwest Las Vegas, the second a private home twenty miles south of the city, surrounded by desert.

"We knew it would be."

"You can be as p.i.s.sed off as you want. You're not going in. Neither is Holt."

"I get it." Nathan was too tired to worry about disrespect. "Doesn't mean I like it."

"Your a.s.s is lucky I'm letting you ride with Ronson and Avery. If you get out of the car before I give you the all clear, you'll be facing another suspension. And this one will be a lot longer than three days."

"We don't even know if she's there. He could still have her hidden."

"We'll do surveillance first. Any sign of activity in the house or on the property, we move in."

Nathan looked out at the gathering clouds. The night was murky. Perfect cover for SWAT. Batier's property was nearly an acre. The team would have a difficult time covering escape routes. If he had Emilie anywhere near the place, SWAT only had one shot.

He didn't need to tell Johnson any of this. Focusing on the logistics kept Nathan's mind away from the torment Emilie might be experiencing.

"Just find her."

"I blame myself." The Taker's soft voice grew husky with misery. "I knew the house was dangerous. We never should have been on the colonnade. One minute she was laughing, the next she was falling. Her plunge seemed to take forever, and yet it was over before I realized it. Her blood stained the white jasmine growing over the brick walk. I watched her slip away."

Sadness swept over Emilie. Josephine had been a sweet girl with her whole life ahead of her. Fate ripped it away. And left Julian scarred forever. The world was cruel.

"I'm sorry. You miss her?"

"Every second of every day. She's always there, walking beside me." He closed his eyes. Moisture crept out from beneath his thick lashes. "Why did G.o.d take her from me?"

"Julian." She moved across the Persian rug to stand before him. "There's no answer to that question, at least none that will give you any peace of mind." She touched her bound hands to his shoulder. "Watching my Meme die was the most heart wrenching experience of my life."

He looked up. The Taker Emilie knew had evaporated. Julian, the broken child, sat before her. "I can't let her go."

"I know. But you can't let her memory control your life. Do you think she would want you to mourn her like this?"

"It was my fault. I knew better."

"Any one of us could say that about our past mistakes. I knew running away from Portland and my mother was stupid, but I did it anyway. I knew six months after I married Evan it was a huge mistake, but I chose to stay for another ten years."

Julian nodded and brought his right hand to rest over hers.

Emilie pressed on. She was getting through. "And my friend, his uncle was murdered right in front of him when he was a kid. He's always blamed himself. Things happen that are out of our control. The only thing we can control is how we react to the obstacles thrown at us."

His expression shifted. Eyes narrowed, lips curled. The Taker had returned. "You're talking about Madigan."

Emilie swallowed. Her skin turned hot. She'd made a huge mistake.

"I don't care to hear his sad story. He's of no interest to me."

"I just meant your situations are similar. Terrible losses that changed you both."

"Do not compare me to him," the Taker shouted. He leaped from the chair. "You lied to me."

She stepped backward. The Taker's face had morphed into that of an angry monster. His dark eyes shined with fury. Air rushed between his bared teeth as his chest heaved. His fists were clenched, his neck muscles rigid.

"I didn't."

"Don't lie. It's most unbecoming of a lady."

"Julian, I didn't."

"Nathan Madigan is more than a friend." Spittle flew out of his mouth. "Your eyes told the truth when you spoke of his pain. You care for him."

"Only as a friend," she cried. "I swear."

"On what? Your dead mother's grave? As if that woman's spirit could save you."

Emilie tripped and banged against a shelf. The wood dug into her back, the objects on the shelves rattled. Three feet away, the sliding gla.s.s door could be easily unlocked. She held her hands in front of her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up. Your loss is nothing like his. Josephine-"

"Do not speak her name," the Taker's voice boomed. "You are not worthy of her."

"Please, don't say that. I want to help," Emilie begged. A small statue sat on an end table next to the sofa. Two steps forward and Emilie could reach it.

She changed her course and inched toward the table. "You can't replace her, Julian. No matter what you do, no other woman is going to live up to Josephine."

"That's not true. I can teach you." He stopped his advance. "With some training, you will be a suitable stand-in."

"I don't want to be a stand-in. I want to live my own life. What would Josephine say if she saw what you're doing to me? What you did to that woman in Louisiana?"

"She was unteachable. I still have hope for you."

"Josephine's gone." Emilie had almost reached the table. "You can't bring her back. You're only ruining lives, and you'll never be satisfied. No matter what you do, I'll never live up to her."

"Don't say that." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I need her."

"She's dead." Her hip made contact with the table. She took a step back. If she moved fast enough, she had a chance. "She's dead, and she's never coming back."

The Taker covered his ears. "Stop saying that." His voice broke. "She's still here with me. This is what she wants."

"She wants to rest in peace. You're not honoring her memory. You're destroying it."

"Stop it," he shouted. "You don't know her. Only I know her heart." He clenched his eyes shut.

Emilie seized her chance. She stepped forward and grabbed the statue. She swung as hard as she could, the iron landing against the Taker's jaw with a sickening crack.

He screamed and dropped to his knees. Emilie ran for the door and slammed the lock up. The Taker howled behind her. Without looking back, Emilie yanked open the sliding gla.s.s door and stumbled into the night.

She raced across the small patio. Her foot caught the leg of an outdoor table, and she pitched forward.

"s.h.i.t." The flesh on her knees tore and pain shot up her arms as she caught her fall.

She looked back. The Taker gripped the small end table and was getting to his feet.

Emilie pushed herself up. Blood seeped from her right knee. She plunged forward into the night. She didn't know where to run. All she could see was desert: no houses, no headlights.

There has to be a road nearby. A driveway, find the driveway.

She had to get to the front of the house.

A moan came from behind her. The Taker leaned against the door, clutching his jaw.

Their eyes locked. Emilie saw a fury she'd never experienced.

She ran like h.e.l.l.

Nathan sat in silence as Ronson whipped through the traffic on Interstate 15. She stared at the road ahead. Avery tapped his fingers against the dash. Nathan wanted to snap them off.

SWAT had raced ahead to set up a perimeter around the property. Nathan clutched the radio, desperate for any reports.

The sprawling city gave way to desert. Bright stars hung low over the dark landscape. Nathan leaned against the window and attempted to count the stars. Jimmy used to love sitting in the backyard and counting. He once claimed to have gotten up to a thousand before falling asleep.

"Entering the town of Jean," Ronson said. "Batier lives in the boonies five miles east."

The Taker had plenty of room to hide Emilie, dead or alive.

Emilie dodged cacti and Joshua trees as she ran through the landscaped yard. The sky seemed lower in the desert, the stars within reach. They acted as her guide through the fog of fear. A wooden fence loomed ahead and then, open desert.

"Emilie." The strangled shout sounded close. "You'll never get away. If I don't find you, the coyotes will."

She'd take her chances with the dogs.

In a final burst, she reached the fence. Her lungs screamed for air. Her legs burned for rest. She couldn't stop. Her tied hands found the top rail and she began to climb.

Footsteps thundered and the Taker's ragged breaths rattled behind her. Her skin crawled, but she heaved her body upward. Her left leg swung over the fence. She was halfway there.

"I won't let you go." The Taker's hand closed around her right ankle. "Josephine, stay with me," he cried.

She kicked backward with all her might. Blood rushed to her head as her top half dangled over the fence. Her hands clawed at the ground.

The Taker clutched her ankle. His other hand s.n.a.t.c.hed the waistband of her shorts.

Dizziness washed over Emilie. She refused to stop fighting. She grabbed at the gra.s.s in an effort to gain leverage. Her hand closed over something hard and smooth. A rock.

"You're not leaving me."

She screamed as the Taker heaved her back over the fence. The rough wood sc.r.a.ped her stomach. He threw her on the ground. Another scream left Emilie as her ribs banged against the hardened soil.

"You aren't good enough to replace her," the Taker shouted.

He stood over Emilie, his lips twisted and moisture leaking from his mouth. "You're just like Marie. Both of you imposters, tricking me into believing in you and then destroying me." He beat his fist against his chest. "I won't let you do it. Not again."

The Taker dove for her. Her body shouted in protest as she turned in flight. The Taker stumbled and then jerked her back, twisting her so quickly Emilie heard the crack of her ribs.

Her shriek of agony echoed through the desert night.

"I'll put you where no one will find you." The Taker grasped her shirt and pulled her face near his. He looked like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. "You should have just loved me. That's all you needed to do."

"I'd rather die." Emilie summoned all her strength and slammed the rock into his head.

The Taker's eyes rolled back. He fell to the side with a groan. Emilie scrambled to get up, but the sharp pain in her ribs refused to allow her to move with any speed. She dug her elbows into the ground and crawled back to the fence. Tiny pebbles and dirt tore into her already b.l.o.o.d.y knee.

She gripped the wooden rail and paused. She struggled for air against the damaged ribs. Her head grew fuzzy.

Something moved in the dirt behind her. Emilie glanced over her shoulder. An enraged face and a silver blade rushed toward her: the Swiss Army Knife.

Meme's face flashed in her thoughts. They'd be together again soon. But Nathan would be left behind. More guilt for him to carry, another love to mourn.

Firecrackers exploded in the air. Emilie waited for the sky to burst into brilliant colors. Instead the Taker's eyes widened and his body grew slack. He fell forward, blade still in his hand.

Emilie wrenched back to her stomach. She tasted dirt as she pressed her face against her bound wrists. A sharp sting ripped through her shoulder, followed by a grind-like noise that reminded her of the dentist. Heavy weight landed on her. Pinned to the ground, she couldn't move or breathe. Blood dripped down her arm and pooled in the dirt. The Taker had succeeded.

Her shoulder throbbed. Desert sand invaded her eyes.

Shouts came from all around, voices she didn't recognize. And then the heavy ma.s.s disappeared.