"It's Nathan. Remember me?"

She searched her cloudy mind. "The hostage negotiator?"

"Yes. You're safe. You're at the police station. Open your eyes."

Emilie cracked one eye open. Nathan's features came into view: broad shoulders, a scruff-covered, angular jaw, striking blue eyes.

He stood in front of her, worry etched on his handsome face. Behind him, several officers gawked. She'd drawn a crowd.

Emilie took a step forward. Dizziness threatened to overtake her, and she stumbled. Nathan caught her by the arms. His hands were warm and rough with calluses.

She spoke into his broad chest. "I need to get out of here."

"You need to sit down."

"I'm fine."

"You're not going anywhere. Not until you've calmed down."

"I just want to go home." She pressed her hands against her ringing ears.

Nathan touched her shoulder. "Please sit down and rest."

She didn't have the energy to refuse him. Nathan steadied her as she wobbled to a nearby wooden bench.

"I'm not crazy."

"Of course not. You're traumatized."

Emilie hated that word. It made her feel like a victim. "I don't know what happened back there."

"You looked like you were having a flashback." Nathan sat down next to her.

The significance of the Taker's words sent her reeling again. She clutched the edge of the bench to keep from falling face first onto the floor. "He knows about my past, about my parents. He knows me."

Chapter Nine.

Nathan struggled to think of the right response as Emilie rocked back and forth on the bench. He was afraid she'd tumble off if he let go of her arm.

"Did you hear what I said?" Emilie demanded.

She looked worse than she had last night. The bluish-purple bruise on her cheek had a distinct shape-the b.u.t.t of a gun. Dark circles under her eyes suggested she had gotten little rest. A tear clung briefly to the edge of one of her long eyelashes before losing its grip and slipping down her cheek. The moisture landed on her full upper lip, but Emilie didn't seem to notice.

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked.

Another tear, this one trickling through the smattering of freckles across her nose. "My mom, the way she treated me. That I left home when I was eighteen and haven't spoken to her since. He knows."

A copy of The Sun stuck out of the top of her bag. Emilie's history had been a sad surprise. Her mother's cold indifference toward her daughter was easy to see in her malicious quotes.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because of what I just remembered," Emilie said. "The Taker talked about my wearing white and how only kids were innocent enough to wear white. Then he talked about protecting them and how there's no worse sin than mistreating a child."

"And you think he was referring to you?"

Color rose in her cheeks. "Listen, you have no idea the kind of person my mother is and what she did. She resented me and spent most of her life pretending I didn't exist." Emilie's tone changed. The vibrating sound of fear was replaced by a raw timbre of pain.

"Is that why you left?"

She finally met his gaze. Surprise and then mortification flickered across her face. Emilie crossed her arms over her chest and twisted her body away from him.

"Doesn't matter," she backtracked. "I found out enough to open my eyes and send me packing."

"And you think the Taker knew?"

"Isn't that what he meant about mistreating a child?"

"Maybe, but he could have been talking about himself, too. Many people with psychoses had bad childhoods."

"But I thought his voice sounded familiar."

"Really? Could it have been your ex?" Nathan's instincts told him Evan Shaw had preyed on a vulnerable young girl. That kind of man could be capable of anything.

"Evan?" Emilie scowled. "h.e.l.l no. He's not smart enough to pull off an escape like that, and I would have recognized him in an instant."

"One of his friends?"

"I suppose it could have been. But I doubt Evan shared my past with them. He wanted everyone to think he had the perfect little wife."

"Do you think," Nathan began, fully expecting his question to be rebuffed, "that because of the information in the paper, you're projecting? If you hadn't read that article, would you still think the partner was talking about your family?"

"That article has no relevance to my thoughts."

They both knew that was a lie. But asking any more questions would only cause her to retreat further into her own mind.

"Well, you need to tell Avery what you remembered so he can look into that angle, but I have a feeling the partner was talking about himself."

"Avery." A sneer flitted across her face. "He's an a.s.shole."

"You still need to tell him."

A smile played at the corners of Emilie's mouth. "I notice you didn't deny he was an a.s.shole."

"Doesn't matter." Nathan couldn't tell her how right she was. "Who's the FBI agent a.s.signed to the case?

"Sia Ronson. You know her?"

"SWAT worked a case with her a year ago. She's very good."

"You helped search last night, didn't you? Was there really no sign of him?"

"Nothing. He covered his tracks very well."

"Avery said you couldn't go in very far. The police don't know the tunnels that well. Is that true?"

"Unfortunately. It would take days to search the entire system."

"But if he's in there-"

"We'd end up going in circles."

"So he just sits back and laughs while the police chase their tails and I freak out. Is that it?" Emilie slumped back against the bench.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. If it weren't for you, G.o.d knows where I would be."

"Right." If Nathan had done his job, Emilie wouldn't be here right now. "Let's go find Ronson."

"She thinks there's an insider helping him," Emilie said as they approached the squad room. "Someone with knowledge of the bank."

"It's likely."

"But that's dozens of people. How is she supposed to find the right one?"

"By doing her job and narrowing down the suspect pool. Trust me; Ronson is one of the best."

The agent was nowhere to be seen, but Avery sat at his desk stuffing a candy bar into his mouth. He glared at Nathan as they approached. "What are you doing with my victim, Madigan? Your job ended last night."

"Lay off." The sooner Nathan got away from Avery the better. "This isn't the time or place for your issues. Emilie's got something to tell you."

Avery's eyes glazed over as Emilie spoke. "So? He could have been talking about his own childhood. Or just babbling. You've got nothing else?"

"You said to tell you everything," Emilie said.

"By everything, I meant pertinent details from last night. I didn't mean for you to waste my time playing detective. Let the big boys do the real work, please."

"Is there anyone more competent to work with Agent Ronson?" Emilie's shrill voice made every head in the room turn in their direction. "Because it sure as h.e.l.l seems like you're either too busy or too stupid to be bothered."

"Excuse me?" Avery looked as stunned as Nathan felt.

"You're more interested in checking out my legs and insulting me than finding the Taker. I'm sick of it."

Nathan knew he should stop her, be professional, and diffuse the situation. He was good at that. But he just couldn't muster the effort. Not for Dalton Avery.

"Ms. Davis, I'm a law enforcement officer trying to solve your case." The vein in Avery's forehead bulged above his quivering lips. "The least you could do is have some respect."

"Then do something to earn it. You've insulted me, accused me of having an affair with my boss, and called me crazy. So I ask again, is there someone more competent to replace you, or can Ronson handle the case on her own?"

Avery flushed crimson from the top b.u.t.ton of his fancy dress shirt to the top of his receding hairline. "You...I have never..."

Nathan swallowed the laughter. "I'm sure Detective Avery will do his best. You've got to be emotionally drained. Why don't I walk you to your car?"

Emilie crossed her arms and stared up at Avery. "I don't want to talk to you again. If you have more questions for me, send Ronson."

"No problem."

Nathan followed as Emilie stomped out of the station. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her back rigid. She whirled on Nathan in the parking lot. "How in the h.e.l.l did that man ever make detective?"

He stepped back at the force of her anger. "He knows what he's doing-"

"Oh bulls.h.i.t. You don't have any respect for him either. The animosity between you is obvious."

"We don't like each other, but that doesn't mean I don't think he can do his job."

"Don't tell me a cop like you thinks that man is competent." Emilie shaded her eyes. Her knuckles were bruised, and her fair skin looked even more delicate in the bright sun.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"It matters to me. Do you think Avery has the ability to catch the Taker?"

Nathan could have lied, but Emilie deserved better. The truth was the least he could offer. "Honestly? I'm not sure anyone has the ability to catch him."

"That's great." Emilie unlocked her car and groaned as the sweltering heat rolled out. She fished a pair of bronze-colored sungla.s.ses out of her bag and slipped them on. "Well, look on the bright side, I guess. At least someone out there is interested in me, right? Not everyone can say she has her very own stalker."

"No, I guess not."

"I suppose I should keep that information private if I ever get a date. Might turn the guy off to know creepy-stalker-man is watching." Emilie pushed her hair off her face.

"You never know. Some guys like that sort of thing."

"Right." She looked back at the station. "Thanks for helping with my situation in there. I don't know why that happened."

"You've been through something terrible. You should talk to someone."

"Nathan, I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I'm fine." Her friendly tone was gone. She stepped away from him.

"Counseling could help, especially with the guy still at large. Once you recover from the shock, the real mind games will start."

"Thank you again for everything."