Emily Kenyon 01 - A Cold Dark Place

Where’s Nick Martin?”
    “Not here, if that’s what you’re asking. Look around”
    With Chris covering her, Emily moved swiftly from the main room, to the kitchen, to the single bedroom. A window was open and she could hear the roar of the Pacific, but no sign of her daughter. Why is this happening? Why is God doing this to me? Emily fought to push all of the things that spoke to her being a mother to the back of her consciousness. Let the cop take over, she thought. Let the cop find the girl.
    “Last chance. Where is she?” Emily’s gun, once more directed at Dylan Walker, wavered just a little. She moved her finger on the trigger.
    Chris looked at her with abject horror. Not again, Emily. “Let’s keep cool here, Walker,” Chris said, though his words were really meant for Emily.
    Walker knew it.
    “Tell that to Ms. Rambo”
    Emily didn’t say anything. She let Christopher take over. She knew she’d lost her perspective just then. She was a mother more than she was a cop.
    “Let’s all stand down, all right?” Christopher asked, his voice cool and commanding. “No one needs to get hurt here.”
    “Good idea. If I get hurt, Jenna dies. So I’m game. And if you don’t think I can keep a secret, you don’t know me at all. But I’m willing to talk. Maybe. Just point your guns to the floor” Dylan lowered his gun slightly, his eyes fastened on his adversaries, who both ignored his request.
    Emily had wanted to kill Dylan Walker for all that he’d done. But trumping all of that, of course, was Jenna’s whereabouts. Her safety. Sucking up to a monster could save her. It was the only thing she could do. But there was another presence in the room … Kristi Cooper. Emily knew that Kristi was the reason for this horrific reunion.
    “Where is she? Where is Jenna?”
    “At first, I thought the Tuttle shooting was a godsend,” Walker said, ignoring her question. “You’d killed an innocent man. I’d gotten away with something. Your murder of Tuttle made mine a perfect crime-“
    “The shooting was an accident.”
    “Incompetence, I’d say. But you call it whatever helps you sleep at night.”
    “Where’s my daughter?”
    “Poor Kristi. And now, poor Jenna. I won’t ask you again, lower your weapons”
    Christopher moved toward Dylan, just a step or two. Just enough to let him know that he was unafraid.
    “Where is your son?”
    The words brought a smile, but Walker said nothing.
    Christopher pushed harder. “Are he and Jenna together? If you’re here … and they are off somewhere, doesn’t that leave you without the prize?”
    A blank look came over Walker’s face. “The prize?”
    “Your son. All of this is about him. The smuggling of your semen? The babies by Tina and Bonnie. All about your legacy, right.”
    Walker let out a long insidious laugh. It was the kind of laugh that chills a body to the marrow, Freon in the bloodstream. An evil laugh that had nothing to do with anything being amusing. “For all of your reading about serial killers, all the stupid classes you’ve taken for your somewhat checkered career, you don’t understand me one bit.”
    “I do” It was Emily this time. “I get you. You’re all about control and power. That’s why you pick on young girls, trusting women. You like to be in charge, don’t you?”
    “Ooooh,” he said, “I like it when you act smart”
    “Don’t patronize me, Dylan. I know you. I can see through you. You’re nothing but a guy who thinks the world revolves around him. You’re a narcissist.”
    Walker laughed again, this time it was brief like a release of gratification.
    “As if that label would sting a little,” he said, sitting back. “I’m a narcissist because I look good. People like me. Women like me”
    “Not this one,” she said. “Now, let’s give this up. You can be reunited with your son. I can find my daughter. You can go quietly and safely.”
    Walker looked confused. It was the first time he’d seemed out of sorts, as though what Emily said finally touched a nerve. Finally she was able to penetrate the facade, the mask.
    “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “You don’t understand me like Bonnie did-“
    “Before you killed her?” Christopher cut in. The fire crackled and sent embers across the pine floorboards.
    Dylan Walker was agitated. The coolness of his demeanor was draining before their eyes. “Like Bonnie did. She was smart. Fat, but smart. Weak, needy, and smart. My favorite