Exception (70 page)

“It’s not your fault, Cheesecake,” Zack’s kind voice sounded beside her. His gentle hand stroked her hair in a touch that was as familiar as it was unwelcomed. She flinched, making Zack drop his hand and sigh. “Don’t do this sweetie, don’t check out. We need you. Taylor needs you.”

Like a possessed person in a horror movie, she slowly and stiffly turned her head towards him and pushed through the knot in her throat. “I let him go, Zack. I felt something was off and still, I let him go alone and now . . . ” she trailed off, covering her lips with her hand.

She absently looked from where her family and friends comforted each other in the kitchen to the dining room, where Nate, Rick and Toby were talking to the dozen police officers and Prime Start Security personnel that had transformed the room into an office. “Now I have a bunch of strange, useless people smutting my floors and removing my pictures from the walls, and writing on that fucking whiteboard with that damned squeaking marker that makes my ears hurt, and other than saying they found some blood on a sidewalk and two broken windows they have no more idea where Taylor is than I do. He’s gone, Zack, gone.” Her voice escalated to the loudest Zack had ever heard it.

Every face in the apartment turned her way, looking with pity as a long desperate sob escaped her chest and the floodgates opened. She hated being that weak and vulnerable in front of so many people. She hated crying like that; it was loud and painful, but she didn’t care, holding those tears in was killing her. So she cried.

Her sobs were the only sound in the room for an immeasurable amount of time. Friends and strangers watched with constricting hearts as the broken woman purged her hopelessness. When her tears began to dry and her body weakened from the painful exhaustion that tends to follow such a powerful emotional outburst, Emily felt, rather than heard, someone approach and sit on the coffee table right in front of her.

“Emily,” a female voice called her softly. She recognized it as being the voice of detective Diana Bronson, the forty-something petite, Afro-American woman who’d questioned her a few hours before. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling right now. I am so sorry for everything that is happening and especially that it’s taking us so long to locate Taylor. But I promise that we will. I will. I swear to you on my children’s names that I won’t rest until I find him for you. Okay?”

Reluctantly, Emily lifted her head to look into the deep black eyes that were staring back at her. The sincerity she saw in them was somewhat comforting, so she nodded.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Diana replied with an honest smile. “Now, why don’t you go rest for a bit and I’ll wake you up myself as soon as we have some news.”

Once more, Emily nodded, and stood. Zack stood with her and wordlessly asked for permission to touch her, which she granted with a small bob of her head. Holding tightly to his arm, she followed him down the corridor. They were almost at her bedroom door when she heard Diana’s low and sure voice echoing in the other room. “I made a promise to that woman, folks, so get back to work and don’t make me look bad. Also, look at your shoes, people. If they are dirty, clean them or take them off, and for heaven’s sake change that marker.”

Emily thought that if she still had the ability to smile, she would have done so.

Reaching the door, Zack held it open for her. “Do you want me to sit with you, Cheesecake?”

Shaking her head, Emily declined his offer, not even trying to hide the tears that were already forming again. Understanding what she needed, he nodded and kissed her cheek before closing the door behind him.

Alone in her bedroom, Emily cried silent tears as she removed her jeans, leaving them where they fell on the floor. She walked to the king-sized bed that looked even bigger in Taylor’s absence. The sheets were still a mess from where they had made love a few hours before—where he’d
proposed
to her a few hours before. The memory knotted Emily’s throat even further.

Needing to feel him in some way, she walked to Taylor’s side of the bed and lay on her stomach, wrapping her arms around his pillow and bringing it flush against her body. The minty scent of his shampoo filled her nostrils, and a little bit of her heart. As her arm shuffled beneath the pillow, the edge of something hard dug into Emily’s arm and her hand instinctively grabbed it. Her thin fingers curled around the tiny square box, but she didn’t remove it from its hiding place. There was no need to look at the object to know what it was, or what it held.

Heavy, painful tears fell from her eyes as she contemplated the heartbreaking possibility laid in front of her. She might never see the contents of that box on her finger, never see the look on his face as she gave him the yes she so desperately wanted to, never have the summertime wedding on the dock at the lake house and never get to teach the little kid with brown hair and blue eyes how to skate. She knew she would never accept that loss. She’d never move on from it. Losing him would eventually kill her.

In that moment she envied religious people; those who trusted a higher power to guide them through the darkest times, and found comfort and peace in it. All the crap she’d lived through led her to believe such a being didn’t exist. It couldn’t, otherwise it wouldn’t have allowed her to suffer so much. However, at that moment she needed something to hold on to. Something to keep her from completely falling apart so she turned to the one she believed had always looked after her, the one that, in her mind, was responsible for bringing her and Taylor together.

With closed eyes and tears that wouldn’t subside, Emily whispered her prayer in the hope that her Nana could hear her. “I’m so sorry to bother you in your rest, Nana, but I need you,” she started through her tears, forcing her head deeper into the soft cotton of the pillow. “I don’t know how these things happen, how they decide who stays and who goes. I don’t know if there’s logic to that decision or if it’s just a nasty lottery, but I can’t lose him. I just can’t. I never got to say yes, Nana. I never got to tell him that I want to be his wife more than I want anything else in my life, and that I’ve been fantasizing about it for months. He needs to know that. I need to tell him that. So I beg you, Nana. I’m begging, please talk to whoever you need to and bring my Tay back to me. They took you and Lewis away, leaving me and Charlie alone with Jane . . . they put me through hell and back for the past twenty years. Whoever they are, they owe me. They owe me!”

She repeated those words in between sobs until her pain was too much and the numbness of sleep overtook her, bringing little respite to her weary heart.

The seatbelt buckle was digging into Taylor’s side as he lay on the back seat of his own car, his hands bound together by cable ties. His body was stiff and his head was pounding like it was ready to rebel against either the bump forming on the back of it or the depressing Slayer song blasting loudly through the speakers. Despite his discomfort, he kept quiet, knowing that at that moment he had no strength to get into another altercation with the duo.

They had been driving for so long that time had lost its meaning. Taylor was monitoring it by how many times the CD repeated itself. Every time the first song was repeated, he would open his eyes and peek outside. That little routine, and thoughts of Emily, were the only thing still keeping him sane.

When the fast-paced guitar and drums started announcing the start of “Angel of Death” for the seventh time, Taylor cracked his eyes open to look out through the window. The sun had moved from his line of sight, making him believe it was past noon. They were following the thick line of trees he had seen the third time he opened his eyes. The trees looked familiar, like the ones he grew up with around the lake.
We’re going north,
he thought.

Taylor spent most of his time tuning out the discussion in the front, since it was more a one-sided bitching act performed by Nick than an actual conversation. Jason’s participation was mostly heavy breathing, loud sighs and refusals of his brother’s constant requests to use a phone. Hearing something new coming from Jason’s mouth made Taylor strain his ears to hear the altercation.

“Goddamn it, Nick! Shut the fuck up, or I’m tying you up and tossing you in the back with Richie Rich. Haven’t you fucked this up enough?” Jason’s voice was near a growl and his brother fell silent in a second.

For a short while, there was no sound in the car other than the loud music and Jason’s breathing, then a loud thump came and Taylor knew Jason had pounded on the steering wheel. When he spoke his voice was low and angry.

“It was supposed to be an easy gig. Get him, hit some ATMs, make the cash I needed, take him home so you could have your fun. That was the plan. That’s what I signed up for. But as always, you fucked up and this time . . . this time you fucked up real good, baby bro. And now the cops are probably after us, my head is getting fuzzy, all my shit is gone and we’re driving to Pappy’s cabin in fucking Maine.”

“I tasered his ass to protect you, Jay. He kicked you in the balls, if you don’t remember.”

The simple sound of Nick’s voice made Taylor’s blood boil. Never in his life had he felt that much anger and hatred towards another person. Not even Georgina, with all her shit, had extracted that kind of feeling from him. Yes, she had lied and betrayed and broken her vows, but from that first night when Nick harassed Emily, Taylor had hated him. But now Nick had tasered him, damaged his beloved gallery, kicked him in the head and kidnapped him. All of that made Taylor see red and curse the moment Toby had pulled him away from the man’s bloody face.

Jason’s face twisted into a nasty scowl at his brother’s stubborn words. He was getting sick and tired of Nick and his idiotic behavior. “Yeah, but I’m not a fucking moron like yourself. I can actually think and defend myself. He was gonna run to his car, where I would catch him and then taser his ass. I told you so many fucking times. We needed him away from that fucking door, but you don’t listen, do you? You just go around doing whatever shit you want without thinking about anyone else.” The anger in his voice rolled out of him in heated waves. “You sure as hell didn’t think about me, but did you think about Rach? Did she ever even cross your mind?”

Taylor didn’t know why, but at the mention of the woman’s name both brothers became silent.

Jason continued after a little pause, his voice cold and detached, pain replacing the anger. “You know that, in about three hours, Nando and his thugs will show up at Rach’s place looking for me, and once they see I’m not there they’ll kill her. They will kill my girl, you fucking selfish asshole. She took care of you, mended you, put a roof over your useless head and fed you; and this is how you repay her? By getting her killed over a fuck? I should fucking kill you for that, you bastard.”

“We have his wallet Jay, we can still hit the ATM. He’s got one of those black cards, I’m sure we can get what you need. Or we can get him to call his bank and wire the money to Nando. They’ll leave Rach alone. They will.” Nick’s voice was desperate. Rachel was the one good thing in their lives and he’d finally realized he had put a bull’s eye to her head. “But I explained to you, this fucker fucked my life and he needs to pay.”

The conversation between the two brothers got mixed reactions from Taylor. On one side, he felt sorry for the elder brother and this Rachel character. Jason seemed like a desperate man who’d gotten mixed up in the wrong crowd and allowed his weakness to ruin his life. He didn’t seem like a bad person, and the woman’s only fault was choosing a druggie for a boyfriend. On the other hand there was Nick, the son of a bitch who planned this whole thing.

Jason sighed before speaking; his voice still carried an angry snarl, but was no longer loud or sad. “Don’t be an idiot; if we access his bank, the police will know where to find him and us. We need to get this over with. Once we get to the cabin, we’ll ask the ransom and pay Nando. That’s what I care about. What you do to Richie Rich is your business, not mine.”

Well Jason . . . we’re both trying to do right by our women. I wonder if we can bond over that,
Taylor thought, tuning out the brothers once again to focus on what to do next.

Taylor kept his eyes closed as they continued to drive, and his mind raced with various plans of action. When the song started again and he peeked out of the window, the sky was darkening with the prelude of rain, and the car was entering a gas station. He had no words to explain how thankful he was when Nick stepped out of the car to refuel the tank and buy something at the convenience shop. It was time to put his plan into action.