Into the Devil's Underground by Stacy Green Page A

Claire, who would revel in Emilie’s failures. She coughed and nearly threw up the bagel she’d forced down an hour ago. “Excuse me?”
    “Passageway to Hell Discovered Beneath WestOne Bank”
    Emilie skimmed through the details of the hostage situation and the man’s attempt to take her. She didn’t need to relive the night in print.
    Her eyes stopped on two words. “The Subterranean Stalker? Really?”
    “It’s ridiculous. Nothing but sensationalizing a terrible crime get hits.”
    Emilie read further. The female blogger was in awe of Creepy’s scheme. Paragraphs of the blog were devoted to his brilliance.
    The paper rustled in Emilie’s shaky grip. The blogger had spoken to her mother.
    The victim is the daughter of Claire and Sam Davis, an upper-middle-class family from Portland, Oregon. She and her husband haven’t had a relationship with their daughter since Emilie Davis ran away sixteen years ago with her now ex-husband, Evan Randall.
    “He was her high school guidance counselor,” Claire Davis said.
    “For six months during her senior year, she snuck around behind our backs with him. Of course, we eventually found out, and the news was mortifying. I immediately put my foot down, but Emilie couldn’t handle that. She always was a difficult child. One morning, she just ran off with him.”
    Red spots clouded Emilie’s vision. Just ran off with him? Was that how Claire remembered it? Had she forgotten the reason Emilie had decided to leave? Or pushed the incident to the back of her mind just as she had her daughter?
    “That’s not how it happened.” She needed Ronson to know her mother lied. “Claire never did anything but put me down. I had no self-esteem. He was a new counselor and young, and I told him about Claire. He used that to manipulate me. And my mother only cared about what the relationship did to her reputation, not me.”
    “You don’t have to justify anything to me.” Ronson looked embarrassed. “This is nothing but gossip. I just thought you should be aware.”
    Eyes stinging, Emilie went back to reading.
    Speaking by phone in California, Evan Randall stated that he hasn’t communicated with his ex-wife since the divorce. “I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt Emilie,” Randall said. “She’s a kind person. A little needy but very caring. I hope they find the person that did this soon. Emilie doesn’t deserve this.”
    Hypocritical, lying bastard. Leave it to Evan to play the charming ex-husband card before Emilie could taint his reputation.
    When asked about his relationship with a high-school-aged Davis, Randall said that while Davis had been at the age of legal consent, in retrospect his marriage with her was a “foolish decision.”
    Emilie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She stood and stuck the paper in her bag. “Thank you for showing this to me. I’ve got to go.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She didn’t have the voice to tell the agent it wasn’t her fault. “Please. Just find this man.”
    “Remember the safety precautions,” Agent Ronson urged as Emilie moved toward the door. “Your building has a good security system, and you have designated parking behind the bank. There will also be a patrol in your neighborhood, but you need to stay in touch with us and make sure you carry mace or pepper spray. Be aware of your surroundings at all times.”
    “Yeah, okay.”
    “Call me if you remember more details.”
    “I will.” She rushed out of the office. Her face flamed with embarrassment and rage. Evan had been her guidance counselor, but the relationship wasn’t scandalous—not the way Claire made it out to be.
    She stumbled into the ladies room and leaned against the counter. It wasn’t my fault . Emilie repeated the words the therapist had drilled into her head. Claire drove me to Evan, and he manipulated me. She never gave me the foundation to love myself. Tears dripped onto the countertop. It wasn’t my fault .
    She stared in the mirror and