Into the Devil's Underground by Stacy Green

it. He sounded too controlled.” Adrenaline rushed through Emilie. “That’s right. When he first spoke, I could have sworn I recognized his voice. And he had this accent, this soft lilt that just rolled off his tongue.”
    Avery wrote something else down, the sound of the pen scratching the paper loud in Emilie’s ears. “What happened in the basement?”
    I thought I was going to die. “When he showed me the door, I tried to crawl away. We struggled. He…uh…” She surveyed Avery’s pristine appearance and refined mannerisms. He looked more like an accountant than a cop. His fidgeting and fast questions left no room for compassion. “He was excited.”
    “Did he tell you that?”
    Emilie looked up at Avery. “He didn’t have to.”
    “Oh. Good to know.” Avery’s gaze flickered everywhere but on her. “Let’s get back to the basement itself. What’s the first thing you noticed aside from the…err… excitement?”
    “The smell.” The basement never smelled great; the foundation was one of the oldest in the city. Mustiness was to be expected. But this smell was different: rank with age and decay and rotting earth. “I figured the cardboard boxes stored down there must have gotten wet and moldy. I tried to get away, and then I heard shouting from upstairs. I kept fighting.” Emilie closed her eyes. Her skin burned as she remembered the feel of Creepy Guy’s hands, his body pressing her to the floor, his erection rigid against her back.
    “He didn’t understand, like he expected me to go willingly.” Thick film coated her mouth. She licked her lips. “Kept saying we were meant to be. I finally nailed him in the crotch. He said something about having it my way, for now. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor alone.”
    She went limp, her head slipping down to her knees. Hopeless and alone and afraid. In one night, she’d become everything she’d railed against most of her life.
    “Can you think of anyone who would want to harm you?” Avery seemed oblivious to exhaustion. “Ex-husband, ex-boyfriend, someone with a grudge?”
    “No.” Emilie’s upper lip curled at the reminder of Evan. As if that good-for-nothing bastard had any reason to hold a grudge. “My ex-husband moved to California with his girlfriend two years ago.”
    “What about your family? Are they well-off?”
    “What?” A new kind of fear stung her with the ferocity of a hornet.
    “A kidnapping is usually motivated by money,” Avery said. “If your family—”
    “I haven’t had any contact with my family since I was eighteen.” Emilie didn’t want to hear any more. She’d endured enough hell for one night. “They are well-off, but that doesn’t matter. They wouldn’t be interested in a ransom.”
    “Sixteen years?” Avery’s interested was clearly piqued. “We’ll need their names and addresses.”
    Emilie had no idea where her parents lived anymore. Knowing Claire, she’d managed to wrangle an even bigger home out of her husband in a more elite neighborhood.
    “Claire Davis is my mother.” Saying the words made her already tight chest ache even more. “She’s married to Sam Davis. He’s a criminal attorney. They live in Portland. At least they did when I left.”
    “He’s your stepfather?”
    “Yes.” Sam wasn’t a bad guy. Certainly better than her mother deserved. Emilie missed him sometimes.
    Avery raised a thin eyebrow. “What about your biological father?”
    “Never a factor in my life.”
    “I’ll still need his name,” Avery said.
    She sat up straighter, having trouble fending off her irritation. Every inch of her body cried out in pain, begging for relief. Avery’s questions felt like needles being stuck into her injuries. “Why? There’s no way—”
    “We have to eliminate suspects, Ms. Davis. Your father’s name?”
    “Mark Chambers.” She was surprised she remembered the name. She’d never met him. “No idea where he lives.”
    “We’ll interview all of them as