Page 3 of Redemption's Inferno

Therese paused. “I could use a little money.”

“Money?” Emilie blinked.

“Not a lot, maybe a hundred dollars a month. For tampons and toothpaste that doesn’t taste like ass… Come on, Em, it’s not a lot.”

Emilie pretended to think about it as she realized Therese had just played right into her hands. “Tell you what,” she said. “If you can tell me some things I need to know, I’ll get you some money.”

“Like what?”

“Do you remember when we ran into each other in London? About eight years ago? You were on holiday with a couple of your girlfriends and we went dancing at that club with the dance floor on the roof?”

Therese nodded. “Oh! Yes, of course. You were frightened—something about a bondage session gone wrong.”

“What do you remember about that?”

Therese frowned. “You asked me to go to that hotel and see what was going on… The police were bringing out a body but no one had any information. A young man had died under suspicious circumstances.”

“I left the next day,” Emilie said. “And you promised you’d try to find out more. You told me at one point that they were looking for someone—there had been fingerprints in the room they couldn’t identify—but you said they stopped looking relatively quickly.”

“It was a while ago, but from what I recall, the search died off almost immediately. You thought you were somehow involved, yes?”

Emilie nodded.

“Why are you thinking about this after all this time?”

“I need to know, one way or another.”

“Let it go,” Therese hissed, glancing around. “You don’t want to wind up like this.”

“Do you remember anything else? His last name? Any details?”

Therese rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you’re such a bleeding heart… Who cares? It was years ago and no one knows anything about it.”

“What do you remember?!” Emilie pressed in frustration.

“There was nothing to remember! It was a non-story within a day.”

“You brought it up once, when you were getting me to sleep with all those men.” Emilie tried not to squirm at the memory.

“I was trying to make you do what I wanted—there was no new information.”

Emilie sighed. “All right. I’ll find out how to send you money when I leave.”

“You’d better.” Therese’s eyes suddenly glinted like they used to in the old days; cold and maniacal, as if she was planning something sinister. Again.

“Threats mean nothing anymore,” Emilie pointed out.

“I still know things. And people.”

Emilie scowled. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Always ready to hurt someone.”

“It’s your fault I’m in here and, damn you, I deserve better!”

“Better? What about Trey Montoya? Did he deserve better? What about Larissa and her baby? Did they?”

“They deserved what they got and so will you!” Therese growled. “Just wait. I’m not done with you! And I can still reach the authorities in London, even from here!”

“Then give it your best shot,” Emilie replied.

---