Kitabı oku: «Evidence Of Marriage», sayfa 3

Diana clenched her teeth until her jaw ached.

Nikki laid a hand on her arm. “He’s Reed’s problem. Not yours.”

Nikki was right. Whatever bad feelings Perreth had toward her had come from his conflicts with Reed. She hardly even knew the man. Nor did she want to. His condescending attitude and the cold way he stared at her shouldn’t bother her. Of course, they did anyway.

She let out a pent-up breath and turned away from the conference-room door.

Nikki gave her an approving nod. She picked up a stack of missing-person reports from her desk and plunked them in front of Diana. “I could use your help now that Reed is busy dealing with Stan.”

Diana took the reports, not bothering to hide the smile on her face. As it turned out, that closed door worked both ways. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Three women went missing this weekend. None of them match the copycat’s previous victims.”

“Three women? In one weekend?”

Nikki waved away her surprise. “They all went missing last night. Chances are they are shacked up with boyfriends or forgot to tell their roommate or husband where they were going. Most show up.”

“But some don’t.”

“Some don’t.”

Diana shuddered. Just last fall, she’d been missing, just like these women. If Sylvie and Bryce hadn’t kept pushing to find her, she would have been one of the ones who never showed up.

She slumped in her chair and focused on the reports. Skimming hair-color and eye-color check boxes for each of the women, she could see what Nikki meant. They didn’t match. Two of the women fell into the same college-age group as the copycat’s victims, yet one had black hair and brown eyes; the other was a redhead. The third woman was blond, but she was approaching forty.

Diana moved her gaze down the page. Skimming blood type, vehicle information and descriptions of clothes and jewelry, she landed on the section entitled Other Information. Sure enough, a roommate had reported one of the college girls missing, a husband the other. She paged to the last report detailing the older blond woman. The complainant in that case was the woman’s mother. Diana read farther on the blonde’s report. Reaching the officer’s notes, her eyes landed on the few sentences detailing the circumstances of the woman’s disappearance. “Beck’s Laundromat. That’s only a couple blocks from the restaurant where Sylvie had her reception.”

Nikki greeted her comment with raised brows.

“Kane said the copycat abducted a woman right after he dropped off Sylvie’s wedding gift.” She grabbed the videotape from Reed’s desk and stuffed it into the ancient VHS player.

The door to the conference room opened. Without looking, Diana could feel Reed’s black eyes boring into her. He didn’t say a word, as if he’d heard her comments, as if he already knew what she thought she’d found.

“He told me that right before I left. I’m sure it’s here.” She pressed Fast Forward and the images of Kane and her twitched double time on the screen. The way she’d felt while talking to him washed over her in a wave. The oppressive fear. The revulsion. The sense that whatever she did or thought, she was merely a puppet in his hands.

Even with the sound muted, their conversation lapped against her mind. “He said something else, too.”

“What?” Reed stepped toward her and took the remote from her hand.

She let him have it, concentrating on the memories tightening her throat and rasping along her nerves. “Something about the desperation a parent feels when they’ve lost a child.”

“He was referring to Vincent Bertram kidnapping you.”

“I know. But the way he said it was weird. Pointed. What if he meant this woman, too?”

“Possible. If the copycat stalked the victim ahead of time.”

She glanced at the missing-person’s report lying on the desk. Or the copycat knew what the report said. An uneasy feeling pinched the back of Diana’s neck. She shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling and the thought that inspired it. She could feel Perreth watching her from the mouth of the conference room. She knew he beat his wife. Reed’s confronting him about it was the cause of the bad blood between them. But any other suspicions she had were pure imagination. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m reaching on that. But the location of the Laundromat is still reason to look into this further.”

Reed pointed the remote at the player. The images of her and Kane slowed to a natural cadence. On the screen, Diana started walking for the door, then suddenly turned around. Reed turned up the sound.

“What did you say?” Diana’s voice sounded tinny, like a distant echo on the tape, but her words were clear.

“He took her last night. After stopping in at your sister’s wedding reception to pay his respects.”

“The Copycat Killer?”

“Of course.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know a lot of things, Diana. Like the desperation a parent feels when kept away from a child. Especially when she needs you most. I could tell you all about it if you would visit me.”

He stopped the tape, freezing Kane and Diana on the screen. “Is that the part you meant?”

She nodded. “Do you think I’m just reading into what he said?”

“Maybe. But the location of the Laundromat is enough reason to check it out.” Switching off the television and removing the tape, he strode to his desk and plucked his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Nikki, call me if any more reports come in.”

“Will do.”

“And keep trying to find Meredith Unger. I realize it’s Sunday, but it seems damn suspicious she picked today to fall off the edge of the earth.”

“I’ll find her.”

Reed glanced at Perreth. “We wait on the press.”

Perreth glowered in answer.

Reed didn’t seem to notice. His focus skimmed over Perreth and landed on Diana. “You’re coming with me.”

DIANA SETTLED HERSELF into the passenger seat of Reed’s sedan, secured the seat belt across her chest and peered out the bug-spattered windshield. “So what were you and Perreth discussing in there?”

Reed shifted the car into gear. Eyes glued to the road ahead, he merged with traffic flowing a block off the capitol square, but instead of turning down East Washington Avenue and heading for Nadine Washburn’s east-side home, he kept going, circling the state capitol grounds.

Diana dug her fingers into the car’s armrest. “Reed? Where are we going?” When he had asked her to go with him, she’d assumed he was taking her to question Nadine’s mother. It was beginning to look as though she should have remembered the old saying about assuming making an ass of you and me.

“You’re going to the hotel where Sylvie and Bryce are staying. They booked you a room adjoining theirs. An officer is posted in the hall. You’ll be safe there.”

“I’d be safe with Nikki at the station.”

“Yes, you and Nikki and the reporters I’m sure Perreth will try to convince the lieutenant to call as soon as I stepped out the door.”

“You think he would do that?”

Reed raised a brow.

“Okay, so he would do that.”

“We’ve been lucky to keep the fact that you and Sylvie are Kane’s daughters out of the press so far. With the copycat active again, that luck isn’t likely to hold. Especially with Perreth chomping at the bit for media exposure. Exposure that would get his name in the papers and hurt you—and by extension me—at the same time.”

Great. Media exposure would turn her and Sylvie’s lives upside down. Her head ached just thinking about it. “So what do we do?”

“Put the media storm off for as long as possible. And hope we catch the copycat. Soon.”

“So I should be helping. Not hiding.”

“You should be lying low. And that’s just what you’re going to do.”

Lying low. Staying safe. Reed’s answer to everything where she was concerned. “I need to see Nadine Washburn’s mother. I need to talk to her. If it wasn’t for Kane forcing me to visit, her daughter wouldn’t have been sucked into the nightmare she’s in now.”

“Listen to yourself.” Reed glanced at her, his nearly black eyes sharp. “You’re doing just what Kane wants you to do. He’ll threaten you and Sylvie and innocent women washing their clothing and anyone else he thinks will give him control over you. So unless you’re planning to take responsibility for the whole human race, it might be more advantageous to focus on your visit with him tomorrow rather than beating yourself up.”

She took a deep cool breath. He was right, as much as she hated admitting it. She needed to put her energy where she could have the greatest chance of stopping the copycat.

And Kane.

“So how am I supposed to focus on tomorrow while I’m sequestered in a hotel?”

“You’re supposed to rest, maybe even eat something.”

Fat chance of that. She didn’t feel the least bit hungry. And although she was exhausted, she knew she’d never be able to fall asleep. Not tonight. But maybe there was another way she could prepare herself for tomorrow’s meeting with Kane. “We’re going to my apartment first, right?”

“Your apartment?” He shook his head. “I want you safe at the hotel, not in an apartment that isn’t security locked.”

“I need clothing, maybe a toothbrush and some other stuff. Don’t you think?”

He ran a hand over his face. “I suppose. Sure.” He made a turn and pointed the car in the direction of her apartment.

Diana leaned back against the headrest. Clothes and a toothbrush would be nice, but it was the other stuff she was most anxious to pick up. She’d done a lot of research into serial killers and Dryden Kane after she’d learned he was her biological father. She’d even gone so far as to insinuate herself into a study the university was conducting on Kane—a study directed by Professor Bertram, the man who had nearly murdered her in his quest for revenge against Dryden Kane. But while she’d worked with Bertram interviewing Kane, she’d squirreled away copies of every paper and note she’d been able to get her hands on. Copies she still had in the storage locker of her apartment building. Since Reed wanted her to prepare for tomorrow, he could hardly complain about hauling a couple of file boxes to the hotel along with her suitcase.

Reed swung the car to the curb outside the front entrance of Diana’s apartment. He switched off the ignition and they both climbed out into the humid June air, scents of moist earth and plant life thick from last night’s heavy rain.

She turned to him as he climbed from the car. “I might need your help carrying some stuff.”

“What are you planning to bring?” Reed circled the car and stepped to the curb beside her.

“If you don’t want to help carry it, you can wait in the car.”

He shot her a dry look. “Follow me.”

Stifling a sigh, she fell in behind him, walking up the sidewalk and into the lobby. Once inside, he made her wait at the door while he scrutinized every inch of the modest lobby, as if he expected a man with a gun to crawl from under the vinyl bench or pop out of one of the tiny locked mailboxes that lined the wall.

“You really think this is necessary?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he paused at the door to the stairwell and stared at the mud-tracked entry rug.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. That’s just an unusual tread pattern.” He pointed at mud shaped in a wavy pattern staining the rug.

Apparently he was going to micromanage every second of her life. Even to the point of analyzing dirty rugs. “So? It poured last night.”

“But where does someone find that much mud around here?”

He had a point. The area around the apartment was covered with a lush June lawn and fresh layer of mulch in the flower beds. For the first summer in years, the street out front wasn’t torn up with construction. But while mud in the entry did seem a little odd, it still didn’t require a news bulletin. Of course, knowing Reed, he was probably just trying to frighten her. Impress on her the danger she faced if she insisted on staying at her apartment.

As if that were necessary.

Finished with the mud, he started up the stairs.

“Wait,” she said. “I need to get my suitcase and some other stuff from my storage locker.”

“The other stuff again. It had better not be too heavy.” Changing course, Reed led her down the steps into the dank coolness of the basement. He stopped at the secured door leading to the lockers for her section of the building. “Keys?”

At one time, he’d had his own. Blocking those days from her mind, Diana dug into her purse.

Down the hall, a door opened. Diana’s next-door neighbor, Louis Ingersoll, stepped out of the laundry room, hoisting a basket of clothes. As soon as he spotted Reed, his eyes narrowed. His contempt reached down the hall like a cold draft.

Diana shook her head. Explaining all that had happened to Louis was the last thing she needed. He’d been her friend in the months before her wedding, watching her apartment when she was away, clipping stories about Dryden Kane from the newspaper after he’d learned of her involvement in the research project. But since she’d broken up with Reed, their friendship had taken on an uncomfortable edge.

Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed his romantic expectations until then. “Hey, Louis.”

Louis didn’t take his glare from Reed. A flush spread up his freckled neck, turning his face as red as his hair. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Detective McCaskey is here in an official capacity.” She shouldn’t feel compelled to explain—whether Reed was here or not wasn’t Louis’s business—but she couldn’t stand that look in his eyes. As if Reed were his enemy. As if Diana had betrayed him. She’d never meant to lead him on, but obviously that was what she’d done.

“What do you mean, an official capacity? Did something happen?”

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Reed said, words clipped.

Diana shot him a quelling look. Reed had never been fond of Louis. No doubt she’d been the only one blind to Louis’s crush. A situation remedied when he’d given her a necklace of emeralds and diamond chips for Christmas—a necklace he refused to take back.

Even now he glanced down at her throat, as if noticing her lack of jewelry, even though she’d never once worn his gift. “If there’s anything I can do, Diana, you let me know.”

“Thanks.” Fingertips hitting metal, she fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Reed. She couldn’t wait to end this uncomfortable exchange. “We’ll talk later, okay, Louis?”

“I’ll be here.”

Reed pushed the storage-room door open, and they slipped inside, clearing the hall for Louis to pass with his laundry basket.

She let out a breath of relief.

“So he still hasn’t given up, huh?”

“Louis is my friend.”

“He might be your friend, but you are his obsession.”

She didn’t want to talk about it. The air was charged enough between her and Reed without introducing pointless jealousy into the mix.

She stepped past him and faced the rows of wood and chicken wire that formed individual storage lockers lining the walls. Snagging the keys from his hand, she strode to her locker and opened the padlock that secured the door. She’d been meaning to sort through the jumble of boxes jamming the space, but with Sylvie’s wedding and move to Madison, Diana’s last semester of grad school and the fact that she hadn’t been ready to deal with much of anything the past few months, she hadn’t been down here since Christmas.

A gossamer strand of spiderweb tickled her face. Wiping it clear, she moved several boxes before she came to the suitcase. And the pair of file boxes underneath.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

After her experience with Professor Bertram, she hadn’t been able to look at the files she’d compiled. She’d merely shoveled the material into the file boxes and stacked them down here. The thought of sharing the same living space with them, many of which had notes written in Bertram’s hand, repulsed her.

She jingled the key chain in her hand. Suddenly she didn’t want to see those papers again. Just the thought of them brought back memories of that cabin, the darkness, the burn of the ropes on her wrists, her eventual loss of hope, of strength.

“You want those boxes?” he asked.

“I’m going to take some work with me to the hotel, too, if you don’t mind.” She could feel his skepticism without turning to look at his face.

“Fine with me.”

She bent over the first box, wrestling it out of the pile.

“What’s inside?”

“Papers,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t probe further, yet knowing he would.

“Papers having something to do with Dryden Kane?”

She let the box plunk back to the floor. She might as well tell him her intentions. “I’m going to read through my notes from previous interviews with him. Prepare for tomorrow.”

“Is this the ‘other stuff’ you needed?”

“Yes.”

“What did you think? That if you told me what was really in the box, I’d take them?”

She gave him a look, not bothering to state the obvious.

He stroked his chin. “Your lack of trust in me is stunning.” Leaning down, he hoisted the box she’d just dropped and carried it out of the locker.

She pulled the other box out and slid it across the cement floor until it rested beside her suitcase.

The room plunged to blackness.

Chapter Five

Adrenaline jolted Diana’s bloodstream. She strained her eyes, trying to see something. Anything but colored spots swimming in endless blackness. “What happened?”

“Shh.” Reed’s suit jacket rustled. A click sounded off the cement, the sound of him unsnapping his holster and pulling out his gun.

Diana’s heart slammed high in her chest. Had someone cut the electricity on purpose? Someone like the Copycat Killer? Reed seemed to think so.

Her legs began to shake. Silence hung in the dank air, heavy enough to choke her.

“Where are the circuit breakers?” Reed whispered.

Diana never had a reason to know. She combed her mind, trying to picture where she might have seen something like that. “I think I remember some electrical boxes in the laundry room.”

Reed’s shoes scraped lightly in the darkness, moving toward the door. Moving out into the hall. He couldn’t leave her. Not in here. Not in the darkness.

Where the killer could be waiting.

No, the killer wasn’t in here. He couldn’t be. But he might be out in the hall. Out in the hall waiting for Reed.

Panic flared hot in her chest. She pushed herself up from her crouch, willing her trembling knees to support her. Gripping the cage of chicken wire, she felt her way to the two-by-fours framing the locker door.

“Stay in the locker,” Reed whispered.

“But—”

“I don’t want to have to worry about where you are.”

Of course. What was she thinking? That she was going to save Reed? How? She had no gun. She had no weapon of any kind. And although she’d started attending classes on self-defense, at this moment she didn’t know if she could stand let alone remember a single move.

She backed into the storage locker and lowered herself into an uneasy squat. The darkness closed around her, as heavy and oppressive as a blanket. A pall. She struggled to hear above the pound of her pulse.

It was torture, waiting like this. Not knowing what was happening. Helpless. Images exploded in front of her eyes, memory playing out against the black screen. She remembered every excruciating moment of the days and nights she’d lain tied in that dark cabin. The burn of the ropes against her wrists. The terrible thirst that parched her mouth and throat. The emptiness that opened like a chasm inside her.

She couldn’t push it out of her mind.

She’d been worried about Reed then, too. She’d seen Professor Bertram hit him with the tire iron. She’d seen the way his head had bounced against the tile floor. She’d seen the blood.

And she’d been helpless to do anything to help him. The helplessness was the worst. It ate into her until there was nothing left but bitter darkness.

A sound came from out in the hall.

She couldn’t sit here and wait for Reed to be attacked. Wait for the killer to find her. Wait to relive horrors she’d barely survived the first time.

She groped in the darkness until her hands touched the cardboard flaps of boxes. There must be something here, something she could use to defend herself, to help Reed.

She pulled the flaps of one box open. Taking a breath of dusty air, she shoved a hand inside. Her fingers brushed the spines of books. She tried another box, her hand plunging into soft fall sweaters. Her third try, the buttery leather of a softball glove. She clawed deeper. Something cold and curved and as smooth as brushed metal met her palm. She gripped the softball bat and pulled it from the box as quietly as she could.

It felt good in her hands. Solid. Strong. She focused on the locker door. If something happened, if someone came inside, she could take a swing at him. She could defend herself.

The trembling in her legs spread through her whole body. Her breathing roared in her ears, yet oxygen never seemed to make it to her lungs.

Oh, God, don’t let this happen again.

The lights flickered, then held.

She blinked, the sudden illumination blinding. Relief rushed through her bloodstream, relief she was afraid to feel.

Footsteps sounded in the hall.

She tightened her grip on the bat.

Reed stepped around the corner.

She let the bat clatter to the floor.

“Diana.” He rushed to her side, encircling her with his arms, holding her on her feet.

Her body dissolved, as if the muscle holding her upright had turned to quivering goo. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know. But I’m getting you out of here. I’ll come back for the boxes when backup arrives.”

“And Nadine Washburn’s mother?” Reed had planned to talk to the woman about her daughter’s disappearance. But right now, the last thing Diana wanted was for him to leave her alone.

“I’ll have another detective do it. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere just now.”

She nodded, but she didn’t move. The way she was shaking, she didn’t know if her legs would carry her. Worse, she didn’t want to leave the protection of Reed’s arms.

BY THE TIME THE OTHER OFFICERS arrived, Diana had gotten her shaking under control, but the tide of failure sweeping through her wasn’t so easy to stem.

She’d tried so hard. To stand on her own. To be strong. And yet, she hadn’t been with Reed ten hours and any progress she’d made over the past months had washed away, leaving her clinging and shaking in his arms.

She leaned against Reed’s car and waited for him and the other officers to complete their sweep of the building. The only thing she could think to do was pray the circuit breaker flicking off was an overloaded circuit. If it was more than that, she didn’t know what she’d do.

“Diana?” Reed walked toward her. A small gift bag dangled from his fingers. He crossed the sidewalk and stopped in front of her. “Who would have left you a gift?”

Diana stared at the package, her mind a blank. “I don’t know.”

“I might.” He stepped past her and reached for the car door.

“What is it?”

“You can see it later.”

The tremor reignited, rippling through her legs. “It’s from the copycat, isn’t it?”

Reed opened the driver’s door.

She grabbed his arm. “Isn’t it?”

His bicep hardened under her palm. “You can see it later. You’re in no condition now.”

“I need to see it now.” She pressed back the tears flooding her eyes. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t let the emotions surging through her overwhelm her. Not unless she wanted to prove Reed’s point. That she couldn’t handle the truth. That she might never be strong enough to stand on her own. “Please.”

He looked down at her, searching as if he could see her thoughts written across her face. Slowly, he dipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a pair of plastic gloves like the ones he was wearing. “It’s not the type of surface that is likely to give us good prints, but it pays to be careful.”

She pulled the gloves on. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the bag and peered inside.

A small box nestled in the bag. The fading twilight gleamed on its white skin. She looked to Reed. “What is it?”

“A music box.”

Cold skittered up her spine. Memories niggled at the back of her mind, memories she couldn’t quite grasp. “Can I touch it?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure at all. She managed a nod.

Holding a handle in each hand, he spread the bag open so she could pull out the box.

Covered in white satin and fluffy tulle, the tiny box looked like a wedding favor. Or a little girl’s dream.

She grasped the box in one hand and caught the tiny clasp with the edge of her fingernail, flipping it open. She held her breath as she lifted the lid.

Pink satin lined the box, a mirror fitted inside the lid. And in front of the mirror, a tiny bride twirled, her dress and veil frothing around her like frosting on a wedding cake. A metallic tune tickled the air.

Diana didn’t remember her childhood before age three. Not really. Only bits and pieces. A feeling here. An isolated image there. But there was no mistaking the song plucked out by the music box’s metallic tines.

“‘The Wedding March.’” Her voice rasped hoarsely in her ears, a voice she hardly knew. But she knew exactly who’d given her this gift. She could feel the shiver of memory in each metallic note. “It’s from him. It’s from Dryden Kane.”