Kitabı oku: «Serial Bride», sayfa 2

“No good. If this Detective Perreth has a brain in his head, he’ll ask to search your suitcase before he lets you cross the threshold.”

Another thump sounded on the door. The jangle of keys reached them.

Sylvie looked around the room like a trapped animal. “What am I going to do?”

Warmth leached from his veins, chills circulating through his body. He was an officer of the court. He couldn’t interfere with a legal search warrant. He couldn’t risk his livelihood, his freedom.

He couldn’t.

But could he just surrender the folder? Could he give up the only lead he had to nailing his brother’s killer before he even got a look?

Oh, hell. “Give it to me.”

“What?”

It was crazy. Deluded. Definitely criminal. He watched his hand extend toward her, palm up. As if it was part of someone else’s body. As if someone else was taking this leap into the abyss. “Give me the folder.”

She handed it to him.

He tossed his briefcase onto the desk, popped the locks and stuffed the folder inside. “Go ahead and pack your clothes. Quickly. I’ll answer the door.”

Chapter Three

Sylvie jammed jeans, sweaters and toiletries into her suitcase. Her fingers were shaking so badly, she could barely grip the zipper and force it closed. In the other room she could hear the hum of voices. Perreth’s blunt rasp followed by Bryce’s level baritone. When Bryce had hidden the folder in his briefcase, she’d been shocked. Sure, she’d asked for his help, for an answer to her dilemma, but she hadn’t been expecting him to give her either. She certainly hadn’t expected him to stick out his neck for her. No one had ever stuck their neck out for her before.

So why had he done it?

He had to have his reasons. But she didn’t have time to discover them now. The only thing that mattered right this second was that she and Bryce leave Diana’s apartment with that folder. She needed to get a look at the letter, the clippings. She needed some sort of break if she hoped to find her sister. And she needed that break now.

She finished closing the zipper, set the suitcase on its wheels and extended the handle. It was time to get out of here and get back to finding Diana.

Before it was too late.

She marched out of the office and down the hall. A small handful of police officers had already fanned out in the living room. Near the center of the room, Detective Perreth glowered at Bryce from under his bushy brows. Sylvie could smell his cologne of stale cigarettes as soon as she entered the room.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Hayes.” He glanced at a uniformed officer who had begun sorting through the drawers in the coffee table. “Thomas?”

“Detective?”

“Take a look through Ms. Hayes’s suitcase, will you? We wouldn’t want her removing anything other than her personal clothing from the suspect’s apartment.” He grinned, showing nicotine-yellowed teeth. “It’s all right if he takes a look, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” Giving him an equally phony smile, Sylvie left her suitcase at the mercy of the officer and stepped toward Perreth. “I want to see the warrant.”

“I already showed it to your boyfriend here. And the super. It’s legal.”

Towering next to Perreth’s squatty frame, Bryce gave her a confirming nod.

“I asked you to stay at the church,” the detective said. “Care to explain why that didn’t happen?”

“I had things to do.”

“Like what? Rushing to your sister’s apartment to remove evidence of premeditation?”

Hot pressure built in her head until it made her ears ring. This whole situation was so stupid. A figment of Perreth’s imagination. An attempt to smear Reed and Diana. To get revenge for Reed’s reaction to Perreth hitting his wife. And all the while he was wasting his time suspecting Diana, she was in danger. He should be finding her, not blaming her.

She gripped the stained satin of her gown in her fists and choked down the words she wanted to spit at him. Making Perreth angry would get her nowhere. She needed to get out of here and find Diana. “I came back to change out of this dress and move my things to a hotel. That’s all.”

He eyed her gown. “What stopped you?”

“I did.” Bryce’s voice rippled like waves in water. “We had some things to discuss.”

Things to discuss? Sylvie bit the inside of her cheek. Bryce wasn’t going to tell Detective Perreth about their conversation, was he? No. That didn’t make sense. But why would he want to draw Perreth’s attention with a vague claim like that? Surely the detective would want to know more. Maybe enough to detain him for questioning. Or to search his briefcase.

Next to her, the officer finished turning over her clothes and makeup.

Sylvie gestured in his direction. “See, Detective? Nothing. Can we go now?”

“Not so fast.” Perreth focused his glare fully on Bryce. Now that Bryce had given him a bone, he obviously didn’t intend to give it up so easily. “What was so urgent?”

Bryce shrugged. “Doesn’t that go without saying? Sylvie’s sister disappeared.”

Perreth frowned. He focused on the briefcase in Bryce’s hand. “And what do you have in the briefcase?”

Sylvie sucked in a breath and held it.

Bryce offered the detective a bland smile. “Papers.”

“Maybe we should take a look at those papers.”

The uniformed officer stepped toward Bryce.

Bryce held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that.”

Perreth raised bushy brows. “Oh?”

“My briefcase is not listed in your warrant, for one thing.”

“Maybe not. But if I suspect you of removing evidence from the scene…”

Bryce shook his head. “As an officer of the court, I can assure you that’s not the case.”

“You’re a lawyer?” The detective pronounced the word as if it were composed of four letters.

Bryce gave him a cool nod. Turning to Sylvie, he cocked his head in the direction of the door.

Letting out the breath she was holding, Sylvie grabbed the handle of her suitcase and took a step toward escape.

“Not so fast,” Perreth barked.

She halted. Her pulse pounded so hard it made her feel as if she was wobbling on her feet. Now what?

“Ms. Hayes still hasn’t answered my questions. She’s coming to the station with me.”

No. The hum echoed through Sylvie’s head, drowning out the beat of her pulse. She couldn’t waste time sitting around the police station answering Perreth’s pointless questions. Didn’t they say that the first few hours were crucial to locating a missing person? She had to get out of here. She had to find Diana.

Bryce reached into the outside pocket of his briefcase and pulled out a business card. He held it out to Perreth. “Like I said. I’m a lawyer. Sylvie’s lawyer. And my client will be happy to talk to you. If you give my secretary a call, she’ll set something up.”

SAFELY OUTSIDE Diana’s building, Sylvie lowered herself into the plush passenger seat of Bryce’s BMW. The scent of leather interior with a hint of cologne enveloped her, an atmosphere of luxury and male presence that made her feel as though she’d just stepped into a foreign world.

She’d rather walk.

She wasn’t used to people taking care of her, doing her favors, making her indebted to them. She didn’t like it. It reminded her too much of the way she’d felt as a child, begging her foster family to take her into their home, wanting so badly to be able to trust them to care about her, and being let down every time.

She strapped on her seat belt and held her satin clutch in both hands. She didn’t want to be here, but she didn’t have a lot of options, either. Not with Diana’s folder still locked in Bryce’s briefcase. And although she was grateful to him for helping her get the folder out of Diana’s apartment, she didn’t intend to take his kindness at face value. She’d learned that lesson before she hit puberty.

After loading her suitcase in the trunk, Bryce circled the car, opened the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel. “Comfortable?”

She forced herself not to fidget. “Too comfortable. I’m not exactly used to riding around in BMWs.”

A pained smile spread over strong lips. “It’s for sale if you want it.” He slipped his key into the ignition and the car purred to life. Turning his attention to traffic, he shifted into gear and merged with the flow.

Sylvie eyed his profile in the dimming light. In all that had happened back at Diana’s apartment, she hadn’t been very aware of how attractive he was. From short golden-brown hair that held a slight wave to sharp hazel eyes to broad shoulders that looked good in a suit, Bryce Walker was what most women considered a hunk. Add ringless hands that gripped the steering wheel and he became a favorite for most eligible bachelor.

And somehow, that status only made Sylvie more uncomfortable. “Should I give you a retainer or something?”

He kept his focus on the traffic ahead. “Not necessary.”

“But you told Perreth you were my lawyer. What if he finds out you’re not?”

“You can tell him you fired me.”

“Why did you say it in the first place?”

He glanced her way. Puzzlement shrouded his eyes and kicked one side of his mouth into a grin. “He was about to haul you downtown, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. What I can’t figure out is why you would care. You don’t know me. And you sure don’t owe me anything.”

He turned his gaze back to the road. “We have the same goal.”

“Which is?”

“Finding your sister.”

Ah, yes. His case. “Do you lie to the police and smuggle evidence to find witnesses in all your cases?”

“Not hardly.”

“So what makes this one so unique?”

A shadow crossed over his face. Evening had crept in while she’d been in Diana’s apartment. The car was full of shadows. But from Sylvie’s angle, it looked more like a shadow of dark emotion rather than a simple trick of the light.

He flicked on his blinker and took a left turn. “I’m not going to discuss my case with you. But I am willing to help you find your sister.”

“And what do you want in return?”

He glanced at her again. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”

“I try not to.” The truth was, she had trusted easily as a child. Too easily. And it had devastated her. Since becoming an adult, she’d learned not to rely on anything or anyone. And she sure wasn’t going to forget a lifetime of learning just to trust Bryce Walker—no matter how good-looking and resourceful he was in a pinch. “So what are you after?”

“I want you to share what you know about your sister with me, and I’ll help you find her.”

She folded her arms over her breasts. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Staring straight ahead through the windshield, she watched the glare of oncoming headlights. She knew there was more behind his willingness to risk his career and freedom than just to help her. There had to be. Yet somehow that wasn’t what concerned her most.

What concerned her most was that she couldn’t afford to refuse.

Chapter Four

Bryce pulled an extra chair up to the tiny desk in Sylvie’s hotel room and set his briefcase on the dark cherrywood surface. Since he’d made his vow of justice at his brother’s grave, every small thing he’d discovered about Ty’s death had brought nothing but more questions, more hurdles between him and proving Kane was responsible. Now, for the first time, he had something tangible at his fingertips. Now, he was finally getting somewhere.

He lowered himself into the chair next to Sylvie. Her scent teased at him, flowers with some sort of spicy edge that made him want to inhale more deeply. The jeans and sweater she’d changed into did nothing to diminish her attractiveness. She might look like the photo he had of her sister, yet Sylvie had a freshness in the pink of her cheeks and the light sweep of her lashes that he’d never noticed in another woman. Even her pierced eyebrow suggested the spunky rebellion of a teenager. Yet at the same time she seemed so guarded and distrustful, he couldn’t help but wonder why. He couldn’t help but want to know more.

Shaking his head, he unlocked the briefcase. He couldn’t afford to notice the way she smelled, the way she looked. He couldn’t let her contradictions conjure questions in his mind. The last thing he needed was another hurdle between him and winning justice for Ty. He couldn’t risk her becoming even a minor distraction. Forcing his attention where it belonged, he dropped the folder on the desk and flipped open the cover.

Dryden Kane stared at them from the five-by-seven photograph.

Sylvie shivered. “Those eyes are so inhuman, so cold. I don’t know how Diana could have stood being in the same room with him.” She flipped Kane face down on the desk.

As someone who had been in Kane’s presence, Bryce couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. But there were women who were drawn to serial killers. Titillated by danger, infamy. Why not Diana Gale? Kane had certainly attracted more than his share of female fascination in the past. Hell, years ago he’d convinced a woman to marry him in prison.

Sylvie plucked the envelope from the pile of photocopies and clippings. “It’s addressed to Diana. But there’s no return address.” She slipped the letter out and unfolded it. Reaching to the lamp, she canted the shade to shed more light.

The lamplight slanted toward him, glared off the white paper, making it impossible to decipher the handwriting. But from the abrupt shape of the letters, it appeared to be written by a male hand. He waited for her to read it out loud.

“‘You have no idea of the horror I’ve been through. Weeks of not knowing. Months of asking why. Years of grief. My life is over. Ruined. And he will never pay. Not enough. But you will pay for him.’” Sylvie looked up from the page, eyes stricken. “Oh, my God, Dryden Kane threatened her.”

A din of questions swirled in Bryce’s head. “Is it signed?”

“No. But it has to be from Kane. Why would she keep it in this folder if it wasn’t?”

Maybe it did appear to be from Kane. But why would Kane threaten to make Diana pay? And who was she paying for?

He blew out a frustrated breath. This hurdle was larger than most. This hurdle threatened to destroy his entire theory of Diana Gale’s role in Ty’s death. “May I see it?”

Sylvie handed it to him.

It was just a single sheet of typing paper with the words she’d read scrawled across the white surface. He read it over again to himself. “He will never pay. Who is he?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Whoever he is, Kane hates him.”

“Kane hates a lot of people.” Including Bryce. He picked up the envelope and looked at the postmark again just to make sure. Almost exactly a month ago. After Ty’s death. After Kane had sent his message to Bryce by having his younger brother killed.

Pain hit him hard. Ty’s death was so fresh, so raw. He shook his head, trying to clear it, to concentrate.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” He handed the paper back to her. Was he wrong about Diana Gale? Was she merely another victim of Kane’s charm and brutality? Or had she merely outlived her usefulness? After Ty’s death, had she ceased being a conspirator and become a target? And if so, why? “Did your sister give any indication she was being threatened?”

Sylvie frowned, her eyebrow ring dipping low. “She’s been upset the last several months. Anxious. I asked her about it, but she blamed it on problems with wedding plans. Do you think she reported Kane’s threat?”

“Maybe.”

“Perreth didn’t say anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t report it to the police.”

“The university.”

He nodded.

Sylvie pushed her chair back and shot to her feet. “What was the name of that professor? The one who arranged for her to visit Kane?”

“Vincent Bertram.”

She circled the bed. Perching on the mattress edge, she pulled the telephone directory from the bedside table and started flipping pages.

“What are you looking for?”

“A residential listing for Bertram. I’m going to find out why Diana got involved with Dryden Kane in the first place. And whether or not she told him Kane was threatening her.”

Bryce tore his gaze from Sylvie and focused on the folder. If Diana Gale had conspired to kill Ty, understanding her motive might be useful. But if she hadn’t, he couldn’t afford to go off on another tangent.

Eager to see if the folder yielded any more information, he paged through the photocopies chronicling Kane’s sordid history. His murder of blond college coeds. His capture twenty years ago at the hands of the FBI. At that point, other than an article here and there, the news coverage skipped about four years to a flurry of stories about Kane’s prison marriage and subsequent escape. The stories highlighted the way Kane had focused on his new intended victim, Risa Madsen, a mentor of Vincent Bertram’s. The stories continued with the trail of death Kane had left until Professor Madsen and the FBI profiler who’d originally caught Kane had joined forces to subdue him again.

The next articles were more recent, clipped from their original newsprint. The headlines Bryce knew all too well. Headlines he’d thought he’d wanted. They blared from the clippings, stinging his eyes. He’d been so stupid, so wrong, so naive. And he’d payed with more than his life. He’d paid with his brother’s life.

He sucked in a breath, trying to control the rush of grief, of rage, as he paged through the articles. The stories outlined Kane’s lawsuit against the Supermax prison, how attorney Bryce Walker had taken the killer’s case, how he’d alleged mistreatment, how he’d won a transfer to another facility. He turned to the last article. A black-and-white picture stared from the newsprint, Ty in the black suit that made him look like an innocent milk-fed farm boy planning to hunt aliens with Tommy Lee Jones.

Bryce’s throat closed. He’d been willing to sell his soul to get good press for the law firm, for himself. He’d never guessed Ty’s life was part of the deal.

He glanced up at Sylvie. She sat with her back to him, the phone book spread open on her lap. Hunching forward, she copied something on a scrap of paper.

What if her sister didn’t have anything to do with Ty’s murder? What if she was merely a misguided woman? A woman who never would have been able to worm her way into visiting Kane if he was still housed in the ultrasecurity of the Supermax where he belonged? What if Bryce’s representation of Kane had not only led to Ty’s death, but indirectly to Diana Gale’s abduction, as well?

Weight bore down on his shoulders like a yoke of stone. If he really wanted justice, if he really wanted to set things right, maybe he shouldn’t be asking himself if he could afford to help Sylvie Hayes. Maybe he should be asking if he could afford not to.

WITH THE SLIP OF PAPER with Professor Bertram’s address stuffed in her jeans pocket, Sylvie crossed the hotel lobby with Bryce by her side and stepped through the revolving door and onto the sidewalk. Saturday night had fully fallen. The neon glow of nearby shops and restaurants and the jangle of people walking down State Street turned the city into a confusion of sights and sounds.

Stepping to the curb, Sylvie glanced at the rush of headlights flowing down the one-way street, searching for a cab. “Thanks for your help. When I find Diana, I’ll let her know you want to get in touch with her.”

Bryce looked at her as if she were speaking in tongues. “What are you talking about? I’m going with you.”

“Not necessary.” All she had to do was to flag down a cab and find the nearest car rental office. Once she had her own car, she’d be able to track down Professor Bertram and hopefully get some answers.

“You need someone to drive.”

“That’s okay. I need to rent a car anyway.”

“Rent a car? Why? I have a car right here.” He pointed to his car parked fifty feet away as if she’d forgotten what it looked like.

“Really, I’m used to doing things on my own.” It had been disconcerting enough to be forced to rely on Bryce to get out of Diana’s apartment with the folder, to drive her to a hotel. Having him in her hotel room, bouncing ideas off him, had only made her feel more jangled.

“How are you planning to find a car rental office? There aren’t too many of them around here.”

“I’ll take a cab.”

He arched his brows. “And how are you going to find a cab?”

What, was he playing games with her? “I’ll hail one. It’s not hard.”

“You might find it hard in Madison.”

She scanned the street. Not one cab spotted in the flood of personal vehicles. He might have a point. “Okay, I’ll ask the hotel to call me one.”

“What are you trying to prove, Sylvie? It’s been a tough day for you already. You’re dead tired and worried about your sister. Driving you around is the least I can do. Besides, you need to find your sister, and I need to talk to her. We have shared goals here.”

Of course, he was right about that, too. But even though she could get to Professor Bertram’s house faster if she didn’t first have to call for a cab and then rent a car, she’d rather have her own wheels. She didn’t want to have to rely on Bryce only to have him leave her the moment she needed him most. It would be far easier to rent her own car from the outset than to struggle to pull things together once he cut out on her. “Listen, it’s not that I’m not grateful. But I like to do things on my own.”

“What, you don’t like me?”

“I like you fine.” Maybe too much. She doubted she’d ever been around a man this attractive before in her life. A man whose every expression she noticed. A man who made her feel out of control just by looking in her direction.

“You don’t trust me?”

He wasn’t too far off there. “I don’t want to be left in the lurch.”

“Why would I do that?”

“In my experience, a more realistic question would be why you wouldn’t.”

“Listen, you might have had bad luck with people in the past, but when I give my word, I keep it. No matter what.” He gestured to the BMW. “Now are you going to get in, or do you want me to throw you in?”

She shot him a look she hoped conveyed all the annoyance she felt. He wouldn’t dare throw her in the car. If he did, he’d get far more than he bargained for, starting with two black eyes.

“Listen, Sylvie, we made a deal. You help me with my case, I help you find your sister.”

They had made a deal. A deal she wasn’t comfortable with. Not in the least.

He glanced at his watch. “It’s already pushing eight. Do you really want to stand around here and argue about this, or do you want to find your sister? It’s up to you.”

Her heart clutched. Diana had been missing for four hours. Four hours and the clock was ticking. “Okay. For now.”

He nodded, as if it was all settled. “Get in the car.”

SYLVIE GRIPPED the leather armrest and scanned the beautiful homes scrolling by, trying to spot the house numbers. When she’d first visited Diana in Madison, she remembered thinking the way the downtown funneled into an isthmus between two large lakes was charming. But after more than half an hour with Bryce negotiating hilly, winding one-way streets in the dark, the charm had worn off. “There it is.” She pointed to the beautiful stone Tudor lit with artfully arranged spotlights and covered in ivy.

Bryce piloted the car into the home’s narrow drive. “Ready?”

As if he had to ask. She was itching to talk to Professor Bertram. To find out what in the world he’d been thinking when he’d arranged for Diana to talk to Kane. And if he’d known about the threats, why hadn’t he reported it to the police? Why he hadn’t sounded the alarms? But most importantly, she needed to know if he knew anything that could help find her sister.

Sylvie swung her door open and climbed out just as Bryce circled the car. They walked up the cobblestone sidewalk to a front door half shrouded with wide, red-edged leaves of ivy. Bryce stabbed the doorbell button.

Chimes echoed through the house. A moment later footsteps tapped across a wood floor inside and an eye peered through the peephole. “Yes?” A woman’s voice.

“My name is Sylvie Hayes and this is Bryce Walker.” She projected her voice, hoping the woman could hear her through the door. “We’d like a word with Professor Bertram. Is he home?”

“No.”

“Do you know when he will be home?” Bryce asked.

“No.”

“Is this Mrs. Bertram?”

Silence.

Strange. Wisconsin Heights was not a neighborhood that seemed to call for a lot of security. Mostly home to university professors and well-to-do business leaders in Madison, it was a safe neighborhood in an area overflowing with safe neighborhoods. Except for the nighttime visit, which would make anyone wary, there didn’t seem to be a reason for Mrs. Bertram’s apparent paranoia.

Sylvie couldn’t help thinking about the night before when Bryce had knocked on the door of Diana’s apartment. She had answered, yet had been careful to keep the door chain secured. She’d known at the time that if Bryce had wanted, he could have easily kicked in the door and broken the chain. But even though the chain offered little real protection, after the shock she’d suffered at the church finding Reed injured and Diana gone, she hadn’t wanted to expose herself to a stranger.

Judging by Mrs. Bertram’s reluctance to open the door, or even to answer, she was even more frightened. Sylvie couldn’t help but wonder what or who had spooked her.

Bryce raised his eyebrows at Sylvie. Apparently he had a few questions about Mrs. Bertram, too. “We need to talk to Professor Bertram about a graduate student who is working with him on one of his research projects.”

“My sister, Diana Gale,” Sylvie added.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. He doesn’t live here anymore. He hasn’t for many years.”

But he’d been listed in the phone book. “You’re divorced?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Disappointment seeped into Sylvie’s bones like the chill of approaching winter. “Do you have his address?”

“Of course I have it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you.”

“We really need to talk to him. My sister has disappeared.”

“And you think Vincent can help you?”

“We hope so,” Bryce answered.

“What project was your sister working on for Vincent?”

Sylvie hesitated. Not only did she hate saying the name out loud, she doubted dropping Kane’s name would do anything to make this obviously frightened woman more open or responsive. But then, not telling her the name wasn’t going to get them anywhere, either. “Diana interviewed Dryden Kane.”

She could hear Mrs. Bertram’s sharp intake of breath even through the door. Silence followed that was so complete Sylvie thought the woman might have walked away.

Suddenly the clack of two dead bolts sliding open cut the quiet. The door inched open and Mrs. Bertram peered out. Skin nearly as white as her hair, she blinked even in the darkness, like a mouse venturing out of a safe, dark hole. “Stop by Vincent’s office. He’ll be happy to help all he can.”

Sylvie let out a heavy breath. “I was really hoping to talk to him before Monday.”

The woman glanced at her watch. “He’s probably there now.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“He usually stops back after dinner, says it’s quieter then, better for concentrating on his book. But if your sister’s disappearance has something to do with that monster, he won’t mind the interruption. He’ll do everything he can to help.”

Sylvie wished she could shake the woman’s hand, something to let her know her appreciation. But despite the way the woman had opened the door to talk to them, Sylvie still got the feeling that a touch from a stranger wouldn’t be welcomed. She settled on a smile. “Thank you so much.”

The woman gave her a nod and retreated, closing the door behind her.

Sylvie glanced up at Bryce, eager to get his impression of what had happened.

He was looking past her, in the direction of the street.

She followed his line of sight. The one-way street was quiet. Except for an older man walking a dog and a blue service van pulling into a side street, it looked as though the entire neighborhood was spending Saturday night snuggled in their living rooms. “What do you see?”

Cupping her elbow, he steered her down the walk and driveway, toward his BMW. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

As he circled the car, she jumped into the passenger seat. She had just enough time to secure her seat belt before Bryce pulled away from the curb. “Okay, out with it. What’s going on?”

Eyes flitting to the rearview mirror, he slowly wound through the quiet neighborhood and headed west on University Avenue. “Did you notice the van?”

“The blue one?”

He nodded.

“Are you thinking it’s strange for a service van to be driving around on a Saturday night?”

“Yes, but that’s not all.”

“I hate playing guessing games. Will you just tell me?”

“It belongs to a food service. The type of business that provides produce, meat and canned goods to institutional settings like nursing homes.”

That was about as straightforward as another riddle. “Okay, I’ll bite. You’re wondering what it was doing in that neighborhood?”

He nodded. “On a Saturday night.”

Okay, so that did seem odd. But there could be a perfectly innocent explanation. “Maybe the owner of the company lives there. Or an executive.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“No.”

“Remember the redheaded guy who was listening in on our conversation in the hallway of your sister’s building? Diana’s neighbor?”

She hadn’t paid much attention to him, not enough to pick him out in a crowd. “He’s driving the van?”

“It’s dark, but yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

“Why would he be in this neighborhood?”

“The real question is, why is he following us? Look out the back window.”

Sylvie twisted sideways in her seat as if she was talking to Bryce. Covertly she glanced out the back window. Sure enough. Several car lengths back, she saw the hulking shape of a panel van. “You’re right. Why on earth would Diana’s neighbor be following us?”