Evidence of Marriage (10 page)

Turner was built like many ex-cons Reed had known and wished he hadn't. Of average height, like his father, Turner had obviously spent more hours in the prison weight room than Dryden Kane. Tattooed arms like steel pipes stretched the short sleeves of his blue polo shirt. Hard muscle defined his back, tapering to a tool belt hugging a trim waist.

Reed looked down to the ex-con's feet. Work boots. Not a match with the footprints they'd found. Of course, the footprint on the front step was dried. It might not have been made today.

“Cordell Turner?”

The brute tensed and spun around. Light from the window struck the hard planes of his face and glinted off the sharp edge of a razor scraper he held in one fist. He narrowed his eyes on Reed and Nikki. “Who are you? Cops?”

“You expecting police?”

“I'm never expecting police. But with the way you look, you're either a cop or a high-school principal. And I have no idea what a principal would be doing here.”

Reed didn't return his smile. “Detective Reed McCaskey and Detective Nikki Valducci of the Madison PD. We need a word with you.”

He gestured to the window with the razor. “I'm in a hurry. Got to finish this today. Closing tomorrow.”

“It can't wait.”

Turner flipped the guard closed on his razor scraper and shoved it into the pouch on his belt. Grabbing a striped towel from a back pocket, he dried his hands. “What about?”

“I need to ask you some questions about your father.”

Ice-blue eyes—identical to Kane's—squinted at the reference. “You have the wrong man.”

Before they'd left the task-force offices, Reed had looked up Turner's mug shot. He'd been young when it had been taken, and as thin as a rail. But the face was unmistakable—particularly those eyes. “You're the man.”

“I don't have a father.” He gave a half frown, as if realizing how inane the comment sounded. “I've never met him. My mother never even told me his name.”

“Well, I've met him. And I have some questions. So if you'll cooperate, we can make this quick, and you can get back to work.”

“And if I don't?”

“I believe cooperating with police is part of the terms of your parole. It would be a shame to go back into the system after only being out two years.”

“You think you know all about me, huh?”

“I want to know more.”

Turner's jaw hardened. He stared at Reed the way he'd probably stared down fellow convicts.

Reed didn't flinch. Turner might have twenty pounds of muscle on Reed but, in this situation, Reed and Nikki were the ones with the power. If Turner was smart, he'd recognize that.

Finally, Turner let out a long breath. “What do you want to know?”

“Maybe we should step outside.” Reed gestured to the men in the master bath, finishing trim. “Unless you want everyone to know your business.”

“Fine.” He walked to the door.

Reed fell into step behind him and Nikki brought up the rear. So far, so good. But as easy as this encounter had gone, he wasn't about to trust the ex-con.

Not for a second.

They threaded through carpenters, crossed the foyer and filed out the front door. Reed spotted Diana through the passenger window of his car. Letting out a relieved breath, he gave her a nod.

Turner spun to face him, a scowl on his face. “What is she? Some kind of witness? You trying to pin something on me?”

“She's not a witness.”

“What is she then?”

Reed hesitated. He didn't want to tell this brute who Diana was. He wanted to slap the cuffs on him and throw him back in the slam where he belonged. Of course if he wasn't the copycat, he shouldn't pose any danger to Diana. And if he was, he already knew about her. “She's your sister.”

“Sister?” He clawed a hand through his hair. “I don't have a sister.”

“No, you have two.”

Turner glanced from Reed to Nikki and back, his eyes as wary as a trapped animal. “What the hell are you talking about? What is going on here?”

Diana approached them. She searched Turner's face. Glancing to Reed, she shook her head.

Reed let out a heavy breath. She didn't remember seeing him. He should have known this wouldn't be that easy. Nothing on this case was easy. “Where were you last night?”

“Why? What the hell do you think I did?”

“I'm asking the questions, Turner.”

“Should I be calling a lawyer?”

The last thing Reed wanted Turner to do was lawyer up. After a lawyer entered the fray, it was doubtful Reed could convince the ex-con to admit his name. Of course, he didn't want Turner to know the suggestion bothered him. “You have a lawyer handy?”

“I had a lawyer.”

“Ten years ago?” Reed threw his hands out to the side as if Turner was making a stupid mistake. “You can track down your lawyer, waste the rest of the day and a lot of goddamn money, or you can answer a few simple questions and say hello to your sister. Your choice.”

Turner narrowed his eyes to icy slits. “Give me your questions, and I'll decide if I want to answer them.”

“I gave you the first already. Where were you last night?”

He looked out at the lake beyond the house without really seeming to see it. “I was home.”

“Is there anyone who can verify that?”

“I live alone.”

“Did you go out at all? Talk to anyone on the phone?”

“No. I ate a frozen pizza and fooled around on eBay.” eBay. He might be able to work with that. “Did you bid on anything?”

“No.”

Standing next to him, Nikki scribbled in her notebook.

Reed stroked his chin. “Not much of an alibi.”

“I didn't know I would need one. You still haven't told me what the hell this is about.”

And he wasn't planning to. Not yet. “How about Saturday night?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. Nothing. Watched TV.”

So Turner had no alibi for either the night Nadine Washburn had been abducted nor for the night her body had been displayed in Diana's hotel room. As soon as the autopsy was completed, and they had a time of death, Reed could nail down Turner's story for the time of her murder. So far,
Cordell Turner wasn't off to a good start. “You said you don't know who your father is.”

“That's right.”

“Have you ever visited the Banesbridge Correctional Facility?”

“No.”

“Have you ever visited the Wisconsin Secure Detention Facility or the Grantsville Correctional Facility?”

“No. You know I can't associate with cons. The parole?”

“How about before you were in prison?”

“When I was a kid?”

“Yes.”

“What are you saying? My father is in prison?” He glanced at Diana for the first time, as if looking to her for help.

“Answer my question.”

“No. I don't remember ever setting foot in a prison. Not until the day I was sentenced.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“You were convicted for manslaughter.”

“I got in a fight. I killed a man.” He shrugged a shoulder, as if it weren't a big deal. Maybe to him, killing wasn't. “I served my time.”

“And that happened in Milwaukee?”

“Was that a question? You know it did.”

“What brought you to the Madison area?”

“There's nothing in my parole that says I can't live in Madison. I informed the court of my move. I dotted the i's and crossed the t's.”

“But you grew up in Milwaukee. Everyone you knew was in Milwaukee. Why the move?”

“I wanted to branch out, find some new friends.”

Reed stared the con down. He needed his smart-ass sarcasm like he needed a hole in the head. “You're not doing yourself any favors with that attitude.”

Turner expelled a breath. “What does my move from Milwaukee have to do with anything?”

“Do you expect me to believe you moved to Madison for no reason whatsoever?”

“No. I had a good reason for moving here. But it didn't have anything to do with some father I don't even know, if that's what you're getting at.” He tossed Diana a glare. “Or any sisters.”

“So what does it have to do with?”

He balled his hands into fists, as if preparing to slug his way out. “I've cooperated enough. Now it's time for
you
to give
me
some answers. Who the hell do you think is my father?”

Reed focused on the hard lines of Turner's face. He might as well tell him, watch for his reaction. “Dryden Kane.”

His eyes flared wide. Red crept up his neck. “You're full of it.”

“It's true.” Diana's voice rang steady, despite the tangle of emotion playing across her face. “Dryden Kane is our biological father. He was involved with your mother when they were both teenagers back in a little town up north called Oshishobee. Before he married my mother.”

Turner swung to face her. “Bull.”

“I didn't want to believe it either. Neither did Sylvie, my twin. But we're his daughters. And you…you look just like him. You look so much like him.”

“Eff you. All of you.” He spun around and strode for the house.

Nikki stepped after him. “We're not finished.”

“I'm finished,” he shouted over his shoulder. “You want to talk? You can talk to my lawyer. She's in the book. Meredith Unger.”

Reed's heart jolted against his ribs. Here he was looking for a connection to Kane, and Turner had just served it up burning from the grill. Nodding to Nikki, he glanced over his shoulder, meeting Diana's wide eyes. “Get back in the car and lock the doors.”

Diana answered with an urgent nod.

“If anything happens, promise me you'll get the hell out of here.”

She paused.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Go.”

She trotted in the direction of the car.

Pushing away the hitch in his gut, Reed tore his gaze from her and made for the house. “We're not finished, Turner.”

The ex-con didn't slow. He bounded past the dump truck, up the shallow steps and pushed open the front door, disappearing inside.

Reed broke into a jog. Nikki fell in beside him. Turner had something to hide, all right. And if the brute didn't come clean, Reed would haul him downtown. It shouldn't be too hard to find something to get him on. One dirty look and Reed could bust his ass for parole violation.

He pushed aside the image of Diana. He knew she'd wanted to believe her brother was clean. He could tell just by the way she'd leaned toward him when trying to explain their family history, as if she were willing him to come around, to recognize the family bond. Reed hated to be the one to point out the futility of her hopes. But he'd dealt with ex-cons far more than she had. He knew them. And once dirty, these guys never really cleaned up their acts.

He and Nikki squeezed past the truck and reached the stairs. The dump truck roared in his ears. As he climbed the steps, he glanced back for Diana.

Half the distance to the car, she picked her
way across the plywood. A few more feet and she'd be safe.

He turned back to the house. Nikki pulled in front of him. She reached the door. He took the steps two at a time to catch up. Behind him the dump truck roared. Louder. Closer. As if it was bearing down.

He spun around.

The truck's massive grill rushed toward him. Tires churning over boards, it surged through mud and up the steps.

It was trying to run them down.

Reed plunged forward. He threw out his hands, shoving Nikki in the back, pushing her through the door.

Wood splintered behind them. Metal crumpled. Brick crashed and debris spewed. He hurtled forward, vaulting over Nikki, trying to break his fall with his outstretched hands.

His skull smacked against gray marble and the world went dark.

A crash shook the air.

Diana's breath caught in her throat. She whirled around in time to see the dump truck lodge itself in the front door, brick crumbling around it. “Reed!”

She raced for the house, her feet stumbling over rocks and dirt before she'd even made the decision to move. The last she'd seen him, he'd been climbing the steps—steps now under the truck's wide tires. She didn't know what she'd do, but she had to do something. She had to stop the truck. She had to find Reed. She had to make sure he was okay.

Please, let him be okay.

She pushed her legs to move. She had to run faster. She had to reach Reed before it was too late.

Ahead, the truck's wheels quit spinning. The driver's door opened and a man dressed in a navy mechanic's jumpsuit leaped out. A ski mask
covered his head, leaving only small openings for his eyes and mouth.

Urgency pounded through Diana's chest, as hot as flame. She couldn't let him reach the door. Reed could be hurt. Defenseless. She couldn't let this man hurt him further.

The man in the ski mask circled the truck. Reaching the back bed, he brandished a knife.

And headed straight for her.

 

R
EED'S HEAD CLANGED
, the sensation more a feeling than a sound. Confusion clouded his brain. Pain sat heavy on the back of his neck. He struggled to clear his mind. He had to pull himself together. He had to think.

How long had he been lying here?

He lifted his head, then let it fall throbbing back to the floor. He recognized the house. The construction around him. The marble floor cool and gritty under his cheek. He remembered talking to Turner. He remembered the ex-con's comment about his attorney. Meredith Unger. And then…the truck.

He jolted upright. His head spun with the sudden movement. His stomach lurched. Dust hung in the air, making it hard to see. He couldn't have been out long. The dust would have cleared. Help would have come.

“What the hell happened?” As if summoned from his thoughts, the voice echoed from above. Footsteps clattered down stairs. “Are you okay?”

A groan stirred from somewhere near his knees.

Nikki.

“I need some help here.” He clawed through debris. His hand touched her tangled hair. “Nikki?”

“What?”

Three construction workers thundered down the stairs, gaping at the truck's nose protruding through the crumbling doorway.

Nikki pulled herself up into a sitting position with little help, eyes barely open.

Thank God.
“You all right?”

“Peachy.” Eyes closed, she swiped at her face, trying to clear away Sheetrock dust and rubble. “I can't see a damn thing. Did you get him?”

Him.
The truck driver.

Reed forced himself to his feet. His legs and neck ached to high heaven. He shook his head, only increasing the pounding in his brain. He had to make his mind work. He had to clear the confusion from his brain. The truck driver was still out there.

And so was Diana.

Red-hot fear flushed through him. He staggered, almost losing his balance. He grabbed the banister, willing himself to stay upright.

A worker reached out a steadying hand. “You'd better sit down.”

He shrugged the guy off. He didn't have time to sit down. He didn't have time to think. He had to get out of the damn house. He had to find Diana.

The truck's grill lodged in the open door, the structure around the portal broken and crumbling. He'd get around it or find another way out. He couldn't leave Diana to face the driver of the truck alone. The driver he knew in his gut was the Copycat Killer.

He spun away from the front door. Several hallways branched off the left side of the foyer, the dining room, the kitchen, and who knew what else. Somewhere in there was the path to the garage exit. But judging from the size of the house, he might have to negotiate a maze to get there.

He didn't have time.

He raced for the front of the house. Shoes crunching on bits of drywall and glass, he skidded over the marble floor and slammed through French doors and into the dining room.

Three double-hung windows peered out on the front yard, their panes so caked with construction dust, he couldn't see a thing through them. He chose the closest. Turning the brass lock, he grasped the bottom sash, pushed it up and tore it from the frame. Next he pulled the storm free, letting it fall to the floor, glass shattering. Bracing
himself on the window frame, he thrust his foot through the screen, kicking out the nylon mesh and climbing through the opening. His feet hit dirt. He scrambled upright. Pulling his Glock from his shoulder holster, he raced around the dump truck.

His car sat by the curb where he'd left it, but Diana wasn't there.

His mind stuttered. Alarm knifed through him. She had to be here. She had to.

A shout echoed from down the street.

He ran in the direction of the sound. Clearing the row of vans and trucks lining the street, he spotted a cluster of workers. In the middle of the men, a flash of blond hair caught the sunlight.

His heart pounded high in his chest. He ducked back behind the trucks and ran parallel to the street. Drawing closer, he caught a better view. A man stood behind her, face covered with a ski mask. One of his gloved hands clutched Diana's hair. The other held a knife to her throat.

“Hold on here. You don't want to hurt her.” One of the construction workers held up his hands, as if trying to calm the masked man.

Crouching low behind the vehicles, Reed ran as fast as he could. He had to get behind the masked man without giving himself away. If he could take him by surprise, he could keep Diana from getting hurt.

“Why don't you just let her go?” the construction worker continued. “Take my van and get out of here? It's right there. The keys are in the switch.”

Reed willed him to keep talking, keep offering alternatives. Anything to keep the masked man busy until Reed could get into position. He slipped between the bumpers of a panel van and a pickup, leading with his pistol.

He could see Diana's face from here. Chalkwhite, she looked remarkably calm and determined. Jaw set. Eyes on fire.

The guy in the ski mask inched closer to the offered van. Hand still tangled in Diana's hair, he dragged her with him.

Reed wasn't going to let the bastard get her inside. He wasn't going to let him take her. He raised the gun, pointing the barrel at the man's head.

It was a tricky shot. Too much could go wrong. A few inches to one side or the other, a sudden movement, and he'd miss. He hesitated.

The masked man grasped the handle of the driver's door and opened it. To get Diana into the van, the guy would have to lower the knife. He'd have to use both hands to heft her inside. And when he did, Reed would be ready. He would have the shot he wanted.

“Let her go. Just take the van.” The construction
worker stepped toward Diana and the masked man. One more step and he'd be directly between Reed and the man.

He took another step, obscuring Reed's view.

Damn, damn, damn.

Suddenly the self-declared hero sprang at the masked man.

No. Reed lunged between the cars. “Police! Drop your weapon!”

He couldn't shoot. Not without hitting the construction worker. Not without hitting Diana.

The masked man thrust his knife at the construction worker.

The man grunted and doubled over. He staggered toward the vehicle.

The masked man leaped into the van, dragging Diana with him. She struggled, twisting, clawing at his arms and face.

“Police! Put down your weapon! Now! Now! Now!” The bastard wasn't going to get away. He wasn't going to take Diana. Swinging his aim to one of the van's tires, Reed pulled the trigger.

Pop.

Air hissed from the tire. Pop. He took out another tire. He lunged toward the van, dodging around the wounded worker.

The masked man released Diana's hair. He gave her a shove.

Reed lunged for her, falling to his knees, helping break her fall.

The van roared down the street, bucking on two flat tires.

 

D
IANA FOLLOWED A NURSE
between the white curtains dividing a cluster of the emergency room's examination cubicles. Her scalp throbbed, the bruises on her knees from her fall hurt with each step, and she doubted she would ever stop shaking. All the same, she had no doubts that she was the luckiest woman on earth.

Thanks to Reed and a construction worker she'd never met.

The nurse paused at the last cubicle and pulled the curtain aside. “You got a visitor. Doctor should be back soon.”

Reed smiled at Diana from the hospital bed. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge. “Hi.”

Diana couldn't hide her relief at seeing him. After the man in the ski mask had shoved her into his arms and sped down the street, she'd held Reed so tightly, she didn't think she'd ever be able to let go. Even now, the urge to sink onto the bed beside him and cuddle into his arms throbbed inside her like a hunger.

She let out a long breath and offered a shaky smile. “Hi.”

“You lie down until the doctor gets here. Or she's likely to check you into a room,” the nurse admonished. Without enforcing the order, she turned around and bustled back down the hall.

“Check me into a room?” Reed muttered. “Not if she can't catch me.”

“You'd better do what she says.” Diana stepped closer to the bed. She'd been so scared. Even after all she'd been through in the cabin last fall, she'd never been as panicked as when she'd seen that truck smash into the house in the precise spot where Reed had been just moments before. Even when the masked driver had pressed that knife to her throat, she hadn't been as frightened. “How are you feeling?”

He held up a hand and gingerly touched the bandage. Red and purple bruising eked out around the bandage's edge. “Like I've been hit by a truck.”

“I guess you were.” She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, too, to make sure he really was all right. She hated how pale he looked. How weak. She couldn't stand the idea of him being injured.

Of course, he could be dead.

The thought lodged in her chest. From the time she was eighteen, Reed had always been there. Shielding her from her father, encouraging her to move out, go to college. And as adamant as she was about taking care of herself, living her own
life, the thought of him not in the world, somewhere, was worse than dying herself.

“Have you seen Nikki?”

Diana managed to nod. “She was released a little more than an hour ago.”

“Then why the hell am I still here?” He made a forward motion, as if about to get up and walk out.

Diana pressed her palm against his chest, pushing him back to the bed. “You have a concussion. That's why.”

“I'll survive. It isn't like I've never had a concussion before.”

“Exactly. That's why they aren't going to let you out of here until they know you're okay.”

“How about the construction worker?”

“The nurse wouldn't tell me the details, but she did say he's out of surgery and doing well.” She'd already arranged to send him flowers, and as soon as the hospital would let her, she'd visit him. She owed her life to that man. He was a true hero.

Reed looked at his watch. “At this rate,
he's
going to be out of here before they release me.”

“Patience.”

“I know. It's never been my strong suit.” He shrugged, as if tossing off his frustration. Meeting her eyes, he touched the back of her hand. “I can't tell you how glad I am that worker was there. That you're okay.”

Shivers traveled up her arm. She knew she should pull her arm away, step away from the bed. But God help her, she didn't want to.

“I'm so sorry, Diana. I never should have left you. I should have—”

“Stop it.” She couldn't stand to hear one more word. “It was my idea to stay in the car.
My idea.
”

“I shouldn't have let you.”

“You couldn't have stopped me.”

He ran a hand over his face. “My God, listen to us. After all this, we're still arguing about the same thing.” He glanced at the bed beside him, an invitation to sit down.

She lowered herself to the mattress. He was so close, she could feel the heat of him. If she leaned just a few inches to the side, she would be in his arms. The tremor that had shaken her legs and stomach since this whole thing had started moved upward, lodging under her ribs.

He met her eyes, his gaze dark and intense. “When I realized you were out there, with that maniac…” His voice grew gruff and trailed off.

“Don't.” She knew what he was about to say, but she didn't want him to continue. She didn't want him to say another word. It took too much effort to fight her emotions. Too much strength to keep the image of that truck bearing down on him from her mind. If he voiced his feelings, she knew she
wouldn't be able to keep the wall between them in place, the skin that separated her from him.

He shook his head. “I don't know what I would have done.”

She turned to him, covering his lips with her hand, stemming the flow of words. “Please, don't.”

He clasped her hand in his. Holding it in front of him, he pressed his lips to her palm.

Shivers shimmered up her arm and through her body. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but no sound came.

He kissed her again, his lips caressing the inside of her wrist. Then the inside of her forearm.

She couldn't speak, couldn't move. All she could do was stare into his dark eyes as his kisses flayed open her heart.

“I convinced them to let you out of here.” Nikki's voice cut the quiet. She threw the curtain back.

Diana pulled her arm from Reed's grasp.

“Oh, sorry. I'll come back later.”