Evidence of Marriage (4 page)

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.”

 

D
IANA 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 ad
joining 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.