Evidence of Marriage (5 page)

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.

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.

 

B
Y 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.”

Reed stopped his sedan at the curb outside the downtown hotel Sylvie and Bryce had chosen and glanced at Diana. Night had fallen while he and several other officers had been busy turning Diana's apartment building upside down looking for evidence the Copycat Killer—or whoever had delivered Kane's gift—had left behind. Despite the passage of time and thick shadows veiling her face, Diana looked as pale and shell-shocked as she had after opening that damn music box.

He blew a breath through tight lips and switched off the ignition. He'd known dealing with Diana would be painful, but he'd never guessed how bad it would get. At least this morning he could muster some anger toward her, some bitterness for breaking their engagement and his heart. But now he didn't even have that defense. Now all he could think about was keeping her safe.

Checking traffic, he opened the door and climbed out. The sooner he got her checked into the hotel and away from him, the better. It wouldn't remove her from his thoughts, but at least she wouldn't be by his side, his old feelings chafing like a pair of ill-fitting shoes too expensive to throw away.

She joined him as he opened the trunk. He grasped her suitcase, and set it on the curb and reached up to close the trunk.

“What about my notes on Kane?”

The notes. Damn. He was hoping she would have forgotten the notes. Spending the night reading about the horrors that monster had committed was the last thing she needed. “I need to make copies. I have to be sure we didn't miss something.”

“So make copies.
Tomorrow.
”

He probably should argue with her, but he didn't have the heart. He glanced at his watch. Already ten o'clock. It had taken far longer than he'd ever imagined to sweep Diana's building and canvass her neighbors. Even after all the hours they'd been there, and on a Sunday night, they hadn't been able to talk to everyone. Like Louis Ingersoll. The little redheaded worm had disappeared sometime after they'd seen him in the basement. Not that Reed wouldn't catch up with him. “We could make
copies right now,” Diana said, bringing his attention crashing back to the boxes in the trunk.

He eyed the boxes. It would take an hour or more to copy all those files. Another hour of being with Diana. Of wanting to take care of her, protect her. Of wanting her to be his own.

Maybe Perreth was right. Maybe another detective should deal with Diana.

He shook his head. He just needed some time away. If he was really considering Perreth's ideas, he must be too tired to think. “Okay. I'll have someone copy them in the morning.”

Trying not to notice the satisfied press of Diana's lips, he lugged the boxes into the hotel. He placed them on a bellboy's cart while Diana checked in, then they wheeled their way into an elevator and through a hall to her room. Reaching the room, Reed greeted Officer Kuklin outside in the hall, tipped the bellboy, and prepared to make his exit.

A knock sounded on the door leading to the adjoining room.

“Sylvie.” Diana raced to the door and pulled it open.

Sylvie opened her arms and engulfed her sister in a hug. “I'm so glad you're here. I can't believe you saw Kane. Why didn't you tell me that's what you were going to do?”

“Because you would have stopped me.”

“You bet I would have.”

Bryce appeared behind his bride, watching the sisters, concern threading across his brow.

Reed stepped toward the door. With Bryce here and the officers outside, Diana would be safe. Reed could work off some tension on his weight bench and get back to concentrating on the case. With the Copycat Killer active again, his rest would have to come in the form of fifteen-minute naps. Giving Bryce a nod, he strode for the door.

“Reed, wait,” Bryce called. “Someone left a gift for Sylvie at the hotel's registration desk. It's something you should see.”

He turned around and stared at the little white music box cradled in Bryce's hands.

 

D
IANA'S HEART SANK
into her stomach. She stared at the white box identical to the one Reed had sent to the crime lab.

“We thought it was from you,” Sylvie said. “Your wedding gift.”

Diana could kick herself. “He sent me one, too. I should have called to warn you.” The most disturbing thing was that the music box had been delivered to the hotel. And that meant the copycat knew where Sylvie was. “I bought you four place settings and a bud vase.”

Sylvie tried to smile, but the attempt fell flat.
She looked as pale and drawn as she had this morning. No doubt she hadn't rested all day. And maybe she hadn't been able to eat either. “Kane mentioned a music box to me, back when you disappeared last fall.”

Reed stepped away from the door and joined them in Sylvie and Bryce's room. “What did he say?”

“That Diana loved a puppet when she was a kid. And we both loved a music box.”

Bryce nodded. “It should be on the videotape.”

Reed scribbled something in a notebook.

“It plays the ‘Wedding March'?”

Sylvie cracked open the lid and the march tinkled through the room like the sound of shattering glass. Shuddering, she closed the box. “I have to sit down.”

Sylvie perched on the edge of the bed, looking as if she might need to dash to the bathroom any moment.

Diana looked down at the bloody edges of Sylvie's fingernails. A habit she'd had as a child, Sylvie had begun digging at the edges of her nails after coming face-to-face with Kane last fall. As hard as the reality of having a serial killer for a father was on Diana, it was tougher for Sylvie. She'd spent her life longing to know her biological parents only to find out her father was a serial killer.

Diana covered Sylvie's hands with hers. “Go on
your honeymoon. Concentrate on that baby you're going to have. Concentrate on Bryce. They're your family. Don't think about Kane.”

Sylvie shook her head. “And leave you here to deal with this alone? Not a chance.”

“I'm not alone.” She glanced in Reed's direction before she could catch herself. Shaking her head, she looked back to Sylvie. “Besides, it's my fault he's in our lives to begin with. I need to deal with it.”

Sylvie shook her head. “We've been through that.”

“Yes. And nothing's changed.”

“This is me, Diana. Kane is my father as much as he is yours.” Sylvie was trying to put on a brave face, but Diana couldn't help but notice her flinch when she said the words.

“He can't know you're pregnant.”

Sylvie jerked her head up. “What do you think he'd do?”

“I don't know. But we don't want to find out.”

Sylvie rubbed a palm over her still-flat belly.

An ache hollowed out in Diana's own belly. An ache of longing and fear she didn't want to own. “The surest way to keep him from finding out is to go away. At least until the police can identify the Copycat Killer.”

“She's right, Sylvie.” Reed's voice came from behind Diana, smoothing over her like a caress. “You need to go. You have a lot to lose.”

“We all have a lot to lose.” Sylvie zeroed in on Reed. “How close are you to finding him?”

“Not close enough.”

Sylvie sat back on the bed with a little sigh, as if she'd reached a decision. “I can't just sit around and pretend to vacation while you face that monster down alone, Diana.”

Diana shook her head. Sylvie couldn't stay here. There had to be something she could say to convince her to go, something that would convince her not to put herself and her baby in danger for Diana's sake. But what?

“What if you could be a bigger help out of town than you are here?” Reed looked from Sylvie to Bryce.

“How?” Bryce asked.

“Kane has some sort of connection to this copycat. Could be a recent connection, could be someone he knew in the past. We're expending a lot of resources looking into everyone he's come into contact with recently.”

“But in the past?”

“We've run into a dead end there.”

Bryce lowered himself on to the bed beside Sylvie and took his wife's hand in his. “And you think
we
might be able to help?”

“How would you two feel about taking your honeymoon to Oshishobee, Wisconsin?”

“Oshishobee?” Sylvie asked. “Where's that?”

“It's northeast, on the way to the Upper Peninsula.” Diana knew the town, though she'd never been there. She also thought she knew where Reed was leading. “It's where Kane grew up.”

“Nikki and I went up there last fall,” Reed said. “But it's a very tight-lipped small town. I'm willing to bet people who refused to cooperate with the police might be more open to talking to one of Kane's daughters.”

Sylvie looked up at Bryce.

“What would we be looking for specifically?” Bryce asked.

“Today Kane mentioned something about the Copycat Killer being like a son to him.”

Bryce raised his brows. “You think Kane has a son? And the copycat might be him?”

“Hard to say. He might be someone younger that Kane knew, someone who looked up to him. Or someone he bullied. Of course his connection to the copycat might not have anything to do with his past. But we can't afford not to look into every possibility.”

Sylvie tilted her head skeptically. “With all that was written about Kane,
someone
must have researched his life growing up.”

“Oshishobee has a Native American name, but it's a tight-knit Norwegian town. People don't trust
any strangers, not just police detectives from Madison. I'm hoping as Kane's daughter, you can cut through some of that resistance.”

Diana held her breath, afraid to say anything that might interfere.

Sylvie looked up at her husband. She pressed her lips into a determined line. “I think we'd better pack.”

Diana expelled the breath she was holding in a whoosh.

“But I'm worried about you, Diana. I don't like the thought of you seeing him again, let alone meeting him every day. If Bryce and I agree to go, the two of you have to make me a deal.”

An uneasy feeling clamped down on Diana's shoulders. “What?”

“You need to stick together. Reed, you're the only one I trust to keep my sister safe.”

A muscle twitched along Reed's jaw.

Diana forced a smile to her lips that she was far from feeling. As if she'd had any choice in the matter in the first place. “You know Reed, Syl. He'll watch over my every move.”

 

R
EED ACCOMPANIED
D
IANA BACK
to her room, giving Sylvie and Bryce a chance to talk and make plans for their trip. But although Diana was grateful Reed had convinced Sylvie to leave town, being alone with Reed was the last thing she
wanted at the moment. The promise Sylvie had elicited from them—that Reed would watch over Diana while Sylvie and Bryce were gone—hung heavy in the air like humidity gathering before a thunderstorm.

Diana cleared her throat. She had to set things straight. The last thing she needed was for Reed to feel even more responsible for her than he already did. If that was even possible. “Don't worry about what Sylvie said. What she wanted us to promise.”

He looked up at her, startled, as if she'd disturbed him from an engrossing thought. “That I'll keep you safe?”

She shook her head. She knew he'd do that regardless. “That we need to stick together.”

“Oh, that. Don't worry. I know it isn't personal.” He was clearly making fun of her. But there was no humor in his voice.

She couldn't blame him. There was nothing funny about this situation. Nothing at all. Being around Reed today had made her feel empty and vulnerable and raw. And he didn't seem to be faring much better.

He walked toward the door and laid a hand on the knob. But instead of pulling it open, he turned back to face her. “You know, Sylvie isn't the only one in danger here.”

Of course she knew that. “All the women in the Madison area are in danger.”

“You should get out of town, too.”

She held up a hand. They'd been through this before, his need to protect her, to take care of her, to control everything that happened in her life. “I don't need to hear this again.”

“Everything both you and I said to Sylvie also applies to you.”

“Except the pregnancy.” She hoped the last bit would add some levity. It fell far short.

She folded her arms around her middle. She hadn't eaten all day, yet she didn't feel hungry. If anything, the nervous vibration in her stomach made her feel as sick as Sylvie had looked.

She drew in a deep breath and forced confidence into her voice. “I'm in a position to talk to Kane, to understand the way he thinks, maybe even to find out who the copycat is and where he is holding Nadine Washburn. I can't leave. You of all people know that.”

“You have a very optimistic view of what Kane is going to let you learn.”

“Optimistic?” She threw up her hands and let them land against her thighs with a stinging smack. “I don't know if he's going to tell me anything. But we have to use what we can get, don't we?”

“Within reason.”

“Reason? What is reasonable? Or maybe you should ask Nadine Washburn's mother that question.”

“If Nadine has been abducted by the copycat, I want to save her every bit as much as you do.”

“I don't doubt that.”

“Then what's your point?”

“I know what it's like to be tied to a bed in the darkness, waiting to die. I know what she's thinking. I know what she's feeling. I'm the only one in this room who truly understands what's within reason and what isn't.”

Reed's face went rigid. “I understand perfectly. I was there when you were kidnapped, remember? I might not know what Nadine feels, but I more than understand the pain her mother is living through. I understand the worry. I understand the helplessness. I understand the guilt.”