Evidence of Marriage (9 page)

He watched the single light in the window of the gargantuan stone mansion on the edge of Lake Mendota. The husband was gone, at least over night. He was sure of it. He'd watched him pack his bags in his car this afternoon. The wife would be alone. At least she would be until tonight. When she stepped outside on her terrace for her nightly glass of chardonnay, he'd be there.

He checked his syringe, his bag, the gardener's cart in the back of his van. With the thick trees hugging the lot's perimeter, this would be a piece of cake. Even easier than the Laundromat.

And as soon as he bagged this one for Dryden Kane, he'd figure out how to get his hands on what he really wanted.

Diana Gale.

He tightened at the thought of her. She might
think she was superior to him now, so superior she couldn't even see him, but she'd change that tune.

He slipped a hand into his bag and pulled out the pink lace bra and matching panties he'd taken from Diana's suitcase in the hotel.

It wouldn't be long now. He'd grab this one tonight, and then look for a way to get his hands on what he really wanted. He'd pretend Dryden Kane had given her to him. Handed her over as the father gives the bride. Then he'd take her for a ride she'd never forget. Not a ride that would end in a few days with hunting and gutting a carcass. But a ride that would stretch in front of them like a never-ending honeymoon.

She would belong to him.

At the mansion, the porch light switched on and a slender, dark-haired woman stepped onto the patio, her wineglass shining clear and light yellow in her hand. A breeze kicked up from the west, lifting her hair and the hem of her skirt. Beautiful. Vulnerable. But he didn't feel the surge of pleasure warm his blood for her. Not as he did just thinking of Diana down on the floor, doing his bidding.

He turned off the dome light in his van and opened the door. Grabbing his bag and syringe, he slipped out and circled to the back to fetch the other tools of his trade.

He'd do his job tonight. Take this one to the place he'd taken the others. Tie her tight and secure. Wait for Kane's further instructions.

And then he'd focus on Diana Gale.

“His name is Cordell Turner.”

Diana leaned back in her chair next to Sylvie, Bryce and Nikki in the task force's new odor-free digs as Reed explained what Bryce and Sylvie had discovered in Oshishobee. Eyes red and chin dark with stubble, Diana was sure he hadn't slept all night. Not that she had fared much better.

She'd spent the night huddling in a hotel room, listening to the murmur of the officers' voices in the hall outside. Every time she'd tried to sleep, she'd seen Nadine Washburn's mutilated body. Every time she'd tried to dream, her mind had bombarded her with questions about Dryden Kane's son—her and Sylvie's half brother. Was he trying to walk in his father's footsteps? Was he following the family legacy?

The thought made her feel sick.

She glanced at her sister. Sylvie gripped the
edge of the conference table, as if she were barely holding on. Diana could only imagine how hard this new revelation was on her. Especially now, when she needed all her strength to cope with the changes her body was going through.

Reed looked her in the eye before continuing. “And he has a criminal record.”

Diana leaned forward in her chair. The back of her neck prickled. Apparently her fears of a family legacy weren't that far off. “What did he do?”

“Killed a man when he was eighteen. He did eight years for manslaughter.”

“My God.” Diana's mind spun. She'd never had any idealistic illusions about family, not like Sylvie had. After all, she'd grown up under Ed Gale's cruel thumb. But this? A father who was a serial killer? A brother who, at the very least, had murdered one man?

Nikki looked down at the notebook in her hands. “He made parole two years ago and has been clean since.”

“As far as we know,” added Reed. “He lives in an apartment on the west side. Washes windows. His own business. Somehow he convinces people to let him into their homes.”

“Sounds like a good opportunity to find potential victims,” Bryce said.

Diana had to agree. There were many ways he
could have used his access to women's homes and businesses to stalk them. Even his first two victims, college coeds like the women Dryden Kane had killed, could have come to his attention while he'd been doing his job. Diana suppressed a shudder. She doubted she would ever be able to let any stranger into her home after this. Not without planning how to defend herself. “So what happens now?”

“We have a word with him,” Reed said.

“We?”

“Nikki and me. But if you want to ride along, you can take a look. See if you recognize him.”

“You think I might have seen him before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe in your building. Or at the university. If Turner is the copycat, I can almost guarantee he's been keeping an eye on you for Kane. Probably for quite a while. Are you up to it?”

Diana had wanted Reed to have faith in her, to let her help with the case. The fact that he was, even after the trauma of finding the body in her bed last night, wasn't lost on her. “Of course I'm up to it.”

“Good.” He gave her an understanding smile, as if he recognized the doubts and questions swirling in her mind about her brother. “What is it?”

She shook her head. She wasn't sure. Maybe a feeling. Maybe just doubt. “You really think Cordell Turner could be the copycat?”

“I don't know. But if he is, I'm going to get
him. Whether he's your brother or not, he needs to be stopped.”

She nodded. Of course, that went without saying. “That's not what's bothering me.”

“Then what is?”

“Kane.” She could feel Sylvie, Bryce and Nikki watching her, but she kept her focus on Reed. “I have to think he made that ‘like a son' comment purposely to lead us to Cordell Turner. But if Turner is the copycat, why would Kane want to point us in his direction?”

“Maybe it was a mistake, a slip he didn't intend to make,” Sylvie said.

Diana shook her head. “I don't think Kane makes slips he doesn't intend. I think every word from his lips is thought out, calculated.”

Reed nodded thoughtfully.

“He told me about Sylvie when I visited him last year because he knew I would try to find her. He wanted to draw her in. Get her to visit the prison. He was frustrated when I didn't tell her about him.”

“So you think he might be using the same tactic to establish contact with his son?”

“It seems like something he might do.”

Reed nodded. “It sounds plausible. If he doesn't have contact already. If Turner is not the copycat.”

Her chest ached, as if the pressure outside her
body was too much to stand against. The idea that their brother had followed in Kane's murdering footsteps weighed on her.

Reed leaned across the table, focusing on her as if they were the only two in the room. “Trust the evidence, Diana. Information in a police investigation is not a science. At best, it's an art form. At worst, just a confusing mess. Hard physical evidence is the only thing that can't be faked or nuanced or spun. In the long run, it's the only thing that tells the real story.”

Diana grabbed on to his words. He was right. She didn't have to guess about her brother, and neither did the police. If hard evidence proved Cord Turner was the Copycat Killer, then he would go back to prison. And if he was a pawn being moved around the board by Kane, the evidence would show that, too. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible.” Reed gave her a tight-lipped smile and turned to her sister. “Sylvie? Do you want to come, too?”

Diana braced herself, trying to beat back her concern. She didn't want Sylvie anywhere near Cordell Turner any more than she wanted her visiting Dryden Kane. Whether her brother was the Copycat Killer or not, he was still a murderer. And their meeting would likely be traumatic no matter what kind of truth came out.

Sylvie swallowed hard. She gripped the table harder, her knuckles blanching. “You'd better count me out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Diana couldn't help be relieved. As relieved as worry for her sister would allow. If Sylvie was bowing out, she must really be sick. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. I just need to lie low for a bit. Like nine months, apparently.”

Bryce swiveled in his chair and laid a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder. “I'm taking you to the doctor.”

“I'll be okay. Really.”

“I'm sure you will. But you're going to the doctor anyway. We aren't taking risks we don't have to take.”

“You're right. We'll go today.” Sylvie placed her hand over Bryce's.

Witnessing the couple's connection, Diana couldn't help but smile. She was so glad Sylvie had Bryce. The two of them were so perfect for each other, so focused on love and family. Watching the way they looked at each other, the tender way they touched, made Diana want to believe that maybe such happiness was possible. At least with the right man.

Sylvie focused on Diana. “Let me know about him. Good or bad.”

Diana nodded. She'd wanted Sylvie as far away from this case as she could get, but the thought of Sylvie having medical problems with the pregnancy sent a fresh shudder of fear along her nerves. “I'll tell you every detail. And Sylvie?”

“Yes?”

“You and the baby will be okay. Right?”

Sylvie nodded. “I'm sure we will.”

Diana nodded, too, but looking at her sister's complexion, she was far from certain.

 

A
S SOON AS
R
EED STEPPED OUT
of his car at the construction site where Cord Turner was washing windows, he knew bringing Diana along was a mistake. Just the thought of her being anywhere near a man who might be the Copycat Killer made him want to encase her in bubble wrap and plant her in a jail cell, where he could be sure of her safety.

Maybe Perreth was right. Maybe having Diana around did compromise his thinking. Of course, as he, Diana and Nikki climbed from his car, he realized mistake or not, there wasn't much he could do about it now.

He shook his head and studied the three-story brick mansion jutting up from the shore of Lake Kegonsa. After putting the county sheriff's department on standby, he was confident that if Turner resisted them for whatever reason, they could
handle him. And he and Nikki would be able to keep Diana safe. But despite the facts, the situation troubled him far more than he wanted to admit.

Diana and Nikki climbed out of the car, slamming their doors behind them. Stepping over the newly poured curb and gutter, they trudged across construction rubble and over plywood bridging the mud puddles dotting what would eventually be the front yard. An engine roared to life from a dump truck parked at the street. At the side of the house, a bulldozer kicked dust in the air despite the recent rain.

Diana planed her hand over her eyes, blocking the sun. “How do you know he's here?”

“He told Nikki this morning.”

She dropped her hand and glanced at Nikki. “You talked to him?”

“I called about getting an estimate. Seems my apartment's windows are in need of a good cleaning.” She gave a big proud grin.

Reed almost shook his head. Nikki was just the type who would get a kick out of working undercover some day. He supposed she would, after she got bored with being a detective. If ever there was a woman who had ambitions to experience everything law enforcement had to offer, it was Nikki Valducci.

“So that's all there was to it?” asked Diana.
“You just called and made an appointment and he told you where he was working?”

“Not quite. He said he could stop by after he finished a job for a builder—a house scheduled to close tomorrow. A few calls to title companies, and I now know all the new construction changing hands tomorrow. This was the only builder who admitted to hiring a professional window cleaner. Wa-la, the miracle of police work.”

Diana smiled. “I'm impressed.”

Reed turned away from Diana and Nikki and devoted his attention to giving the house a once-over. The place looked as if it had a long way to go before anyone could even think about moving in. Of course, once the day of closing approached, he imagined things got done more quickly. Stepping onto the mud-encrusted concrete stoop, Reed froze and knelt down. A wavy-soled footprint was pressed into the dried mud.

“What is it?” Diana leaned over his shoulder.

“Nikki?” He pointed out the footprint. “Take a photo of this, will you?”

Diana knelt down, her hair cascading over one shoulder. The midday sun glinted on her hair, turning it to gold. “It's the same as the tread in the lobby of my building.”

Reed's gut hitched. Diana hadn't shared how she felt about having a brother, but he knew. Even
if she suspected he could be the Copycat Killer, she wouldn't want to believe it. She would be pulling for him to be innocent with all her heart. Only solid evidence would convince her otherwise, and while a footprint wasn't anywhere near conclusive, it was still evidence. Evidence he wished he didn't have to point out. “It's also similar to the footprint I found in the hotel room last night.”

Diana turned to him with horrified eyes. “You think that tread is from the copycat's shoes? How do you know?”

“I don't. It might not mean anything at all. That's the way it is with evidence. Sometimes you don't know what is important until you find something important.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That doesn't make any sense, does it?”

“Yes, it does.”

“You'll have to explain it to me sometime, then.” He glanced from Diana to Nikki and back again. “You two had better wait in the car. This might not mean anything, but I don't want to take a chance. I'll get Turner and bring him out.”

Nikki looked up from her camera. “You can't go in there without backup.”

“And Diana can't stay alone in the car.”

Diana thrust herself to her feet. “Yes, I can. I'll be fine.”

He shook his head. This was a mistake. This
whole trip was a mistake. He should have left Diana at the task-force offices. At least there, he knew she'd be safe. “We'll take you back to Madison.”

Diana held up a hand. “That's ridiculous. A waste of time. There are construction workers all over the place here. I'll be plenty safe in the car. I'll lock myself in.”

He scanned the area. She had a point. Trucks and vans lined the street. Just across the street from the car, three workers ate an early lunch clustered around a van with carpet rolls sticking out the back. Add them to the dump-truck driver, the bulldozer operator, and another silhouette sitting in a van just down the street, and Diana should be safe. With that many people around, someone would have to be crazy to pull anything.

He massaged his aching neck, trying to make himself feel better about the situation. “Lean on the horn if you notice anything out of the ordinary. And I mean
anything.
”

She nodded.

“And take these.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. He put them into her hand. “Don't be afraid to just drive away.”

“I'll be out of here like a shot.” She gave him a teasing smile.

His gut hitched one more time. But this time, fear wasn't the only cause. It had been a long time
since she had teased him. A long time since he'd seen that smile that sparkled in her eyes and crinkled her nose. “I mean it, Diana. Be careful.”

She nodded. Reversing, she hiked back over the plywood-and-dirt path. He waited until she'd climbed into the car, locked the doors and gave a wave before he turned back to the house.

Having documented the footprint, Nikki followed him through the scarred steel door. A new ornate door of wood and leaded glass leaned against the brick, waiting to be set.

Workers clamored inside, their air hammers popping over the blaring radio. Reed and Nikki stepped gingerly over the paper runner in the foyer that provided a protective pathway over the dusty-gray marble floor. Weaving their way up the partially carpeted staircase, they ventured into three different bedrooms before they finally located Turner working on a giant bay window overlooking the lake.