Lethal

Ann Voss Peterson LETHAL

Love, sex, revenge, murder... welcome to Lake Loyal, Wisconsin.

Risa

Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife…

Slamming on the brakes, Risa Madsen threw open her car door. She clambered out and raced through the parking lot toward the looming perimeter fence of the Banesbridge Correctional Institution. Her heels pounded on the pavement in sync with the drumming of her pulse.

She had to stop this marriage from taking place. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Nikki throw her life away. She had to save her little sister.

And she was running out of time.

…to have and to hold…

The early afternoon sun glinted off strands of razor wire lining the top of the fence. Risa shivered as she ran. If it wasn’t for her, Nikki never would have sought out Edward Dryden. She never would have transferred her exhausting need for male approval from her father to Dryden. She never would have become a willing victim.

…from this day forward…

Two guards stood at the gate. Stopping, Risa gulped air and struggled to subdue her panic. She focused on the bulky guard whose eyes held the look of a soul weary with confronting the evil of life. “Gordy. Am I too late?”

“They already started, Professor.” He opened the gate and pulled her inside. “What took you so long?”

“Got here as soon as I could.” If it hadn’t been for Gordy’s call, she wouldn’t have made it at all. She wouldn’t have even known about the wedding.

He motioned for her to follow. “Hurry.”

Risa ran up the steps behind him. He threw open the door and led her through a metal detector and into the wide entrance hall of the prison’s main building.

…for richer or for poorer…

While a female guard patted her down and checked the inside of her shoes and the bottoms of her feet, Risa inhaled breath after breath of stale air into her hungry lungs. There never seemed to be enough air inside these walls. Nor enough light.

The perfect place for a man like Ed Dryden to live out the rest of his days.

Of course that was a thought she could never voice. In light of her profession, she was supposed to be supportive of Dryden’s efforts toward rehabilitation. She was supposed to believe that through psychoanalysis he could overcome his horrible childhood and turn his life around. A part of her even wanted to believe it. But she couldn’t shake the cold feeling slithering over her skin every time she thought of his dead, black eyes, his artful smirk.

The feeling of impending doom.

Trent had planted that bias in her. When he’d profiled Dryden for the FBI. When he’d testified at Dryden’s trial. When he’d helped put Dryden in prison.

Everything always went back to Trent.

…for better or for worse…

Risa shook her head, trying to dislodge the litany of vows scrolling through her mind. She had to make it to the chapel in time. She had to stop those vows from crossing her sister’s lips. She had to prevent this travesty from taking place.

Security checks complete, she hurried after Gordy. Barred doors slid open in front of them and clanged shut behind. Risa’s heart slammed against her ribs. She wanted to push past Gordy and race for the chapel as fast as her feet would carry her. She wanted to grab Nikki and drag her out of this godforsaken place, kicking and screaming if need be.

Risa wished she could change the past. She wished she had never added Dryden to her list of case studies. More than anything, she wished Nikki wasn’t the needy, vulnerable girl she was. But wishing wouldn’t help anyone. Only getting Nikki out of this place, away from Dryden would do that.

…in sickness and in health…

Finally, Gordy stopped in front of a plain steel door marked Chapel. “Hope to God we aren’t too late.” He pushed the door open.

Risa squeezed past him and lunged inside.

Her eighteen-year-old sister stood in the corner of the chapel. Her bleached hair fell to her shoulders in platinum ringlets. At least fifty yards of lace and satin and frothy tulle flourished around her like French cream frosting. Her lipsticked mouth rounded. Her penciled brows arched in surprise. “Risa.”

Risa looked past Nikki and focused on the groom. The man was charming, almost boyish, with an endearing shyness and a down-home smile. Looking at him, one would imagine he was a kind and gentle man, a calming influence for a reckless girl like Nikki. But Risa knew differently.

Ed Dryden was a brutal serial killer.

Risa strode up the aisle toward her sister, toward Dryden. Her hands hardened into fists by her sides.

Dryden’s dark eyes met hers. A smirk slithered over his thin lips. “Hey, sis. You here to welcome me into the family?”

A cold finger traveled up her spine.

“No?” His smirk grew wider. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re jealous of your little sister. Do you hear that, Nik? She’s jealous of you.”

Nikki gazed up at him, beaming as if he’d just given her the prize of a lifetime.

Nausea swirled in Risa’s stomach. She wanted to think all human beings were redeemable. Curable. But looking into Dryden’s emotionless eyes, she just couldn’t buy it. No, Trent was right. He’d always been right. A man like Dryden never changed. He manipulated. He terrorized. He killed. But he never changed.

And he’d found just the right ploy to control her sister.

Dryden leered down at Nikki as if she were a roasted leg of lamb seasoned just the way he liked. “Face it, sis. Nikki has triumphed where years of psychotherapy failed. Her love has made me a better person. A good person. She’s my soul mate. And you’re too late to change it now. We already said ‘I do.’”

The breath left Risa’s lungs in a whoosh.

Dryden raised his eyes to meet hers and lowered one eyelid in a profane wink. “Nikki is my wife—until death do us part.”

Eddie

June 1996, on a dark country road…

Eddie Dryden stabbed the shiv just below the ribs. The sharpened handle of a toothbrush, hours spent filing down the plastic to a point on the cold concrete floor of his cell, too thin and fragile to do more than pierce the skin.

So he drove it in harder.

The man groaned, breath rattling, still alive. Still feeling every goddamn bit of agony.

Nice.

If only Eddie had a real blade. Something sturdy. Strong. Something that could hold an edge. Then he’d field dress this asshole. Do it for practice. Just because it had been too long.

Dryden wiped his hands on his prison garb then started to undress, swapping his orange jumpsuit for a green one with the sanitation company’s logo on the back and the blood stain at the throat. He pulled out the plastic bottle of club soda he’d been saving just for this and poured it on the stain, dabbing it clean with the sanitation worker’s white wife beater before zipping up.

High fashion.

Eddie had paid enough for his ticket to stow away on the damn garbage truck. Should have gotten real clothing for that price. And a real blade, like his Buck knife back home. He was cheated.

People were idiots. Thought they had it over on Ed, but they never did.

Losers.

Eddie had been planning this for a long time. How he’d get out. How he’d convince the driver there was something wrong with his truck so he’d stop. How he’d take out the man and have his fun, before moving on to better things.

It had made the hole bearable. But he didn’t have to worry about that no more.

He turned back to the dying man. No… dead.

Shit.

Fuck this. Eddie deserved the best, not plastic for cutting and definitely not a man for a plaything.

Everything was more satisfying with a woman. The piercing sound of the scream. The begging for mercy that wouldn't be shown. The look of disbelief when the cutting began, and the lovely horror when they realized the cutting wouldn't stop. It never failed to excite him. Never failed to get him hard. Blood was the best lubricant.

And now that Eddie was out, a free man, he would have the chance to live the fantasy again.

To make things right.

To make her pay.

And he couldn’t wait to begin.

Nikki

“You’re the only one who can do this, Nikki. You’re special.”

Nikki Dryden pressed the phone hard to her ear in an attempt to control her shaking. Growing up, she’d always dreamed she was special. Fantasized about proving it to the world. But it wasn’t until she’d met him that she really felt it could be true.

Every visiting day when he’d asked how she was feeling. When he’d listened to her problems, her dreams. His eyes riveted to hers, as if he couldn’t drink in enough of her. The day he’d married her was the most special of her life.

But this?

“Eddie, how did you get—“

“Not important. I’m out. And I need my wife.”

“What if someone follows me?”

“No one will. Not if you leave now. They don’t even know. Not yet.”

“I don’t… I don’t know the area.”

“You’ve heard of Lake Loyal?”

“It’s that little town, right?”

“It’s a town and a lake.”

“Right.”

“On the western shore of the lake, across from the town, there’s a park. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ve never been good at maps.”

“There are signs, sweetheart. Rossum Park. That’s what it’s called. Repeat the name.”

“Rossum Park.”

“Good girl. I knew I could count on you. I’ve always been able to count on you. Pack only what you need and get there. Fast as you can.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t be late. Our real life together, it starts tonight. I can’t wait, Nikki.”

“I can’t wait,” she repeated.

Nikki kept pressing the phone to her ear, even after the line was dead.

She’d first written to Eddie because of Risa. But when he’d responded, and kept responding, it had been so exciting. Even though he’d had hundreds of girls contacting him, he’d kept writing to Nikki. Told her she was special. Asked her all about herself, the good and the bad, the hopes and the disappointment.

And he’d confided in her, too. Trusted her with things he’d never told anyone else. Not just the good, but also the bad. The way he’d let his wife take advantage of him. The reason he’d lost his temper with her. The way the system had twisted everything around.

Just like it had done to her father.

Four months ago, if anyone had asked Nikki if she would marry a convict, she would have told them they were crazy. But that afternoon in the visiting room, when Eddie had proposed, she knew he was the one. And the past month as Mrs. Dryden… it had been the happiest time of her life.

Nikki set the phone in its cradle. She pulled her suitcase out of the closet and scampered into the bathroom to pack her makeup case.

She might be scared now, but soon they would be together. No handwritten letters or visiting room tables between them. Just the two of them and the warmth of their love.

And Nikki wanted that more than anything.

Risa

Risa stared at the images flashing on the ten-o’clock news. Razor wire glinting in the sun. A fenced compound. A disabled garbage truck. A body bag being loaded into an ambulance. Her worst fear had become reality.

Edward Dryden had escaped from prison.

Her throat constricted. The way Dryden had leered at Nikki on their wedding day pounded at the back of her eyes. His taunting voice echoed through her mind.

Until death do us part.

Risa scrambled to her feet and raced for the kitchen, her robe billowing out behind. She’d been ready for bed when the terrifying story had come on the news. Now sleep was out of the question. Not until Dryden was behind bars. Not until Nikki was safe. She grabbed the phone from the kitchen counter. Fingers shaking, she punched in her sister’s phone number.

One ring… two rings…

She clenched the phone so tightly the plastic creaked. “Please, Nikki. Please be there.”

Three rings… four…

“Hi! Not here! Leave a message.”

It took forever for the beep. “Nikki?” Risa said. “Nikki? Are you there? Pick up. Now. It’s important. Nikki?”

Risa threw down the phone and ran for the staircase leading to her bedroom, bare feet slapping the hardwood floor. She had to get dressed. To find her purse, her car keys. To reach her sister before Ed Dryden did.

She took the narrow steps two at a time, knocking the teddy bears decorating the stairs out of her way as she ran.

The doorbell’s chime echoed through her little bungalow.

Could it be Nikki? The police?

Risa raced back down the stairs to the front door and peered through the peephole. Her heart stuttered then seized. Clutching her robe closed with one hand, she unlocked the dead bolt and yanked the door open.

Trent scrutinized her from the darkness, his face all sharp angles and hard planes in the yellow glare of the porch light.

Risa’s heart started again, pumping hard enough to break a rib. She hadn’t seen Trent Burnell in two years, not since he’d testified at Ed Dryden’s trial, and she’d never dreamed she would be glad to see him again. But for a moment, she was.

“You’ve heard,” he said.

“Just saw it on the news.”

“I didn’t want you to find out that way.”

She shook her head with frustration. The way she’d found out wasn’t important. Trent would have had to fly to Wisconsin from Quantico. That would take time. “How long have you known?”

“They called for assistance as soon as they noticed him gone.”

“How long?”

“A few hours.”

“We have to locate Nikki. I can’t reach her phone.”

Trent paused.

Cold penetrated Risa’s bones. “You know something.”

“Deputies have been to her apartment. Right after they called me.”

“And?” Risa was afraid to think, afraid to breathe.

“She’s not there. And her car is gone.”

Until death do us part.

Risa’s knees wobbled, and she felt herself sinking.

Trent pushed his way into her house. Leading her to the antique bench in the foyer, he shoved teddy bears aside and deposited her on it.

Risa’s mind stuttered. “She can’t be dead. She can’t—”

“We don’t know that she’s dead. I don’t think she is.”

Risa could feel her head nodding, every impulse grasping at the hope in his words. Trent knew Ed Dryden better than anyone. Even better than she did. “That’s why you’re here.”

“To find Dryden. Yes.”

“And Nikki.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s go.” She struggled to stand.

Trent’s grip tightened, keeping her planted on the bench. “A police officer from Lake Loyal is on his way to pick you up, take you to the station.”

“Lake Loyal?” Risa recognized the name of the small town a stone’s throw from the prison, but for the life of her, she didn’t see how going to the tiny police station was going to do any good. “I don’t have time. He has—”

“Rees. Look at me.”

She forced her eyes to focus on his face. A face full of strength and confidence and purpose. A face that, until a few minutes ago, she had never wanted to set eyes on again.

“The town, the county, law enforcement is on this. And I’ll find Dryden, Rees. I promise.”

Risa closed her eyes, blocking the sight of him. He’d broken promises to her in the past. But those were personal promises. Promises of marriage. Promises of a family. This one had to do with his work. This one was life and death. He would keep this one. He always kept his professional promises.

She opened her eyes and nodded. “You’ll be at the station with me?”

“After the officer gets here, I’ll head to the prison. I want to go through Dryden’s personal things, anything he left behind. Afterward I’ll meet you. The task force will be assembling there.”

“Take me to the prison.”

Familiar shadows crept into the gray of his eyes. He turned away.

“I can help, Trent. You’re not the only one with insights into Dryden that might be useful.”

“Go with the officer. Answer his questions. That’s how you can help.”

“The police will be at the prison too, right? I can answer questions there. I need to go.”

Trent paced the length of the tiny foyer before he spun back to face her. His expression was guarded, his jaw clamped shut like an oyster with an entire pearl necklace to protect.

Risa had seen this look countless times before. Back when they were engaged. Back when he’d withdrawn. Back when he’d shut her out of his life.

She shoved her resentment aside and concentrated on keeping her voice calm, her argument reasonable. “I’ve been heading up a study on criminal psychology. I’ve been to the prison dozens of times in the last year interviewing Dryden. It could be useful if I—”

“It’s out of the question.”

Frustration pulsed at the back of Risa’s eyes, rapidly turning into a throbbing headache. “You’ve used victims’ family members to help in other cases.”

“Not this time. Let the authorities take care of it. Let us do our jobs.” His voice was professional, emotionless, final.

Risa lurched to her feet, her hands in fists. She wanted to pound them against his chest. She wanted to grab the lapels of his suit and shake him. She wanted to scream until she had no breath left in her body.

By some kind of miracle, she kept herself calm. “This isn’t about you. Not everything is.”

His back stiffened, but he didn’t argue with her. He never had. From the night he’d told her he couldn’t go ahead with their vows, he’d taken all the anger she’d thrown at him as if it were his penance for the pain he’d caused. A punishment he knew he deserved.

But she didn’t want to punish him. She wanted him to understand. “I’ve talked to Dryden, interviewed him. And Nikki found my work so fascinating, she married the man. I’m neck deep in this.”

“And I won’t be responsible for you getting in any deeper.”

She bit back a caustic reply. Arguing was a waste of time. “I don’t need you, Trent. I’ll drive myself. If the officer wants to ask me questions, he can meet me at the prison. Or he can arrest me.”

Clutching her robe closed, she ran up the stairs.

Trent

Damn.

Listening to the soft thump of Rees’s footsteps climbing the stairs, Trent ran his gaze over the warm wood and creamy white walls of her foyer. Her collection of teddy bears scattered the staircase and bench and stared down at him from an ornate shelf. Dozens of them. Judging him with their glossy black eyes.

He hated teddy bears.

Of course, it wasn’t the stuffed toys themselves. He knew that. It was what they represented. Innocence. And his failure to protect it.

He turned away from the staircase and crossed the foyer to the front door. That Rees wanted to help save Nikki from Ed Dryden—that she needed to help—didn’t surprise him in the least. But he’d hoped she would be satisfied with going to the police station and answering questions. He should have known better.

Simply answering questions wouldn’t be enough for her. Not Rees. Of course she would try to talk him into including her, and when he refused, she’d go barreling in on her own. He should have done something, anything to head her off before she’d latched on to the idea of going to the prison. Before she’d dug in her heels.

Trent opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop. The gentle glow of the moon caressed an oak tree’s emerging leaves and sparkled off drops of dew in the well-tended lawn. Sweet scents of lilac and honeysuckle mixed with the tang of nearby spruce. Familiar smells of Wisconsin spring that would be embedded in his memory forever.

But in his memory, those sweet scents were impossible to separate from the odor of blood, the stench of decay, and the evil of Ed Dryden. That was the reality of Trent’s life. Death and decay and a killer on the loose. Not spring bushes covered with flowers. Not teddy bears.

And certainly not Risa.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the soft, lavender scent of her, the rich, husky quality in her voice, the petite curves even that flour sack of a nightshirt couldn’t hide.

If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have taken the job at the University of Wisconsin. She wouldn’t have gone out of her way to include Dryden in her study, and her sister wouldn’t have married the monster.

This wasn’t her fault. It was his.

But he couldn’t turn his back on the bureau. Not two years ago, and not now. To change the path his career had taken would mean killers he had helped put in prison or on death row would be free. And he couldn’t live with that. Not even for Rees.

Two years ago, Trent had tried to find a way to reconcile his career and his need to protect Rees. But there was no way. He couldn’t have both. He’d had to face that then, and nothing had changed since.

Circumstances had only proved he had been right to leave her. His failure was not leaving sooner.

Trent stepped off the porch and strode across the wet grass toward his rental car. All he could do was try to clean up the mess he’d caused. Find Dryden before he killed Nikki, before he killed someone else.

And he would do his damnedest to protect Rees in the process. Whether she liked it or not.

Risa

Dressed in slacks and a cotton sweater, Risa stepped into the garage and hit the glowing button on the wall. Motor whirring, the automatic door began to rise. A car’s headlights glared from outside, their brightness growing as the door lifted. She held up a hand to shield her eyes from the light.

“Get in the car.” Trent’s voice barked over the drone of the garage door. “I’ll drive you to the prison.”

She gripped her car keys in one fist, the pointed edges digging into her palm. Knowing Trent, the turnaround had less to do with a change of heart than a change of strategy. “I’m going to the prison.”

“I said I’d take you.”

“And when I get there, I’m going to help with the investigation.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

“Right.” Well, the first step was getting him to take her. Now she had the forty-minute drive there to convince him to let her take a look in Ed Dryden’s cell.

She punched the code into the garage door’s outside keypad. The door humming shut behind her, she climbed into Trent’s sedan.

His scent closed over her like warm water. A shiver shimmied up her back. A shiver with a chaser of memory. Once she’d found comfort in his scent, in the warmth of his body next to hers. But that time was gone.

Now he just made her angry.

Trent threw the car into reverse, backed out, and headed in the direction of the highway. His face was hard in the glow of the dashboard light.

“I need to know what is going on, Trent.”

“I don’t know anything beyond what I’ve already told you.”

“And you wouldn’t share it with me if you did.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

She blew a frustrated breath between pursed lips.

“What? Did you expect me to give you all the gory details?”

“The gory details are my life this time. Nikki’s—” Risa knotted her hands into fists in her lap. “Do you think it’s better if I find out about the case when some true-crime author writes a book about it? Is that when I should discover I had the critical piece of information that could have saved my sister?”

For the first time since she’d climbed into the car, Trent turned to look at her. A furrow dug between his brows. His face looked thinner than she remembered. His mouth tensed, but he said nothing.

“I would never forgive myself if something that I know could save Nikki’s life. Or other lives. Would you, Trent? Would you be able to forgive yourself?”

He turned back to the road, his lips flattening into a noncommittal line.

Risa leaned back in her seat and stared out the window at the rolling hills whipping by in the night.

“Okay.” When Trent finally spoke, his voice was low, barely above a whisper. “But you’d better brace yourself.”

Trent

Trent put pen to paper and scrawled his name on the document in front of him without glancing twice at the fine print. He knew what it said. He’d had to sign it many times in his years with the FBI. Sign it and surrender his gun. Every time he’d ventured into the cell blocks of a maximum security prison. The pit he and Rees were heading to now.

He glanced at Rees standing next to him in front of the glassed-in reception and screening desk. She’d conducted interviews at the prison, but he doubted she’d been deeper than the visiting rooms. She would have had no reason to visit the cell blocks themselves.

Eyes squinted, she studied the words in front of her. Damn ominous words. Words she should never have to contemplate. In a nutshell, the document stated that should some inmate with a point to prove take either of them hostage, the prison authorities wouldn’t lift a finger to save their lives. No negotiation. No discussion. No kiss goodbye.

Of course Trent had seen countless instances where prison officials went to all lengths to save a hostage. The document was simply intended to cover the prison from lawsuits should a visitor get hurt. But even so, the implication was there. This was a bad place filled with bad men.

A place Rees shouldn’t be anywhere near.

Trent wished he didn’t have to put her in this situation. But she’d been right. He needed to use every resource at his disposal to stop Dryden, even if that resource was Rees.

Trent turned to the hulking corrections officer waiting to escort them to Dryden’s cell. “Let’s get on with it.”

The guard turned to Risa. “Ready, Professor?”

“Lead the way, Gordy.”

The guard started down the well-worn main hallway, Trent and Rees falling into step behind.

“So you know the CO,” Trent observed, keeping his voice low.

“I told you I’ve been here before.”

“Interviewing Dryden. I remember.” The barred door clanged shut behind them, leaving no sound beyond their voices and the steady tap of their footsteps on scuffed tile.

“This place is worse at night, though. Funny, since there are no windows, but…”

Trent had to agree. It was the stillness. A hanging tension. As if they were waiting for a disaster that was sure to come. “Academic study questionnaires don’t cover what we might find here.”

“They do cover pompous condescension, though.”

“Ouch.”

“Listen Trent, I know we might find something disturbing. And if we do, I’ll deal. Not finding anything that could help us would be much worse.”

After walking for what seemed like an eternity, Gordy stopped to turn his key in the control panel and opened the last set of barred doors at the entrance of the first cell block. They stepped through, and the doors clanged shut behind them. The sound echoed through the vast two-story structure like the slamming of the doors of Hades.

Trent had never visited this particular prison before, and it was in serious need of renovation. Unfortunately, in that, it was not unique. A long hallway stretched on either side of them, barred windows black with night on one side and two stories of cells on the other. The scarred bars and dingy beige walls and floors looked like it was built in the same era as Alcatraz. A smattering of murmurs, shouts and catcalls erupted as they stepped forward into the cell block. Thankfully, it was the middle of the night. Otherwise the jeers and obscenities would be worse. Among other unpleasantries.

Rees tensed beside him.

His first impulse was to slip an arm around her, to protect her from the scum leering at her from behind barred doors. But this was not the time or the place. That time and place didn’t exist. Not anymore.

Between the open shower rooms in the center of the structure, a steel staircase rose to the second floor. They followed Gordy up the stairs, their footfalls making the metal hum like a tuning fork.

When they reached the second tier, Gordy led them past two uniformed police officers and down the walkway overlooking the floor below. Each cell pod consisted of a small, enclosed common area surrounded by six individual cells. All the pods in this section stood unoccupied, their doors yawning wide.

Two men in suits stood in the common area of Dryden’s cell pod. The taller of the two wore a double-breasted Armani suit and French cuffs with the pomposity of a man eager for people to think more of him than he thought of himself. If Trent had to hazard a guess, he’d peg the man as the prison’s warden. Although why the warden of an outdated prison in central Wisconsin would invest in designer suits, and where he’d come up with the cash on a public servant’s salary, Trent couldn’t say.

The other man, Trent had met years ago. Ed Dryden had terrorized communities in the northern tip of Wisconsin, and that’s where he’d been arrested and charged. As is often the case with sensational crimes, the trial had been moved south to a different county to dip into its theoretically untainted jury pool. The county which was also the home of the tiny town of Lake Loyal, its nearby prison, and sheriff’s detective Dan Cassidy.

Unfortunately, Cassidy had been one of many local law enforcement officers that Trent ran into in his work who were resentful of the FBI. To put it mildly, Cassidy hadn’t been the model of cooperation. In fact, the man was an ass.

Now the detective stood listening uneasily to the warden, shifting from scuffed loafer to scuffed loafer. Add the mop of sandy hair on his head and his abruptly turned up nose, and Cassidy looked more like a little kid itching to go out and play than the aggressive hard ass he’d been trying to portray on the phone.

The warden shook his balding head dramatically. Though he was talking to Cassidy, his voice carried down the row of empty cells. “…and maybe this is for the best. Maybe now the Department of Corrections will give us money for improvements and extra guards instead of funneling all the state’s resources into the new Supermax and into shipping prisoners to Tennessee and Oklahoma.”

Trent hoped the warden was referring to something trivial like the boiler failing or the maintenance crew running out of wax for the dingy floors. He surely couldn’t be talking about the escape of a serial killer as being for the best, could he? Trent eyed Rees. The last thing she needed to hear was that the danger Nikki faced was for the best.

A muscle worked in the smooth column of her throat, as if she was doing her best to swallow the idiot’s words.

The men turned toward them. A wary smile broke across Cassidy’s face. “Special Agent Burnell.”

“Dan Cassidy.”

The detective nodded in Trent’s direction then focused on Rees. His brows lifted in surprise and then lowered.

“This is Risa. Risa Madsen,” Trent informed him.

“I know who she is.”

Strange. As far as Trent knew, the two had never met, and yet Cassidy behaved as though he held something against her.

After more introductions, the warden shook Trent’s hand and then grasped Rees’s. “I’m sorry your sister was involved in this, Ms. Madsen.”

“Thank you, Warden. I appreciate it. What were you talking about when we arrived? What is for the best?”

Trent almost smiled.

At least Hanson had the decency to look embarrassed. He gestured widely with his bony hands, his face animated. “Not for the best, exactly. That was an unfortunate choice of words. But something big had to happen to get the DOC to acknowledge that this facility needs serious renovation. Heaven knows, they haven’t been listening to me. I warned our state representative just last week we need to update security. Thank God, they can’t ignore the problem any longer. I was just looking for the silver lining.”

Trent had had enough of Warden Hanson. He glanced down at his watch. “Let’s get on with this, Cassidy.”

The warden smoothed a hand over the front of his suit coat. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have some administrative details to attend to. Good luck, Special Agent Burnell. Professor Madsen.”

“Thank you,” Trent said pointedly. He turned from the retreating warden and toward the cell.

Cassidy stood in the cell’s open doorway, glaring at Rees. “Why is she here, Burnell?”

“Do you have a problem, Cassidy?”

“I can’t ask? This is my case.”

“As a professor of psychology—someone who has studied Dryden intensely—and the sister of Dryden’s accomplice, she will provide insights that will be valuable. Now let’s get on with this.”

Trent couldn’t help catch the grateful look Rees shot him. A grateful look he hardly deserved. Some nice guy he was, letting her in to see whatever surprises Dryden had left for them. He could only hope she did have some valuable insights. That he wasn’t exposing her to this whole damn nightmare for nothing.

Cassidy’s frown deepened, but he led the way into the cell. The guard who had escorted them remained by the door.

Dryden’s cell was small and nearly barren, with a built-in cot on one wall, a storage unit on the other and a toilet with a sink above on the third. The hall had smelled like sweaty gym socks that had been left in a pile to rot, but Dryden’s cell reeked of something harsh and slightly minty.

“Disinfectant.”

“He cleaned his cell several times a day,” Risa said.

That fit with the Ed Dryden Trent knew. The man was obsessed with control. Controlling his environment. Controlling his victims. A common theme with psychopaths.

“Manipulation, domination, and control,” Rees continued, as if reading Trent’s mind. “Wasn’t that part of your original profile?”

“You know it was.”

“He manipulated Nikki, controlled her. There were other women, too. He talked about them. Women, men, he thought he could manipulate anyone.”

“He might have been right.” Dryden’s case had upended everything in Trent’s life. And in turn, he’d upended Risa’s. He’d broken their engagement and shut her out in an effort to protect her, but all that had done was send her straight to Dryden for answers.

“So why don’t we stop wasting time and look for evidence?” Cassidy gestured to the storage unit. “Or are you afraid that might prove just how involved your sister was?”

“Back off, Cassidy,” Trent said.

“Just saying.”

Trent avoided glancing Risa’s way, and instead turned to the gray wooden storage structure on one wall of the cell. Comprised of shelves, cubbyholes and a writing surface, the unit was filled with stacks of letters, neatly folded magazine pages and a few trinkets. “Has anyone gone through this?”

“When I heard you were on your way, I thought I’d better wait. Wouldn’t want to step on delicate toes.”

Ignoring the jab, Trent pulled out the magazine pages and unfolded them.

Risa turned away and coughed. A good cover, but Trent could see her revulsion. He felt it himself.

Violent pornography was common with psychopaths, but the images on those pages—bound women screaming and crying, whips raising welts and drawing blood—likely went beyond any s/m Risa had seen in one of her studies.

Cassidy’s face remained blank. “What kind of pervert likes to tie people up?”

Risa turned away, a blush tinting her cheeks, and Trent knew she was thinking the same thing he was. A night long ago, playing with his handcuffs after a bottle of wine…

But that had been consensual. A silly game. No pain or humiliation involved. These pictures were abuse, plain and simple.

And this is what Risa’s little sister had run off with. A sadist who got off on another’s pain. And if it weren’t for Trent’s career, his obsession, Risa and Nikki never would have met Ed Dryden.

“How did Dryden get this…stuff?” Risa asked.

Cassidy glanced at the pages. “Had to have been smuggled in. Probably by your sister.”

“Nikki would never have anything to do with this.”

Cassidy shrugged. “She married good old Eddie, didn’t she?”

“He convinced her that her love made him a better person. I doubt he could continue that charade if she saw this garbage.”

“I don’t know. Love can be a powerful thing.”

Trent knew the detective was being sarcastic, but in cases like these, his statement was more accurate than he knew. And though Risa didn’t want to face the truth, Trent could tell the images had shaken her. Badly.

Setting the pornography aside, Trent plucked a stack of letters from one of the cubbyholes and began paging through them. He scanned each page individually, handing it to Rees when he’d finished reading.

Most were from Nikki, long opuses declaring her undying love for the serial killer, her unflagging belief in him, and her bitter resentment of her older sister.

She always has to be right, always has to be better than me… Miss Ph.D. thinks she’s so smart, but she has no idea…

Trent almost flinched at the hurtful words. Envy was probably normal for a troubled younger sister like Nikki. But he knew Rees wouldn’t write this off as mere sibling jealousy. Not Rees. She would accept it like tender flesh accepts a sharp blade. She would internalize it. She would bleed over it.

He forced himself to hand her the next page. And the next.

Once he’d scanned the first stack, he moved on to the next. To his relief, these weren’t from Nikki. Where Risa’s sister’s handwriting was loopy and childish, the hand that composed these letters was pointed and bold, and they were signed Always, Farrentina. But except for the jabs at Rees, the content of the letters was similar. Declarations of love. Promises of care packages. Plans for Dryden’s future outside prison—a future his multiple life sentences were supposed to prevent.

Trent held up the letter he was reading and focused on Cassidy. “What do you know about this Farrentina?”

“Last name is Hamilton. Married to Wingate Hamilton.” Cassidy paused, as if waiting for Trent to recognize the import of that name.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s Wingate Hamilton?”

“Multi-millionaire. Born rich, got richer. Apparently can’t keep his trophy wife entertained, so she picks up a serial killer hobby. Visited Dryden regularly. Al Mylinski is at her house now.”

Trent remembered Detective Mylinski. Good detective to Cassidy’s asshole detective.

Handing the last pile to Rees, Trent homed in on the trinkets still left in the storage unit. He fingered a lock of platinum hair, Nikki’s probably, and a small pile of cigarettes. Then his hand moved to a stack of photographs lying facedown in one of the cubbies. He picked up the pile by the edges and turned the photos into the light. The first photo was a wedding shot of Dryden and Nikki. The bride was dressed head-to-toe in frothy white, the groom in his prison jumpsuit.

Rees leaned in close to see the pictures. Trent hurriedly flipped to the next.

The next three were snapshots of a brunette posing seductively in red lace lingerie, complete with garter belt and stockings. He flipped the photograph over and read the inscription on the back.

Enjoy! Love, Farrentina.

A face to go with the name. He shuffled past head shots of several blondes, women obviously attracted to the excitement and notoriety of Ed Dryden. Finally his fingers grasped the last photo.

It was a snapshot of Nikki and Rees in the foyer of Rees’s home. The two of them were posed on the antique bench, surrounded with teddy bears, silly smiles on their faces.

The image was innocent.

The photo was marred.

A precise slit was cut through the photo paper, from the locket around Nikki’s neck to her thighs. Drops of something thick and dried and brown obscured her sweet smile.

Blood.

Rees gasped and looked away.

Trent dropped the stack of photos on the storage unit. “He put that photo there for you. I warned you.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. The last thing Risa needed right now was an I-told-you-so, especially from him.

“I’m fine.”

“He’s playing games, just like we were talking—”

“I’m fine.”

Rees was strong, but she wasn’t strong enough to stand up to Dryden’s twisted manipulations. How could she be? How could any normal person face such an overt threat to the life of someone she loved?

It had been a mistake not to listen to his original instincts. “I shouldn’t have let you come. I’m taking you back to the entrance.”

“Trent...”

“If I find anything you might be able to help with, I’ll let you know.”

Nikki

They couldn’t bear to wait.

In all of Nikki’s fantasies about the way their first time would be, she’d never imagined them doing it parked along a dead end road in the woods. But they loved each other so much, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

Nikki kissed Eddie, reveling in the feel of him on top of her, inside her. Never wanting it to end.

High beams strafed the trees. A car approaching them on the lonely road.

Nikki slid lower in her seat. “They’ll see you.”

“Nah,” Eddie said and gave her a teasing kiss.

“It’s not funny. You said yourself that they might be looking for my car.”

Another light blinked on, deeper in the forest, and the car turned into a driveway Nikki hadn’t realized was there. She let out a relieved giggle.

“What did I tell you? It’s just a drunk home from the bar.”

“You’re always right.”

Eddie gave her one more kiss, then pushed himself off her and slid into the driver’s seat. He yanked up his pants. “I have to take a piss.”

“Wait a minute. He might see you.”

“The drunk? Too many trees.”

Eddie opened the door, the dome light flashing on. She reached for her panties.

“Don’t put your clothes on. Promise? I’ll be right back.” He grasped the locket she wore on a silver chain around her neck and centered it between her naked breasts. Then he gave her a wink that she could feel all the way to her toes.

He closed the door, and Nikki was plunged back into darkness. She let out a sigh. Their reunion had been passionate, even romantic, everything she’d imagined. She’d had boyfriends in high school. Several. But they’d been awkward and unsure, and in the end, boring.

Not like Eddie at all.

Eddie was no kid. He was a man. He knew what he wanted. Best of all, he wanted her. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

Risa wouldn’t approve. And just thinking about that made Nikki smile. Eddie had told her all about Risa and her obsession with him. Visiting him in prison, writing about him. But this time, Risa didn’t get everything she wanted.

This time, Nikki was the special one.

And that’s what Eddie made her feel. Special. He couldn’t get enough of her. And she had never known she could love someone this hard.

She peered into the darkness, wondering where he went. The garage door of the nearest house still stood open, the light inside revealing the square-looking sedan. She didn’t see any—

A knock sounded on her window, knuckles against glass.

Nikki jumped, then squinted into the darkness at Eddie’s smile.

So he wanted to get into her side again. She smiled. No wonder he’d asked her to stay naked for him. She opened her legs. Then she flicked the lock button on the door.

He pulled the door wide.

The dome light blinded her for a second, but even though she couldn’t see Eddie’s expression, she could imagine him looking at her bare breasts, her spread pussy, and she knew he’d be hungry for her. His love. His wife.

“I thought you said she was sick.”

Not Eddie. Another male voice. A stranger.

Nikki crossed her arms over her chest. She clapped her thighs shut. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she stared into an older man’s surprised face.

“Open your arms, Nikki,” Eddie said, his voice stern.

Nikki shook her head. What was happening? She didn’t know what was happening.

“Show us your tits, babe,” he said, his voice a little softer this time. “She has great tits. The best. I can’t resist showing them off.”

“Listen, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Nikki, show him.”

Nikki moved her arms to her sides, the dome light glowing off her naked skin.

“Best tits you’ve ever seen.”

The man stared. “Uh, yeah. Nice.”

“Nikki? Your legs…”

Her throat was dry, her heart pounding. But she opened her thighs anyway.

“Nice, eh?”

“Uh, yeah. Real nice.”

“You want to touch her, don’t you? Try her out?”

“Of course. But… are you sure this is okay?” The man was asking Nikki, looking into her eyes.

“She loves it. Don’t you Nik?”

Nikki opened her mouth to answer, but no sound would come.

“Take out his dick, Nikki.”

Nikki had no idea what to do, what to think. She liked that Eddie was proud of her. That he thought she was beautiful, but… all this… it was just wrong.

She gave him a pleading look.

“I want to see him hard in your hands. In your sexy mouth.” Eddie stepped aside and pushed the man forward. “You wouldn’t believe how she can suck. Like a fucking vacuum. She’s made for it.”

Nikki’s fingers shook. She tried three times to grasp the man’s zipper before she got hold. She didn’t want to do this. She wasn’t even sure what this was. But the way Eddie was looking at her, she could tell it was turning him on. She couldn’t disappoint him.

She inched the man’s fly down, then reached in and touched warm, firm flesh.

The man’s body arched. He tilted his head back. A horrible sound erupted from his throat. Then he slumped forward, falling heavily on top of Nikki, warmth flowing over her skin.

Nikki couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but stare. She looked up at Eddie, a knife in his hand, a look on his face she didn’t recognize.

A shuddering rasp came from the man.

A whimpering sound filled the car.

“Shut up,” Eddie said. He had to repeat himself before Nikki realized the whimper was coming from her.

Eddie rifled through the man’s pockets, pulling out his wallet and a set of car keys. Then he grabbed the man’s arms, lifting his weight off her. “Get out of the car. Now.”

Nikki wasn’t sure how she managed to move, but the next thing she knew, she was out from under the stranger’s body. Her skin was wet, covered in blood, and the June dawn felt cold. Shivers racked her muscles. Her legs felt weak.

Eddie picked up the man’s legs, shoved him fully into the car, and slammed the door. Then he grabbed her upper arm and propelled her toward the open garage. “I wonder if he lives alone.”

Risa

Risa leaned against one of the government-beige walls in the entrance of the prison. Like all the other times she’d ventured inside the razor wire, the lack of light and air made her lungs constrict and her heart pound. But it was what she’d seen in Dryden’s cell that made her really uncomfortable.

She’d known Nikki was in danger since the day she’d married Ed Dryden, but seeing what he’d left for her had been different. All the research Risa had done into the criminal mind, all the horror stories she’d heard while surveying Dryden and other offenders, none of it had prepared her to face the blood on that photograph. The slit down the middle of Nikki’s body. The threat made personal. Real.

But the worst part was that Risa had let Dryden get to her. She’d insisted she didn’t need protection, that she could handle whatever Dryden had planned, and the truth was, she couldn’t.

Thank God, she hadn’t fainted. If she had, Trent probably would have shipped her off in an ambulance and ordered the doctors to sequester her in the hospital until Nikki was rescued. Or until it was too late. At least here, she could talk to the guards and do some general fact gathering on her own. She might still be able to help.

She sighed and looked up at Gordy. Even before he’d phoned to inform her of Nikki’s secret wedding, the guard had taken her under his wing. And judging by the way he hovered over her, he was nearly as protective as Trent.

Noticing her gaze on him, Gordy laid his hand on her arm, his big mitt making it look as fragile as a toothpick. “I’m real sorry about what happened, Professor.”

She looked into his weary eyes. “Thanks, Gordy. That means a lot to me.”

“Anything I can do to help, you let me know.”

Risa glanced around the entrance to the prison, at the barred doors leading to inner corridors guarded by more barred doors. Despite the warden’s moans about funding for extra guards and security measures, the prison seemed awfully secure. Risa couldn’t imagine how a prisoner could break out. Not without inside help.

No doubt, an angle the sheriff’s office was following up on. But a few more questions couldn’t hurt. “Actually, there is something, Gordy. A few things I’m wondering about.”

“Shoot.”

“How well did you know Dryden?”

Gordy’s mouth curled in distaste. “Know him?”

“Did you ever talk to him? Have any personal contact with him?”

“I don’t talk to scum.”

“Never?”

“Not any more than I have to. I sure don’t know him.”

“Are any of the other COs friendly with prisoners? Or more specifically, were any friendly with Dryden?”

“No one comes to mind.”

“Can you think of anyone who would have reason to help Dryden?”

Surprise registered on Gordy’s face. “Help him?”

“He couldn’t have gotten into that garbage truck without someone looking the other way.”

Gordy’s bushy brows turned down. “I think you got it wrong. No one would help someone like him. He must have gotten out on his own.”

“It seems like it would be impossible.”

Gordy’s big shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.

“Dryden is a master manipulator.”

Gordy shook his head.

“He manipulated my sister.”

“I can’t—” His cheeks and neck reddened.

“Imagine anyone being deluded enough to marry him? Neither can I.” Heaviness bore down on Risa’s shoulders. “But it happened. And he could have manipulated someone here into helping him escape, too.”

“The best thing that could happen would be if somebody took Dryden out while he’s on the loose.” His voice dropped and shadows darkened his eyes. “He didn’t give those girls he killed a chance—hunting them down and gutting them like deer. And the guy who worked for the sanitation company? Awful. Dryden don’t deserve to live. Not one more day. Not even in a hellhole like this.”

Risa barely kept herself from nodding in agreement. Wisconsin wasn’t a death-penalty state, and she had always been against allowing the government to execute its citizens. But in this case, with a man like Ed Dryden, she could almost justify strapping him to a table and sticking a needle in his arm.

She didn’t know what that said about her, but she was sure it wasn’t good.

Footsteps echoed through the corridor, growing louder, nearer. The barred door slid open and Trent strode through, carrying a cardboard box. Detective Cassidy followed.

“Did you find anything more?”

“Not much.” Trent paused only to sign out at the entrance desk. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. Embarrassed.”

Trent retrieved his gun and headed for the exit. “Good. Because we’re going to do things my way from here on out. The Lake Loyal police chief is waiting for you.”

The guard touched her on the arm on her way out. “Take care, Professor. If I come up with anybody who might have helped Dryden, I’ll let you know.”

Giving the guard a parting nod, Risa followed Trent out into the first light of dawn.

Trent

The Lake Loyal police station had to be one of the smallest Trent had yet seen, and he’d visited a lot of them. Carved out of a corner of the village hall, the department consisted of a countertop jammed with computer equipment that served as the dispatch center, cubicles the color of faded Pepto Bismol that served as office space for everyone other than the chief, a closet-sized breakroom, and a conference room shared with the village board where County Detective Cassidy and boxes of old files waited for Trent’s attention.

Less than two hours, and he would be briefing an emergency task force assembled to find Dryden. Two hours to come up with ideas on where Dryden had gone and proactive strategies for luring him into the open. Better get to work.

Hesitating at the door, Trent glanced back to where Risa sat at one of the pink cubicles, her eyes riveted on her hands, folded in her lap. Her complexion was still ghostly, but at least she’d regained a little color since she’d seen the mutilated photo of her sister.

Or maybe it was just a change in the lighting.

At least Trent didn’t have to wrestle with letting Rees see the files waiting in the conference room, testaments of Dryden’s evil. There was nothing she could tell him about those that he didn’t already see every night when he closed his eyes.

“How do you like your coffee, Special Agent?”

Trent looked up into the kind, blue eyes of the small town police department’s dispatcher. The moment they’d entered the stations and he’d met Oneida Perkins, he’d decided the strapping blonde would be a good person to have on his side. A jack- of-all-trades type, she seemed to be practically bursting with competence. In everything, maybe, except making coffee.

He took another breath of the burned coffee scent hanging in the air. “Thanks. But I’ll have to pass.”

“Hmm. First FBI agent I’ve met who doesn’t down the stuff the way Packer fans guzzle beer, but okay…”

“Trying to reduce my stress level.”

“And foregoing coffee works for that?”

“Not really, but it gets my doctor off my back.”

“Good to hear someone is off your back. Cassidy in there seems to be eager to climb on.”

Trent gave her a careful smile.

“No worries,” she continued. “The chief is on your side. And I’ll take good care of your lady there.”

“Risa? She’s not my lady.”

“As a profiler, I suppose you know all about denial, huh?” Oneida let out a snort, then not waiting for an answer, she bustled to where Risa sat, her skirt swishing with each purposeful stride. “How do you like your coffee?”

Trent turned away and forced himself to enter the conference room.

Cassidy didn’t look up from the file he was studying, but a second man immediately sprang to his feet and crossed to the door.

“Special Agent Burnell?” Tall, broad shouldered, and with gray at the temples, the man thrust a hand forward, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. “Schneider, sir. Jeff Schneider. I’m Lake Loyal’s Chief of Police. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Trent shook Schneider’s hand, a warm, strong shake. The varied responses he received from local law enforcement personnel never ceased to amaze him. Much of the time his presence was met with skepticism or even downright contempt, as with Cassidy. But then there were some who saw federal agents in a much more positive, even glamorous light. Schneider must be among the latter group.

“Honor to meet you, too, chief.”

“Please, call me Schneider. Or Jeff. My department has only half-a-dozen full-time officers, including me. Working on getting more. But if there’s something we can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Quit pumping Burnell’s hand like some damn bootlicker and sit down. We have work to do.”

Schneider shot Cassidy a grin so false it cracked at the edges. “Schettler’s ran out of strawberry rhubarb pie again, Cassidy? Is that why you’re such a damn asshole?”

Cassidy grumbled, something unintelligible, then reburied his attention in the file.

Great. As if Trent didn’t have enough problems. Now he had to worry about a couple of feuding local cops.

Once they were all seated, Cassidy spoke, not looking up. “Where is your profile of Dryden?”

“There is no written profile,” Trent said.

“Why not?”

“We don’t want a comprehensive written report leaked to the press. Too many factors could be misconstrued, sensationalized.”

“You think one of us is going to leak it?”

“He didn’t say that, Cassidy.” Schneider glanced Trent’s way. “Right?”

Trent grabbed one of the file boxes and dragged it toward his side of the table. “It’s policy. Not aimed at any specific agency.”

“Better not be.”

Trent did not have the patience for this. Unfortunately, when stakes ran high, so did human emotion. And as hard as cops tried to set themselves apart, him included, they were all human.

“We want to be able to choose what details to release,” he said with as much patience as he could muster. “Details that will make the serial offender nervous. Make him take unnecessary risks. Or force him into the open. If reporters get their hands on a written report that contains the entire profile, we lose that ability.”

“Makes sense,” Schneider said.

Trent focused on Cassidy. “Do you have a media office set up?”

“In Baraboo.”

The county seat was a fifteen or twenty-minute drive from Lake Loyal. Close enough that the press wouldn’t complain too much, and yet far enough away to give law enforcement some breathing room. “How about space for the task force?”

“We have a few empty cubicles,” Schneider volunteered.

Trent eyed the small town police chief. “I appreciate the offer, but this station isn’t going to be big enough.”

“I’ll have Oneida call the area churches. Bet they’ll let us use some space. Fellowship rooms and whatnot.”

“Better get on that,” Cassidy said, making a show of checking his watch. “And you’d better get your memory up to speed, Special Agent.”

Trent picked up the stack of photographs he’d glanced through in Dryden’s cell. “I’ll be ready.”

While Schneider found space for the task force and Cassidy started sorting crime reports, Trent flipped through the pictures. The wedding shot of Dryden and Nikki. The seductive poses of Farrentina Hamilton.

He set the photos back on the table and reached for the closest box of old case files. He plucked a file from the box, flipped open the manila folder and leafed through the contents. His fingers closed over a stack of crime-scene photos.

One of the coeds Dryden murdered stared back at him with unseeing blue eyes. He remembered her name. Ashley Dalton. A twenty-year-old with two younger sisters and an interest in biochemistry. Her mutilated, naked body glowed white in the photographer’s flash. Her torso, sliced down the middle and dressed the way a hunter dresses a deer carcass. Her long, blond hair tangled around her face.

He snapped the folder shut and reached for another, the haunting details of Dryden’s crimes rushing back to him. Rushing back to him, hell. They had never left. They were as much a part of him as his pounding heart, his straining lungs, his racing mind.

The woman in the second file was Dawn Bertram, a grad student studying psychology. A beautiful girl, Dawn had green eyes, not blue. But the rest was the same. The hunter fantasy. The long, blond hair that framed her lifeless face.

That was what didn’t add up about the photos of Farrentina Hamilton. Her brunette hair. Ed Dryden preferred blondes.

Cassidy leaned toward him across the table. “What do you see, Burnell?”

Trent pushed the crime-scene photos toward him. “All of Dryden’s female victims were blond. It was a big part of his signature. He killed blondes. Only blondes.”

Schneider took his seat at the table. “What, was his mother blond or something?”

“Not his mother.”

“Wife?” Schneider asked.

“A few months after his mother died of cancer, he married a blonde. She was in college when they met. A year or so into their marriage, she gave birth to twin girls and suffered from several medical problems, as did one of the children. At that point, she was unable to see to her husband’s needs.”

“Let me guess,” Schneider said. “That made him angry.”

“He began acting out his violent fantasies on women who looked like his wife.”

“That’s twisted.”

“It made him feel powerful, in control. Power and control he didn’t have in his normal life. Every time he killed a blond college student, he could fantasize that he was asserting power over the wife who he believed was rejecting him.”

“Until he got around to finally killing the wife?”

Trent could almost smell the hot tang of blood mixing with the scent of spruce trees and blooming lilac bushes. He’d never failed so spectacularly. And for that, he’d never forgive himself.

“And that’s when you caught him, right?” Schneider continued. “After he killed the wife?”

Trent nodded.

“So if his whole thing was killing women who looked like his wife, he wouldn’t be turned on by a brunette,” Cassidy said.

“No.”

“How about men?” Chief Schneider asked. “Like Murphy driving the garbage truck?”

“He’ll kill men to get something he wants, to further his goals.”

Schneider nodded. “And he kills women for pleasure. Got it.”

Cassidy studied the crime-scene photos and the snapshots of Farrentina Hamilton side by side, tapping his pen on the table. “Didn’t I read something in one of the Hamilton woman’s letters about coloring her hair? Maybe she dyed it blond for him.”

Trent skimmed through the letters until he found the one Cassidy was referring to. He read aloud. “As you can see, I colored my hair for you, Ed. The red lingerie looks nice on a brunette, don’t you think?”

“But that sounds like she dyed her hair brunette for him,” Schneider said. “Not blond.”

Trent stared at the files littering the table. A serial killer didn’t change his signature. The emotional need his crime fulfilled was always the same, crime after crime. He might change his modus operandi as he learned more efficient ways of committing his crimes, ways he could avoid getting caught. But he didn’t change the emotional satisfaction, the sexual charge he got out of the act. With every hunt, every kill, Dryden dominated the wife he felt rejected him. The wife with long, blond hair.

“The sequence of this hair color change is important,” Trent said. “Are there any other photos? Any of Hamilton as a blonde?”

Cassidy flicked through the stack of photos they’d found in Dryden’s cell. He handed a photo to Trent then resumed his abuse of the table top. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Schneider leaned over the table to get a glimpse of the photo.

In the picture, Farrentina Hamilton’s platinum blond hair flowed over her shoulders. She wore a trendy suit, the style outdated by current 1996 standards, and she looked appreciably younger than she did in the lingerie shot.

Trent didn’t know what to make of this. Dryden couldn’t have changed his signature. But if he hadn’t, why had he asked Farrentina Hamilton to dye her hair brunette?

Like Risa, Nikki was a natural brunette, but she had colored her hair blond for as long as Trent had known her. He picked up the wedding picture and the mutilated picture from the table. In both photos Nikki’s hair was platinum and arranged in ringlets falling to her shoulders. If Dryden’s preference had changed to brunettes, why had he married a blonde only thirty days ago?

Trent jutted to his feet and walked to the door.

Risa was perched on the edge of her chair. “Find something?”

“We need your help.”

Rather than wasting time with a satisfied snort or an I-told-you-so smile, Risa scurried across the reception area and through the door he held open, as if afraid his request had a time limit. She slipped into one of the empty chairs.

Trent closed the door and circled the table. “Has Nikki changed her hair color recently?”

“No. Why?”

“You’re sure?”

“What’s going on, Trent?”

Cassidy’s pen ceased tapping. “Dryden seems to like brunettes now.”

Risa stared at the table top. She looked as if she might be sick.

“What is it, Rees?” Trent asked.

“Something Nikki told me.”

“What?”

“She said Dryden wanted her to be herself. He loved her just the way she was. Including her natural hair color.”

Trent could almost hear Dryden whispering those words to Nikki, his voice thick with false charm. He had a talent for sensing what someone wanted to hear and delivering just the right words in just the right tone.

Cassidy leaned forward across the tabletop. “But she didn’t dye her hair back. Why? She didn’t buy it?”

“She bought it fine. Was almost giddy with how much he loved her. She just liked being a blonde.” Risa turned to Trent. “He told other women the same thing?”

It wasn’t exactly a question. Risa knew the answer. But Trent nodded anyway. “He asked Farrentina Hamilton to dye her hair brunette too.”

“The woman in the red lingerie?”

“Yes,” he said.

“A killer doesn’t just up and change his signature. It doesn’t make sense. Unless…”

Obviously Risa was thinking along the same lines as Trent, so he finished the thought. “Unless hair color was never really part of Dryden’s signature.”

“You think that’s the case?” Cassidy asked.

Trent looked at Rees’s long brunette hair, shining under the fluorescent lights. Hair that had once flowed through his fingers and puddled on his pillow. Hair that smelled of lavender. “Tell me about your interviews with Dryden.”

“My interviews? What about them?”

“Did you say anything to Dryden that he could have misconstrued? Anything that made him angry?”

The jolt that ran through Rees’s body was unmistakable.

“What was it, Rees?”

She drew in a slow, deep breath. “About four months ago I published an article in an academic journal.”

“An article about Dryden?”

“I didn’t use his name.”

Schneider held up his hands. “Wait. You’re saying you wrote about him in a psychology magazine?”

“Yes. In general terms.”

“How would he get something like that in prison?” Cassidy asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Your sister?”

“I don’t know,” Risa repeated. “Probably. And he figured out he was the subject.”

“How did he react?” Trent asked, although he had a pretty good idea.

“I only visited him once after that. He refused to speak. Just stared.”

“There’s something else.” Trent prompted.

“That was when he started writing to Nikki.”

It made a horrible kind of sense.

Dryden’s wife was dead. Her humiliation was over. And instead of clinging to the fantasy of killing her over and over, he had moved on.

He’d found another woman who’d humiliated him.

He’d focused on her, obsessed about her.

He’d manipulated women who looked like her.

And now that he was free, he would play out his game—kidnapping, letting his victim loose in an isolated forest, hunting her down, slitting her from neck to pelvic bone, and gutting her like a deer. With each woman he killed, he fantasized he was asserting his power and dominance over the woman who’d humiliated him—the true target of his hatred.

And this time, Ed Dryden’s true target was Rees.

Nikki

The man lived alone, although Nikki wasn’t sure what it would have meant if he hadn’t. Or maybe she just didn’t want to know.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to take what he wanted from the man’s house and load it into the sedan parked in the garage. Food, of course. A few bottles of booze. Street clothes from the man’s closet. A toothbrush, floss, and mouthwash.

He gave Nikki time to shower off the blood. It was spraying off easily enough, but she still didn’t feel clean. The engraving in her locket was more difficult to manage, blood deep in crevices. She hoped it hadn’t soaked into the tiny photo she kept inside, but she couldn’t check under the shower stream. And really, she didn’t have the heart to look.

When she stepped out of the spray, Eddie was waiting. She grabbed a towel, dried off, and wrapped it around her body.

Eddie yanked it off and tossed it on the floor.

“I’ve thought about seeing you naked for so long. I can’t have you covering up that beautiful body. Not yet.”

Nikki looked down at herself and shuddered. Blood no longer tinted her skin, but she couldn’t help feeling that it was still there, like a cattle brand seared into her flesh.

That man had died.

She still couldn’t believe that man had died.

And Eddie was the one who…

No, no, no. It didn’t make sense. He was still Eddie. Her Eddie. And the way he looked at her, touched her, spoke to her… he appeared to be as in love with her as before.

Maybe more.

“Why… Why did you do it?” Nikki finally asked, unable not to.

“What?”

“Kill that man?”

“I did it for you.”

“Me?”

“He was going to hurt you, baby.”

Nikki shook her head. She remembered the man staring at her. Wanting her. She remembered him asking her if what Eddie was offering was real, if it was okay. “Hurt me? How?”

“Where do you think I got the knife? It was his. That was all him. I wanted to share something beautiful with him, something amazing, and all he could do… There are people out there who want to destroy everything that’s good. I couldn’t let him.”

Nikki tried to remember what had happened. It had been dark outside the car, and the dome light had been so bright. She must have missed seeing the man pull out the knife.

The knife.

“Wasn’t that my knife?” Nikki said, confused. “You know, the one you said I should keep in the car for protection?”

“No. But I was right about that, wasn’t I? You need protection. But you weren’t prepared. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be dead.”

Nikki couldn’t disagree. She tried to remember what the knife looked like. She felt like crying.

“It’s okay. I was there for you. You were lucky this time.” He grasped her hand in his. “You’re mine, Nikki. My beauty. And no man is going to hurt you while I’m here.”

“I know.”

“Believe me, Nikki. You believe me, don’t you?”

She nodded. She wanted to. She wanted to get what had happened in the car out of her mind.

“Do you believe me?” he asked again. “I want to hear your answer.”

“Yes.”

“I have something that will cheer you up.” He held out a box of hair color.

“Just for Men?” Nikki said, reading the label.

“I want to see you as a brunette.”

“I thought you liked my hair blond.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m bored with it.”

“Bored? But you said blond was your favorite, that you thought it was sexy.”

“This is better. Trust me.” He slipped an arm around her and steered her to the vanity. “I’m going to make you look wonderful.”

He placed his palm on the back of her head and shoved her head down over the sink.

Bending at the waist, Nikki braced herself with her forearms, trying to keep from hitting her head on the faucet. “Eddie, I don’t want dark hair.”

“You don’t know what you want. It is going to be tremendous. Beautiful. You’re going to thank me.”

Nikki wasn’t so sure. She had grown up with dark hair, and she’d hated it. She had blended in. Nothing special. It wasn’t until she’d dyed it blond that men started noticing her. Men on the street. Men at the restaurant where she worked. Men everywhere. As a blonde, she turned heads, and she liked it..

“I became a blonde for you.”

“And now you’ll be a brunette for me.”

“Blondes are sexier. You said that yourself.”

“And now I want to fuck a brunette.” He ripped open the box and opened the bottle inside. A second later cold dribbled over her scalp. He kneaded the dye into her hair with rough fingers, pushing her head into the sink.

Nikki wanted to cry. She’d just started to figure out who she was as a blonde. She didn’t want to go back.

“What’s your problem?’

“I want to make you happy. I do. But—“

“You want to make me happy?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

She heard the sound of a zipper.

He kicked her legs wide, then still working in the dye, he entered her from behind. Tangling his hand in her hair, he thrust into her, each stroke shoving her head deeper and deeper into the sink.

When he was done, tears were streaming down Nikki’s face.

He pulled her hair, lifting her head from the sink, forcing her to stare at herself in the mirror. “There. You see? You’re so sexy as a brunette I can’t control myself.”

Nikki looked at her face, pale as death, her hair dark with purplish goo. Like staring at a stranger.

Eddie released his hold, stepped back from her, and zipped himself up.

Nikki brushed her fingers over her cheeks, hoping he didn’t notice she’d been crying.

“Now rinse this shit out and meet me at the car.” He gave her a wink. “I can’t wait to see the new you.”

She showered again, giving extra attention to washing the dye from her hair. When she stepped out and dried off, she avoided her reflection. She wrapped herself in a towel, then thinking better of it, let it fall to the floor and walked to the car naked.

When she climbed into the car beside Eddie, for a moment, he looked at her as if he wanted to make love all over again. Then he started the car and drove. Away from the house. Away from the dead end road. Out onto the open highway.

For a long time, Nikki watched him, saying nothing. She wasn’t clear on what had happened. Not with that man in the car. Not in the bathroom. But she knew her husband would do anything to protect her. And she wanted to make him happy.

They were going to be so happy.

“I’m sorry… about my hair. About everything.”

“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I know.”

“You have to trust me. I know what’s best for you.”

Nikki nodded. No one had loved her like Eddie did. Not her whole life. It was as if he knew her. Everything about her. They really were soulmates. And now they were together.

“I love you, Eddie.”

“But?”

“I just get a little worried. That’s all. A little confused.”

“About what?”

“The man in the car.”

“We talked about that.”

“I know. You were protecting me. But won’t they… If they find out…”

“They can’t touch me, babe. I have them all figured out.”

“You do?”

“You doubt it?”

“No.” If anyone had everything figured out, it was Eddie. Just one of the reasons she loved him.

He moved his hand between her legs, stroking slowly, gently. “You could use some clothes. Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. We need to get you into something nice.”

“My suitcase…” It was back in the car. Her clothes. Her makeup. “We have to go back.”

“We can’t go back, Nikki.”

“Of course… of course…” For a second, she’d forgotten about the man. The blood. She wanted to forget. “That was stupid of me. But clothes…”

He shrugged a shoulder, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ll handle it. Like I handle everything.”

“How?”

“You’re about the same size as your sister, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yes.”

“She doesn’t live too far away, does she?”

Nikki glanced out the window. The lights of Sauk City glowed around them, the bridge spanning the Wisconsin River ahead. She’d been so focused on Eddie, she hadn’t even realized where they were.

“No, not too far,” Nikki answered, wrapping her arms around her middle, holding tight.

“And you have a key?”

“There’s a code. It opens her garage door.”

“You know it?”

“Yeah. I had to let the plumber in when her sewer backed up, and she was at a conference. She has an automatic service that sends an alarm to her… Why are you asking about Risa?”

“Your sister is hot, Nikki. And she dresses with style. Maybe you can find something nice in her closet. I think you could use an upgrade.”

Nikki wanted to tell him she had nice clothes of her own, back in her suitcase. Clothes with more style than anything Risa ever wore. But she supposed Eddie knew better. He was just trying to make things right for her. That had to be it.

But there was something else. “What if Risa’s home?”

Eddie’s face widened in a grin. “Then she can pick something out for you herself.”

Risa

Even though Trent didn’t say a word, Risa recognized the expression on his face, and it shook her from head to toe. He was afraid. Afraid for her. And she had to admit, at that moment, she was afraid for herself. “It’s me this time, isn’t it? His wife is dead, so now it’s me.”

The conference room was silent. Everyone waiting for Trent’s answer.

“I think so, yes.”

“You?” Cassidy asked. “Because of the article?”

“I’m not following.” Chief Schneider had been quiet since she’d entered the room.

Trent drew himself up, the flash of fear suddenly gone, replaced by the cool, in-control exterior she knew so well. But his calm facade did nothing to reassure her. Nothing to stop the spinning in her head.

As he explained his thinking to Cassidy and Schneider, Risa let his voice wash over her, willing his calmness to ground her as well.

Risa had seen the malevolent hatred in Dryden’s eyes the day he’d married Nikki. She’d heard it in the guttural undertones of his voice. ‘Til death do us part. And even though he appeared to be threatening her sister, Risa had felt he meant it to hurt her. “I should have seen it.”

Trent’s voice stopped, and she realized all three men were staring at her.

“He seduced Nikki, married Nikki, and now is going to kill Nikki because of that article,” she said, trying to explain. “Nikki is going to die because of me.”

“If not that article, chances are he would have searched until he found some other way you humiliated him. And if he couldn’t find anything, he would have made something up.”

Trent’s argument was logical. And in her mind, Risa knew it was accurate. Dryden would have found someone to hate. Her for another reason. Someone else. But knowing it and feeling it were two different things. The mind versus the heart. And right now, her heart was holding her responsible. “I should have found a way to stop him.”

Cassidy grunted. “You should have stayed away from him in the first place. But you couldn’t do that, could you?”

“Cassidy. Cut it,” Trent said. “Ed Dryden is the one to blame here.”

Risa glanced from Trent to the sheriff’s detective and police chief. Trent might have defended her from Cassidy’s attack, but she knew he felt the same way. That she should have steered clear of Ed Dryden. And that Trent had called off their wedding to shield her from the type of evil Dryden represented.

Hunting Dryden had changed Trent. Something had happened on that trip to Wisconsin. Something that made it impossible for Trent to separate his work from the rest of his life. Something that made him afraid for her.

And that was exactly what had made studying Dryden irresistible.

“There’s nothing I can do now, is there?” Risa said. “Nikki’s running out of time and there’s nothing any of us can do.”

“We can catch him,” the police chief said. “Right?”

“Right.” Trent said. Grasping her chin in gentle fingers, Trent turned her head to face him. “When Dryden let those young women loose in the forest and hunted them down, he did it so he could make the experience last. Their panic. He wanted to draw it out. Savor it. If he kills Nikki right away, he loses his connection to you. He loses his power to torture you, to make your fear last. And that’s what he wants most.”

Risa closed her eyes and latched on to Trent’s words, to the energy flowing from his fingertips. She wanted so much to believe him, it throbbed like a physical ache in her chest. “I hope you’re right.”

A cell phone’s ring jangled through the room.

The sound traveled along Risa’s nerves like a jolt of electricity. She drew in a sharp breath and opened her eyes. She was so close to the edge that any sound probably would have startled her. But the ringing seemed unnaturally loud. Unnaturally ominous. “Sorry. That’s me.”

Trent dropped his hand from her chin, and she rummaged in her purse for her phone and looked at the number.

“What is it?” Trent said, frowning.

“I… I have to take this.” Turning away from the men, she flipped open the phone and pressed it to her ear. “This is Risa Madsen.”

“Ms. Madsen, E&G Security. Sorry to bother you, but the alarm we installed on your sewer line is indicating there’s a backup in your home.”

Risa slumped in the conference chair. It was such a small thing, a stupid thing, But right then, it felt like far more than she could take.

“You’re sure?”

“That’s what the sensors are indicating. Account number 587562. Correct?”

The backups had been happening frequently enough that Risa had memorized her account number. “Thank you.”

“What is it?” Trent asked as soon as she lowered her phone.

“A problem at my house. Sewer backup.”

Trent frowned. “That seems convenient.”

“It’s legit. They gave me the account number. Same as always.”

“And Nikki doesn’t know the number? She couldn’t have given it to Dryden?”

“It wasn’t Dryden on the phone. And Nikki doesn’t know the number. I only remember it, because lately this has become a regular thing. Two weeks ago, I had to rip out all my basement carpet. I’m just waiting for my contractor to find the time to dig up the pipes to the road.”

“What a nightmare,” Chief Schneider said. “You need a hand with it, just let me know. I have a cousin who’s a plumber. I helped him one summer while I was in school.”

Risa gave the chief a polite smile then pulled Trent aside. “I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

Ten minutes later, Risa leaned back against the headrest in Trent’s rental car and watched the lush green of Wisconsin’s spring whip by the window. Her arms lay in her lap, heavy, tight. A weight closed in on her chest.

Of course, Trent wouldn’t let her check on her sewer alone. Even though it meant he would be cutting it close to return to Lake Loyal in time for the task force meeting, he’d insisted on driving her.

And worse, she was glad. But that didn’t mean she felt safe. To be near him, even for one minute, was to be swamped in feelings from the past. Memories of walking hand in hand through Washington at cherry-blossom time. Feeding each other strawberry shortcake in bed and the resulting sticky mess. The warmth of his strong body holding her, surrounding her, inside her.

She entwined her fingers together in her lap and concentrated on the familiar houses of her neighborhood scrolling by the window. She had to be careful. She couldn’t let her memories of the good times or her need for his help now swamp her. She had to remember the knife-sharp pain of losing him. And the fact that when this nightmare was over, however it turned out, he would be leaving her again.

When they finally pulled into her driveway, she expected the tension coiling in her muscles to relax, but it seemed only to wind tighter. The glow of dawn hugged the east horizon and reflected off the front windows of her house, making them glow like the eyes of a demonic beast.

“So what does this project entail?”

“Best case scenario, I plunge the basement drain and dislodge whatever is causing this.”

“Worst case?”

“I have to wade through sewage to reach that drain.”

Trent switched off the engine. His gaze scoured the front of her house, combing the Japanese yew out front, the shadows to the side of the garage. He unfastened his seat belt and unbuttoned his suit jacket. Reaching inside the jacket, he pulled a gun from his shoulder holster. “I’m going to check out the house. Stay close behind me.”

Risa’s chest tightened. “You think he might be here?”

“I’m not going to take the chance.”

Suddenly the risk of stirring old memories and pain by being near Trent didn’t seem so dangerous. Not compared with finding a serial killer in her house. “I’m right behind you.”

He held out his hand. “Keys?”

She rifled through her purse. Her trembling fingers closed over the keys’ sharp edges. She fished them out and dropped them into Trent’s open palm.

He turned away from her, opened the car door and climbed out in one fluid movement. She followed, falling in close behind.

Trent’s footsteps clicked on the cement walk, shattering the dawn stillness. He mounted the porch steps and thrust her key into the lock. He threw open the door, hesitating a moment before stepping into the house, gun barrel leading the way. Once inside he stopped dead. His body tensed. He swung his gun in front of him, as if combing every inch of the foyer.

Something was wrong.

Risa stepped up behind and peered around Trent’s shoulders.

At first she didn’t know what she was seeing. White fluff seemed to be everywhere in her little foyer. On the polished oak floor, on the shelf, on the antique bench. A breeze from outside caught the fluff and swept it toward the far corner.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears, the pieces coming together, and she realized what it was.

Her teddy bears. Her collection of teddy bears. They stared at her with shiny eyes, their usually round bodies depleted, empty. Slashed and empty.

Trent

Trent grasped Rees tight to his chest. The soles of their shoes scraped concrete as they shuffled backward down the sidewalk. He held the gun steady, scanning the shadows behind the yew, the low branches of the spruce. He could feel Dryden’s eyes on him. On Rees. He could almost hear the monster’s satisfied chuckle.

Dryden would want to see Rees’s reaction to the mutilated bears. He’d want to see her fear. He would feed on it. Revel in it. It would make him feel powerful.

And he’d hunger for more.

Reaching the rental car, Trent guided Risa into the passenger seat. “Lock yourself in.”

“You can’t go in there.”

“It’s my job. Lock yourself in and call 911.” He pressed the car keys into her palm. “If you see any sign of Dryden, get the hell out of here.”

He returned to the house. The door was still open. Bits of stuffing skated across hardwood, pushed by the breeze. Gun ready, he cleared as much of the foyer as possible before crossing the threshold. Then taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

Trent took the living and dining rooms first. Walking with bent knees, he held his weapon in front of him in both hands, sighting with his master eye. Before he entered, he stepped to the side, sweeping the area, one slice of the pie at a time, listening for a gasp of breath, a shuffle of feet. Making sure there was little chance of surprise, he then stepped into the room and checked his blind spots.

Around the corner.

Behind the couch.

Under the table.

He moved on to the kitchen, the sunroom, Risa’s home office. As soon as he opened the basement door, he smelled sewage. A legitimate backup, no doubt. Only caused by Dryden as a way to lure Risa back to her house.

A lure that worked.

The basement was cleared out, as Risa had said, any carpet, furniture, or storage boxes already taken victim by an earlier sewer backup. An inch of water pooled in the center of the floor. Confident Ed Dryden would never be wading in sludge, Trent headed back to the foyer and up to the second-floor bedrooms.

The spare room looked untouched. Comforter stretched smooth across the bed. Air a bit stale. Trent cleared the closet, and checked under the bed, and then headed for the master.

He cleared the room before stepping inside, as he had the others. So when he finally crossed the threshold to examine further, he wasn’t surprised.

The bed was a mess. Tangled sheets. A wet spot. A few smudges of blood. The smell of sex and sweat overpowering the scent of Risa’s room… the scent of lavender.

Drawers yawned open, Risa’s bras and panties hanging over the edges. A vibrator lay in the middle of the floor.

Trent cleared the bath, the closet, noticing each thing that was out of place. It could be anyone’s bedroom. Anyone’s house. He was doing his job. Nothing personal. And maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d eventually believe.

Dryden had been here, but he wasn’t any longer. And that bothered Trent. It made no sense.

The psychopath would never stage his little scene with the teddy bears and then miss Risa’s reaction. So where was he?

Not in the house. So where?

Outside.

Watching Risa.

Gun still ready, Trent hurried out of Risa’s bedroom, down the steps, out the door. His rental car was still here, Risa sitting in the passenger seat. As he approached, he heard the click of her unlocking the driver’s door.

Trent combed the shadows of trees and bushes, the rooflines of the neighboring houses one last time before ducking behind the wheel.

“What did you find?”

Trent pictured her bed, signs of sex, smears of blood. “You call 911?”

“They’re on their way. I called Cassidy, too. Let him know what was going on.”

“Good. Maybe they can find him.”

“He’s gone?” Risa asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. We aren’t waiting around to find out.”

The engine turned over with a flick of the key. The car leaped to life.

He backed out of the driveway. Slowly. Calmly. It was all he could do to keep from stomping on the gas, squealing tires, and racing down the street. He hadn’t found Dryden, but the psychopath was still here. He wouldn’t be able to resist. He would want to watch.

And Trent had to get Risa out of here before Dryden got the impulse to do more.

Nikki

“Let the games begin.” Eddie watched Trent and Risa drive away from their vantage point just on the other side of the roof’s ridge.

When he’d been destroying Risa’s stupid teddy bears, he’d been giddy as a little kid. He’d been downright wild while going through Risa’s drawers and having sex in her bed. Now his face was dead serious, not a chuckle, not a smile.

The change had come over him as soon as he’d seen Nikki’s big sister walk up the sidewalk.

Nikki wasn’t sure what to think about any of it, and she had an uneasy feeling that it was better if she didn’t focus on it too hard.

“Back inside.” Eddie stood, and walked sure-footed down the slope to the dormer in the master bedroom where they had escaped.

It wasn’t so easy for Nikki. Although she’d managed to grab Risa’s dressing gown before they’d climbed out the window, she was still naked underneath and barefoot. Even the pleasant day felt cold. The asphalt shingles scraped her knees and toes. And as she crabbed uncertainly down the roof and climbed back into the bedroom, she was sure the whole neighborhood could see right up the short silk robe.

She needn’t have worried about modesty. As soon as she got inside, Eddie untied the belt and ripped the robe off her shoulders.

“You’d better pick something out of the closet. The police will be here soon. Unless you want them to see you like this.” He grinned. Not a nice smile. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you Nikki? All the cops seeing you?”

Nikki shook her head, thinking about the man in her car. Last night had started out like something from her dreams. It had become a nightmare. “I only want you, Eddie. You know that.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Of course, I’m sure.”

“Then make sure you pick out something nice. She wore a red, silk blouse to our last interview.”

“She? Who?”

“Risa. Start with that. The red silk. No bra. Let’s see how you measure up.”

This couldn’t be happening. Eddie wasn’t like this. He loved Nikki. He did. Nikki might have started writing him to show her sister, but he’d fallen in love with her and she with him. This had nothing to do with Risa. Not anymore.

“I don’t like that blouse, Eddie. It looks so stuck up. Like Risa. That’s not me.”

“Make it you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like it.”

“But it’s not—“

His slap wrenched her head to the side. She stumbled and fell to the floor, her cheek stinging.

Eddie stood over her. “Are you going to dress the way I like?”

Nikki stared at him, her mind stuttering, refusing to catch hold of what was happening.

“Are you, Nikki? Because if not, I can leave you here.”

“No, no…”

“Maybe you really do want the cops to find you here, legs wide and tits hanging out. Is that it, Nikki? You one of those badge bunnies?”

“No. Eddie, please. I want to be with you.”

“You know how many women wrote to me? Sent me pictures? Made me promises?”

She knew. He’d told her all about them. How beautiful they were. How they all wanted to meet him. How she was better than all of them combined.

She’d believed it. She wanted to believe it still.

Eddie let out a heavy sigh. “Look at you.”

Reflexively, Nikki tried to cover herself.

“No, no, no.” Eddie brushed at her arms. “Don’t cover perfection.”

Nikki slowly moved her hands away. She relaxed the clamp of her legs.

“That’s better. I can never stay mad at you, Nikki. You know that. One look at that body, and I’m powerless. It’s all I can do to keep myself from making love to you again.” He looked at the bed.

Nikki could hear her pulse thumping in her ears. She wished he would make love to her. Not like he’d done earlier in Risa’s bed. He’d hurt her then. Made her bleed. But even like that, it was better than not knowing what he was thinking. When he was inside her, she always knew that he loved her.

She reached for his fly.

His lips thinned in a smile. “No time. We have to leave. Now get some clothes on. Unless you’d rather stay...”