Lethal

“Please, Eddie.”

“You want to go with me?”

“More than anything.”

“That’s a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

He helped her up and moved close to her, as if about to kiss her.

Nikki tilted her head back and let her eyelids close. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to know how much he cared.

A sharp pressure cut her neck. A small pop sounded in the air. When she opened her eyes, Eddie was standing in front of her, her locket in his fist. “Risa doesn’t wear one of these.”

“But she gave it to me. It has—”

“I don’t care. It’s juvenile. Now wear something nice. Sophisticated. Something to make me proud.” Shoving her necklace into his pocket, he returned to Risa’s bathroom and started flossing his teeth.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Nikki stepped into Risa’s walk-in closet. The red blouse caught her eye immediately, but she didn’t take it off the hanger. Instead, she pulled on some pink panties, a pair of hundred-dollar dark wash jeans, socks and lace-up shoes.

Then choking back a sob, she slid the silk blouse off its hanger and pulled it on.

Lund

David Lund would rather go on his daily jog right at the break of dawn, when the morning was still invigoratingly cool. But today he had a good excuse for being late.

He’d had a date. Sorta.

Lund settled into a rhythm, his breath echoing the pounding of his feet on the dead-end country road. His old buddy Stan trotted beside him, tail in the air, happy as can be to be taking part in their daily five mile loop. The retriever’s golden head might be turning mostly white, but the old guy didn’t give that a thought. He lived for the morning jog. The way Lund had when he was younger. Before his last birthday, when he realized he wanted more from life.

He wanted a career.

He wanted a wife.

He wanted kids.

And this morning, postponing the exercise routine in favor of a cup of coffee at the Blue Ox Café in the Dells, he’d found one of the pieces to his puzzle.

Kelly Ann Meinholz.

He remembered her from Lake Loyal High, eons ago. She’d been younger than him, a freshman when he was a senior, and he’d been too busy playing ball and too awkward around girls to think about dating much back then. But he remembered. And when she started waiting tables at the Blue Ox, he’d decided it might be about time he talked to her.

Hence this morning’s coffee. Coffee that turned into a full breakfast, a lot of smiles, and maybe even a future date. A real date.

Lund reached the end of the road, wishing he hadn’t eaten quite so many Paul Bunyan flapjacks. A car parked on the other side of the street, its windows fogged on the inside. He had just completed the turn and started back the other way when Stan stopped full. The leash pulled out of Lund’s hand.

“Stan.”

The dog ignored him, trotting over to the car.

“Stan, come.”

Nothing.

Lund followed the dog. Close up, he could see through the condensation on the windows. No movement, just a parked car.

Stan jumped up, his front paws on the passenger door.

Lund stepped closer and grabbed the dog’s collar, then the trailing leash. “Come on, Stan.”

The dog didn’t move.

Giving a sigh, Lund moved closer still, trying to see what Stan found so fascinating. A smell wafted from the car, sweet, kind of metallic. And sprawled awkwardly across both front bucket seats lay a motionless man.

Risa

Risa couldn’t stop shaking. Not even after Trent had driven her back to his hotel room in Lake Loyal and affixed the door’s security lock behind them. Noise from the construction outside roared through the open window and vibrated in her chest. The hotel was adding another wing, along with a pool and breakfast room, the sign in front had said.

Progress.

She ran her gaze over the room. Two chairs hovered around a tiny round table. Outdated gray and mauve draperies framed the second story window, the same pattern spreading across the broad expanse of the king-size bed. Generic flower prints hung on the wall. The décor relying on its very commonness to make guests feel secure.

In this case, the strategy didn’t work.

Everywhere she looked, she saw tufts of white stuffing blowing in the breeze. And all she felt was the ice of Dryden’s controlling rage. The chill slashed over skin and stabbed into muscle. Stabbed into bone. She wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered.

Risa had always been able to take care of herself. And not just herself. Others, too. Even as a child, she’d watched out for her sister and mother. She’d been the strong one. The one who’d helped her mother to bed after a night of vodka. The one who’d made sure Nikki finished her homework when no one else cared. The responsible one. The one in charge.

What a laugh. Right now she felt about as in charge as a newborn baby.

Trent pulled out one of the chairs. “You should sit down.”

“Before I fall down?” She tried to inject humor into her voice. Instead it sounded small. Tremulous. Afraid.

“Before you fall down.” He stepped to the window, slid it closed, and locked it, dulling the machinery’s roar. “Cassidy said he’d send a deputy over to stay with you while I’m briefing the task force. He should be here soon.”

She nodded but didn’t move. She couldn’t. Not only was she unsure her legs could carry her the four or five steps to the bed, but she didn’t want to move away from him. From his warmth. From his strength. “I can’t. I—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“No. It’s not. But it will be. You’re safe. Right now, you’re safe.”

Before she could let herself think, she leaned back against him, trying to get as close to his warmth as she could.

His arms slipped around her, wrapping tight around her waist. He pulled her against the hard plane of his body. Against muscle and strength. His breath grazed the side of her face, sending several strands of her hair dancing across her cheek.

Warmth spread over Risa’s skin. She closed her eyes. She remembered this. Being in Trent’s arms. The sense that, for this moment, she wasn’t alone. But her memories paled in comparison to having him here now. Surrounding her. The scent of him. The feel of him. The solid reality of him.

She could fight memories. She couldn’t fight this. She didn’t even want to.

Without breaking contact, she turned in his arms, pressing against him, molding her body to his. Every muscle. Every ridge. She reached up, locked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

His hand moved to the back of her neck, as it had so many times in the past. He cradled her head, entwining his fingers in her hair, and lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips fit hers like they always had. Like she’d known they still would. His tongue. His taste.

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She wanted to feel him, the hard wall of his chest, the taut muscle of his stomach, the tight ridge of his desire. She wanted to mold to him, skin to skin, no barriers between them.

She fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, pulling them free until the fabric parted under her fingers and she could slip her hands inside.

He shrugged out of the shirt and clutched her against his chest. His skin rippled warm and smooth over hard muscle. She traced the even lines of his ribs, the flat plane of his belly, the ribbon of coarse hair leading to his waistband. The feel of him was so familiar, yet new.

And she needed more. Needed more like she’d never needed before.

As if reading her thoughts, he smoothed his hands down her back and grasped the hem of her sweater. He slid the cotton up, baring her skin to the cool of the air, the heat of his touch. He broke contact with her lips only to lift the sweater over her head and discard it.

Not willing to wait one more second, she reached around her back and unhooked her bra. She slid the flimsy lace garment off and let it fall to the floor.

She reached for him. She needed his heat. Needed to feel his skin against hers. Her breasts flattened against his chest, the coarse sprinkling of hair abrading their sensitive tips.

A groan rumbled in his chest. Lowering his head, he devoured her mouth, his lips nipping and caressing, his tongue demanding and giving. His fingers found the waistband of her slacks. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. He eased them over her hips and let them fall. Her panties were next. He pushed the lace down her thighs, past her knees. His actions coiled with a need of his own.

She held him tighter. Wanting to be part of him, to meld with him, to become stronger together than they ever could be apart.

Grasping the waistband of his slacks, her fingers found the button, the metal tab of the zipper. She pulled the zipper down.

His trousers slid down his legs, and he kicked them free. He slipped his hands down her sides, over the swell of her hips and cupped her buttocks. Lifting her, he pulled her against his body, against the straining bulge in his briefs. She spread her thighs, wrapping her legs around him, fitting her body to him. Cupping him, holding him, rocking against him. This was what she needed, what she wanted. To feel alive. To feel safe. To feel strong.

He took the few steps to the bed, laid her on the mattress, and lowered himself down on top of her. His heat seeped into her, firing her blood past fever, past reason.

Risa’s breath rasped in her ears, harsh, uneven. Her heart pumped, strong against her ribs. She worked her hands between their bodies, slipped her fingers under the elastic waistband of his briefs. “I need you so much, Trent. I never stopped needing you.”

His body went rigid. He drew a sharp breath and let it out in a shudder. “We—” His hand closed over hers and stilled. “We can’t do this.”

Pulling back from his kiss, she opened her eyes, searching his face, trying to make sense of what he was saying, why he had stopped.

His skin was flushed. His eyes echoed the want, the need she knew glistened in her own. He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

His words fully registered this time, slicing deep. His weight still bore down on her. His skin was still melded to hers, his erection pressing into her thigh. Yet he was pulling away. Distancing himself. Denying her needs. Denying his own.

Like he had done before.

“What is wrong with you?”

His mouth flattened into a hard line.

It was a cruel thing to say, and she knew it. What they were doing… they’d gotten carried away. Sleeping together would just make everything more difficult. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted to hurt him. Like he’d hurt her two years ago.

Like he was hurting her now.

He rolled onto his back, cool air rushing to fill the space where his body had been. Sitting up, he turned to the window. Soft light filtered through the sheers and glowed off the planes of his face, making the stress lines framing his eyes and mouth appear etched deep as the abyss that had opened between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Then don’t pull away.”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

“It is that simple, Trent. It’s just that simple. I was stronger in your arms just now than I am alone. We were stronger. And we need that. If it’s just for now, fine. We need it.”

His brows turned down in anger and frustration. “Making love with me isn’t what you need. It’s just going to bring you more pain.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it without uttering a word. He was right. Making love with Trent wasn’t going to help her escape the threat of Dryden, the fear of losing Nikki. Needing him, melding with him, losing herself in him would only bring her pain once he returned to Washington alone. But no matter what logic told her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was stronger in his arms.

And where did that leave her?

Her stomach knotted and her eyes stung. Worst of all was that he had been able to stop. Even as she’d been touching him. Even as she’d been so caught up, she’d only been able to feel. Trent had been able to pull away—just like he had before.

Risa rolled away from him and climbed off the bed. Forcing her knees to support her weight, she walked across the room and into the bathroom. Closing the door, she leaned against it, the solid barricade pressing along the length of her spine. She looked down at herself. At her naked breasts, nipples red from rubbing against the rough hair of his chest. At the juncture of her thighs, still moist with longing.

She grabbed a bath towel from the rack and covered herself, wrapping the terrycloth tight. She couldn’t dwell on what would never be. She couldn’t let herself need him, want him. She had to be strong all on her own.

The only thing that mattered now—the only thing that could matter—was getting Nikki away from Dryden before it was too late. And Risa was done with sitting around waiting.

She needed to take action, to do something.

No matter what the risk.

Trent

Trent hoisted himself up from the bed to sit with his back against the headboard. He punched the pillow behind him with his elbow. Damn, damn, damn.

When had he lost control of his senses? When had his sexual urges gotten so strong they eclipsed common sense?

Rees needed him to protect her. She didn’t need him to tear off her clothes. And even though he’d managed to bring himself under control before he’d really crossed the line, he’d hurt her in doing that, too.

Hurt her. Again.

He closed his eyes, pressing the pads of thumb and forefinger hard against his lids until color mushroomed behind his eyes.

He knew what he was up against. He’d seen the atrocities Dryden was capable of committing. He’d felt Dryden’s darkness stain his own soul, a stain that festered and grew until it choked out every last vestige of light.

Trent had to protect Rees from all of it. If only he could manage to stop wounding her himself in the meantime.

The bathroom door swung open and she stepped back into the room. Wisps of dark hair brushed over naked shoulders and cascaded down her back. She’d wrapped a towel tightly around herself, the pressure of the terry cloth mounding her breasts above it. The bottom edge of the towel barely covered the tops of her thighs.

The image of her naked body, the sweet scent of her, the feel of her, was seared into his mind. Everything she’d just offered him. Everything he’d just pushed away. He stifled a groan and shifted on the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure in his groin. Trying to calm nerves that were strung tighter than piano wire.

She set her chin in that stubborn way of hers and looked him straight in the eye. “I know how we can catch Dryden.”

Whatever she had in mind, he wasn’t going to like it. He could tell by the hell-bent-for-leather tone in her voice. He shot her a skeptical look and waited.

“This teddy bear thing pretty much establishes that Dryden is after me, right?”

“Right,” he said, his voice deliberately emotionless and flat.

“And he will likely follow the pattern he did with his wife, right?”

“He’ll likely start killing women who look like you, same hair color, same build.” Like Nikki. And though he didn’t say it out loud, he knew Risa was thinking the same thing.

“And he won’t quit.”

“Not until we catch him…”

“Or until he kills me.”

He forced a nod. Rees had it right except for one detail. Dryden would never stop. If he killed Risa, he’d find another woman who had wronged him. Another woman to avenge himself against. And the whole pattern would begin again. Each time the fantasies would become more violent, his hunger for his victims’ fear and pain more voracious. It would take more to satisfy him. But he would never stop.

Rees took a step further into the room. “Since Dryden wants me, then why not use that to draw him out?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You’re always talking about being proactive.”

His legs tensed with the need to climb off this damn bed and close the short distance between them. His hands opened and closed with the need to grab hold of her and shake some sense into her. “Too dangerous.”

“And doing nothing isn’t dangerous? Trent, he’s going to kill Nikki and then come after me anyway.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and lurched to his feet. He wanted to say he didn’t give a damn about Nikki. That he cared only about Rees. He wanted to rip off that flimsy towel, throw her back on the bed, and finish what they’d started. He wanted to wrap her in the safety of his arms and never let her go.

Of course, he couldn’t do any of those things. But that didn’t make Risa’s idea a valid option. “I’m not going along with this.”

“You’d still be protecting me, Trent. But we might save Nikki, too. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? You’re suggesting dangling yourself in front of Dryden like a worm on a hook, and I should be reasonable?”

“Nikki’s running out of time.”

“I said forget it.” He grabbed his trousers from the floor and yanked them on. Even if it was Nikki’s only chance, he damn well wouldn’t let Rees sacrifice herself to draw Dryden out. “We’ll get him another way.”

“What other—“

The electronic tones of Trent’s cell phone interrupted.

Risa pointed an accusing finger at him. “If this was one of your other cases, if I was just some woman you didn’t know, you’d okay it. Wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not one of my other cases. And I won’t use you that way.”

On the second ring, Trent fished the phone from his pocket and checked the number. “Cassidy.”

He flipped it open and took the call. “Tell me your man is on his way.”

“No need,” Cassidy said. “Get yourself and the professor to the Lake Loyal PD. She’ll have plenty of protection there.”

“Task force?”

“Postponed.”

“Did you find something at Risa’s house?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m calling. Man out jogging with his dog found Nikki Dryden’s car. And Burnell? There’s a body inside. Male. Lives in the area. I’ll fill you in on all of it when you get here.”

Trent ended the call and turned to Risa. “We need to go. Cassidy has something for me to take a look at.”

“Nikki?”

“No.”

She frowned, as if deciding whether or not to believe him.

“Listen, if it was Nikki, I’d tell you. Okay? Promise.”

“So where are we going?”

“You’re going to the Lake Loyal police department.”

“And you?”

“Not sure yet.”

“What happened, Trent?”

“They found Nikki’s car.”

“I’m going—”

“To the police station. If I think you can help, I’ll let you know.”

“Help? I sure as hell can help.”

“Not that again.”

Risa snatched her rumpled clothes from the floor. “Lucky for me you’re merely assisting in this manhunt. Dan Cassidy will jump at the chance to use me to draw Dryden out. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Risa

Risa stared at the closed door to the tiny Grantsville police station’s conference room and chewed her bottom lip. Trent had dropped her off at the station and left for who-knew-where. Hours had passed before he, Cassidy, and the police chief had returned. Since then, they’d been sequestered in the conference room, joined by nearly a dozen county deputies, neighboring counties’ deputies, and officers from the tiny Lake Loyal P.D. Even a handful of men in suits who looked suspiciously like federal agents had filed into the too-small room.

She had no choice but to wait until the briefing was over to make her offer to Cassidy.

“Would you like a little warmer upper?”

Risa glanced up into the smiling face of the dispatcher. The odor of burned coffee wafted from the pot she gripped in one hand.

“Sure,” Risa said, despite warnings from her jittery nerves.

Oneida poured. “You're single, aren’t you?”

“Um, yes.”

“Good.”

Risa hesitated. She took a sip of coffee. Definitely burned.

Oneida didn’t move. Didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink. “Don’t you want to know why I asked?”

“Truthfully? I’m not sure.”

“He’s a great man. One of the best I’ve known.”

Risa couldn’t help stealing a glance at Trent through the glass sidelight next to the conference room door. All she could see were men’s backs.

“He likes you. Most I've seen him smile since his wife passed.”

“His wife… Ah, who are we talking about?”

“So you are interested.”

“I didn’t say—“

“She died in a car wreck, poor thing. He took it hard. Of course it would have been worse if she hadn’t run off the year before.”

“Ah, wait a second here. Who are you talking about?”

“The chief, of course.”

“Chief Schneider?”

“Haven’t seen him smile as much as today with you around. And since you and Special Agent Burnell aren’t involved…”

Risa was confused, but she had the distinct impression that if she didn’t bring a stop to this conversation, this woman would have her married off before the end of the day. “How do you know we’re not involved?”

“He told me. Not true?”

“No, no, it’s true.” Risa just wished the idea of Trent confiding about the end of their relationship to Oneida didn’t bother her so much.

“I hate to see unhappy people. And you and the chief would make a nice couple.”

Risa took another sip of horrid coffee, unsure what to say.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been told I can be bossy.”

“No, it's okay.”

“I just sensed you needed a sympathetic ear and maybe a little nudge.”

“Excuse me?”

“You look at Burnell the same way the chief looks at you.”

“I…” Risa shook her head. Why was she responding to this woman? “I don’t want to talk about this. Any of this.”

“Often people don’t want to talk about exactly what they need to talk about.”

“Oneida, please. Can I pay you to leave me alone?”

“What do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I'm a teacher. A professor, actually.”

“Of?”

“Psychology.”

Oneida rocked back on her heels. “So that's it.”

“That’s what?”

“You know what they say about psychologists, right?”

“I’m not following.”

“That you get into the business in an attempt to figure yourself out.”

Voices and the scuff of shifting chairs and moving feet erupted from behind the closed door. The meeting was breaking up.

“If you’ll excuse me…”

“Not a problem. God knows I have plenty of work to do. But just you remember, Burnell’s not the only fish out there. If you need me to have a whisper to the chief, just let me know.” Oneida strode away, her long skirt swishing around her legs.

The door opened and detectives spilled out of the room. Rubbing sweaty palms against her jeans, Risa tried to pick out Cassidy’s sandy blond hair from the small crowd.

“Professor Madsen.” The police chief headed straight for her. Although he had to be in his fifties, the man’s stride was forceful and his eyes burned with the intensity of one of her star students.

“Jeff Schneider. Remember?”

“Oh yes, chief. I remember.”

“Great. I didn’t think we were ever officially introduced.” He stuck out a hand. “I have a few questions about your sister.”

She shook his hand and glanced past him, searching the crowd. She had to admit, she was a little uncomfortable after Oneida’s attempt at matchmaking. But mostly she didn’t want to let Cassidy sneak out the door while she was focused on the police chief. “I’d be happy to answer your questions, Chief Schneider. But right now, I’m looking for Detective Cassidy. I have something urgent to discuss with him. Have you seen him?”

“Please, just plain Schneider will do. Or better, Jeff.” He waved a hand in the direction of the conference room. “Cassidy’s still in there talking to Special Agent Burnell.”

Great. Trent was undoubtedly giving Cassidy reasons he couldn’t involve her in the manhunt. Well, good luck. If she’d read Cassidy’s attitude toward her correctly, Trent could talk into next week, and Cassidy would still jump at the chance to use her as a lure for Dryden.

“Could we set a time to chat later? Where are you staying?” Schneider looked at her expectantly.

Where was she staying? She couldn’t go back to her house. It was a crime scene now. And besides, she couldn’t set foot inside her foyer again without seeing mutilated teddy bears. Without feeling Dryden’s presence.

She thought of Trent’s hotel room. The king-size bed. The warmth of his arms. She imagined Trent would arrange for a separate room for her as soon as possible. She’d prefer a separate hotel, maybe even a separate town. But as much as she wanted to block out this morning’s humiliation, the thought of being off on her own didn’t thrill her. “I—I’m not sure yet.”

“Of course, you aren’t. Everything is happening too fast. I’m very sorry for what you went through at your home.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you let me know when you get settled?” Schneider pulled a card from his jacket pocket and stuffed it into her hand. “Give me a call anytime. And I’ll be right over.”

She shoved his card into her jeans pocket and smiled into his overeager eyes. She’d prefer to think Schneider was impatient to prove his little department could solve cases right along with the larger county sheriff’s forces. But after her talk with Oneida, Risa wasn’t sure.

As long as he was motivated to help find Nikki, Risa supposed it didn’t matter. “I’ll call as soon as I have a moment.”

Stepping away from Schneider, Risa reached the open doorway of the conference room just as Cassidy ambled out, deep in conversation with a balding detective.

“Detective Cassidy?”

His head snapped around, and he gave her a disdainful look. “Burnell’s still inside.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“If you want information about the body, I’m not your boy. You go snuggle up to Burnell.”

“Body? What body?”

The balding cop smiled. “Smooth, Cassidy. Remind me to never tell you anything.”

“What body?” Risa repeated.

“Dryden and your sister killed a man, stole his car.”

“My sister? Nikki wouldn’t—”

“Save it. She was there willingly. Packed a suitcase. Clothes, makeup. She might not have actually sprung him from prison, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t involved in this up to her neck. Aiding and abetting. We know she gave comfort to a serial killer. Plenty of comfort.” Cassidy thrust his hips on the last line.

The balding detective gave her a pained look. Pity, pure and simple.

Risa felt sick.

She didn’t have a clue why Cassidy disliked her so much, but it didn’t matter. In fact, his dislike was just what she needed. He wouldn’t be concerned with protecting her. He would take her suggestion and run with it. She focused on Cassidy. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Your sister’s sex life?”

“Something else. An idea I think you’re going to want to hear.”

He shot the detective next to him a quick glance. “Talk to you later, Mylinski.”

Looking somewhere between relieved and concerned, the balding detective popped a piece of candy into his mouth and sauntered away.

“I hope you’re not going to waste my time,” Cassidy said.

“I want you to use me to lure Dryden into a trap.”

Cassidy’s mouth drew into a hard line. “Does Burnell know about this?”

“He doesn’t like the idea.”

“I bet not.”

“So how about it?”

A smile crept over Cassidy’s mouth, stretched into a full-fledged grin. “This could be just the break we need.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” Risa stifled a shiver. It was done. For better or for worse, Trent couldn’t stop her now.

As if the thought of him conjured him from the mist, Trent appeared in the doorway. One of the well-dressed men with the look of federal law enforcement stood beside him. The two of them were a matched set except for the other man’s shorter height, more pointed features, and jet black hair, so dark it brought out the touch of gray that had crept into Trent’s.

An uneasy feeling slithered up Risa’s spine.

Trent’s gaze shot from Risa to Cassidy and back again. His brows pinched in a frown. “Rees, this is Subera. He’s from the Bureau. Milwaukee office.”

The Bureau. The FBI. Her unease spread into all out foreboding. “And what brings you to the center of the state, Special Agent Subera?”

“I’m here to get your sister back, Professor Madsen.” The man gave her a smile undoubtedly designed to be reassuring.

The grin didn’t reassure her at all. And the fact that he was familiar enough with the case to know her name and title without the benefit of introduction worried her even more. She nodded in Cassidy’s direction. “The sheriff’s department is doing a fine job. Why would the Bureau send someone in addition to Trent?”

“The sheriff’s department is doing a fine job.” Subera nodded his kudos to Cassidy. “But we received reports that Dryden and your sister were seen on the Iowa banks of the Mississippi, just across the river from Prairie du Chien. And once he transported her across state lines, it became an FBI case.”

“Someone saw—” She caught her breath. “Dryden couldn’t have taken Nikki to Iowa. He was at my house this morning, leaving me a message. He couldn’t have gone to Iowa and come back again that fast. It’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” Trent said in a low voice. “It’s not even a two-hour drive from your house to the Iowa border.”

She turned blazing eyes on Trent. Were Dryden and Nikki really spotted across the border? Or had Trent trumped up a publicity-seeker’s sighting as an excuse to bring his FBI colleagues into the case? To take control of the manhunt from the sheriff’s department? To take control from Cassidy?

Beside her, Cassidy shifted his weight from foot to foot like a dancing prizefighter. “The professor here was just telling me how she would be willing to help us set a trap for Dryden.”

Subera raised his eyebrows. “You’re suggesting using a civilian as bait?”

“I’m suggesting nothing. She offered.” Cassidy’s voice rang with defensiveness and thinly disguised hostility. Apparently he appreciated the FBI taking over his manhunt about as much as Risa did.

Subera shook his head. “We won’t consider that option until we’ve exhausted all other avenues.”

Risa’s head throbbed in time with her pulse. She turned her glare on Trent, clenching her hands at her sides to keep them from shaking with the frustration building inside her. “I want to talk to you, Trent. Now.”

“Fine.” Judging from the look on his face, he knew what was coming. And judging from the speed with which he excused himself, he knew exactly how close she was to losing control right here in front of Subera and Cassidy.

Trent led her out the front door to the tiny gravel parking lot, nearly emptied of cars now that she’d heard the task force moved to a larger location Starting for his rental car, Trent unlocked the doors with a press of his keyless remote. “Get in the car. We’ll talk on the way.”

Risa came to a dead halt. The last thing she was going to do was crawl back in that car and let him whisk her to someplace safe, far away from any chance she might have of helping track Dryden and Nikki. “Damn you.”

He stopped and turned to look at her, like a human punching bag waiting for the latest torrent of abuse.

“You—” She glanced around at a straggler walking to his car and struggled to control the volume of her voice. “You made up this Iowa sighting, didn’t you?”

“There was a sighting. I just took advantage of it.”

Took advantage? A nice way of saying he took a sighting no one would ever believe was real and blew it out of proportion. “And when Subera took over the case, you talked him into excluding me. You told him the risk was too great.”

“Of course I did. The risk is too great.”

“But I’m the one taking that risk. It should be up to me.”

His mouth flattened into a hard line. “Getting yourself killed isn’t going to help Nikki.”

She shook her head and started back in the direction of the police station. “How about forgetting to tell me her car was found? Is that going to help? Not mentioning a man was murdered and that my sister is now considered an accomplice?”

“Come on, Rees. I’ll explain. Get in the car.” He reached for her. His fingers brushed her arm, but didn’t close around her bicep. Instead he yanked his hand back as if it had been splattered with hot grease and let it fall limp at his side.

She stopped in her tracks, staring at his hand. “Now you’re withdrawing from a simple touch?”

Anger blossomed within her like a mushroom cloud. Anger over his withdrawal two years ago. Anger over his withdrawal this morning. Anger over old pain and new, mixing and swirling inside her. Searing like fire. “Are you afraid merely grasping my arm will contaminate me with the evil of your job?”

“Open your eyes, Rees. Look what’s happened to Nikki. Look what’s happened to you so far. If I hadn’t brought Dryden into your life, you and Nikki would be busy living your lives, not in fear of losing them. I’ve already contaminated you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. He wouldn’t listen. He would never accept that her selection of Dryden to be part of her study didn’t have anything to do with him.

And realistically, she didn’t accept it, either.

Dryden’s case had changed Trent. He’d gone to Wisconsin and returned to her a different man. A tortured man. A man who couldn’t marry her.

And he’d never told her why.

After he’d canceled their wedding, she’d thought it an ironic coincidence when the University of Wisconsin had offered her a professorship. But when she’d started her criminal psychology project and compiled her list of prisoners to study, it was no coincidence that she’d included Dryden’s name. She’d wanted to know what had changed Trent. She’d wanted to find some answers. She’d wanted to look the devil in the eye.

And she had.

But it wasn’t answers she’d found. Just anger and hatred and evil.

“All right, Trent. Have it your way. All of this is your fault. And you should stay as far away from me as you possibly can.”

The words were bitter on her tongue. She spun around and resumed her march to the police station, her legs heavy as lead. If she was lucky, Police Chief Schneider would still be inside and eager for their chat about Nikki. Trent might lock her out of his heart and out of his life, but he couldn’t keep her from assisting in the search for Dryden.

Behind her, Trent’s car door slammed and the engine roared to life. Gravel popped and spit under tires as he gunned the vehicle in a tight circle and hit the brakes in front of her, cutting off her path.

He leaned across the passenger seat and threw the door open. “Get in.”

“Why?”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“You’re not going to let me out of your sight, but you’re afraid being near me will contaminate me? What, you want me to stay twenty paces behind you?”

He gave her a withering frown.

“Ahead of you?”

“Get in the car.”

Risa folded her arms across her chest. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

“Back to the prison.”

Trent

Trent watched Rees settle into the corner of the little interview room provided for depositions of prisoners and force herself to bite into the vending machine sandwich. Even though she hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours, she looked as if she was enjoying the cardboard ham and cheese on rye about as much as he had. Tough. She needed something to keep her going.

Her skin had already taken on the pallor that comes from stress, and her eyes held a sheen he’d seen too many times in the families of victims. She’d been through a hell of a shock. First the trauma of Dryden kidnapping her sister, and then learning she herself was the serial killer’s true target. And now…

On the drive to the prison, he’d told her about the murdered man found in Nikki’s car. And when he added that Nikki’s suitcase was in the back and what appeared to be her blood-soaked clothing had been on the passenger side floor, Risa had started to cry.

She needed food. She needed sleep. She needed comfort.

He’d taken care of the first order. But sleep would be hard to come by.

And comfort?

He wasn’t the one to supply that.

Images of the moments in the hotel room bombarded his brain. The sight of her naked body. The feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. The smell of her scent clinging to his skin. Lavender and woman. Passion and…

Knuckles rapped on wood, and the door swung wide. The guard who had escorted them to Dryden’s cell the day before lumbered into the room. Gordon Young. The harsh overhead light glared down on him, draining his face of color and adding shadows around his deep-set eyes. Eyes that flicked to Rees.

“Hi, Gordy,” she said.

Young offered her a shy smile before narrowing his eyes on Trent. “You asked to see me?”

Trent had chosen to start with Young because the burly guard had seemed cooperative the first time they’d met. But judging from Young’s narrowed eyes, his demeanor seemed to have changed considerably in the past hours. Trent motioned to the chair next to him at the bolted-down table. “Have a seat.”

The guard lowered his big body into the chair, his movement rigid. The man was probably pissing his pants at the thought of being questioned by the FBI after a prison break on his shift.

Trent could use that anxiety to his advantage. “It looks like Dryden didn’t pull off his escape all by himself, Young. It looks like he had help. Inside help.”

The tinny smell of sweat and fear tinged the air. The big man shifted in his chair. “What does this have to do with me?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

A stain of red crept up the guard’s neck and blossomed over his cheeks. Righteous anger flattened his mouth and turned down the inside corners of his bushy brows. “It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with me, that’s what.”

Trent kept his expression carefully blank. “Oh?”

“That’s right. I would never help a murdering bastard like Dryden.”

“So you would never let him into the garbage bay right before the truck arrived to pick up the waste-paper and cardboard?”

“No.”

“You would never disable the cameras in that section of the prison?”

“I wouldn’t.”

Trent let the guard’s denial hang in the air. Most people with guilt on their consciences rushed to fill silence, as if saying nothing was an undeniable admission of guilt.

Young didn’t bite.

Time to work another angle. “What were some of the things you and Dryden talked about in his time here?”

A fresh surge of angry color rushed to the guard’s cheeks. “I didn’t talk to him.”

“Oh, come on. Dryden was a charming guy. If you didn’t know his background, you could almost say he could be nice. Surely he chatted with the guards.”

“Not with me he didn’t.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Are you saying I could ask some of the other guards working your shift, and they would say that not once did they see you talking to Dryden?”

He seemed to flinch slightly. “I never talked to him unless I had to.”

“And what did the two of you talk about? When you had to talk, that is?”

Young’s eyes had the look of a man being led someplace he didn’t want to go. “He’d complain about the food or about being locked in his cell too long. Stuff like that.”

“And what did you say to him in those exchanges?”

“I told him to go to hell. Son of a bitch got far more consideration than he deserved. More than he gave those girls.”

“So you didn’t like Dryden much?”

“You could say that.”

Trent snapped open his briefcase and pulled out a thick file that had nothing to do with the prison or Young. A small fact the guard would never know. Laying it on the table, Trent tapped the closed manila cover as if the file contained all the damning proof he could ever need. “It seems Dryden has been receiving special favors, more time out of his cell, phone privileges, that sort of thing. And he received virtually all of those favors during your shift. Can you explain that?”

Young lurched forward in his chair and slammed his open hand down hard on the table. “I don’t care what that file says. The only thing I wanted to give Dryden was a bullet in the head.”

“If not you, where were these favors coming from?”

“I don’t know.”

“One of the other guards?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help you. Now I need to get back to work.”

Trent leaned toward the guard. “I need answers. If you don’t give them to me, I’ll have to get them from someone else.”

“Then get them. I’m fresh out.” Young shot to his feet.

“Wait, Gordy,” Rees implored from her corner.

Young stopped in his tracks and turned to her.

“I know you hate Dryden,” Rees said, her voice steeped in understanding. “You never would have tried to help me stop Nikki’s wedding if you were helping him.”

The guard nodded, tilting his chin at a self-righteous angle. “Damn right.”

“But someone helped him escape. And that someone could know where he is.” She rose from her chair and walked across the small room to Young’s side. She reached out and laid a hand on the big guard’s arm. “We need your help.”

Trent wanted to tell her to sit down, to stay out of this. But her voice had stopped Young in his tracks. And her plea was softening the wariness in the big guard’s eyes. Trent bit his tongue and waited to see what would happen next.

Rees continued in her soft voice. “Who do you think would have helped Dryden?”

Young shook his head. “I truly don’t know, Professor.”

“What about the warden?” Trent asked.

“The warden? Why the warden?” His eyes darted to Trent and narrowed.

Risa answered. “When we met the warden outside Dryden’s cell this morning, he complained about funding shortages at the prison, remember? About not having enough money to pay guards overtime wages, or to update security measures. Are his complaints legitimate?”

Young bobbed his head in a nod. “We’re always short staffed.”

“What about updating security?” Rees continued.

“I don’t think one thing has been updated since I started working here. And that was ten years ago.”

Rees glanced at Trent, as if she’d run out of questions.

Trent thought back to the warden’s specific complaints. “He mentioned that the prison’s funding was being diverted to out-of-state prisons and to the new Supermax penitentiary.”

Young let out a guffaw. “Yeah, I thought that was a good one.”

A slight smile turned up the corners of Rees’s lips as if she was dying to be let in on the joke. “What’s so funny, Gordy?”

“It’s not the funding that the warden has his shorts in a bundle over.”

“Oh?”

“The Supermax is a real thorn in his side.”

“How so?” Trent prodded.

Young shot him a condescending look, as if the answer was more obvious than dirt. “Look at this place. It’s falling down around our ears. It’s the biggest dump in the state system. It’s no secret Warden Hanson took the job as a stepping stone. He wanted to head the Supermax.”

“But he was passed over?”

“Not only that. Some of his most notorious prisoners are being transferred to the Supermax next week.” A bitter smile tweaked the guard’s mouth. “All the warden will have left is crumbling walls housing a bunch of no-names. Not much to brag about at cocktail parties.”

Young’s words shifted and fell into place in Trent’s mind. The funding issue. The lost promotion. The prisoner transfer. A picture was forming. There was only one piece missing. A piece that would tie the entire package together. “Dryden is on that list of prisoners scheduled for transfer, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Nikki

Nikki didn’t realize the plan had changed until Eddie made the turn north, heading back in the direction they’d come. “Where are we going?”

Eddie waited for her to repeat the question before he answered. “I have a stop to make.”

“But this is the way back to Lake Loyal. We can’t go back. You said it—”

“I said I have a stop to make.” His voice sounded sharp. Angry.

Nikki clamped her hands between her knees. She shouldn’t be questioning him. She didn’t want to make him angry. “I just worry. They’re going to be looking for you.”

“And you think I need you to explain that?”

“No. Of course not.”

“I have things to take care of.”

“Things?”

He stared at her, his face hard at first, then softening. The stubble on his cheeks sparkled in the sunlight, and for a moment, Nikki could almost imagine they were a regular married couple just out for a drive.

“Believe me, baby. There’s something I need to do, and it’s important. Would I lie to you?”

Nikki felt stupid. What was she thinking? Eddie wouldn’t put them at risk. He knew what it was like in prison. He didn’t want to go back. “No. No. I’m sorry.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I have a place for us to lay low.” He chuckled. “The guy who owns it would bust a gut if he knew.”

“Why?”

“He was weak, and I took advantage of it.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s what winners do. And I am a winner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Winners get all the beautiful things. That’s why I have you.”

Right then, with the sun shining on his boyishly handsome face and his voice soft and a little teasing, Nikki wanted to throw her arms around him and never let him go. “I love you, Eddie.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to make me happy?”

“You know I do.”

“Good.” Eddie turned his attention back to the road, a hard smile breaking over his face. “Because there’s one more place we have to stop first. Someone we have to pick up.”

“Someone? Who?”

“You’ll see. And I’m sure you’ll like her as much as I do.”

Trent

Trent pulled the car into Warden Hanson’s driveway. Throwing the car into Park, he studied the house cowering beyond the spiked security fence. Long shadows of approaching twilight fell over the light beige colonial, but lights glowed from inside. Someone was home. Good.

Hanson had already left work by the time they’d finished questioning Young, but Trent couldn’t afford to wait until the next morning to talk to him. There was no telling exactly when Dryden would strike next, but Trent was willing to bet it would be soon.

Very soon.

He glanced at Rees, sitting by his side in the dim car.

“You’re welcome for the help with Gordy,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Eager to assist. You know that.”

Trent had finally faced the fact that keeping Risa out of the investigation was impossible. At first he’d decided to enlist her help merely to prevent her from convincing Subera to use her as bait. As it turned out, she’d made the difference with Young. “Let’s hope our luck with Hanson is as good.”

Trent threw the door open and climbed out of the car. A security phone was nestled on one side of the gate. Pretty fancy security for rural Wisconsin. But perhaps running a prison made one paranoid.

Trent picked up the phone and pushed the Call button. A light shone down on his face, illuminating his features for a security camera’s eye.

“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice squeaked from the phone.

“FBI, ma’am,” Trent announced. “I need a word with Mr. Hanson.”

Silence answered him, heavy as the humid night air. Finally the voice erupted again. “How do I know you’re really FBI?”

Trent held his badge up to the camera lens. “I’m Special Agent Trent Burnell, ma’am.”

“Someone else is there, too. Who’s with you?”

Trent glanced over his shoulder. Rees moved up close behind him, into the camera’s view. “Professor Risa Madsen. She’s assisting me.”

Though he didn’t look in her direction, he felt Rees smile.

“I’m sorry.” The thin voice rose again from the phone. “Paul isn’t home.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Trent frowned into the receiver. “Am I speaking to Mrs. Hanson?”

Silence stretched on much too long.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” The voice fluttered.

“May we have a word with you?”

“No, I—” She drew a shaky breath. “I’d rather not let anyone in. Not while Paul is gone.”

“This is an urgent matter, Mrs. Hanson. I won’t take much of your time.”

“I’m not comfortable having visitors while Paul is out. He’ll be at the prison tomorrow. You can talk to him there. Please?”

Unease pricked the back of Trent’s neck. He studied the tall security fence, the drawn draperies of the house beyond. If he’d needed another reason to stay away from Rees—to call off their wedding—this was it. He could never have borne the idea of Rees being sentenced to a life of fear and paranoia. The kind of existence that apparently, Mrs. Hanson was living.

Or… maybe it wasn’t all paranoia. “Are you all right, Mrs. Hanson?”

“All right? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m just not comfortable inviting you in. There are so many bad people out there. So many people who do horrible things. I’m just not comfortable.”

Rees stepped closer to him, concern and questions creasing her brow.

Trent could just imagine what she was thinking, only hearing his side of the conversation. He gave her a reassuring press of the lips and concentrated on the phone. “Would you like me to check the house for you, Mrs. Hanson? Make sure everything is secure?”

“No. That’s not necessary. I’m fine. I just don’t take visitors when Paul isn’t home. Please.”

Trent narrowed his eyes, scanning the house and surrounding landscape. “Is someone in the house with you, Mrs. Hanson?”

“What? No. I don’t know you. You could be anybody.”

He drew in a deep breath of patience, still searching for anything suspicious, anything out of place. “I’m an agent with the FBI, ma’am. I showed you my badge.”

“How do I know what an FBI badge looks like? It could be fake. You could be one of those inmates coming after my husband. You could be anyone.”

This was getting stranger by the minute. Trent rubbed the back of his neck. “Have inmates come after your husband before, ma’am?”

“Well, no. But it could happen. Anything could happen. I have to go now.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. If you don’t come out to the gate so I can make sure you’re okay, I’ll have to come in.”

Silence stretched across the phone line.

“Ma’am?”

“Very well. But only for a moment.”

A click sounded on the other end of the line and the phone went dead.

Trent replaced the receiver.

“What’s going on?” Rees whispered.

“Probably nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Get back in the car.”

Risa jutted her chin in a stubborn angle. “I’ll be fine right here.”

“It was worth a try.”

After a long minute, the front door finally swung open and a skeleton-thin woman with long brown hair stepped onto the porch. With small shuffling steps, she approached the gate. “Here I am. Happy now?”

“I’m relieved that you’re all right.”

“I told you I was all right.” As she drew closer, the streetlight illuminated her features. Her face looked pinched. “Is this about the bribes?”

Trent tried his best not to let his surprise show. He didn’t know anything about bribes, but he wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Hanson that. “What can you tell me about the bribes, ma’am?”

“Probably nothing you don’t already know.”

Since he didn’t know a damn thing, he seriously doubted that. “Please, start from the beginning.”

She eyed him warily. “About a month ago, Paul noticed that serial killer who escaped was getting extra TV time and time out of his cell. He thinks some of his guards may have been accepting bribes. Surely he told you this already.”

“Did Warden Hanson tell you who he thought was paying the bribes?”

She sighed. “I overheard him talking on the phone. The name was unusual. I can’t quite recall. Farrah, or something. A woman.”

“Farrentina?”

“That’s it.”

Farrentina Hamilton was bribing guards. And the warden knew about it. Interesting. A vision of Warden Hanson’s Armani suit and French cuffs filled Trent’s mind’s eye. As the wife of millionaire Wingate Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton had more than enough money to pay the warden for his silence.

“Well, thank you for your help, Mrs. Hanson. I’ll speak with your husband another time.”

“Fine. Good.” She twisted a shank of her long brown hair in her fingers.

“I’ll have the Lake Loyal Police Department check on you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“There are many bad people out here.”

“Fine. They won’t have to come in, will they?”

“I’ll ask them to simply drive by.”

“Oh. I suppose that will be okay. Good night.” She abruptly turned away and scampered for the house.

As the woman closed the door behind her, Risa turned to look at him. “It’s so sad.”

He pulled himself from tangled thoughts of Warden Hanson and Farrentina Hamilton. He wasn’t following. “What’s sad?”

She gestured to the house, locked tight and shuttered behind the security fence. “Mrs. Hanson. The poor woman. It’s as if she’s using gates and locks to shut out everything from her life. And all she has left is shadows and fear.”

“Maybe it’s the only way she can do what she needs to do. The only way she can survive.”

“Then surviving is all she’s doing. Because she isn’t living. Not that way.”

Trent’s chest ached with each beat of his heart. A life infested with evil wasn’t truly living. It was only survival. The meanest, basest kind. Rees didn’t know how right she was.

And if he had anything to say about it, she never would.

Risa

“Ready?”

Risa nodded to Trent. Keeping her eyes locked on the brick mansion jutting out of the thick bank of trees ahead, she stifled a shiver. The house was beautiful, to be sure. The oldest and grandest home in the area by far. But there was something about it. Something that felt dark, foreboding. Like one of those gothic mansions in horror movies.

Or maybe that was more about Farrentina Hamilton’s ties to Ed Dryden.

What kind of a woman was she? One who married a multimillionaire and yet sent erotic photos of herself to a serial killer. One who might be able to give Risa insight into Ed Dryden she hadn’t yet contemplated.

Deputies watching the Hamilton mansion hadn’t seen any sign of Dryden or Nikki, but that didn’t mean the woman inside hadn’t made contact. Or helped him escape. Or knew where he was now.

They continued up the cobblestone driveway to the entrance. Reaching the stoop, Trent pressed the doorbell. A cascade of chimes echoed through the house.

“Creepy,” he said.

“Creepy? Is that a professional assessment?”

“As a matter of fact…”

“Let me take the lead, Trent.”

“Don’t trust me? I promise not to use the word creepy. Much.”

Risa couldn’t suppress a little smile. “I trust you.”

“Professional curiosity?”

“That or professional challenge. I’ll let you know.”

“Damn.” He grinned. “And I forgot to make popcorn.”

After a minute, the light over their heads blinked on, and Farrentina herself pulled open the massive door.

She looked older than she did in the pictures. Lines fanned the corners of her eyes and creased the edges of her mouth. But the woman was still beautiful in a well-kept way. Probably had weekly facials and pedicures.

Risa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a pedicure.

Trent identified himself. He was about to introduce Risa when Farrentina interrupted.

“I know. The sister-in-law. How fucking lucky am I?” Her voice was soft, breathy, making her comments sound like swear words on the tongue of a child.

“You’ve been talking to Ed Dryden?” Risa asked. Trent had said police were keeping an eye on Farrentina, but Risa could imagine Dryden’s eyes watching them all the same.

“Not for a while.”

“You seem to be expecting us.”

“Just getting used to attracting attention lately.”

“From Dryden?”

“From cops. Although talking to a fibbie and a shrink will be more fun than the local flatfoots. And cheaper than seeing my therapist. That bitch overcharges.”

“So are you inviting us in?” Trent asked.

Farrentina waved her hand in the air, the bell sleeve of the red silk robe she wore flapping like a matador’s cape. “Why the hell not? Entertain me.”

She whirled away from them and walked through the gaping foyer, hips swaying, leaving Risa and Trent to show themselves in to the mansion.

And quite a mansion it was.

Cream marble stretched across the floor where it met intricate woodwork. Two stories up, a crystal chandelier dripped clear, sparkling light. Spotless white carpet swept up the grand staircase. The scent of lemon cleaner tinged the air.

Risa followed Trent and the retreating red silk flourish of Farrentina Hamilton through the archway and into an adjoining room. This room was cozier than the foyer. Beautiful Persian rugs covered the floors. Classic artwork hung on the walls. But the straight-backed chairs looked stiff and formal and not like bare-legged, silk-robed Farrentina at all.

“Is Mr. Hamilton home?” Risa asked.

“He travels.”

“A lot?”

She shrugged a shoulder.

“You must miss him.”

Farrentina looked at Risa as if she’d lost her mind. “Absence can be good for a marriage.”

“You must get lonely sometimes, though.”

Farrentina crossed the room to a wet bar and brandished a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka. “Drink?”

Trent shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed on Risa. “You?”

Risa had guided her mother to bed too many times after a bout with the bottle to risk developing a taste for alcohol. Not that she’d drink in this situation anyway. Better to stay sharp. “No, thanks.”

Farrentina screwed up her mouth in a disdainful expression, reached for a tumbler, and glugged vodka into it. “Well, if I’m going to wade through tedious questions all over again, I’m going to have a drink in my hand.”

After filling the glass nearly to the brim with straight booze, Farrentina crossed to a chair and sank into it. “You two going to sit or just stand there?”

Trent selected a chair facing the entrance of the room. Risa took a chair closer to Farrentina.

Eyeing them both, Farrentina raised her glass to her lips and took several unflinching gulps. Her hand trembled slightly as she drank.

Nervousness? Or coming off a bender? Hard to say.

“Do you enjoy living alone?”

“You want to know about my relationship with Ed, right? If I’m not as alone as I seem?” Farrentina smiled. “If I’ve seen him? If I know where he might be? If I know whether or not he has his little wife with him? Am I on the right track?”

Neither Risa nor Trent answered.

“Well, I don’t know where he is. And I assume the whiny little bitch is with him, from what the police have told me.”

“You don’t like Nikki?” Risa asked.

“Why should I?”

“Have you ever met my sister?”

“What is this? Big sister coming to that little twit’s defense? What a joke.”

“Why is that a joke?”

“Because you don’t care about her.”

“Is that the way it was in your family?”

“Yes.”

“Your siblings didn’t care about you?”

“I didn’t care about them. Besides, Ed said you only started giving a shit about your sister when she married him.”

Risa tried her best to keep her expression neutral. She hoped Nikki didn’t feel that way, but she suspected her little sister did. “When did Ed tell you this?”

“What does it matter?”

“Have you seen him since he escaped?”

“I said I haven’t, didn’t I?”

“I don’t think you answered the question.”

“Then no, I haven’t.”

“Then when did he tell you about Nikki and me?”

“Sometime when I visited. I don’t remember.”

“You visited him a lot, according to the visitor’s log.”

“I suppose. He wanted me there all the time. Couldn’t get enough of me. But I’m kind of used to that with men.”

Farrentina shifted forward in her chair. Her robe gaped open just enough to give Trent a clear view of one naked breast.

“Did you smuggle pornography to Ed in prison?” Risa asked.

Farrentina glanced from Trent to Risa and back again. “Is that a crime?”

“Not something the FBI would be concerned about,” Trent said.

“Then what of it?”

“Did you buy him favors with the guards? More time outside his cell? Extra television privileges?”

“What do you care?”

Risa watched Farrentina’s blood red nails clutching the glass. While she was shameless about using sex to try to manipulate men, she seemed to not have a clue how to deal with Risa.

“Who did you pay off?” Risa asked.

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Because someone helped Dryden escape, and if you can’t give us names of people who were helping him, Trent might have to investigate you.”

“Every time you assume…” Farrentina forced a laugh. “You can’t prove I did anything.”

“We’ll see what I can prove after you’re thoroughly investigated,” Trent said.

Farrentina let out a put-upon sigh. She adjusted her robe, covering herself. “God, you’re a stick in the damn mud.”

“Names, Mrs. Hamilton,” Trent said.

“I don’t remember their names.”

Trent held out a slip of paper. From where Risa was sitting, she could make out a list of names. “Which ones?”

Farrentina skimmed the list. “Caldwell, Franklin and Bollinger.”

“Only those three?”

“They were expensive enough. Wingate has me on an allowance, for God’s sake.”

Risa never believed Gordy would help Dryden. He hated the killer through and through. But she was still relieved to know she was right.

“You and that Detective Cassidy should have shared information. He seemed to know every move I made in the last year and who I made them with.”

Risa glanced at Trent.

Trent wiped the flash of surprise from his face and narrowed his eyes on Farrentina. “Cassidy knew all about this?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Where did he get his information?”

“I didn’t tell him. And I doubt the guards I paid were broadcasting it either.” Farrentina tried to pull off a casual shrug, but the gesture was tight and self-conscious. “The only other person who knew was Ed.”

Trent angled his head to the side. “Did Dryden ever mention Detective Cassidy to you?”

“Why would Ed know the local cops? It’s not like he’s from around here.” Farrentina’s gaze landed on Risa. “Of course, Ed could have told your sister.”

“Nikki isn’t involved in this.” But even as the words left Risa’s lips, she realized how ridiculous they were.

“Maybe your sister helped him escape. The good little wife and all that.”

Risa wanted to say Nikki would never do that. She wanted to say Nikki wasn’t anything like Farrentina. But of course, she couldn’t.

And that gave her an idea. “You care about Ed,” Risa said.

“Give the shrink a prize.”

“You love him.”

“Love is a strong word.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Listen, I didn’t help him escape. But he didn’t belong in that place. It was all his first wife’s fault, you know. She drove him to do the things he did. It’s not fair. Ed shouldn’t have to pay his entire life for the grief she caused him.”

Risa gave her an understanding nod. Farrentina had bought all of Dryden’s rationalizations. Just as Nikki had.

“How did you feel when Dryden married Nikki instead of you?” Risa asked.

Farrentina took a long sip of vodka.

Then another.

“Ed and I have a special bond. Something much stronger than a white dress and a piece of paper from the state.”

Risa raised her eyebrows. “And what might that special bond be?”

“Chemistry.”

A smile twisted Farrentina’s mouth, but under the bravado, Risa could sense vulnerability. It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for the woman. Almost.

“Judging from all the letters we saw in his cell, he shares chemistry with a lot of women.”

“I’m special to him,” Farrentina half whispered. “I am.”

Risa averted her gaze. She didn’t want to know the woman had a heart under that facade. A heart that could be wounded. She wanted her to be belligerent, powerful, and every bit as evil as Dryden. Not a poor injured bird like Nikki.

“What’s wrong with you, honey?” Farrentina said, her voice louder this time. “Jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Ed said you had a thing for him.”

If wanting to study him and now stop him qualified as a thing, Risa supposed that was accurate.

“Dryden has a thing for Risa, too,” Trent said. “Isn’t that why he asked you to dye your hair?”

Farrentina’s eyes darted to Risa and then back to Trent.

“He wanted you to look like her. Whenever you visited him, whenever he looked at a photo of you in your red lingerie, he pretended you were her.”

“Ed loves me.”

Trent leaned toward her. “No, you are a stand-in. A stand-in for Risa.”

“It’s true, Farrentina. Stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

Farrentina threw back the rest of her vodka. “You’re full of shit. He despises you and your pathetic sister. He laughs at you. And if the damn police weren’t crawling all over my property, he wouldn’t waste his time. All he would need is me. All he would ever need is me.”

Risa closed her eyes. She didn’t know what twisted road had led Farrentina to Dryden, but she could bet it was a sad one, littered with abuse and neglect.

The same road Risa had left Nikki to travel alone so many years ago.

“Get out. The two of you. I have nothing more to say.”

Trent nodded to Risa, and they both stood and made their way back to the grand foyer and out into the summer night.

Trent broke the silence. “What are you thinking?”

Risa was thinking many things, so many things. But one was more pressing than the rest. One might lead them to Dryden and Nikki. “I’m wondering if Farrentina is right. If the police weren’t crawling all over…”

Trent nodded. “Maybe Dryden would pay Farrentina a visit.”

Nikki

Nikki never thought she would get emotional when she heard her sister’s voice, but even through the pocket door joining the living room with the walk-through pantry, Risa’s calm tones made her throat feel thick, and an empty ache seated itself in her chest.

Nikki hadn’t wanted to come here, to this museum of a house. She’d thought they were going to die when Eddie sneaked her in through a tunnel running from a carriage house filled with fancy cars to the creepy basement wine cellar, right under the nose of police. But the worst part had been meeting the woman Eddie had assured her she would like.

Nikki hated Farrentina Hamilton, and she was pretty sure the witch hated her back. Farrentina treated her like a little girl, and she acted like Eddie belonged to her. Insulting. Demeaning. Constantly pointing out that he loved her best.

And then Risa had arrived and had done the same thing. She and Trent. Saying Eddie really loved Risa. That both Farrentina in her red silk robe and Nikki in her sister’s red silk blouse were stand-ins for Risa. That Risa was the real thing.

And Eddie had listened.

And Eddie had smiled.

Nikki wanted to ask him if it was true. Maybe she would once she got up the nerve. But right now she was scared he’d agree with Risa or Farrentina or both.

So Nikki didn’t ask.

“Okay, they’re gone,” Farrentina said, walking back into the room and throwing open the pocket door.

“That was fun,” Eddie said.

Farrentina’s penciled eyebrows shot up. “Fun?”

“It’s not every day I get to be in the same room with three women fighting over me.”

“She’s a lying bitch,” Farrentina said.

Nikki wanted to agree, but she didn’t have the nerve to push it.

“And Burnell. Thinks he’s so smart. He doesn’t know shit.”

Eddie chuckled. “About some things, he might.”

Farrentina jerked her head back, as if she just smelled something bad. “What does he know? Not that you have a thing for the shrink.”

“Now don’t be selfish.”

“Selfish? Me? I’m not selfish at all.” Farrentina untied her robe and started rubbing up against Nikki’s husband. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“Stop,” Nikki said.

Eddie pushed the slut away. “Not here.”

Nikki shot Farrentina a fake smile. Eddie hadn’t told the bitch no exactly, but at least it was something.

“Then where?”

“I have a place.”

“The one you told me about?” Nikki asked, liking that she knew what Eddie was talking about, and Farrentina didn’t seem to have a clue.

“Yes. It’ll give us the privacy we need to sort this all out.”

Trent

Trent paced the length of his hotel room and tried to ignore the hiss of the shower behind the closed bathroom door. He’d reported his progress to Subera as soon as he and Rees had returned. They’d decided asking Farrentina’s police guard to fall back to give Dryden a chance to reach her was worth pursuing. But when they checked in with the deputies, they found Farrentina was gone, and none of them had a clue how she’d gotten out unseen until they found the tunnel running under the tennis court, connecting the house to the old carriage house.

If she caught up with Dryden, they might be looking at two victims on their hands, and who knew how many more to come.

Trent shoved the thought of Nikki as victim out of his mind and forced himself to sit at the scarred desk and thumb through copies of the reports on Nikki’s car and Risa’s house that had been delivered to the hotel room. Tomorrow he would confront Cassidy, follow up on the three guards Farrentina had paid off, and finally catch up with Warden Hanson.

And even with a killer on the loose, an unknown person who had helped that killer, and a mind-boggling amount of work to do, he still couldn’t manage to keep his thoughts off the sounds coming from behind that bathroom door.

He should have known better than to insist Rees stay in his hotel room tonight. But every time he’d convinced himself to call the front desk and get her another room, thoughts of Dryden’s past “artwork” invaded his mind, and he couldn’t bear the idea of her even one door away.

The hiss of the shower stopped. A rustle filtered through the paper-thin door, undoubtedly the curtain sliding open. The soft flap of a bath towel followed.

Picturing terry cloth moving over bare skin, Trent almost groaned out loud. Having her in his room all night—close enough to hear her breathing, smell her scent, see her hair fanned out over the pillow as she slept—was going to be sheer torture. But if he wanted to protect her, if he wanted any semblance of peace of mind, he had no other choice.

He grabbed a pillow and an extra blanket from the closet shelf and threw them into one of the armchairs. Not the choicest sleeping arrangement, but it would have to do. Sleeping in the same bed with Rees was not an option.

He had just placed his Glock 9mm and his cell phone on the table within easy reach of the armchair when another sound rose from behind the door. A soft mew followed by silence.

The sound of crying.

Before he could stop himself, he was standing at the bathroom door, hand raised to knock.

Another soft mew drifted through the barrier.

Trent stilled his fist in midair. What did he think he was going to do? Ride into the bathroom like a white knight? Gather her in his arms? Kiss her tears away?

He’d already established he was no hero. He couldn’t take her hurt away. He wasn’t the man to comfort her. He had only to remember what happened this morning in this very hotel room to know that. The flavor of her lips. The heat of her naked skin pressed to his. The wounded look in her eyes when he finally regained his senses and brought himself under control.

He let his fist fall to his side. The only way he knew to comfort her was to take her in his arms. And once her body molded to his, he didn’t know if he could stop himself again.

Even if he could, he would only end up hurting her more.

Trent leaned his forehead against the door frame and listened, soaking up her pain, her frustration. Letting it swirl around inside him and mix with his own.

Slowly the silence lengthened and her sobs grew farther apart. He forced himself to push away from the door and move to the other side of the room. A few long minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Risa padded into the room.

She peered at him with red-rimmed eyes. Her flannel nightshirt fell halfway down her slim thighs, its boxy cut making her look all the more fragile. Strands of dark hair stuck to her cheeks.

His fingers itched to smooth her hair back, but he forced his hands to remain riveted to his sides. “Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes wide, as if to keep drops from spilling down her cheeks.

He bit his tongue. What a damn fool thing to say. Of course she wasn’t all right. And she wouldn’t be all right. Not until he found Dryden. Not until he brought Nikki back to her, safe and sound. Not until he cleared out of her life and let her heal. “I’m sorry, Rees.”

She swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold. “Me, too. About everything. Us. Dryden. Nikki. Farrentina.”

“Farrentina?”

Risa’s chin trembled, but she didn’t allow a single tear to fall. “She’s so much like Nikki. So needy. So damaged. I can’t help but wonder if Farrentina had a big sister who abandoned her. A sister who could have made a difference but didn’t.”

He ached to take Rees in his arms, to soothe her guilt. Guilt Rees dredged up every time Nikki made a bad decision, every time she engaged in risky behavior. “You were only a kid, Rees.”

“I was twelve years old.”

“Exactly. And you were living in an intolerable situation. Moving in with your father was self-preservation. You can’t beat yourself up for that.”

“I knew what it was like in that trailer, what her life would be like if I left. But I got out anyway. I left her behind.” She shook her head, a shiver claiming her body. “Nikki had no one.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“She blames me.”

“I know.”

“She was so hungry for love. She was an easy mark.”

“There’s no way a twelve-year-old child should be expected to fill the roles of mother and father. You know that as well as I do.”

“I could have taken her in once I was settled, sent her to a good high school. She wouldn’t have had to rely on her dad.”

Trent had never met Nikki’s father, but he’d seen the damage the man had done to Nikki. At eighteen and just out of high school, Nikki seemed to be convinced the only value she had to men was sex. All Dryden had had to do was show a little interest in her as a person, whisper a few romantic words, and Nikki would soak it up like a drought-plagued farm field.

She didn’t stand a chance.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Risa.”

“How can I not be?”

“If this had happened to someone besides yourself, what advice would you give?”

She looked down at her folded arms. “Nice trick, but it didn’t just happen to me. I caused it. I just wish I could make it right.”

“You’ve always wanted to make everything right.”

“Something wrong with that?”

“Sometimes you can’t fix things. Sometimes things can never be right again.”

Risa peered at him, eyes moist. But she didn’t cry. And somewhere, beneath the tears, beneath the pain, he saw the glimmer of light in her eyes. A light that had gone out in his own eyes long ago. “I can’t believe that, Trent. I can never let myself believe that.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lids with his fingertips. Of course she couldn’t. Not Rees. That was what made her who she was.

Opening his eyes, he studied her. So vulnerable, so frail, yet underneath, strong as steel. Another shiver racked her body.

Trent couldn’t stand to see her like this. He couldn’t be with her, couldn’t love her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t offer comfort.

He crossed to the bed and pulled back the blanket and sheet. Guiding her down to the mattress, he tucked her feet under the covers and rested her head back on the pillow. Taking a fortifying breath, he crawled into bed beside her, pulling the blankets up over them both.

“Better?”

“Thanks, Trent. I just…”

“You don’t have to explain.”

She needed him. And if that meant holding her until she slipped into blessed unconsciousness, until she forgot her pain and worry and fear for a few short hours, he would do it.

Rolling to her side, she snuggled back against him, fitting into the curl of his body like the missing piece of a puzzle.

Pain sharp and hot pierced his chest and ripped its way downward to his groin. Pain he couldn’t stem. Pain he deserved.

He closed his eyes and listened to the ragged rhythm of her breathing slowly even out. In and out. In and out. He imagined the peace of sleep softening the worry in her face, soothing the regrets torturing her mind.

If only she’d let past feelings between them lie. Let them stay in the ground and decompose until the passing of time took all the pain, all the agony from them. Until nothing was left but dust.

But she hadn’t.

And moreover, he hadn’t.

And now once again the brilliant light of who she was and how she made him feel pierced the darkness of reality. Beckoned him. Tempted him. Tortured him.

He wanted to feel that light. To capture it. But if he reached out to take what she offered, his obsession with his job and the darkness that followed him home would eventually defile and destroy that very thing that made her who she was.

And he could never allow that to happen.

Nikki

Eddie hadn’t been kidding when he’d said this place was private. They’d driven for a long time, following winding country roads, before they’d reached an old farm gate. Eddie broke the lock, and they’d driven through forest, this time on a dirt road. Finally the trees gave way to a river, and the tiniest cabin Nikki had ever seen.

“This is your place?” Farrentina asked, climbing out of the car. “What a dump.”

“I said it was private. Not fancy.”

“It has a fucking outhouse.”

“I think it’s cute,” Nikki said, even though she actually agreed with Farrentina’s assessment. She waited for Eddie to give her a smile, a look—something—but it never came.

“Is it not good enough for you, Farrentina?” Eddie asked.

“Of course, it’s not good enough.” She draped herself on him again. “But I don’t care where I am, as long as I’m with you.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

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

“I know,” Farrentina said in that breathless voice.

Nikki felt sick.

The cabin was raised from the ground on blocks, and they had to walk up steps to reach the door. The inside was shabbier than the outside and smelled like mildew and dirty socks. A kitchen occupied one corner, about as big as the one in the trailer where Nikki grew up. A small table, two chairs and an old couch took up most of the rest of the space. A rack of fishing poles lined one wall, stuffed fish and shadow box displays of colorful lures covered the other three.

Farrentina studied the place, an unattractive frown on her face. “So what are we going to do?”

“Go fishing.”

“You’re kidding.”

Eddie plucked one of the fishing poles off the rack. “Hunting, fishing, it’s all the same, isn’t it? All a contest between man and beast.”

Nikki studied the floor. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she didn’t like it. Not the idea of sharing her husband with Farrentina. Not the tone of Eddie’s voice now.

He let the line swing free. A colorful lure weighted the end. Yellow and orange with three hooks protruding from the bottom. “So Farrentina, you think I should choose you.”

“No question,” Farrentina said.

“And Nikki?”

“You’re my husband. I love you.” Her voice came out too quiet, too thin, and she wished she could take it back and yell out her love for him. Why was he doing this? After all they had, why was he interested in Farrentina at all?

“Like fish fighting over a lure.” He swung the pole in front of them, the lure’s sharp hooks barely missing Nikki’s face.

“Eddie, I don’t like this.”

As soon as he turned his angry stare on her, Nikki knew she had made a mistake. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t want to play, Nikki?”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Maybe I should just choose Farrentina right now.”

“Please, Eddie. I’m sorry. I was just…”

He swung the fishing line close again, the lure hitting her arm. For a second, one of the barbs stuck in her skin, then he pulled back on the line, and it fell away.

“I’ll bite, Ed.” Farrentina caught the line. She snagged one of the hooks on her robe.

Eddie gave Nikki one more pointed look, then smiled at Farrentina and started reeling. As the line grew taught, Farrentina untied the robe’s belt and let Eddie pull it off her. She stood in front of him completely nude.

Nikki looked at the floor. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back. When she looked up, Farrentina was snuggling up to Eddie, and his hands were on her, and she was unzipping his fly.

Nikki’s husband.

Nikki’s.

“Wait,” Nikki said, surprising even herself.

Eddie smiled. “You want to get caught, Nikki?”

“Yes.”

To Nikki’s relief, Eddie pushed Farrentina away, his attention all on Nikki now. He swung the fishing pole toward her, the robe still on the hook.

Nikki caught the line, ripped the silk free, and let if fall to the floor. She could feel Eddie watching her, waiting for her to do something bigger, better than Farrentina. Something that proved how much she loved him, how much she wanted to win.

Nikki’s fingers trembled, fumbled, and the fish hook dropped to the linoleum.

Farrentina laughed. “Good job, dumb ass.”

Eddie said nothing.

He didn’t have to. Nikki could feel his disappointment. Tears broke free and trickled down her cheeks.

“So can we just leave her here, Ed? Why are we wasting any more of our time?”

“Is that what you want, Nikki? For me to leave you here?”

His voice was so quiet, so sad, that Nikki almost went to him. But holding him wouldn’t be enough. She knew that now. Saying the words wouldn’t make him believe. She had to prove herself.

Nikki bent down and picked up the lure. She brought the hook to her mouth. Then, taking a deep breath, she drove the sharp point through the inside of her lip until the barb pieced through and caught on the outside.

Blood flooded her mouth and dribbled down her chin. Her lip felt cold at first, then the sting came, the throbbing pain. But she hardly noticed any of it, not when she looked into Eddie’s eyes, and he smiled at her.

“We have a winner. And now I collect my prize.”

Trent

Trent hadn’t even realized he’d slipped into sleep when the bleat of the cell phone pierced the air like a rending scream. He lurched from the bed and groped the dark with splayed fingers until his hand closed over cold plastic.

In the middle of the big bed, Rees sat straight up, the whites of her eyes visible in the dark room.

Phone calls in the middle of the night were never good. And he had a horrible feeling this one would be worse than most. Taking a bracing breath, he flipped the phone open and lifted it to his ear. “Burnell.”

“Trent? Subera. We have a body. A woman. I need you to meet me at the scene.”

His gaze found Rees’s and latched on.

“Who?” he said into the phone.

“No ID on her yet. The body was just discovered. I got the call myself less than a minute ago.”

“Where is she?”

“That’s the interesting part. Here the local cops have been driving by every half hour all night, and he laid her out right there in plain sight. I don’t know how the hell he got in and out of there without being spotted.”

Alarm blared in Trent’s ears. “Where the hell is she?”

“On the front porch of Risa Madsen’s house.”

Risa

Night pressed in on the shadowed interior of Trent’s rental car like a suffocating pall. Risa gasped for breath. Her pulse throbbed in her ears.

Nikki.

Trent hadn’t wanted to bring her with him. It had just about killed him to allow her to climb into the passenger seat, she knew. But she had to go. She had to see for herself. She had to know. And in the end, Trent wasn’t willing to leave her alone. So here she was, speeding past the darkened windows of familiar houses on her way to a crime scene. A murder scene. Her own house.

Nikki.

Trent swung onto her street and slowed to a crawl. A haze of humidity hung in the air, pulsing with the red and blue light of a half-dozen police cars. A cruiser blocked off either end of the street. Trent brought the car to a halt and flashed his identification before the uniforms waved them through.

Yellow tape draped from pickets ringing the perimeter of Risa’s property. The house’s empty windows reflected the throbbing red and blue light, and bright spotlights illuminated the driveway, the sidewalk, the porch.

Nikki.

Risa couldn’t see the body from the interior of the car, but she knew it was there. Detectives and crime-scene technicians hovered around the front steps and small porch. A camera flash exploded as a police photographer snapped crime-scene photos.

Trent brought the car to a halt and reached for the door handle. “Stay in the car. I’ll be right back.”

She heard the tone of his voice, but his words seemed to bounce off her, an unintelligible jumble of sounds.

“Did you hear me, Rees? Stay here. I’ll come back and get you.”

She managed a nod.

He stared at her a long time, as if trying to look into her mind, to understand what she was thinking, feel what she was feeling. Finally he reached toward her and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek with tender fingertips. “Hang in there, Rees. It might not be her.”

“And if it is?” her voice croaked, foreign to her own ears.

“We’ll make it through. We’ll survive. You’ll survive.”

“And Nikki won’t. Just like when we were kids.”

“Risa…”

“Go.”