Evidence of Marriage

by Ann Voss Peterson

  God help her, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to grab onto his words and hold them close to her heart. But she knew it wasn’t that easy. Things were never that easy. “You promised to be straight with me, not to smooth things over.”

  “Okay then, it might not be fine. But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. Better?” Giving her arm a light pat, he spun around and climbed from the car.

  Better? Hardly. But at least her eyes were wide open. At least she was seeing everything in front of her, facing everything she needed to face.

  She retrieved a file of missing-person reports Reed had allowed her to take from the district office and climbed out of the car. They crossed the lobby and caught an elevator. Once inside, Diana leaned against the mirrored wall, fatigue descending into her body and hissing through her mind.

  It would feel good to be alone for a few hours. Quiet. Safe. After suffering through the jangle of activity at the district office for hour upon hour, Diana could hardly think. She had no idea how Reed could force himself to go back there and work through the night, but she had no doubt that was his plan.

  Nadine was still out there, and time was ticking away.

  The elevator opened and she followed Reed into the vacant hall.

  “Damn.” Reed checked his watch. “It’s after midnight. There should be an officer waiting here.”

  “He’s only a little late.” She probably should have stayed at the City County Building after all. Reed couldn’t afford to waste his precious time babysitting her. He needed to get back to work. He needed to find Nadine. “I can stay alone for a little while. It isn’t as if the door doesn’t lock.”

  “You’re not staying alone.” He flipped open his phone and punched in a number.

  Diana tamped down a spike of frustration. Reed had lived up to their bargain today. He hadn’t hovered. He’d let her help with the case. He’d even been straight with her when she’d prodded. She hadn’t believed he’d be able to keep up his end, but he had for the most part. If he insisted an officer stay outside her door, she could go along with that. If she were honest with herself, after Kane’s harsh words about discipline this morning, she didn’t exactly want to be alone.

  She fished her key card from her purse and swiped it through the lock. Light flashing green, she turned the door’s handle. “We might as well wait inside.” She pushed the door open.

  The sickly sweet smell of death and decay hit her like a blanket. Choking her. Gagging her. Bringing her to her knees.

  Chapter Ten

  Reed grasped Diana’s arm, holding her, keeping her on her feet. He didn’t have to check the body to see if she was still alive. Splayed naked on the bedspread, Nadine Washburn was killed in the same manner as Kane and the copycat’s previous victims. Blond hair streaked with blood tangled around a pale face and dull eyes stared up at the ceiling, frozen in horror.

  Anger worked up Reed’s throat, as bitter as bile.

  He scanned the flowered spread, the carpet, the furniture, making quick mental notes of each smudge of blood or piece of lint that might be out of place.

  “My punishment,” Diana said, her voice barely a whisper. She clutched the file of missing persons forms to her chest, hugging it like a doll.

  Reed slipped his arm more securely around her and pulled her trembling body tight to his side. He wanted to whisk her away, convince her this had nothing to do with her, convince himself. But obviously that would be impossible.

  Out in the hall, the elevator swooshed open. Reed released Diana, turning in time to see Officer Drummond tromping down the hall.

  He joined them in the doorway. “Sorry I’m late, Detective. I got hung up on State Street. I had to babysit a drunk frat kid puking in the gutter. Real nice. I bet his parents would be proud.” He glanced past them and into the room. His mouth dropped open. “Holy cow.”

  Reed released Diana. Once he was certain she could stand under her own power, he turned to give the young officer a glare. He would address his tardiness later. Right now he needed the kid to focus strictly on the job. “I want you to call it in, then set up an outer perimeter. No one leaves this hotel without being interviewed, especially all employees. And I want this floor, the laundry, the kitchen and anywhere else he might have gained access to the hotel and the key to this room sealed. And I need a master key to the rooms on this floor.”

  Drummond nodded his cropped head. He backed from the room. “Will do.”

  “And Drummond?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This is the Copycat Killer’s work. Speed is of the essence. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

  “Sure thing.” He gave a military nod. Spinning on a heel, the young cop raced for the elevator.

  Reed turned back to Diana. She’d inched farther into the room while he’d been talking to Drummond. Eyes glazed and sunken, she stared at the body as if in a trance.

  He’d seen that vacant look in victims’ eyes before. The look of shock. Of course, in the past two days, Diana hadn’t merely suffered one shock, she’d suffered many. He could only hope that after all she’d been through, her body didn’t pick this moment to allow the stress to come crashing down on her. “Come on, Di. I need to get you out of here.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder and guided her away from the body and toward the hall.

  Suddenly she stopped, grasping the doorjamb as if desperate to prevent him from ushering her from the room. “No, wait…”

  “You can’t do anything here, Diana.”

  “I know. I just…”

  She wasn’t thinking. She probably wasn’t even feeling. She was just resisting his arm around her. Resisting his concern. Resisting him.

  He shook off the sting. It didn’t matter. Not now. He needed to make sure she was okay. As okay as she possibly could be. And letting her stare at Nadine Washburn’s body even another second wouldn’t help. “This is a crime scene. I need to preserve whatever he might have left behind. I can’t have you contaminating possible evidence.”

  She released the door frame and held her hand to her forehead. “I never thought of that. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re in shock. Disoriented. It’s okay.” He guided her into the hall.

  She shook her head. “It’s not okay, Reed. He said he would discipline me. He said the next time he saw me, he wanted me on my knees. I should have seen something like this coming. I kind of felt it, but—”

  “There was nothing you could have done.”

  She looked up at him, desperation gleaming in her eyes. “She died because of me.”

  “No, she didn’t.” At least he could relieve that burden from her shoulders.

  “She did. He said he would punish me for talking to Trent Burnell. He killed her to punish me.”

  “I don’t care what he said. She didn’t die because of what happened in your visit with Kane.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Did you notice how her body was lying flat to the bed? The way her muscles looked relaxed, as if she was asleep?”

  “Yeah…”

  “A body’s muscles start to become rigid a couple hours after death.”

  She nodded, as if she was following, understanding. “Rigor mortis.”

  “Right.” He let out a relieved breath. She was following. Thinking. Maybe the shock wasn’t too much for her. Maybe she would be okay. “I can’t be certain, not until the body’s examined. But it looks to me as if the rigor is already relaxing. And judging by the smell, she didn’t die within the last two hours.”

  “So when did she die?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but depending on conditions, I’d guess her time of death to be sometime last night.”

  “That means she was already dead. When Kane said those things, she’d been dead for hours.”

  “I’m guessing your punishment was finding her in your bed. Unless he planned that all along, too.”

  She still looked pale, her eyes troubled. But there was a strength in the way she held her spine
he’d never noticed before. Upright. Straight. As if she was preparing herself to meet head-on whatever might hit her next. She met his eyes and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Just being honest with me, explaining things. Instead of trying to sweep me away and fix everything.”

  He swallowed hard, his throat aching all the way down to his gut. He’d wanted to do exactly what she’d said. He’d wanted to shelter her, take care of her. He’d been trying to do just that when she’d grabbed the edge of the door, when she’d prevented him from whisking her from the room. He felt like a fraud accepting credit he didn’t deserve.

  But he nodded anyway.

  Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, he gestured to a small seating area halfway down the hall. “Why don’t you wait down there? When Drummond sends up the master key, I’ll open a room for you. You can lie down, get some rest.”

  She nodded. “Right. You have a job to do.”

  Yes, a job. He thought of Nadine Washburn’s mutilated body and the shadow of a wavy-soled footprint he thought he’d spotted on the carpet near the bed. It would be another long night.

  She’d just taken a step when the bleat of a cell phone cut the air.

  Reed pushed his suit coat to the side and glanced at the phone on his belt. “Not mine.”

  Diana balanced the thick file in one arm while she fished her phone from her purse. Flipping it open, she held it to her ear, her hand visibly shaky. “Hello?” Her eyes grew wide and shot to Reed’s face.

  Another shot of adrenaline slammed into his bloodstream. “What is it?”

  “Are you sure?” What little blood still colored Diana’s cheeks drained. “Okay. I’ll let you talk to Reed.”

  She pulled the phone from her ear and held it out to him. “It’s Sylvie. She and Bryce are on their way back.”

  “On their way back?”

  “They’ve found our brother. And he lives in the Madison area.”

  He took the phone from her hand. The current location of Diana’s half brother wasn’t wasted on him. And judging from the tone of her voice, it wasn’t wasted on Diana either. The killer who had struck tonight, the man revisiting Kane’s sick fantasies, might be Diana’s own blood.

  The son of Dryden Kane.

  Chapter Eleven

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

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

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

  Diana Gale.

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

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

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

  She would belong to him.

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

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

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

  And then he’d focus on Diana Gale.

  Chapter Twelve

  “His name is Cordell Turner.”

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

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

  The thought made her feel sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “We have a word with him,” Reed said.

  “We?”

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

  “You think I might have seen him before?”

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

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

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

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

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

  She nodded. Of course, that went wi
thout saying. “That’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “Then what is?”

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

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

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

  Reed nodded thoughtfully.

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

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

  “It seems like something he might do.”

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

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

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

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