Evidence of Marriage

by Ann Voss Peterson

She turned away, toward the window. The drapes’ multiple colors blurred through burgeoning tears. Tilting her head back, she opened her eyes wide and tried to will them back. She wouldn’t let herself cry. She couldn’t. She’d already poured out too much.

  “Okay.” His voice cut her thoughts like a laser.

  “Okay?”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Swallowing into an aching throat, she turned back to face him, trying to read those shadowed eyes.

  “I meant what I said about not losing you to Kane. I’m not going to stay away from you. But if I can do anything short of that…”

  The breath she pulled into her lungs seared all the way to her toes. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, to do. But she hadn’t expected this. “Thank you.”

  He raked a hand through his hair before dropping it to his side. He looked around the room, as if he didn’t know what to do next, as if he didn’t even recognize where he was. “You’re going to have to help me here. You’re going to have to tell me what you need.”

  She willed her voice to function. “You can let me do more than make coffee. Let me help with the investigation. At least as much as I’m able.”

  He nodded.

  “You can stop shielding me from unpleasant things. I need to know what we’re up against.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you can stop worrying about me.”

  “I can’t promise you that.”

  “Maybe that’s a little too much to ask.” She gave him a half smile. “But have some faith in me, okay?”

  He stepped toward her. The light from the lamp illuminated his face, showing eyes dark with emotion, with sincerity. “That’s something I can promise.”

  Diana’s vision blurred once again. Those words shouldn’t mean so much to her. They couldn’t. But somehow, despite everything, they meant the world.

  Chapter Seven

  The moonlight glowed blue on her naked white skin as she ran across the clearing. It was a good light for her. Hid the cellulite and the stretch marks. Smoothed over her hips. It even made her breasts look, if not perky, at least not so saggy.

  He raised the rifle to his shoulder and lined her up in the sights. He’d played with the first three. Toyed with them. Stalked them. He didn’t feel like playing this time.

  Maybe it was because he’d waited so long. The fantasies had burned inside him like a hunger until all that mattered was filling his belly. Maybe it was because she was older, and the dreams of killing his mother, exciting at first, left him limp in the end. Maybe it was because she’d laughed at him.

  But whatever the reason, this one had been a disappointment.

  She raced for the brush. He had to admit, her fear gave him a charge. And standing here, resting his finger on the trigger, he was as hard as a tree branch.

  Look who was laughing now.

  He squeezed the trigger. The air cracked. The rifle kicked sweetly against his shoulder. He watched her lurch and fall as the perfume of gunpowder spiced the air.

  He strode across the clearing toward her. He’d gotten a clean shot. He’d taken out one of her legs, just as he’d been instructed. As he approached, he could hear her thrashing, trying to crawl the rest of the way to the forest’s edge, to safety.

  There was no safety for her.

  He pulled his knife from the sheath on his belt. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, the charge of excitement starting to pulse through his body. He’d follow instructions for the kill, too. Pushing the knife in just under her ribs. Letting her screams wash over him like a refreshing rain. Watching the life drain from her eyes as he pulled the blade down through her belly. Next he would clean her out, warm and sticky on his hands.

  Then he’d wait to find out what he was supposed to do with the body.

  He looked down at the fear shining in her eyes. He listened to the whimper dying on her lips.

  As thrilling as he knew killing her would be, he couldn’t help wishing for more, wanting more. With each of his murders, he’d learned so much. About death and life. About the strength and power in himself. About hunger. But it wasn’t enough. He’d been acting a part, following Dryden Kane’s instructions, playing out Dryden Kane’s fantasies. But now he could feel his own desires building. They pressed against the inside of his skull, until he felt he’d explode with lust.

  There was something he wanted. Something blond and beautiful with light blue eyes and perky breasts. And soon, very soon, he would reach out and pluck it like ripe fruit off a tree. He would bite into her, devour her, and let the juice run sticky down his chin.

  And no one could stop him. Not Reed McCaskey. Not even Dryden Kane.

  Chapter Eight

  By the time Reed, Diana and Nikki reached the north Madison district office, Reed had successfully pushed the emotional turmoil of the night before into a dark closet in the back of his mind. At least he hoped he had. He’d already spent hours dwelling on what Diana had said—time he should have spent focusing one hundred percent on the copycat case and today’s visit to Dryden Kane. By the time he’d finished half of what he’d hoped to accomplish, he’d already run out of time for even a short nap in his cramped and smelly cubicle.

  Oh, well, he could sleep when he was dead.

  Diana had been wrong last night, about a number of things. For one, he did know her. He knew how smart she was, knew the different tones of her laughs, and the way she doted on her sister. He also knew she was as tough as they came. She hadn’t had it easy. Not with her bastard of an adoptive father, not dealing with a mother who, though she was perfectly healthy, was as demanding and weak as an invalid. And after witnessing her pain last night, he knew he loved her more than ever. He just hoped it was enough to enable him to stand back and let her handle things on her own.

  He led Nikki and Diana down a hall and to the conference room he’d asked to have set aside. He glanced at Diana. She looked so determined, marching down the hall, so fresh and young, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans. But the way she’d kept touching the delicate heart necklace she’d gotten from Sylvie revealed just how insecure she felt. About her future and her sister’s.

  He hadn’t told Diana what he’d arranged last night after he’d left her hotel room. He’d hardly had time to tell Nikki. But he figured she’d be pleased. “We have a visitor.” He slowed his stride, allowing her to catch up.

  “A visitor?”

  “Trent Burnell from Quantico.”

  “The FBI agent who profiled Kane?”

  He should have figured she’d know who Burnell was. Judging from the weight of those file boxes he’d hauled to her hotel room last night, she must have compiled everything there was to know about Dryden Kane. And the man who had captured Kane, not once but twice, loomed large in the serial killer’s history. “I got hold of Burnell last night. He was flying to the west coast today to give a lecture, but he agreed to make a pit stop on the way.” Now he hoped Burnell’s plane was on time and an officer had remembered to pick him up from the airport.

  Diana tilted her head to look at him. “He’s here to work the copycat case? I thought he’d retired to teaching a few years back.”

  “He’s here to prepare you to talk to Kane.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “You set this up?”

  “Last night. I know it’s hard to believe, but I meant what I said. I aim to keep those promises.”

  A smile toyed with the corners of her lips. The most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

  He caught himself before he started grinning like an ass. Turning the corner, he gave the conference-room door a rap with his knuckles, pushed it open and focused his attention on Trent Burnell.

  Sitting at the conference table amid papers strewn over the desk, Burnell narrowed sharp gray eyes on a small television and DVD player perched high on an AV cart. A recording of Sylvie’s visit with Kane from the previous fall flickered on the screen. He glanced up from his scribbled notes and gave the three of
them a businesslike nod.

  After all Burnell had done in his career, not only bringing Kane to justice twice, but in the advancement of profiling in the criminal justice system, Reed had expected to be impressed when meeting the man behind the legend. He wasn’t disappointed. Although silver was beginning to thread through his dark hair, Burnell looked younger than his years. His sharp features held bright gray eyes that didn’t seem to miss a thing. His body held the rock-hard definition that came only with focused exercise. And he exuded the calm authority of a man who’d earned his knowledge through hard work and bad times and had lived to tell the story.

  When the interview came to an end, Burnell turned off the DVD player. “Interesting.”

  Interesting wasn’t the term Reed would have chosen. Bone-chilling was more like it. Though he’d been in the hospital when Sylvie’s visit had taken place, he’d seen the recording. Kane had played the interested listener. Yet under his interest, he’d manipulated Sylvie in her quest for information about Diana’s disappearance, eventually steering her to the horrific realization that he was the twins’ father.

  A fact even Reed hadn’t known at that time. And the recognition that the woman he loved, the woman he’d almost married had hidden this truth from him for months still stung like a blistering burn.

  Burnell pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “You must be McCaskey.”

  Stepping forward, Reed shook Burnell’s hand then gestured to the women behind them. “Special Agent Burnell, this is Diana Gale. And Detective Nikki Valducci.”

  “I’m honored to meet you, sir.” Nikki stepped up to shake the FBI profiler’s hand with a fan’s enthusiasm.

  Now that was interesting. Nikki had always been ambitious and eager to learn everything she could about the job, but she wasn’t exactly the star-struck type.

  After exchanging a handshake with Diana, Burnell folded himself back in his chair. The rest of them followed suit, eyeing each other across the conference table.

  “My wife, Risa, sends her apologies. She wanted to come, but our son is ill. She decided it was best to stay in D.C.”

  Diana leaned forward, concern digging a crease between her elegant eyebrows. “I’m sorry to hear that. Will he be okay?”

  Burnell waved away Diana’s concern. “Just a virus. He’ll be fine. But I’m not sorry Risa isn’t here. Dryden Kane affected our lives pretty dramatically. I can’t pretend this is an easy case for me, or that I’m objective where Kane is concerned. Just so you know.”

  Tension crept up Reed’s spine and settled in his shoulders. Burnell had faced countless monsters over the years. He’d studied their artwork. He’d crawled inside their minds. If he thought Kane wasn’t an easy case, what hope did Diana have of facing him down? “Diana is set to visit Kane again this afternoon. We were hoping you could give us some insight about how she should handle him.”

  “First, there is no handling Kane. Not in the sense of controlling the situation. The man is brilliant. And he’s as manipulative as they come. I would guess the chance to dominate and control his adult daughter would be a thrill for him.”

  Reed leaned forward. Maybe there was a way out of this after all. If Burnell nixed Diana’s meeting, Diana would be saved the trauma and emotional pain. At the same time, she couldn’t blame Reed for sheltering her. “So what are you saying? That she shouldn’t be talking to him?”

  He felt her look from across the table.

  “It’s risky.” Burnell focused those sharp eyes on Diana. “I’m not going to pretend it isn’t.”

  “A woman’s life is at stake.” Diana’s voice was as even and determined as her stare.

  “You know he’ll try to get into your head, manipulate your emotions, use them against you.”

  “He’s already tried.”

  “He’ll succeed.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I have a chance of learning who the copycat is and where he has taken that woman, it’ll be worth it.”

  Burnell leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers in front of him. “You remind me of Risa.”

  A smile curved Diana’s lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is. With a good dose of awe mixed in.”

  Reed leaned back in his chair, tension making the back of his neck throb. So much for any hope of talking Diana out of this crazy plan. Not that he hadn’t figured it was a long shot. Now all he could do was make sure she was as prepared as possible. “So what can she do to elicit information, yet still protect herself?”

  “The first thing I usually tell an interviewer to do is establish a rapport with the subject. You’re way ahead there. He wants to talk. The downside is that he knows a lot about you. Personal things he can use as weapons, to gain your trust, to manipulate your feelings, to hurt you. You have to make sure you don’t let him use your emotions against you.”

  Warnings were all well and good, but Reed was hoping for more specifics. “How can she prevent him from manipulating her emotions?”

  “First, don’t believe a word he says.” Burnell focused on Diana, speaking directly to her. “He’ll lie. He’ll exaggerate. He’ll twist the truth and attack the things dearest to you. Don’t take any of it to heart.”

  “Can I use his emotions against him?”

  “Not an easy task. Not with Kane.”

  “Why not?”

  “Men like him don’t have feelings for others. Compassion, love, guilt, those things simply don’t exist for him.”

  “So what can I use?”

  “With Kane, you have to remember everything is about him. His emotions are about how others make him feel and him alone. That’s what you have to use to get him to open up to you.”

  “I use how I make him feel?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “When I first arrived this morning, I watched the tapes of your interview with Kane yesterday, and the interview between Kane and your sister from some months ago.”

  “That’s the one you were watching when we came in.”

  He nodded. “That visit was very interesting. In the conversation with your sister, Kane talked about how he felt after you and Sylvie were born. The way you looked at him made him feel important for the first time in his life. You made him feel like a god, is how he put it. And he implies that made him start feeling dominance in the rest of his life. Dominance over adult women.”

  Diana leaned forward and splayed her hands on the table. “We were children. He was our father.”

  “Exactly. It was a natural response on your part.” Burnell held up a finger. “But did you hear the defensiveness in your voice just now? You took my statement as a judgment about you, an accusation that you were to blame for him becoming a serial killer. You might recognize rationally that any baby is going to stare adoringly at her parent. But emotionally you responded to the inference that you were the cause of Kane’s crimes.”

  Diana slumped against the back of her chair.

  “You can’t fall into that trap with Kane. You’ve got to focus on what he’s saying. You can’t let yourself simply react emotionally.”

  She nodded, but this time she looked anything but confident. And Reed had to admit, any confidence he might have conjured up before this meeting was eroding as well.

  “Back to his comment about you making him feel like a god.”

  Diana nodded. “Please.”

  “Serial killers often struggle with conflicting feelings of inadequacy and superiority. Kane is a perfect example. He craves superiority. He strikes out at people who make him feel inadequate. From Kane’s point of view, you and your sister acknowledged the thing he always wanted to believe about himself. That he was better than other men. His mother didn’t tell him this. She abused him and scorned him. His wife didn’t tell him this. She controlled him and had affairs with other men behind his back. Kane had poor grades in school. He had acne as a teen. He had trouble holding a steady job.” Burne
ll glanced down at the papers in front of him, yet Reed had the impression he knew most of the facts of Kane’s life by heart.

  “Then along came his twin girls. Little girls who adored their daddy and looked up to him. Little girls who gave him what he saw as his due.”

  Unease trekked up Reed’s spine. “Where are you leading with this?”

  Burnell didn’t take his eyes off Diana. “Kane is going to expect you to look at him the same way you did as a toddler. More to the point, he is going to expect you to make him feel the same way.”

  Diana nodded, as if accepting the assignment.

  Reed had a little more trouble. “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Things can get tricky.”

  “That’s sort of what happened with your wife Risa, wasn’t it? She published an article about him he didn’t like.”

  Reed had forgotten Nikki was in the room until she spoke. She leaned forward over the table, just like him and Diana. As if her stake in this case was as personal as theirs.

  Burnell paused for a long moment before answering. “She wrote much of the same things I’m telling you right now. She published them in an article for an academic journal. An article Kane didn’t appreciate.”

  Nikki nodded. “And when Kane escaped, he started killing women who looked like her. Then he almost killed Risa herself.”

  “Among other things.” Even though years had passed, tension lined Burnell’s face, clenching his jaw. “I’ve spent my career profiling killers, interviewing them, studying their behavior in order to understand what’s important to them, how their minds work, what they might do next. But without a lick of training, Kane figured me inside and out within days. He profiled me. And it nearly cost Risa her life.”

  The emotion behind Burnell’s words plunged into Reed’s chest and twisted like a blade. He turned to Diana, praying to see hesitation in her eyes, second thoughts poised on her tongue.

  Eyes on Burnell, she nodded, as if accepting the challenge, as if she were prepared.

  Something Reed knew at that moment he would never be.