“It’s okay to be scared, Sylvie. I’d be worried if you weren’t. Kane is a scary guy.”
“You hate him, don’t you?”
“Of course. I would imagine anyone with a lick of sense would hate Kane.”
“True. But with you, it goes deeper than that, doesn’t it? That’s why you were willing to stick your neck out to get a look at that folder. That’s why you’re here with me now. You’re out for Dryden Kane’s blood.”
He wasn’t sure if he was that transparent or if she was trying to convince herself his real motive had nothing to do with actually helping her. “I want to destroy Dryden Kane. But I also don’t want something bad to happen to your sister. True. No matter why she was so fascinated with Kane, she doesn’t deserve that.”
“You think she is one of those women who are attracted to serial killers—a groupie—don’t you?”
He wasn’t sure why she was asking these things, what she wanted to hear. All he could do was tell her the truth. “Probably.”
She dropped her gaze to the leaves scattering under her feet. With her eyes cast down and anxiety digging lines in her smooth complexion, she looked frustrated, hopeless. “I can’t believe that about her. It doesn’t seem like her at all. But I can’t explain why she was so fascinated with him, either.”
“Your sister was playing a dangerous game when she entered that prison to interview Dryden Kane.”
“But that comes back to what I was saying earlier. He’s in prison. Behind bars. How could he hurt her?”
“Just because he can’t hurt his victims personally doesn’t mean he can’t influence someone on the outside.”
“Do you really think it’s possible he convinced someone to act for him?”
Would he have thought it was possible before Ty’s death? Probably not. Did he now? “That’s exactly what I think.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered.
Even though he knew her chill was more psychological than physical, he shrugged out of his wool overcoat and draped it around her shoulders.
She held up a hand. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
That stubborn streak again. Stubbornness that only made him want to take care of her more, to help her more. “It’s cold. Take it. It’s the least I can do.”
Grudgingly, she grasped the lapels, pulled the coat around her and continued walking.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Accepting my coat. You’re saving me from all the guilt I would feel watching you shiver.”
“I’m not used to having someone take care of me. Or help me.”
“No kidding.”
She shot him a frown. The breeze blew a strand of blond against her cheek.
Bryce stared straight down the hill and quickened his pace. He shouldn’t even be noticing the way the wind blew her hair. Not if he wanted to avoid driving himself crazy. Not if he wanted to keep his focus where it belonged.
“Who else visited Kane in prison? Besides Diana?”
“No one in the last six months. Just your sister and Kane’s attorney.”
“If someone is relaying messages for him, acting as a go-between, maybe it’s his attorney.”
Her idea was so ironic, it took a second for his brain to rattle back into place. “Impossible.”
“Why?”
“I know his attorney. Or his former attorney, now. The guy’s an egotistical bastard, but he’d never be Kane’s lackey. Trust me.”
“Are you sure there’s no one else?”
“There are other possibilities. Too many of them. Prison guards. Other inmates. Any of them could have delivered a message for him.”
When they reached the footbridge arching over Park Street, Sylvie stopped and spun to face him. “What if we’re looking at this from the wrong angle entirely?”
She’d lost him. He was still recovering from her attorney question. “What do you mean?”
“What if what happened to Diana and Reed didn’t have anything to do with Dryden Kane? What if Reed was the real target in the attack? What if Diana was only taken to get to him?”
She was grasping at straws again, and the path of her thoughts became as clear as if she’d drawn them on a map. “You’re thinking about Perreth.”
“He hates Reed. He wants to get back at him. What better way than to attack him and kidnap Diana? God, maybe he can even blame the whole thing on her. That would really tear Reed apart.”
Bryce couldn’t bear to douse her hope that there was another way out. A way that didn’t lead through Dryden Kane. “Maybe.”
“You don’t think so.” She frowned. “Why? Because he’s a cop?”
“For starters.”
“Cops break the law. Some believe the law doesn’t even apply to them.”
“Maybe some do. But I haven’t met them. And I’ve dealt with a lot of cops.”
“Maybe you’ve only dealt with good ones. There are bad people out there, too. And some of them are cops.”
“I’m sure you’re right. And I agree that Perreth is no gem. But I still think Diana’s connection to Dryden Kane is too strong to ignore.”
“You’re probably right. But I’m not discounting any possibilities.” She raised her chin. Her lower lip appeared to quiver slightly, but she caught it between her teeth before he could tell for sure.
The gesture dug into Bryce’s chest like a dull and rusty blade. What was he thinking? Dryden Kane wasn’t the only possibility. There were others. One came to mind immediately. “You know, of the people we talked to today, I’d be inclined to believe Red is our best bet.”
“Louis Ingersoll?” Her brows pulled together. “He likes Diana.”
“A little too much, don’t you think?”
“You think he was stalking her?”
He shrugged. “When she disappeared, she was about to marry another man—a man Ingersoll didn’t think was worthy of her.”
“And Reed was attacked. Almost killed.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “We need to call Perreth, tell him to meet us at the hospital.”
“Why?” Bryce asked, though he had a good idea of where her fears were leading.
“If Louis stalked Diana…if he kidnapped her to keep her from marrying Reed…if he tried to kill Reed once, he might try it again.”
SHE THOUGHT she was prepared to see Reed in the ICU. She’d even told Bryce she could handle it, that he should drop her off and park the car and try to call Perreth at least once more before wrestling with probable cell phone interference within the concrete walls of the hospital. She’d prepared herself while climbing five flights of stairs when she learned two of the three elevators were under repair during the off hours. She’d even had a warning of exactly how hurt he was when one of the nurses manning the nurses’ station told her he was still unconscious. She knew she could handle it.
But she was wrong.
At least when she’d found him, he’d looked like himself. Injured, but still Reed, the future brother-in-law she knew. The man Diana loved. Now—swathed in white, with tubes snaking everywhere, his black hair shaved clean, and his face pale and lifeless as wax—he barely looked human. It was as if the Reed she knew had disappeared right along with Diana.
“Can I help you?”
Sylvie spun in the direction of the voice.
A uniformed police officer stood at the curtain separating Reed’s cubicle from the rest of intensive care.
The nurse had told her Perreth had arranged for protection, though she had to see the officer with her own eyes before she believed Perreth had finally done something right. “I’m Reed’s sister-in-law. Or at least, I was supposed to be. He and my sister were to be married.”
The officer gave her a kind smile. “Do you have identification with you?”
“Yes.” She dug in her purse, finally locating her Illinois driver’s license. Wincing at the awful picture, she stepped away from Reed’s bed and handed it to the officer.
After examining it and checking with the nurses’ station, the officer stepped outside the cubicle and pulled a curtain across the open door.
Sylvie moved to the bed. Bryce would arrive any moment. She wondered what he’d think when he saw the officer posted at the door. That she was simply off base about Perreth? Or that she was trying to ditch him again?
She had to admit he’d been a help to her. A big help. And she didn’t relish the prospect of running around the campus by herself at night. But the longer he was with her, driving her places, lending her his coat, the more she was beginning to like having him around and the more she knew she couldn’t let it go on.
Steering her thoughts away from Bryce and to Reed, she touched a spot of skin on his hand that was IV needle free. She’d heard stories about how people in comas could hear, just not respond. She knew she should talk to him. Say something. But she had no idea what. She had no good news to tell him. And if he really could hear her, he didn’t need to know the bad.
“Ms. Hayes?” A woman in a white coat pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the room. “I’m Dr. Afton. Mr. McCaskey is under my care.”
After some hand shaking and a few pleasantries Sylvie didn’t have the patience for, the doctor got down to business. “Our tests indicate we were able to stop the bleeding in his brain,” the doctor explained. “I don’t expect any long-term problems, but we’re still watching him carefully at this point.”
“When will he regain consciousness?”
“It’s hard to say. Right now the best thing for him to do is to sleep and heal. We’ll wait until he wakes up to move him to a private room.”
Tears stung Sylvie’s eyes. Blinking them away, she reached out and touched Reed’s hand. She’d never really thought of Reed as family, but that’s what he would be right now if the wedding had gone as planned. God knew, he’d treated her like family. So kind. Protective. He’d gone out of his way to include her and to encourage her and make her feel she belonged, as much as possible, anyway. When Diana had walked into her life, Sylvie had gained not only a sister, but a brother. An actual blood-related family. A family that somewhere deep down she felt she might have a chance of keeping. And she’d thought that someday down the road, after countless family Christmas celebrations and small moments together, she wouldn’t feel quite so alone in the world.
Whoever had attacked Reed and taken Diana had almost stolen that possibility from her. From all of them. And if she didn’t find Diana, he might succeed in stealing it yet. “Will you call me when he wakes up? I left my number at the nurses’ station.”
“Of course.” The doctor glanced at her watch and stepped toward the cubicle’s glass door. “I hope to be talking to you soon.”
“Thank you.”
A nurse padded in on rubber soles as the doctor slipped out. “Ms. Hayes, we received a call at the nurses’ station that you’re to meet someone in the lobby.”
Bryce? “Oh?”
“He asked if you could meet him just inside the front doors.”
“Thanks.” Why hadn’t Bryce come up? Had Perreth arrived? Were they reluctant to talk in front of Reed?
Heart pounding, she turned back to the bed. “It’s going to be okay, Reed. I’ll make sure of it.”
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the cubicle and strode out of the ICU and down the long hall. She hardly glanced at the disabled elevators this time, but headed directly for the stairs.
Bryce wouldn’t have asked her to meet him in the lobby if it wasn’t important. And if Perreth was the reason he’d asked, she couldn’t afford to miss him.
She pulled the steel stairwell door open. The odor of new paint hit her again, just as strong as it had on her trip up. Seemed as though the whole city was undergoing some kind of construction, a frantic last push before winter set in. Of course, they could have waited to paint. At least for her sake.
She started down the stairs. As she reached the bottom of the first flight, a thunk from above echoed off cement walls. Apparently someone else was as impatient as she was, paint smell or no.
She continued down the next flight. Above, the sound of footsteps echoed her own. Perfectly matched. As if whoever had entered the stairwell was doing it on purpose.
Paranoia was setting in big time. Not surprising after all she’d been through in the last few hours, but ridiculous nonetheless. Still…
She slowed her pace.
The footsteps slowed, still matching hers.
Was someone playing games with her? She speeded up, circling the landing.
The footsteps accelerated, too.
Fear pulsed through her. She was in a public building, not some haunted house from a horror flick. Even though it was late, she could open the door on any floor and rejoin civilization. She stopped in her tracks.
Above her, the footfalls stopped.
Her breathing rasped in her ears. Whoever was following had stopped in the middle of the staircase. For no reason other than because she had stopped. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
Why didn’t he answer? “Is anyone there?”
Her heart thunked against her ribs. She looked back at the door, several steps above. She didn’t dare retrace her steps. If she did, he’d hear her. And he could easily intercept her before she could reach the door.
She pressed her fingertips against her forehead. What kind of a person would try to attack someone in a public building? Just a few steps away from help?
Whoever had taken Diana.
She looked down the stairwell. Reaching the next floor was her best bet. Once there, she could find help. Whoever was following wouldn’t dare attack her in a hallway bustling with people.
Taking a deep breath, she launched into a run. Her shoes clattered on concrete. She reached the mid-floor landing. Gripping the handrail, she whipped around the turn and headed down the next staircase.
The thunk of footsteps rang above her. Faster. Keeping time with hers.
She hit the landing and grabbed for the doorknob. She yanked the door open and lunged out of the stairwell.
And into silent, dusty darkness.
Chapter Eight
Sylvie willed her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. In the red glow of the exit sign above the stairwell door, she could see a hallway set up identical to the ICU floor, a short hallway splitting off the main one, the bank of elevators. But that’s where the similarities ended. The level she was on was a mess. Giant power tools cluttered the space, each a hulking shape in the darkness. Dust shrouded the industrial tile floor, slick under her shoes. And being Saturday night, there wasn’t a soul around.
She was totally alone.
Her throat constricted, making it hard to catch her breath. She had to get off this floor. She had to find people, find Bryce. But the first thing she had to do was to hide.
She dashed to one side of the hall, ducking behind one hulking obstacle, then the other. A pallet of tile. An oversize trash bin. When she reached what appeared to be some kind of table saw, she heard the door of the stairwell open.
She crouched behind the saw. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe. She thought she was going to be sick.
The door closed with a thud. Soft footsteps scraped across construction grit.
She tried to peek around the table in front of her. Nothing but more hulking shapes, more red-tinged darkness. He wasn’t close enough yet. But judging from his footfalls, he would be soon.
She groped along the dusty floor with one hand. A construction area had to have tools laying about. Didn’t it? If she could find something, anything, she could use as a weapon…
Her fingers hit something slick. Plastic. A section of PVC pipe. Not ideal, not anywhere near heavy enough, but it would have to do. She didn’t have much to choose from. She wrapped clammy fingers around the pipe.
And waited.
Footsteps scraped closer.
A drop of sweat trickled over her temple. Dust tickled her nose and clogged he
r lungs. She didn’t dare breathe.
The sound of footsteps halted on the other side of the saw. A hulking figure against the red glow. The outline of a man. He was not too tall, but his broad shoulders suggested strength. Much more strength than she could overpower with a piece of plastic pipe.
She listened to his breathing, trying to sense the direction of his gaze. An eternity ticked by. Her lungs screamed for air. Her sinuses burned with the need to sneeze.
With a scrape, he pivoted and moved away. The door to the stairwell opened, then slammed with a bang.
A tremble seized her chest. She sagged forward, against the saw’s heavy steel. Slowly she convinced her fingers to release the pipe, setting it quietly on the floor. But other than that, she still didn’t dare move. He might still be here. Waiting. She had to be sure.
After a few more minutes she peered over the saw. She could see nothing in the exit sign’s light but the tile palettes, sawhorses and other equipment. He was gone.
She straightened. Her legs tingled and stung as blood rushed back into them. Stifling a sneeze, she looked down the hall. There had to be another exit, another stairwell. She didn’t dare try the one she’d entered.
Moving away from the red glow, she stumbled through the dark hallway, running her hand along a partially drywalled wall. She rounded the corner and spotted another exit sign, glowing like a beacon. Slipping into the stairwell, she raced down the steps to the lobby level.
The light music of human voices greeted her. She pushed through the door and sprinted to the lobby.
“Where have you been?”
She spun around and spotted Bryce. Worry knit his brow. Worry for her.
She held up her hands in front of her. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“Someone followed me. Down the stairs.”
He grasped her upper arms. His grip strong, solid. Holding her in front of him, he searched her eyes. “Did you get a look at him?”
“Not really. It was dark, but…”
“But what?”
“It wasn’t Louis Ingersoll. The man I saw was bigger. Not as tall as you, but broad. Strong.”
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