“I suppose I could ask about the guy around the ICU.”
“Fine. There is no resident named Rowe caring for Reed McCaskey.”
“What do you mean?”
Perreth looked at him as if he were a bit slow on the uptake. “Exactly what I said. There is no Charles Rowe. McCaskey is under protection. Not everyone in a white coat can just waltz in to examine him.”
“Is McCaskey awake?”
Perreth didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Bryce could tell from the look on his face Reed hadn’t regained consciousness. And it was only a short hop, skip and jump to figure out what that meant. “So you are going to give Sylvie police protection, right? Now that you know this guy lured her out of the hotel to kidnap her?”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t give guarantees.”
“Can’t give guarantees? Even in this situation? You can’t be serious.”
He shrugged. “The city budget is serious. We’re seriously shorthanded. I said I’ll see what I can do.”
“What more reason do you need? Her dead body?”
“Listen, if she agrees to stay in her hotel, I can send a uniform over to check on her every couple of hours. But that’s as much as I can promise.”
“Every couple of hours? What’s to keep this guy from attacking her between visits?”
He shrugged. “You seem to be around her a lot.”
True. But after last night, that had become a problem. A problem, that is, if he was to keep himself from kissing her again. “You want me to do your job for you?”
“Take it or leave it. It’s the best I can do.”
“The best you can do, my ass.” Bryce would love to pummel Perreth’s ugly mug, but his fingers were still pretty stiff. “Are you planning to give my gun back? Seems if I’m playing bodyguard, I might need it.”
“Don’t push it, Walker. You’re lucky I just gave you a summons. I could have made things tougher on you.”
Perreth must be getting soft. But Bryce couldn’t dredge up much gratitude. The prospect of warding off the man who’d attacked Sylvie with nothing but his sore bare hands wasn’t a reassuring one. He probably should have kept that damn rake he’d found in the yard.
He looked past the detective, to the swinging door that led to the ER. When it came right down to it, whatever Perreth decided to do didn’t matter. Even if the detective came through with police protection, Bryce couldn’t walk away now. He had to make sure Sylvie was safe. Letting her down when she needed him most wasn’t an option. He would stay with her. He would protect her. And even if he had to tie his hands behind his back, he would keep them off her.
Chapter Twelve
Sylvie looked at Bryce’s left hand and winced. Bruises mottled the swollen skin. “Are you sure they’re not broken?”
Bryce wiggled his fingers. “See? Not broken.”
“How about your nose? That’s got to be painful.”
Coordinating colors stretched over his puffy nose and darkened the skin under his eyes. “Nothing a few ibuprofen won’t fix.”
“Didn’t they give you anything stronger than that?”
“Didn’t need anything stronger.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
A smile she could see straight through. “You refused to take anything stronger, didn’t you?”
He tilted his head as if studying the bruise adorning his own face. “How about you? Shouldn’t they be keeping you here for observation or something?”
She might have a headache sharp enough to split wood, but she wasn’t about to fall for his attempt at distraction. She had the feeling his refusal of medication had more to do with the need for a clear head than lack of pain. “I’m fine. That is, I will be when you tell me what happened with Perreth.”
“Or maybe you won’t be.” Bryce glanced toward the door. “Let’s get out of here, go back to the hotel. Perreth agreed to send an officer by to check on you every few hours. I’ll tell you what else we talked about when we get there.”
“Not until I see Reed.”
His lips pinched together in a pale line.
“What’s wrong? Is Reed okay?”
“He’s still unconscious, Sylvie.”
“What do you mean? The doctor called me. He told me…” The tremor inside turned cold. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and clutched the fabric together at her neck. “The call was a fake?”
Bryce nodded.
“The man who attacked me? It was him?”
“Probably.”
Of course it was. Hadn’t she thought the call was strange? Why hadn’t she put the pieces together? Was she so eager to talk to Reed that she would believe anything without question? “Do you think he’s the same man that called last night?”
“Do you?”
She thought of the voice, quiet in the first call, confident in the second, but the same. Definitely the same. She nodded. “So the man who kidnapped Diana is after me.”
“It appears so.”
“And he’s the same man who followed me in the stairwell last night.”
“Yes.”
“But I’ve never met Dryden Kane. If he’s behind this, why would he be after me?”
“Diana isn’t the only one who fits the description of his first victims.” Bryce’s tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, but the fear running under it was unmistakable.
The same fear that hummed in her ears. She didn’t have to search her mind to conjure up the photos Sami Yamal had shown them. The young blond coeds. Kane’s blond wife—a woman who looked just like Diana, just like Sylvie. “I’m going to go back to Diana’s apartment.”
“I thought we agreed to stay at the hotel.”
“You and Perreth agreed. I didn’t.” She started toward the ER exit. “I’m not going to hole up in my hotel room and wait. I need to find Diana, and the only way I can do that is to look.”
“Getting kidnapped or killed is not going to help your sister.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I think Perreth has a point. The hotel is the safest place.”
“When did you start listening to Perreth?”
“When he finally said something that made sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me. We only scratched the surface of what we might find in Diana’s apartment. What if there’s more? More tying her to whoever it is that kidnapped her?”
“Don’t you think the police would have found it last night?”
“Perreth was looking for something to prove she and Reed were having problems, that she tried to kill him, for crying out loud. I’m betting there is a lot he didn’t think was important.”
He frowned, as if he wasn’t buying the argument.
“Think about how you’d feel if it was your brother out there instead of my sister.”
His expression grew dark, troubled.
She knew it was a low blow, but she needed to make him understand. “I believe Diana’s alive. I believe there’s something I can do to find her, to save her. You don’t have to go with me, if you don’t want. But I’m not just going to sit around and wait for her to die.”
Bryce grasped her arm, stopping her, turning her to face him. He looked into her eyes with an intensity that made her shiver. “Of course I’m going with you.”
Her body warmed. She wanted another kiss. She wanted to feel that champagne feeling in her blood, that addictive sensation of being hyperalive that she’d only gotten a small taste of last night. She wanted him. Great until she really needed him. Great until she threw herself off the cliff and he wasn’t there to catch her.
Unable to trust herself to stand here looking at him a moment longer, she pulled her arm away and continued walking. “Great. Where’s your car?”
SYLVIE PULLED Diana’s key from her pocket and fitted it into the lock. The entire drive from the hospital, she’d been thinking of nothing but Bryce—the way he’d saved her from the man in the ski mask, the way he was here with her and, mostly, the w
ay she felt when she was around him. She couldn’t wait to reach Diana’s apartment. To focus her mind on finding answers instead of coming up with more questions.
Tumblers aligning, she turned the knob and pushed. The door swung open.
A yelp rang from the kitchen. Louis Ingersoll stared at them, eyes wide.
“What are you doing in here?” Bryce demanded.
“I—Nothing. I mean, I’m watering the plants.” He held up a small pink watering can for proof.
“How did you get in here?” Sylvie asked.
“Diana gave me a key. I take care of the place for her when she goes away.”
Bryce stepped toward Louis. “She didn’t go away, Ingersoll. She was kidnapped. Only yesterday. I’m sure the plants aren’t dry already.”
“I just wanted to do something for her.”
Do something for her? By watering plants that don’t need watering? Sylvie had to admit Louis was a little pitiful in his crush on Diana, but this seemed way over the top. “Are you sure you aren’t just snooping around?”
Once again, Louis held up the watering can for evidence.
She shook her head. “Why are you really here, Louis? Or would you rather we called the police and you can explain it to them?”
“I swear, I’m not here for any reason. I’m just trying to help. I’m just trying to find her.”
Now he was getting closer to the truth. “You’re trying to help by looking through her things?”
Louis glanced from her to Bryce and back again. “Well, isn’t that why you’re here?”
He had them there.
Bryce stepped toward Louis. “There’s a big difference. Sylvie is Diana’s sister. What are you, Ingersoll? Her stalker?”
“Stalker? You can’t think that I did anything to Diana. I would never hurt her.”
“That’s what all stalkers say.”
“I’m not a stalker. I watch out for her. That’s all.” He looked to Sylvie. “You’ve got to believe me.”
Sylvie watched him. Somehow she did believe him. Louis no longer seemed as sweet to her as he had at first, but she couldn’t help but feel he was telling the truth. And besides, if the same man that kidnapped Diana was after her, she’d seen him. Not his face, but his body. And he was a little too tall and much too broad-shouldered to be Louis. “If not you, who?”
“Who is stalking her?”
She nodded. “Who kidnapped her?”
“I wish I knew.”
Bryce took another step forward. He pulled his cell phone from his belt. “You’d better start thinking before I start dialing.”
“There was this guy…”
“Are you making this up just to keep me from calling the police, Louis?”
“No. There was this guy who kept asking her out. He wouldn’t leave her alone. She mentioned him once. I think it was someone she worked with at the university.”
“Professor Bertram?”
“I don’t know his name, but they were working together on the Dryden Kane stuff. The stuff I was helping her with. But I thought he’d finally left her alone when she got engaged to the cop. That’s what she told me, when I asked her about him. But then about a week ago…” He shook his head as if troubled.
“A week ago? What happened?”
“It was weird. I didn’t know Diana was busy. I went to the door to knock, and I accidently heard him.”
More likely he was purposefully eavesdropping. “What did you hear?”
“He was upset. Crying.”
Bryce scoffed. “You must have accidently had your ear pressed against the door.”
Louis threw up his hands. “He was really loud, like sobbing. I didn’t have to try very hard to hear him.”
Crying? Could it be the professor? He hadn’t mentioned stopping by Diana’s apartment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. But why would he be crying? “Are you sure it was the same guy who was asking her out?”
“No. But I know the guy who was crying was from the university. I asked her after he left. She said it was someone she was working with on the Dryden Kane research project.”
“And that’s all she said?”
“Yeah. She didn’t want to talk about it any more than that. Said it was private.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
He shrugged, suddenly seeming more self-assured, even smug. “Didn’t think of it until now.”
“Did you tell this to the police?”
“Like I said, didn’t think of it. He’s the one who brought up stalking.” He nodded at Bryce. “So I got to thinking, maybe that guy was stalking her. Maybe he was sobbing because of her upcoming wedding.”
Sylvie brushed the hair back from her face. Was that possible? What if the guy hadn’t stopped pursuing Diana when she got engaged? What if Diana had been the one who’d given in? And what if, as her wedding to Reed approached, she’d decided to break off the relationship?
She shook her head. Diana wouldn’t see another man behind Reed’s back, would she? Her sister had been acting strange before the wedding, and she’d kept her interviews with Dryden Kane secret from Sylvie, but would she really carry on an affair up to a week before her wedding day?
She thought of Mrs. Bertram, her divorce from her husband, the reluctance with which she’d opened the door. Maybe fear wasn’t the reason she didn’t want to face Sylvie. Maybe the real reason was that Sylvie looked exactly like Diana, the woman who had broken up her marriage.
No. She wouldn’t believe it. Not unless she was handed proof. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t talk to the professor. Check out Louis’s story. She glanced at Bryce.
He lowered his arm and nodded, as if he’d read her mind. “Let’s go see Bertram.”
AFTER SHOOING LOUIS back to his own apartment, Sylvie and Bryce raced the few blocks to the psychology department’s temporary digs. Bertram said he worked every day of the week. She hoped that wasn’t an exaggeration.
Sylvie sure hoped Diana hadn’t had an affair with the professor. She felt guilty for even considering that her sister would do such a thing, but she couldn’t help it. A few days ago, she thought she knew Diana as well as one person ever knows another. Now she couldn’t say what was possible.
A weight descending on her chest, Sylvie followed Bryce up the stairs of the old hall. Seeing his determined stride, she couldn’t help feeling grateful he was with her. She’d been more guarded with him than she had with Diana, yet he seemed to be proving himself more trustworthy. At least for now.
They reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall. The air felt different. Colder. They walked past the office where Sami Yamal had shown them the photographs of the women killed by Dryden Kane—the women who looked like Diana and Sylvie. Sylvie peered inside. Two people worked at desks in the large room, but Sami wasn’t one of them. She’d like to ask him about Bertram. Get his take on the professor’s relationship with Diana. If there was any impropriety at all where the professor was involved, she was sure Sami would have noticed. And with no love lost between him and Bertram, he certainly wouldn’t worry about keeping the professor’s secrets.
The door to the professor’s office was closed, just as it had been the first time they’d visited. But unlike the first time, a light glowed from underneath the door.
Bryce knocked. The door swung open under his knuckles.
Professor Bertram stood in the doorway. Dark circles cupped reddened eyes. Razor stubble sparkled silver over his jaw and shadowed the hollows of his cheeks. A spot of coffee about the size of a half-dollar marred his wrinkled blue shirt.
“Pull an all-nighter?” Bryce said. “I thought only students did that, not professors.”
Bertram walked back around the desk and collapsed into his desk chair. “I wish it was as simple as that.” He ran a hand over his face and looked at Sylvie. “I’m so sorry.”
A tremor of fear shot through her. “For what?”
“Your sister.”
Diana?
Why would he be sorry about Diana? Her stomach tightened into a knot. “Do you know something? What did you hear?”
“I talked to Detective Perreth. Told him everything I could think of.” He shook his head. “It never occurred to me she would be in danger. Kane is in prison. I couldn’t have known he had someone on the outside. I couldn’t have known I was putting her in that kind of danger. I’m so sorry.”
They’d had that theory since seeing the folder at Diana’s home office. But Perreth? “Is that what the detective told you?”
“He thinks Diana’s disappearance might have something to do with Dryden Kane.”
Strange. He hadn’t said anything like that to them. He hadn’t even given them a clue that he knew about the link between Diana and Kane. “Did he say what made him think that?”
“No. But he seemed pretty sure.”
Had Perreth found something? Or had he learned that Kane was Bertram’s weakness and he was using the serial killer to get under the professor’s skin?
She glanced at Bryce.
As if he sensed her unvoiced question, he pulled out his cell phone along with Perreth’s card and punched in the number. Stepping into the doorway of the tiny office, he cupped his hand around the phone and started talking in a low voice to whoever had answered the phone. Judging from his polite tone, Sylvie would bet it wasn’t Perreth. Maybe the detective’s voice mail.
She turned back to Bertram. He really did look stressed. Was guilt over getting Diana involved with Kane to blame? Or was what Louis Ingersoll told them the reason? Had he been more involved with Diana than he’d led them to believe? “What was going on between you and Diana?”
His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“Diana’s neighbor said you were at her apartment about a week ago.” Louis hadn’t said it was the professor. Not exactly. But after the scenarios Sylvie’s imagination had conjured on the trip over, coming right out and accusing Bertram seemed like the fastest way to get answers.
“We were working together. Writing a book. I stopped by her apartment a couple of times.”
“He said he heard you crying. Sobbing, actually.”
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