Serial Bride (4 page)

Sylvie couldn't help thinking about the night before when Bryce had knocked on the door of Diana's apartment. She had answered, yet had been careful to keep the door chain secured. She'd known at the time that if Bryce had wanted, he could have easily kicked in the door and broken the chain. But even though the chain offered little real protection, after the shock she'd suffered at the church finding Reed injured and Diana gone, she hadn't wanted to expose herself to a stranger.

Judging by Mrs. Bertram's reluctance to open the door, or even to answer, she was even more frightened. Sylvie couldn't help but wonder what or who had spooked her.

Bryce raised his eyebrows at Sylvie. Apparently he had a few questions about Mrs. Bertram, too. “We need to talk to Professor Bertram about a graduate student who is working with him on one of his research projects.”

“My sister, Diana Gale,” Sylvie added.

“I wouldn't know anything about that. He doesn't live here anymore. He hasn't for many years.”

But he'd been listed in the phone book. “You're divorced?”

“That's what I'm saying.”

Disappointment seeped into Sylvie's bones like the chill of approaching winter. “Do you have his address?”

“Of course I have it. That doesn't mean I'm going to give it to you.”

“We really need to talk to him. My sister has disappeared.”

“And you think Vincent can help you?”

“We hope so,” Bryce answered.

“What project was your sister working on for Vincent?”

Sylvie hesitated. Not only did she hate saying the name out loud, she doubted dropping Kane's name would do anything to make this obviously frightened woman more open or responsive. But then, not telling her the name wasn't going to get them anywhere, either. “Diana interviewed Dryden Kane.”

She could hear Mrs. Bertram's sharp intake of breath even through the door. Silence followed that was so complete Sylvie thought the woman might have walked away.

Suddenly the clack of two dead bolts sliding open cut the quiet. The door inched open and Mrs. Bertram peered out. Skin nearly as white as her hair, she blinked even in the darkness, like a mouse venturing out of a safe, dark hole. “Stop by Vincent's office. He'll be happy to help all he can.”

Sylvie let out a heavy breath. “I was really hoping to talk to him before Monday.”

The woman glanced at her watch. “He's probably there now.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“He usually stops back after dinner, says it's quieter then, better for concentrating on his book. But if your sister's disappearance has something to do with that monster, he won't mind the interruption. He'll do everything he can to help.”

Sylvie wished she could shake the woman's hand, something to let her know her appreciation. But despite the way the woman had opened the door to talk to them, Sylvie still got the feeling that a touch from a stranger wouldn't be welcomed. She settled on a smile. “Thank you so much.”

The woman gave her a nod and retreated, closing the door behind her.

Sylvie glanced up at Bryce, eager to get his impression of what had happened.

He was looking past her, in the direction of the street.

She followed his line of sight. The one-way street was quiet. Except for an older man walking a dog and a blue service van pulling into a side street, it looked as though the entire neighborhood was spending Saturday night snuggled in their living rooms. “What do you see?”

Cupping her elbow, he steered her down the walk and driveway, toward his BMW. “I'll tell you in the car.”

As he circled the car, she jumped into the passenger seat. She had just enough time to secure her seat belt before Bryce pulled away from the curb. “Okay, out with it. What's going on?”

Eyes flitting to the rearview mirror, he slowly wound through the quiet neighborhood and headed west on University Avenue. “Did you notice the van?”

“The blue one?”

He nodded.

“Are you thinking it's strange for a service van to be driving around on a Saturday night?”

“Yes, but that's not all.”

“I hate playing guessing games. Will you just tell me?”

“It belongs to a food service. The type of business
that provides produce, meat and canned goods to institutional settings like nursing homes.”

That was about as straightforward as another riddle. “Okay, I'll bite. You're wondering what it was doing in that neighborhood?”

He nodded. “On a Saturday night.”

Okay, so that did seem odd. But there could be a perfectly innocent explanation. “Maybe the owner of the company lives there. Or an executive.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“No.”

“Remember the redheaded guy who was listening in on our conversation in the hallway of your sister's building? Diana's neighbor?”

She hadn't paid much attention to him, not enough to pick him out in a crowd. “He's driving the van?”

“It's dark, but yeah, I'm pretty sure it's him.”

“Why would he be in this neighborhood?”

“The real question is, why is he following us? Look out the back window.”

Sylvie twisted sideways in her seat as if she was talking to Bryce. Covertly she glanced out the back window. Sure enough. Several car lengths back, she saw the hulking shape of a panel van. “You're right. Why on earth would Diana's neighbor be following us?”

Bryce veered right on an exit lane that crossed under the street. “I don't know. But I aim to find out.”

Bryce let up on the gas and watched the distance between them and the van shrink. He didn't want to lose Red. Not yet.

“What are you going to do?” One hand clutching the armrest and the other bracing against the padded dash, Sylvie looked as if she expected him to take off cross-country, four-wheeling it through manicured yards and flower gardens.

There was a day when he might have been arrogant enough to try something like that, just for fun. But
that
Bryce had died along with Ty. “I'm going to set a trap.”

He drove several blocks before the narrow road branched off to the left. He flipped on his blinker, making sure their red-haired shadow got a good look before he turned.

“What kind of trap?”

Bryce drove slowly down a road flanked by
forest-shrouded homes. McMansions, really. Status symbols with finished basements. “This drive loops in a circle. Once our guy follows us in, there will be no way for him to drive out without going past us.” No need to explain how he knew this, how he used to pass the little jog in the road sheltered by trees every day on the way to the office—the place he now planned to lie in ambush. Driving through this neighborhood was reminder enough of things he wished he could forget.

The road split into two branches, one gliding straight up a hill, one turning sharply into a copse of trees. Bryce chose the hill.

Sylvie twisted in her seat. “He's turning in behind us.”

“So far, so good.” He kept his speed steady, climbing the hill and driving along the crest. He glanced in the rearview mirror. The panel van was hanging back, waiting until they crested the hill before following. Red didn't want to be seen.

Too late for that.

“What are you going to do once you trap him?”

“Ask him why he's following us.”

Up ahead a real estate sign attracted his attention like a rich burgundy beacon. The windows in the mansion behind it were black and as empty as soulless eyes.

Bryce focused on the road ahead and kept driving.
He'd drop the price again if it didn't sell after the open house tomorrow. Hell, he'd give the sucker away. Anything to be rid of it. To be rid of the man he once was. And then he'd junk this car for good measure.

They crested the hill and curved down the other side. Reaching the sharp turn near the creek, he pulled to a stop in the cover of trees. From here they could see both branches of the loop. And anyone following couldn't see the BMW until they were nearly on Bryce's bumper.

Bryce unhitched his seat belt. He had a gun back at his apartment. Good place for it. But unless Red was armed, he shouldn't need it. Not now. He'd had a good enough look at him this afternoon to notice their size differential. Just standing next to the skinny little guy should be enough to intimidate him into talking. He glanced at Sylvie. “Stay here.” Opening his door, he climbed out.

He'd wasted his breath. He heard the passenger door open before he rounded the back of the car.

The sound of an engine coasted down the hill and wound toward him. Rounding the corner, the van emerged from the trees. Brakes locked up, rubber screeching against pavement. The driver stared through a bug-spattered windshield, his skin pale even for a redhead. He threw the van into reverse and
hit the gas. The engine roared. The van shot backward and slammed into the trunk of a tree.

The sound of steel crumpling made Bryce wince. He'd meant to make an impression, not cause an accident. But the damn kid got what he deserved. Catching up to the van, Bryce yanked open the door.

Red held up his hands as if Bryce were pointing a gun at him. “I didn't do anything. I swear.”

At least Red seemed all right. “Why are you following us?”

“Following you? I'm not following you.”

Apparently he wasn't so afraid that he was past lying. “And you expect me to believe that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Red spotted Sylvie step alongside the panel van's snubbed hood. She narrowed her eyes on him. “Who are you?”

“Louis…Louis Ingersoll.” He latched on to Sylvie with his gaze. “You're Diana's twin sister. She told me about you.”

“What do you know about Diana? Where is she?”

“Diana? That's why I was following you. I hoped you'd know.”

Right. As if Bryce believed that one. “Why didn't you just ask if we knew?”

“I was going to.”

“Come on out of the van and talk to us for a minute.”

The kid looked from Sylvie to Bryce and back
again. “I don't know anything about what happened to Diana. I just know what the minister told everyone in the church. I swear.”

Sylvie stepped toward him. “You were at Diana's wedding?”

“Of course. She's my neighbor. I might not have agreed with her marrying that cop, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to show for the wedding if she wants me there.”

“You say ‘that cop' like you weren't a big fan of Diana getting married,” Sylvie noted.

“She was too good for him.”

“Why do you say that?” Sylvie asked. “What do you know about Reed?”

“Nothing. Just that he's a cop.”

Bryce remembered Detective Perreth's suspicions where Reed was concerned. Suspicions Sylvie had written off as ridiculous, but might be worth checking out. “Did Reed and Diana fight often?”

Even though Bryce kept his focus on Red, he could feel her glare burn a hole just in front of his ear. Great. She'd probably really want to ditch him after this. Good thing she didn't know what he had suspected about her sister originally—before he'd learned about the threat from Dryden Kane. She'd really be upset with him if she knew he'd believed Diana had helped Kane kill his brother.

Red slid out of the van. Hitting the ground, he
shifted one of his Reebok runners in the gravel. “You're thinking the same thing that detective at her apartment was thinking. That he beat her up.”

“Did he?”

“If he had, I would have killed him.” He balled his hands into fists.

Bryce didn't know McCaskey, but he would have to be pretty small to be overpowered by Red. Posturing aside, Red still hadn't answered his original question. “Did they fight often?”

Red's hands went slack by his side. “I never even heard them argue.”

“Did you tell that to the detective?” Sylvie asked in a righteous tone, shooting Bryce a glare.

“He didn't seem to believe me.”

So maybe Sylvie was right about her sister and Reed McCaskey. Maybe. Bryce had to admit that whatever the truth was, the longer he was around Sylvie, the more he wanted to believe her vision of her sister. Which unfortunately meant that whoever had abducted her at Kane's orders was probably the same person who'd killed Ty. For Sylvie's sake, he hoped he was wrong. “So why do you think Diana is too good for her fiancé?”

“She just is. Do you know her, man? Have you ever met her?”

“No.”

“She isn't just beautiful, she's smart. You know,
like lightning smart.” He stared dreamily, as if picturing Diana in front of him now. Only he was staring at Sylvie. “And she has this smile that seems like it's only for you.”

Bryce hadn't had much chance to experience Sylvie's smile, but he could imagine what it felt like, way too vividly.

He pulled himself back from that thought. This kid wasn't talking about Sylvie. He was talking about Diana. “So you had some kind of puppy-dog crush on Diana?”

Red lifted his chin, defensive. “She was my neighbor. And my friend.”

Now he'd made the guy defiant. A great way to get him to open up. He needed to keep his head straight, remember what he was trying to do, not go off on mental tangents like pondering Sylvie's smile.

Next to him, Sylvie focused on Red, nodding understandingly. “It sounds like you would know everything that went on in her life.”

“Not everything.”

“Maybe enough to help us find her. To help us save her.”

The kid drew himself up. Like any red-blooded guy with a crush, he liked the idea of being a knight in shining armor to Diana Gale's damsel in distress. And with Sylvie asking for his help, too, how could he refuse? “How can I help? What do you need to know?”

Bryce had to hand it to her. He'd cross-examined many witnesses successfully in his day, and this wasn't one of his best performances. But with just a few words, Sylvie had tapped into Louis Ingersoll's vulnerabilities immediately. He stood back and watched, letting her take over.

“You said Reed wasn't good enough for her,” she reminded.

“He wasn't. He was there in the room where she disappeared, right? And he didn't protect her. I would have protected her.”

“How did you know Reed was there?”

“The detective last night. He told me.”

Sylvie frowned.

Bryce knew what she was thinking. Perreth hadn't been overly eager to share information with them. Why would he have confided that detail to Diana's next-door neighbor? A next-door neighbor nursing a serious crush.

The uneasy feeling resumed its creep up Bryce's spine. He could see exactly where this was leading. Thanks to Ty's penchant for helping abused and vulnerable women, he'd seen more than his share of injured male pride and thwarted male desire. This kid had it bad for Diana. And Diana was to marry another man. All the elements for disaster. “You could have done a lot of things for Diana Gale, couldn't you?”

The kid stuck out a freckled chin. “Yeah.”

“But she wouldn't let you.”

The chin hardened. “Hey, it's not my fault if she was fooled by that whole cop thing.”

“You think Reed fooled her? You think that's why she wasn't interested in you?”

“What do you know about it? Diana and me were close. We talked all the time. I knew things she didn't tell anybody else. Not even that cop.”

“Like what?”

“You think I'd repeat them to you?”

Sylvie stepped forward and laid her hand on his arm. “Will you tell me? Will you help me find my sister?”

Bryce watched the kid's defiance fall apart like a bad court case. First the chin receded. Then his eyes softened from flint to the consistency of that sweet pink creme inside fancy chocolates.

The unease crept over Bryce's shoulders and wrapped around his neck like a cold hand.

“Did Diana ever mention the name Dryden Kane to you?” Sylvie asked.

“Sure. I used to save clippings for her from the newspaper. She was fascinated with him.”

“Did she say why?”

“She didn't need to explain. We have always been on the same wavelength.”

“Can you explain it to me?”

“Dryden Kane is powerful, smart…” He shrugged. “A lot of people find serial killers interesting.”

Sylvie shook her head as if she couldn't understand the comment and refused to accept it would include her sister. “Do you think he has anything to do with her disappearance?”

“How could he? He's in prison.”

“Do you know why he would want to hurt Diana?”

“Why do you think he wants to hurt Diana?” Shaking his head, Red offered her a reassuring smile. “No one would want to hurt her. Everyone loved Diana.”

The unease encircling Bryce's throat gave a squeeze. Maybe everyone didn't love Diana, but this kid sure did. To the point of obsession. And judging by the way he was looking at Sylvie, after this little chat, his obsession might just include her, too.