Serial Bride (8 page)

“I'm sure of it. Families just get used to taking those feelings for granted. That connection. But that doesn't mean it's not there.” She shot him a self-deprecating smile. “The theories of a foster kid who spent too much time longing for something she never had.”

So that was what Diana represented to her. That special connection she always wanted to believe in. That she'd never really known.

Bryce let out a pained breath. The prospect that Sylvie might lose her sister after only knowing her a few months crystallized in his bones like ice.

“Ty. That's a nice name.”

It sounded nice when she said it. “He was a great guy, for a little brother.”

“How much younger was he?”

“Three years. But he might as well have still been a kid collecting strays. I think he lived for pro bono work, representing people who couldn't fight their
battles on their own.” The ache inside him grew, filling his body and mind until it hurt to breathe. He'd tried so hard
not
to remember how it used to be with Ty, with his mom. He'd focused on everything else—investigating Ty's murder, building a case, plotting revenge—just as he'd focused on the routine with his mom. All so he didn't have to feel this kind of pain. All so he didn't have to acknowledge his guilt. All so he didn't have to recognize he was now alone in the world.

As alone as Sylvie.

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I didn't stay to relive my own regrets.”

“Not all your memories are regrets.”

“No.” He hadn't realized that, but she was right.

A sad smile wisped across her lips. “You helped me, too.”

“I don't see how.”

“By showing me it's possible to survive, to go on, even if…” She shook her head. “You know, even if I'm alone again.”

He knew he shouldn't touch her, but he couldn't help it. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he gathered her close. Her body felt warm and delicate. Her hair smelled like spiced flowers. He soaked her in, as if absorbing in her essence would fill that empty place inside him. As if it could blot out all he knew about himself. “You're not alone, Sylvie.”

Pivoting toward him, she buried her head in the crook of his neck. Her body trembled against his side and the first trickle of tears seeped into his shirt collar.

Sylvie closed her eyes and stepped back, out of Bryce's arms. She shouldn't have let him hold her. She shouldn't have allowed herself to break down, to cry on his shoulder. It didn't matter that his embrace felt so good, so right she wanted to soak it in, to believe for just one moment that she was no longer alone. Letting herself even entertain that possibility was a big mistake. One she knew better than to make.

She ran her fingertips under her eyes, her palms across her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Thanks for staying. But I'm okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

She forced a nod. The truth was, she was far from okay. She was worried about her sister. She was afraid the DNA tests might prove Diana dead. And she'd just cried in a strange man's arms. A man she found impossibly attractive. Impossibly tempting.

She let out a shaky breath. She hated feeling this
way. So out of control, so needy. She was only setting herself up for a fall. And if there was anything she had learned to count on, it was the inevitable fall. “Well, thanks for talking me through this. I think I'll just go to sleep now.”

“You're back to getting rid of me again, huh?”

“It's late.”

“You're right. I'll see you first thing in the morning.”

She shook her head. She couldn't see him again. She'd already grown to count on him too much. Tonight was proof of that. “I've already taken enough of your time.”

“You
are
trying to get rid of me again.” He tilted his head as if to study her from another angle. “We're supposed to be working together. Remember that part?”

Maybe that's what bothered her. She knew what she hoped to accomplish. But she still had no clue what was in this relationship for him. “Why are you helping me? And don't just give me some line about a confidential case.”

He stood, straightening to his full height. “I want to find out who Kane is communicating with on the outside and to put him away. And I want Kane himself back in the Supermax prison. I want him in solitary confinement for the rest of his life.”

“Anyone would want that. But not everyone
would smuggle evidence under a police detective's nose or spend their Saturday night escorting a stranger around the city to get it.”

“Not everyone has seen firsthand what Kane is capable of.”

She nodded. That's how this connected to his case. “You're representing someone Kane hurt?”

He paused, as if debating how much to tell her. “I'm representing the family of one of his victims.”

Her stomach hollowed out. Of course. Kane didn't merely hurt people, he destroyed them. Her throat pinched. Again tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. She couldn't go there. She couldn't think of Diana in that way. Her sister was still alive. She had to be. And Sylvie would find some way to make sure she stayed that way.

The ring of the hotel phone cut through her thoughts.

She spun around and stared at the flashing red light. The harsh ring sounded again. Who would be calling in the middle of the night? The lab? No. They wouldn't be able to complete a DNA comparison this quickly. They wouldn't even start the test until morning. Or more likely, Monday.

Bryce took a step toward the phone. “Sylvie?”

It might be about Reed. Or Perreth might have thought of something else. Or Sami Yamal or the professor might be calling with information. She strode
to the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Sylvie Hayes?” A male voice spoke in low tones, barely audible over the line.

She didn't think it was Perreth. But the voice was too quiet to tell for sure. Someone from the hospital? “This is Sylvie.”

“I have information about your sister.”

“My sister?”

“Are you listening?”

An urgent feeling shifted in her chest. “Yes.”

“Good.”

There was something strange about the call, the caller. An edginess, maybe. Something she couldn't quite identify. “Who is this?”

“Someone who knows the truth about what happened to Diana Gale.”

“The truth?” Cold swept through her, followed by a wave of heat. She pivoted to look at Bryce.

He stepped to her side. Leaning down, he placed his ear close to hers.

She angled the phone so he could hear the caller, too. “Go on.”

“Meet me on the bike trail that runs along the Monona Terrace. You know the place?”

She searched Bryce's eyes.

He gave her a nod.

“I know it.”

“Good. Be there in a hour and I'll tell you what I know. No police.” The line went dead.

Hand shaking, Sylvie lowered the phone. She looked to Bryce, hoping he had heard enough of the call, hoping he knew what it meant. “He said he knew the truth about Diana. He wants me to—”

“I heard.” Bryce grasped his cell phone from his belt and started punching numbers.

“Who are you calling?”

“Perreth.”

She reached for the phone and stabbed the clear button with a finger. “He said no police.”

“Exactly why we should call them.”

“What if it's about Perreth? What if he has Diana? I know you don't think that's likely, but he might have more reasons, reasons we don't know about. And if there's even a tiny chance Perreth's behind this, telling him would be exactly the wrong thing to do.”

“Did it occur to you that this caller might not want to tell you anything about your sister? That he might be the same person who was following you at the hospital? That he might be looking to grab you like he grabbed Diana?”

It hadn't. She'd only thought about the caller's promise of information. “Okay. You might have a point. But do we need Perreth? Couldn't you come with me?”

“You really thought I'd let you go alone whether Perreth is there or not?”

“No, of course not.” She let sarcasm ooze from her voice. “Silly me.”

He had the nerve to smile.

“But our little ‘deal' aside, if there's any chance he can tell me something, I have to meet him. And I'm not going to let Perreth screw it up.”

He stared at her for an eternity. Finally he closed the phone and clipped it to his belt. “Okay, but you need to take some precautions. For starters, your lawyer is going to be armed with more than a law book this time.”

 

B
RYCE PLACED A HAND
on the cold concrete wall edging the bicycle path and scanned the lights rimming the far shore of Lake Monona. Beside him, Sylvie watched whitecaps crest the rough water and smash against the Monona Terrace's foundation. A stiff October wind buffeted his face and whipped her hair in streaming tendrils. He raised the collar of his overcoat and slipped a hand into a pocket, touching the grip of his SIG-Sauer pistol.

He couldn't quite believe the path his life had taken over the past ten hours. Not only had he broken the law twice—first by removing evidence from Diana Gale's apartment and now by walking around with a gun in his pocket—but tonight with Sylvie
something had stirred inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to take his time, examine what that something between them was, what it might lead to. But he didn't see how. Not with Sylvie so worried about her sister. Not when he, too, needed to keep Ty and Diana foremost in his mind.

He took a deep breath, wanting to breathe in her spicy sweet scent instead of just the cold wind.

“Which direction do you think he'll come from? The road?”

“Most likely.” Especially if he was looking to grab Sylvie. He'd need a car.

Bryce turned his back to the water and studied the curved white concrete layers of the convention center terrace, parking structure and ground-level parking lot. Even at this hour, an occasional car whizzed past on John Nolen Drive, its headlights illuminating the tunnel under the structure. “He could be watching us from anywhere. On top of the terrace. The parking ramp. Hell, he could even be up in the hotel with a pair of binoculars.”

“Or in one of the Dumpsters or loading bays?” She gestured to the service area at the base of the convention center.

“Now you're talking. Name the most places he could be and win a prize.” He tried to inject levity into his voice, but the attempt fell flat, his worry winning out.

“What if he thinks you're a cop? Maybe that's why he hasn't shown up yet. Maybe I should have met him alone.”

“He knows I'm not a cop. Whoever he is, he knew where you were staying.”

“And the only way he could know that is if he was watching me,” she finished.

“Right.” Bryce had never realized he had a sense for such things, but right this minute he was sure they were being watched. Maybe by Red, maybe by whoever had followed Sylvie into the hospital stair well, maybe by someone of whom they were totally unaware. But someone was watching them right now. He'd swear to it. “Let's move somewhere a little less exposed. Come on.” He brushed her arm with his fingertips, guiding her down the path toward the convention center.

Once they'd slipped into the shelter of the convention center, she folded her arms over her chest. “Will he be able to see us here?”

“No one should be able to see us, that's the point. We were sitting ducks out there.”

“If you're trying to frighten me into leaving, it won't work.”

“You have good reason to be frightened.”

“I didn't say I wasn't frightened. Just that I'm not leaving. Not until I'm certain he's not going to show.”

He didn't even try to hide his smile. “You sure are a lot tougher than you look.”

“Damn straight. And I always have been. At least, that's what my first foster mother always said.”

So she'd been this determined even as a kid. Not surprising. Grit didn't just magically appear when one needed it. You either had it or you didn't. “What inspired her to say that?”

“My heart wasn't fully developed when I was born. Surgery and time took care of the problem, but I was pretty sick for a few years.”

“So that's why you ended up in foster care while your sister was adopted.”

“There aren't a lot of families who want to take a chance on a toddler with heart problems.”

She might have had heart problems as a child, but there was nothing less than fully developed about Sylvie's heart now. Just seeing how devoted she was to a sister she'd known for only six months was proof of that. “Did you have a rough childhood?”

“The families I lived with did right by me. I can't complain.”

“But?”

“I guess I just always had the sense that I didn't belong. That they were taking care of me, but they weren't my real family. That it was all temporary, you know?”

He didn't know. But then, how could he? He'd
grown up with his parents hovering over him and his little brother teasing him and breaking his toys. He'd always known he belonged. “Is that where the cynicism comes from?”

“I suppose.”

“I'll bet it was hard, moving from family to family.”

“Only the first time.”

And then she'd gotten used to it? Bryce jammed his hands back into his pockets. “What happened the first time?”

“It's not important.”

“You can tell me. God knows I talked your ear off earlier. It's your turn. And besides, if you're going to make me stand out here in the cold in the middle of the night, you're going to have to make it worth my while.”

She blew out a breath through tight lips and looked at him as if she didn't believe he really wanted to know.

“If you don't start distracting me, I'm going to have to insist we go back to the car.”

“The first couple who took me in wasn't able to have children. I came to stay with them when I was three, and I always remember my foster mother going to doctors and taking fertility drugs, charting her temperature, the whole thing. Finally when I was about eight, she got pregnant.”

“So what happened to you?”

“They included me in everything. Watching her belly grow. Shopping for the crib and baby clothes. I even got to pick out these little washcloths shaped like a duckling and an elephant. They fit over your hand like a puppet. I was so excited about giving the baby a bath with those.” The smile that had touched her lips while she was reliving the memories faded.

“What happened?”

“The child services people came to get me a couple of weeks before the due date. I never got to see the baby.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn't understand it, as if she still felt the sting. “They didn't want to be foster parents anymore. Once they got their real child, they didn't need me. But the thing that kills me to this day is that they didn't tell me. They just called child services. They let me pick out washcloths knowing I'd never get to use them.”

“How could someone do that to a kid?” How could they do that to Sylvie?

“Other kids went through worse. Much worse. I was actually very lucky.”

Lucky. Right. If having your heart broken as a child was lucky. “Did you find another family?”

“I was bounced around after that. But it didn't hurt. Not like that first time. You learn not to let it.”

“How could it not hurt? You were just a kid.”

“That's the secret of cynicism. It works a little like a suit of armor.” She gave him a dry smile.

A smile that hit him square in the chest.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't stand here and pretend he only wanted to be with her because of some deal they'd made. He wanted to get to know all about her, to soothe her bad memories away, to hold her in his arms and make new ones. He slipped an arm around her.

She looked up at him, searching his eyes.

He wanted to tell her how special she was. How strong and spunky, how warm and sweet. But he couldn't find the words. He'd used words to make cases his entire career, but none would suffice now. He could only show her. He lowered his lips to hers.