Ann Voss Peterson - Evidence Of Marriage

“He sent Sylvie a wedding gift. A family portrait of us as children.”

“Nice.”

“She’s kind of upset.”

He could imagine. He knew Sylvie wouldn’t want his pity, but he couldn’t help giving it all the same. The poor girl had grown up in foster homes, dreamed of having a family, only to discover her father was notorious serial killer Dryden Kane. To get this “gift” the day after her wedding had to be a blow. “How did the portrait arrive? Delivery service?”

She shook her head. “It didn’t come in the mail either. The only thing I can figure is that he must have had someone drop it off at the reception last night.” She tensed her shoulders in a protective shiver.

Reed knew what she was thinking. The same thing he was. That someone who’d delivered the package might very well be the Copycat Killer, the serial murderer who had claimed three women’s lives the past fall using the same techniques as Dryden Kane. The killer they believed was being controlled by Kane himself. “Do you have the portrait with you?”

Nikki pulled the cup away from her lips. “Fingerprints?”

He nodded.

Diana gestured at the street outside the café. “It’s in my car.”

“Good. Nikki can take it over to the lab. They can lift the prints there. Maybe the frame will tell us something, too.”

“That’s not all.” She dipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a large plastic bag with a greeting card inside. She extended it to him.

“A card. I guess he must have read the etiquette books.” He opened the card a crack through the plastic-bag cover. Bold handwriting scrawled at the bottom of a wedding verse. A father should have the privilege of walking his daughter down the aisle. I miss my girls. I look forward to your visit.

“I’ll bet he does,” Reed muttered under his breath. The opportunity to emotionally torture his two beautiful adult daughters must be a dream come true for a sadist like Kane.

“There was a newspaper clipping about the Copycat Killer inside, too. It’s tucked in the envelope.”

Manipulating the bag, he opened the envelope. The slightly yellowed shadow of newsprint peeked from inside. He shook it out into the bag. The headline was more than six months old, originating from around the first time the press had officially named the Copycat Killer. The killer hadn’t killed since, at least not that they’d detected. But with summer here, Reed feared the total would start to rise.

The pain in his gut hardened to anger. Diana might not want him to take care of her anymore, but she’d have to accept certain precautions. “You and Sylvie need to move to a hotel for a few days. I’ll arrange for protection.” He braced himself for an argument.

Diana merely nodded. “I’m worried about Sylvie. She’s pregnant.”

Pregnant. So they couldn’t wait until the actual wedding to start their family. No surprise. Sylvie and Bryce were so in love and wanted a family so badly, he’d been amazed they’d put off marriage and babies for as long as they had.

The familiar ache bored into his stomach wall. Last October he would have bet the couple married and expecting would be him and Diana. How things had changed. “Aren’t they planning a honeymoon?”

“She won’t go. She says she doesn’t want to leave me alone with this.”

“And Bryce?”

“He wants to get his hands on the man who killed his brother, naturally. But he intends to do what’s best for Sylvie and the baby.”

“I’ll see what I can do to convince her. And I’ll have an officer assigned to you.” He handed the plastic bag to Nikki. “Have the lab check for prints ASAP, then I want it back. The portrait, too.”

Nikki set her coffee cup on the table and stood.

He glanced up at Diana, meeting her eyes for as long as he dared. “Is that all?”

“All Kane sent? Yes.”

“Then Nikki will go with you to get the portrait.”

Diana hesitated, watching him for a moment. “I need to talk to you.”

“Nikki can handle it.” He nodded to his partner, praying she’d help him out this time. He was at the end of his tolerance. He couldn’t stand looking at Diana one more second and pretend she didn’t mean anything to him, that he was just doing his job, working on a case like any other. “Go ahead.”

A knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips, Nikki made for the café door, her long, dark ponytail swinging down the middle of her back. “Save my seat.”

Diana paused a second longer before following. When she finally disappeared through the glass door, Reed lowered his head into his hands.

Even as an awkward teen with more pimples than confidence, he’d never found being near a woman this difficult. But then, it wasn’t every day he had to face the woman he’d loved for five years, the woman he’d finally convinced to say “I do,” the woman who’d turned around and kicked his guts out.

Minutes passed as he delved into his stack of reports. He’d just reached the bottom of the first pile when the bell on the café door jingled, and the ache returned in full force. And as much as he wanted to blame it on the battery-acid coffee, he knew without looking up Diana was once again heading for his table.

“We need to talk.”

“Didn’t Nikki take care of things for you?”

“I didn’t come here just to hand over the portrait and card.”

Of course she didn’t. She couldn’t let him off that easily, after all. “Why did you come?”

“I want to help.”

“Help?”

She pulled out a chair and slid into it, plunking her elbows on the table. “I want to go to the prison. I want to talk to Dryden Kane.”

“And who is that going to help?”

She tilted her head and looked at him as if he were an idiot. “In the card, he wrote that he wants to see us, talk to us, then he put in a news clipping about the killer.”

“So you think he wants to talk to you about the Copycat Killer?”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Then why send the clipping?”

“You haven’t seen him for months. Maybe he thought you could use a little incentive. Or maybe…” An extra shot of acid added to the swirl of pain in his gut.

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe it’s a threat.”

He expected a reaction. She didn’t give him one.

And he knew why. “Of course, you’ve already thought of that, haven’t you? That’s why you didn’t object when I offered police protection.”

She averted her gaze, studying a crack in the Formica. “He sent the card to Sylvie. He wrote that bit about her wedding. I’m afraid for her.”

“You should be afraid for yourself, too.”

“I brought him into Sylvie’s life and my own. I have to deal with him.”

“By running to visit him? How do you think giving him exactly what he wants is dealing with him?”

“If I can get him to talk to me, to tell me something, anything about the Copycat Killer, maybe you can use it to find him before he kills more women.”

“And Kane?”

“If you can get evidence tying him to the copycat, maybe you could justify sending him back into solitary confinement, no matter what kind of lawsuit he won against the department of corrections.”

Not a bad idea, except for the part about her talking to Kane. “I’m sorry, Diana. It’s out of the question.”

She leaned forward, her breasts brushing the tabletop. “I know he refuses to talk to anyone. But he’ll talk to me.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“What’s the problem then?”

If she really didn’t think asking him to agree to put her in danger was a problem, he sure as hell wasn’t going to point it out. The last thing he needed was for her to cram his need to protect her back down his throat. It was a battle he couldn’t win. “My lieutenant will never go for the idea.”