She fought the urge to squirm. “I’m her sister, Sylvie.”
“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t know Diana had a twin.” He stuck out his hand. “Vincent Bertram.”
Sylvie barely contained a relieved sigh. “I need your help. It’s about Diana.”
His palm engulfed hers, enveloping her hand in a sort of fatherly warmth that contradicted the intensity of his eyes. “Of course. Come in.”
Professor Bertram slipped a key into the lock and gestured Sylvie and Bryce into a small, book-lined room barely bigger than Diana’s walk-in closet. The only thing that kept the room from inspiring claustrophobia was the single small window overlooking the lights dotting Bascom Hill. Thankfully he left the door open.
“I’m sorry for the cramped office. These are our construction digs. They tell me the new psychology building will be beautiful.”
Sylvie returned his smile and nodded at the window. “Your view is beautiful.”
“That, I’m afraid, won’t be quite so nice in the new building. Have a seat, would you?”
Sylvie and Bryce lowered themselves into chairs.
The professor leaned a hip on the edge of his desk and peered down at them. “Now, what can I help you with?”
Sylvie again found herself fighting the need to squirm. She’d hate to have Bertram as a professor. Sitting under those eyes made her feel as if he could see right through her. “I need to know why my sister is involved in your research.”
“The research on Ed Dryden, yes.” Seemingly Professor Bertram had no qualms about saying the killer’s name out loud. But then, that kind of comfort probably came with poring over what the man did and said on a regular basis. One grew desensitized.
Sylvie thought of the photo of Dryden and all the articles describing what he’d done. Had Diana become desensitized to Dryden’s evil too? Did the horror of what he was simply wear off over time?
Sylvie couldn’t imagine it.
“Our arrangement is very simple, actually. Diana asked to help, and I took her up on it.”
Bryce gave an incredulous grunt. “And you let anyone who asks waltz into a maximum-security prison and chat with a dangerous serial killer?”
“Of course not. Diana was different.”
“How?”
“I’ve done a lot of work studying serial killers, put in a lot of years. Studying Ed Dryden was going to be the crowning jewel of my career. I even talked to a publisher for my book on the subject. Then Dryden decided to be difficult.”
Bryce leaned forward in his chair. “Difficult? How?”
“He refused to let me interview him further.”
“So your book deal was dead.” The picture was coming clearer in Sylvie’s mind.
“More than that. All the research Risa Madsen had started and I had continued on Dryden came to a dead end.” He shook his head.
“Enter Diana?” Sylvie said.
“Somehow she’d found out about our work. She asked if she could be part of the program.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you let her.” Bryce’s tone was unmistakably condemning. But though Sylvie found the hints of protectiveness he’d shown her nerve racking, she warmed to the idea that he might feel protective of Diana as well.
“Diana said she was going to speak to Dryden whether I arranged it or not. So I arranged it. Why wouldn’t I? There was no program without her. No book. Not one of much merit, at any rate. Dryden wasn’t going to let me interview him. But here comes this intelligent woman who wants to give my work a chance at a second life. And Dryden agreed to speak with her.”
Sylvie couldn’t believe it was that simple. “Didn’t it occur to you that you might be putting her in danger?”
“Banesbridge might not be as restrictive as the Supermax, or whatever it’s currently called, but it’s being totally renovated. It’s secure.”
“It would probably be more secure if Dryden wasn’t allowed to communicate with anyone who wanted a chat.”
Bertram met Bryce’s comment with a bland look.
Sylvie shot Bryce a warning glance. Shifting in her chair, she returned her focus to Bertram. “Did Diana report a threatening letter she received from Dryden?”
“A letter?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “When?”
“About a month ago,” Bryce informed him.
“She didn’t mention it.” Graying brows hunkered low. “Why don’t you ask Diana these questions?”
“Diana has disappeared.”
“Disappeared? How?” He raked a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly. “Is that why you’re here? You think Ed Dryden somehow caused her disappearance?”
She wanted to say yes, but the answer seemed ludicrous. Ed Dryden was an evil man, but he wasn’t some sort of supernatural being. He couldn’t attack Bobby and kidnap Diana from his prison cell. “To tell you the truth, Professor, I came to talk to you because I don’t know what to think.”
“Have you reported this to the police?”
“Yes.”
“Have they found anything?”
“The detective on the case isn’t very forthcoming. I don’t know what he’s found.”
The professor raked his hair again. “I’m sorry. Is there any reason you believe Edward Dryden might be involved?”
“Just the threat she received.”
“The threat?” He shook his head. “She never told me he threatened her.”
“We’re not sure it was him.”
“Who else could it be? And why wouldn’t she have told me?”
“Maybe because she knew you wouldn’t allow her to see him anymore?” Bryce offered.
“I wouldn’t have. I want you to know that. If I thought she was in any danger at all, I wouldn’t have let her near him.” He looked to Sylvie. “I’m so sorry, Sylvie. You can’t know how sorry I am that any of this had to happen.”
She pushed herself up from her chair. “Thank you.”
He grasped her hand in his. “The police know their job. I’m sure they’ll find her.”
At least someone was sure. “If you think of anything at all, will you call me?”
Grabbing a pen from the desk, Sylvie jotted down her cell number. Bryce handed him a business card before following her out of the office.
They walked a short distance down the hall without saying a word. For a reason Sylvie couldn’t name, she wanted to get out of Professor Bertram’s earshot before chewing over all he’d told them—and more importantly, all he hadn’t.
Rounding the corner, they nearly ran headlong into a dark-skinned man wearing glasses with the largest lenses Sylvie had ever seen. Behind the glasses, the lines of middle age crinkled around sharp black eyes. “Don’t believe Bertram’s innocent act.”
“What?” Sylvie couldn’t have heard him correctly, could she? “Who are you?”
“Sami Yamal. Assistant professor. I couldn’t help but overhear. You want to know more? Come.” He motioned for them to follow and walked off down the hall.
Once they passed the stairs and rounded another corner, Yamal unlocked an office and led them inside. Cubicles and file cabinets jammed a room three times the size of Bertram’s office. As soon as they stepped inside, he closed the door behind them. “Your sister was obsessed with Ed Dryden.”
Sylvie thought of the file folder Diana kept on the serial killer. As much as she wanted to argue against his charge, she couldn’t. “Why do you think that?”
“Things she said. Things she knew.”
“Like what?”
He waved a hand, as if brushing the details away like stray crumbs. “Let’s just say she did her research before she ever set foot in this department. And that was just the beginning. She wouldn’t let it go. She grilled me.”