“You still don’t believe me?” he asked.
“It’s not that. I’m just…”
“Relieved?”
She nodded. “I was afraid I was fooling myself.”
“Perreth admitted he had no evidence it was Diana.”
“I know.”
“So we continue looking, right?”
Sylvie nodded.
“But… Hell. I need to be straight with you. Finding your sister isn’t the only reason I want to help.”
Sylvie knew it. There was more. Bracing herself, she nodded for him to continue.
“I like you.”
She looked down, studying the bland hotel carpet.
“I mean it. I can’t pretend I’m only here for my case or because you and I made a deal. I like being with you.”
He slipped an arm around her.
Sylvie looked up at him, searching his eyes. She’d wanted the truth, but this wasn’t what she had in mind.
Was it?
If it wasn’t, she should say so. She should explain that she didn’t do relationships, that they were too risky, that she wasn’t interested. Instead she waited, barely breathing, trying to see herself in his eyes.
Bryce lowered his mouth to hers. He brushed his lips over Sylvie’s lightly, with more sweetness than passion, more caring than lust, more searching than claiming. But the fire his kiss ignited burned to her toes.
She couldn’t let herself want this. Couldn’t let herself take that step to the edge. Placing her hands against his chest, she gently pushed him away. “I… I can’t do this.”
“I’m sorry. I was out of line.” But he didn’t look like he thought he was out of line. He looked like he wanted to kiss her again.
And she wanted it too.
Jitters seated themselves low in her belly. “I… I have to go to sleep.”
“Of course. First thing in the morning then? I’ll bring donuts.”
“Boston cream?”
“A woman after my own heart.” He walked to her hotel room door.
“Bryce?”
Hand on the knob, he turned back.
“It’s… it’s just not a good time. Okay?”
He gave her a nod, as if he understood. “I hope there will be a good time. Someday.”
“I…” Sylvie’s voice trailed off. She felt out of breath. Exhilarated. Scared to death. As if she was at the pinnacle of a mountain.
And was about to jump.
“…I hope so, too.”
Val
Val watched the last patron of The Doghouse drive out of the gravel parking lot. She’d been dreading this since she’d left the crime scene in Madison, but now that the tavern was closed, she was out of excuses.
She pushed herself out of the car, forced her legs to carry her to the entrance, and tried the door. It opened easily.
The tavern looked shabby, as always. A scarred pool table in the middle of a worn, hardwood floor. The smell of stale beer in the air. An old Eagles song playing on an even older jukebox.
“We’re closed,” a female voice shouted from the back room.
“I’m not here for the booze.”
“Then tell me you’re dying to scrub the toilets, or I’m not interested.” Nikki Sinclair bustled into the main room, a cigarette pinched between her lips. Her shoulder-length hair looked different every time Val saw her, tonight’s ‘do a light shade of pink that resembled both the color and texture of cotton candy.
“I need your help,” Val said.
“Need money?”
“No.” Val scowled. She’d never gone to Nikki for money.
“Need to get laid?”
“No.” That was even more outrageous.
“Sex advice, then? The firefighter not working out for you?”
“I’m serious, Nikki. I need your help.”
“Why do I not like the sound of that?”
“There’s some stuff going on, and the only one who might have real insight on this is you.”
The mischievous grin fell off Nikki’s face. “Get out of here.”
“Nikki, please.”
“Get out of here now. I’m not kidding.”
“You don’t even know—”
“I saw the news. The body.”
“Two.”
Nikki took a long drag off her cigarette. “So you think you have a serial killer. I can’t help with that.”
“But you can help. There are things only you would know about—”
“I don’t know shit, Val.”
“You know about Ed Dryden.”
“This isn’t about Eddie.”
Val paused. She hadn’t talked to either Bobby or Perreth about how much detail they’d be willing to disclose to a civilian like Nikki. Val shouldn’t be making this call on her own, but she was pretty sure Nikki would rather die than talk to anyone about this particular subject.
Including Val.
“The murders, they share some similarities with the ones Dryden committed,” Val finally said.
Nikki gave her a hard stare. “As far as I’m concerned, Eddie is dead.”
“Nikki, come on. We think this is a copycat. One who might even be in contact with Dryden. There are women out there… innocent women, and you might be the only one who—”
“Nikki Dryden is dead, Val. I don’t see things like she did, not anymore. I’m something now. I have something. I’m not going back.”
“I’m not asking you to go back.”
“Yes, you are. I can’t just take a scalding shower and wash him off. Eddie… he’s an infection. He gets in my blood and makes me sick.”
“We’re not dealing with him. Not really. We just need to understand how he might think, if he’s manipulating someone.”
“Listen to yourself. That’s Eddie’s poison. How he thinks. How he manipulates.”
“I’m not asking—”
“That’s exactly what you’re asking. And I’m saying no. In fact, I’m saying get the hell out of here or I’ll call the cops.”
“This doesn’t have to be that involved, Nikki. Not if you don’t want it to. Anything you can give me would be great. Like when is the last time you—"
“I can just imagine it now. Chief Olson dragging you out in cuffs. What a show.”
“Please, Nikki. You’re the only one who—”
“I’m not the only one. Call my sister. Call her husband, for Christ’s sake. He’s still doing his little lectures on the evil of Ed Dryden. I’ve had it with this shit. You and Eddie’s lawyer can go fuck yourselves.”
“Eddie’s lawyer? What about his lawyer?”
“He came around here. Asking questions. Apparently it’s the season for assholes who want to rip open my scars.”
“What did he ask?”
“Same shit you’re working up to, I imagine. When’s the last time I heard from Eddie? Would he get himself a disciple on the outside? Do I know who might fit the bill?”
“And what did you tell him?”
“To go fuck himself. Exactly what I’m telling you. But first…” Nikki held out her hand, palm up. “Give me a twenty.”
Val dug in her pocket and pulled out a wadded up ten and a five, four ones, and an assortment of change. She forked them over. “I appreciate this.”
Nikki made a show of counting the cash. “What? You think you’re paying for my expertise here?”
“I’m not?”
“Hell no. This is for the shots it’s going to take to get me to sleep tonight, thanks to you. And if the nightmares come back in the middle of the night, you’re going to owe me for a bottle.”
Sylvie
Sylvie’s cell phone jangled her from a dead sleep. She bolted upright.
Where was she?
What time was it?