His eyebrows dipped low. A muscle twitched in his clean-shaven cheek. “Why would you think I know anything? If you haven’t noticed, I don’t get out much.”
“That wasn’t a very direct answer.”
“Forgive me. I’m a bit shaken by the news.”
He looked about as shaken as a professional poker player. “I’m worried about Diana. I’ve come here for your help.”
“My help.” A smile curved the corners of his lips.
“Yes.”
“That is as it should be, isn’t it?”
As it should be?
Clearly he liked the position of power that her coming to him for help gave him. Power over her. But although the thought of giving this man any kind of power over her turned her stomach, she would do whatever it took to find Diana. “Will you help me find my sister?”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry I have to let you down, Sylvie. But I don’t know where your sister is.”
“Please. You’re a powerful man. I know you’re in touch with someone outside of prison.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I… I just do.”
“And you think I asked someone to take Diana?”
“Did you?”
Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “I expected more from you.”
She wouldn’t let him throw her off track. “Please answer my question.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with your sister’s disappearance. I have no reason to want to hurt her.”
Too bad she didn’t believe him. “Two women have been murdered recently.”
He lifted an eyebrow in surprise.
The gesture felt forced. “They were killed in the same way you killed your victims. The same exact way.”
“And what way is that?”
Did he want her to describe the murders? To voice the horrible things he’d done? The thought made her sick. “I don’t think you need me to tell you what you already know.”
“No. But I do need you to tell me why you think Diana is among these women. That’s why you’re here, right? You think Diana is the third? Or you’re afraid she will be?”
“Is she?”
“I don’t know anything about these women you speak of, but I can assure you that I have no reason to hurt your sister.”
Except that Diana looked like the wife he murdered.
“You don’t look convinced.”
“I’ve seen pictures of the women you killed. Pictures of your wife. Diana looks just like her.”
“Yes, Adrianna.” A gleam lit his eyes that made Sylvie want to bolt for the door. “Diana does look like her. Of course, you do too.”
She swallowed and forced herself to meet those cold eyes. “These other women are blond too.”
“Oh?” Another raise of the eyebrows in feigned surprise.
Maybe Bryce was right. Maybe she’d been stupid to think she’d get any answers from Ed Dryden. Maybe the smart thing would be for her to walk out that door and forget she’d ever laid eyes on the serial killer. But she couldn’t do that. She had to give it one last try. “Help me find Diana. Please, Mr. Dryden.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. That’s not right.”
“Not right? What isn’t right?”
“You calling me Mr. Dryden. I don’t like it.”
She’d call him babycakes if that was what it took to win his cooperation. “What would you like me to call you? Ed?”
He shook his head. “That’s not right, either.”
“Eddie?”
“No, no, no…”
Frustration knotted in her gut, replacing the edgy feeling of nausea. She wished she could be cool, detached, beat him at his own game, but she couldn’t. She needed him. “Please, where is Diana?”
“I told you, I don’t know where she is. I wish I did. Believe me, I’m as worried about her as you are.”
She ground her teeth together. She was getting mighty tired of his false charm. She felt like spitting in his face. “I can tell you’re eaten up.”
“Sylvie, Sylvie, there’s no reason for sarcasm.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed in her again. “I can tell you what I know about your sister. Maybe that will help you see that I mean what I say.”
Maybe Bryce was right. Maybe he wasn’t going to tell her anything of value. He was just playing her again. Nonetheless, she found herself leaning forward in her chair. “What do you know?”
“I know she’s beautiful, like you. She’s smart, like you. But that isn’t surprising, is it? Not with identical twins.” He leaned back in his chair and looked past her at the wall, as if lost in private thoughts.
Sylvie clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. What was he thinking about? Times during Diana’s interviews with him when he manipulated her like he was trying to manipulate Sylvie? Or was he fantasizing about the hell Diana was going through now?
“Diana had this puppet she liked to play with. A Mexican clown. She loved that thing. She never let it out of her sight. It was her favorite, along with the music box. You both loved the music box.”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes on Dryden. Had he lost his mind? Slipped into some kind of delusional fantasy world? The articles she’d read about Dryden stated that he wasn’t insane, but if this rambling wasn’t insanity, what was it? “Excuse me?”
“You, of course, were too sick for puppets.” He shifted his stare back to her. “I’m glad to see you so strong. You turned out as beautiful and strong as your sister.”
Her mind stuttered. She struggled to grasp what he was saying. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course, you don’t. You were too young. Young but sweet. You used to look up to me like I was a god. You made me feel like a god. That’s when I realized things were all wrong. That I had to change my life. I had to take control. Be what I was meant to be.”
Her throat constricted, making it hard to swallow, hard to speak. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dryden. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Didn’t I tell you I don’t want you calling me Mr. Dryden?”
“I’m sorry.”
He shifted in his chair, chains rattling. His eyes glinted like glittering ice. “Do you know what I want you to call me, Sylvie? Have you figured it out yet?”
“What?” Her voice was only a whisper, but suddenly she wished she could take the word back. She wished she could jump from her chair and race out of the room. She wished she’d never set foot in this prison, never heard of Ed Dryden.
But as much as she wanted to change the past, she couldn’t. Nor could she alter what would happen next. She waited for him to tell her the name, feeling as powerless to stop him as a three-year-old.
His thin lips spread into a slow smile. “Daddy. I want you to call me Daddy.”
Bryce
Bryce threw the door open and pushed into the prison’s interview room. He had to get Sylvie out of here. Away from this monster. Dryden had gone too far. Much too far. “This meeting is over.”
Val Ryker and Stan Perreth stepped into the room behind him along with two guards.
Sylvie didn’t look up. She didn’t move. She just stared at her hands, as if she didn’t hear him, as if she didn’t know any of them were there. She picked compulsively at her fingernails.
“Hello, counselor.”
Bryce kept his eyes on Sylvie and off Dryden. One look at that smirk and Bryce wasn’t sure he could prevent himself from choking the life out of him.
“All right, Dryden,” one of the guards said in a bored voice. “Your fun is done for the day. Time to go back to your cell.”
The other guard glanced at Bryce, Sylvie, and the officers. “If the rest of you don’t mind leaving first…”