“You’re not coming with me?” Sylvie asked Val.
“You need police protection, Sylvie.”
Sylvie had forgotten Val was no longer a cop. Here she hadn’t even known this woman yesterday, and yet she felt like the only connection Sylvie had left. And now she was losing even that…
“Everything will be okay,” the officer said. “Name is Timms. I’ll take good care of you.”
Sylvie felt herself nod. She appreciated the reassurance. She really did. But everything wouldn’t be okay. It would never be okay again.
Val said her goodbyes and walked over to talk to the professor. Officer Timms started the car, pulled out of the prison gate, and they were on their way.
Sylvie leaned back in the passenger seat of the police cruiser and struggled to catch her breath. She’d hoped once she emerged from behind the tall fences topped with curls of razor wire, she would be able to breathe.
No such luck.
At least Officer Timms turned out to be more of a talker than a listener and for that, Sylvie was grateful. He launched into a story about dogs giving birth and children mispronouncing words, the calm in his voice something she could cling to.
Sylvie wrapped her arms around herself. Gripping her sweater’s chunky knit with both hands, she watched the bluffs roll by, tree-covered swells, rock-strewn valleys, farm fields stretching in the distance.
A strange pulsing thump broke through her thoughts.
The sound grew louder. The patrol care started to buck.
“Damn it.” The officer pulled to the shoulder and stopped.
“What happened?” Sylvie asked.
“Flat tire. Just you wait here. I’ll have it fixed in a second.” Officer Timms reported the problem on his radio then climbed out and circled to the back of the car.
Sylvie stared straight ahead, the setting sun highlighting every dead bug and water spot on the windshield. She wished she could cry, let the tears wash away the memories, the betrayals, the feelings she’d conjured out of loneliness and longing, but her eyes remained dry. She didn’t have enough tears left. She would never have enough tears.
Another vehicle came around the curve in the road. Sylvie angled the rearview mirror just in time to see a light bar fire to life, flashing red and blue. It parked behind them. The driver’s door opened, and the officer Timms had been talking to at the prison joined him.
The passenger door opened, and the professor got out.
One of the officers waved him away. “We got this. Stay in the car.”
The professor returned to the car, but instead of climbing back inside, he paused for a moment and then walked back to the officers.
He bent down alongside them, all three studying the tire.
Sylvie went back to staring at the sunset, now almost gone behind the trees.
Shouts erupted from the back of the car.
“Hey! What are y—”
“Fu—”
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Sylvie couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. She could see nothing but shadows in the mirror, someone slumped against the car’s trunk. Motion in the falling darkness.
Run!
Sylvie clawed at the door handle. Catching it on the third try, she shoved the door open and scrambled out.
An arm crashed down on her shoulder.
Her legs buckled, sending her sprawling.
A hand clamped her wrist, pulled her arm behind her back, and drove her face into the pavement.
Bryce
Bryce stood on the sidewalk, staring at Sylvie’s hotel and the three police cars parked outside.
Hours of driving along curving highways and over rolling hills hadn’t done a damn thing to clear his mind, but it had given him the chance to cool off, to shake the shock out of his system, and recognize what a dumbass he’d been.
Ed Dryden was a monster, no doubt. But Dryden couldn’t destroy what Bryce had found with Sylvie. Of course, he didn’t have to. By walking out on her just when she needed him most, Bryce had accomplished that all on his own.
So he’d driven to her hotel, ready to explain, to apologize, to throw himself down on his knees and beg her to forgive him. He’d assumed she’d have some kind of protection, but three cars seemed like a lot. He hoped they could get a moment alone.
Bryce opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator, using the extra time to rehearse the epic apology he’d put together on the way over. Reaching Sylvie’s floor, he bounded out into the hall and came to a dead stop.
The hallway was full of cops.
Sylvie?
Heart beating double time, he made it as far as the hallway before a young uniformed cop stopped him.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! No one’s allowed beyond this point.”
Bryce could see the door of Sylvie’s room. It was open. Perreth’s blue coat and bulldog jowls were visible just inside.
Visions of Sylvie bloodied and dead flashed in his mind. He shut the images out. He wouldn’t think that way. He couldn’t. He focused on the officer barring his way. “I need to talk to someone in charge.”
“I’m sorry, sir. The detective is very busy. Leave your contact information with me, and I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“I have information that might help.”
The officer looked at him sideways, as if he sensed a lie. “If you leave your phone number—”
“Listen, I’m an attorney. The woman under police protection, she’s my client.” His client. Funny, but Sylvie had never been his client, not officially.
But she was so much more.
“I told you to stay put,” a woman’s voice said from down the hall.
Bryce looked past the uniform and focused on Val Ryker, headed his way. Perreth peeked out of Sylvie’s room then fell in behind her.
“Where in the hell did you go, Bryce?” she said.
“Out. Driving. Where’s Sylvie?” Bryce pushed through, heading for the room.
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
“She and Professor Bertram…” Val glanced at Perreth, as if passing the question to him.
“They were kidnapped. The officers protecting them shot.”
Bryce watched Perreth’s mouth form the words, but it still took a few more seconds for what he was saying to sink in.
Sylvie was gone.
“GPS led to the missing patrol car,” Val said. “It’s being pulled out of Lake Loyal now.”
“I’m willing to bet the dash cam caught what happened,” Perreth said, staring at Bryce. “If you’re helping Dryden, if you did… all this. You might as well admit it now. Things will be easier for you.”
Bryce’s head pounded. “You can’t really think I’m helping Dryden.”
“You tell me.”
Sylvie was—
Bryce shook the thought away. There was something that wasn’t right here. Something that didn’t add up. “It wasn’t Dryden’s copycat.”
As soon as he heard his own words out loud, he knew his hunch was right. “It wasn’t Dryden at all.”
Ryker fixed him with an intense stare. “Why?”
“Sylvie and Diana… They’re his daughters.”
Perreth arched one brow. “So? You’re not trying to tell us he loves them or something, are you?”
“Not in a million years, but Dryden does things for reasons. His own twisted reasons, but still. He wasn’t angry with Sylvie. He wanted to charm her. Manipulate her. Why would he order some lackey to kidnap and kill either Sylvie or Diana as if they mean nothing?”