Then ended, nothing but the construction site below.
Oh, God.
The lever moved clear. The door opened.
Risa found the tabs holding the screen in place. She twisted one, trying to free it. It didn’t move, painted in.
“Risa…” The door clacked against the chair.
Risa grasped the window molding and lifted herself onto the sill. Aiming a toe at the screen’s frame, she kicked as hard as she could.
One side swung free.
She kicked again, and the screen torqued, twisted, and fell. It clattered down the roof and disappeared over the edge. Risa looked down at the edge of roof four feet below. If she missed, she’d fall into the construction site. But if she stayed…
“Risa, I missed you.”
Risa jumped.
Her feet hit the roof hard, the force shuddering up her legs. Her shoes slid on dew-slick steel. She plopped down hard on her tailbone, still sliding, closer and closer to the edge.
Nothing below.
Nothing.
Risa twisted to her stomach, spreading out, clawing and grabbing at anything that might slow her momentum. The slick roof. The thin ribs that channeled rain water.
Her legs went over.
The speed of her slide slackened.
Stopped.
Risa clung to the roof, legs dangling, eavestrough digging into her stomach. Her cheek pressed against cold steel.
She had to hold on… she had to…
Risa’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her arms shook with strain. There was no way she could pull herself back onto the roof. Not without something more to hold onto. Not without help.
But the man at the window wasn’t there to help.
Risa couldn’t lift her head to see him. But she could hear him breathing. She could feel his stare.
“If only your sister could see you. Running away. Just like old times.”
“Let Nikki go.”
“Not a problem. Getting her to let me go is another story. She can’t get enough of it. Little slut. She pick that up from your example? Or did daddy teach her?”
Risa closed her eyes. “You don’t want Nikki.”
“I don’t?”
“You used her to get to me.”
“Listen to that ego.”
“So let her go.”
“Hmm. If you climb back up here, I might think about it.”
Climb up there. Sure. Not only would she have to be suicidal, Risa couldn’t pull her weight back up the roof. She was barely keeping herself from sliding off the edge.
She’d looked out at the construction site once, when she’d first visited the room. But while she remembered they were pouring concrete, adding a pool and more space to the hotel, she’d had no idea what was immediately beneath her.
Concrete?
The forms they used to pour it?
Machinery?
Whatever it was, it was going to hurt. But not nearly as much as letting Dryden reach her.
“What are you waiting for, Risa? Not willing to go that far to save your sister?”
Risa flinched.
She’d told Trent she wanted to act as bait, to lure Dryden, to trap him. But that plan was only an idea. A notion she knew Trent would fight against. This was real.
Was Dryden right? Was she only willing to save Nikki in theory? When it didn’t require real sacrifice?
“Ma’am? Hello there! Ma’am?”
A male voice. Not Dryden. Someone else. Someone on the other side of the construction site, near the street.
Risa tried to turn her head, to see who was speaking, to warn him…
She slid, closer to the edge, closer to falling…
“Police, ma’am. Hold tight. I’ll be right up.”
“You must be the luckiest thing in the world.” Dryden muttered.
Risa stretched out her fingers, clawed at the slick steel. She could feel nothingness under her legs, under her waist, she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t…
Down the roof. Inch by inch. And when her fingers were the only thing left, grasping at the eaves, slipping, she clung only long enough to see that Dryden was gone from the window.
Then she fell.
Trent
Pulse thrumming in his head, Trent drove as fast as safety would allow. He’d called the sheriff’s department and local police as soon as he’d stepped from the autopsy room. They should reach the hotel before he did. He could only pray they got there before Dryden.
Taking the last corner without slowing, he whipped the car into the hotel’s parking lot and drove straight for the entrance. Sun sparked off the cop cars barring the entrance and flanking the building. Blue and red lights flashed like flickering sparks of fire. Even before he stomped the brake pedal, he spotted the uniforms at the wide glass doors, stopping hotel residents from entering. Or leaving.
Securing a crime scene.
Trent threw the car into park, opened the door and scrambled out. Identification in hand, he raced up the shallow steps. He flashed his ID and surged inside.
Voices jangled through the lobby. Deputies corralled guests and cut off possible escape routes.
Trent glanced toward the elevators. The doors gaped open, incapacitated. He rushed for the stairs, flashing his ID again before he plunged into the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time. Panic pounded in his ears, living and raw. He had to find Risa. She had to be all right.
Reaching the third floor, he pushed the door open with shaking hands. The smell of death smeared the air. Stepping into the hall, his heart lurched.
Blood pooled around a blue-uniformed body. A flat, friendly face stared up at him, frozen in horror, blue eyes fixed in death.
Deputy Perry.
The sight hit Trent like a kick to the gut.
“Sir?”
Trent looked up at a young cop. Tall, strapping, and with shorn blond hair, he looked like a cross between a Nordic god and G.I. Joe.
“You’re Special Agent Burnell, right?”
“Yes.”
“Officer Olson. You’re looking for Risa Madsen.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs on the third floor. Follow me.”
Trent followed him up the stairwell and to an identical room a floor above.
Rees huddled in the corner chair, her arms wrapped around herself. Her cheeks were void of color, and she was trembling so hard he could see it from across the room.
Lake Loyal’s police chief and a tall, blond officer hovered over her.
Trent crossed the room in four strides. Bulldozing Schneider out of the way, he fell to his knees and engulfed her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, its scent chasing away the odor of death. Dryden hadn’t gotten to her. At least not physically.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“Deputy Perry… He’s…”
“Gone.”
“She was here, Trent. Nikki was here with him. She helped him find me.”
“She told you that?”
Risa nodded. “I asked her to help. I begged her to run.”
“She’s afraid of him.”
“It’s more than that.”
Trent ran his hand over Risa’s hair. They had both seen it before. Her with patients. Him with victims. Those who rationalized away the toxic behavior of people they loved, refusing to see the truth, refusing to give up, even when it would ultimately cost them their own lives.
Risa covered her mouth with her hand. Tears broke free and slipped silently down her cheeks. She closed her eyes. A strand of chocolate hair drifted against pale skin.
Trent raised his hand to her face and brushed her hair back. In the autopsy room, Subera had brought up setting the trap for Dryden. Trent had known it was inevitable, but he hadn’t really faced it. He’d pushed the prospect from his mind in favor of other more pressing things. Other less painful options. But now…