Evidence of Marriage (12 page)

She turned her whole body to face him, afraid to think, afraid to breathe.

“I've learned a lot in these past few days, Diana. But the most important thing I learned was how badly I need you.”

She closed her eyes. His words washed over her. Words she never thought she'd hear. Words that gathered in her chest and filled her with warmth.

Filled her with power.

She took a step. Into his arms. Into his heat.

He brought his lips down on hers. Hungry. Demanding. Showing his need. His kiss at once familiar and totally new.

She pressed her body against the hard length of him. Devoured his kiss as he devoured hers. She'd stepped over the edge and was falling, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything but the warmth of his body and the taste of his mouth.

He skimmed his hands up her sides, taking her shirt with him. He slipped it over her head, then circled his hands around her back to unhook her bra.

Cool air caressed her breasts and puckered her nipples.

He moved his hands up over her ribs and cupped her in his palms.

Diana arched her back, pushing her breasts into the caress of his hands. She brought her hands to his shirt. Forcing her fingers to work, she slipped his buttons free and spread the fabric away from his chest.

His touch felt so good, so right. So much about the feel of him was the same. Warm. Safe. Yet so much had changed.

So much about her had changed.

She ran her hands under his shirt, soaking in the texture of his skin, the rasp of the hair sprinkled in
the center of his chest. She wanted to recapture what they'd had. The passion. The heat. Yet she wanted something different. Something elusive. She could taste it on her tongue.

Heat shimmered in her chest, building and strengthening like kindling fire. She moved down his body, sliding kisses over his chest, his belly, tracing the trail of hair down to where it disappeared into his waistband. She settled on her knees. Raising trembling hands, she unfastened his belt and lowered his fly.

He buried his hands in her hair, his fingers massaging her sore scalp in a gentle caress.

She pulled his slacks down his legs, taking his briefs with them. She'd been so young when they'd met, so young the first time she'd touched him, the first time they'd made love. She'd taken his body for granted. The strength of it, the power of it, the responsiveness to her touch. She didn't take it for granted anymore.

She brushed her fingers up the underside of his shaft, lifting him, bringing him closer to her mouth. She let her breath wash over him.

He pulsed with movement at her touch. A moan rumbled through his chest.

She wanted to spend all night touching him, tasting him, reveling in the way he moved under her caress. She wanted to savor the clear evidence
of how much he wanted her. How much he needed her.

Warmth surged through her, pooling between her thighs. She'd never felt so desperate for him, yet so sure of her own strength, her own power. She wanted more. She wanted to show him how she felt. She wanted to see how he felt about her.

Slipping her tongue between her lips, she flicked up the same path her hand had taken. Reaching his tip, she slid her lips over him, taking him fully into her mouth.

He filled her, pressing against her tongue, moving down her throat. She took him as far into her mouth as she could, then slid her lips back to his tip.

A shudder shook his body. He cupped her head in his hands as if he needed to hold on.

She circled his thighs, each with one arm. She could feel his muscles tremble, feel him thrust forward each time she took him into her mouth. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward against his thighs. As she sank her lips over him, her nipples rubbed the rough hair on his legs. Tingles spread over her skin in waves.

He gripped her shoulders, as if desperate to hang on, desperate to keep control.

But he wasn't in control.

Heat surged through her. She let him slide from
her lips, cupping him between her breasts, moving against him. The friction of his skin and hair against her nipples made her want to cry out. It made her want more.

“Diana.” Reed's voice sounded low, gruff with need. “We need to slow down. I can't take much more.”

She smiled, wanting to send him over the edge, wanting to feel him totally lose control. But he was right. Not yet.

She rose from her knees, skimming kisses up his body until she reached his lips.

“Come to bed with me. I want to show you some things, too.”

She nodded, not sure if her voice would work, not wanting to talk.

He took her hand. Together they walked into his bedroom. Light streamed in from the living room, shining across the white span of comforter covering the bed.

Reed hesitated in the doorway. He stepped back toward the living room, away from her.

Cool air rushed around her, chilling her skin where his heat used to be. “Where are you going?”

He gestured to the living room. “The light's kind of bright, don't you think?”

She shook her head. She didn't want him to step away from her, even for a second. She didn't
want to be in the dark again. “I think it's perfect. I want to see your eyes.”

He grinned and swept her back into his arms. Moving his hands down her sides, he quickly removed her jeans. Cupping her buttocks, he lifted her up against him, kissing her long and hard before lowering her to the bed and sitting beside her. “Lie back. Let me show you how
I
feel.”

She wanted to let him show her. She wanted to let him have his way, take her places she'd only visited in dreams. But not now. Not yet.

Putting her palm on his chest, she pushed him back onto the mattress. “Later. I'm not finished.” She straddled his hips, moving against his hard length before sinking onto him.

He filled her, stretched her so exquisitely she had to catch her breath. Then she started moving, her breasts swaying over him.

He caught her nipples in his mouth, kissing her, suckling her. All the while he watched her, his eyes soaking her in. And as the pressure inside her crested and broke, she felt like the most powerful woman on earth.

When Diana woke to morning sunlight stretching through the window, the bed next to her was empty. She tossed back the covers and forced her sore muscles to function, crawling from the bed. The fatigue in her legs felt delicious. And the redness coloring her skin from cheeks to inner thighs caused by the stubble on Reed's face made her flush with heat.

She'd never felt so powerful as she had last night. She wanted to hold on to it. She wanted it to never end.

She climbed out of bed, her legs wobbling the first few steps. She knew she should take it slow, that she should find out for certain things had changed before she charged headlong into her feelings for Reed. But the giddiness flowing through her blood like champagne was too delicious not to enjoy. She had believed her relation
ship with Reed was over. To discover it didn't have to be made her want to sing.

She took a quick hot shower, and pulled a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt out of her suitcase; but, although she swore she'd packed another pair of underwear, she couldn't find them anywhere. She hoped she hadn't left them in the hotel room.

The hotel room where they'd found Nadine.

Suppressing a shiver, she pushed Nadine from her mind. She needed a rest from death and blood and fear. Even if it was just a day, she yearned to focus on normal things. The elation bubbling in her blood. The satisfied ache between her legs. Reed.

She dressed. Hair hanging wet to her shoulders, she padded out into the living room on bare feet.

Reed sat in the dinette with his back to her. Hunched over with his elbows on the table, he concentrated on a stack of paper in front of him.

She peered over his shoulder, recognizing the missing persons reports she hadn't yet finished going through. The weight of reality settled back into her bones. “I should have known you were working.”

He looped an arm around her waist and gathered her into his arms. “You smell so good.”

“I took a shower.”

“You smelled even better last night.”

Pleasure flushed through her. She wished all she had to think about was how good his arms felt around her. She wished all they had to talk about was their desire for each other. But that wasn't the case. It couldn't be. Not with Cerise Copeland in the copycat's clutches. Not with a baby longing for its mother.

And not under the shadow of Dryden Kane.

She looked down at the forms on the table. “Want some help with those?”

“Sure.” He handed her a stack of forms.

She slipped into the chair next to Reed's and ran her gaze over the now familiar headings in each box. This woman was from outside Dane County, an area along a lake built up with upscale homes. She'd left the house to meet friends for dinner in Madison before a concert at the Overture Center. She'd never arrived.

Diana glanced at the boxes detailing her clothing. Her sister had reported she'd been dressed for a fancy restaurant. A little black dress. Expensive shoes. And a diamond-and-emerald necklace.

Diana's breath lodged in her throat.

Reed looked up from his stack of reports. “What is it?”

She tried to answer, but her mind was numb. It
couldn't be true. It had to be some kind of mistake. She couldn't be so incredibly blind.

She'd read about it in the research she'd done on serial killers. How they often kept victims' jewelry as souvenirs of their kills. How some monsters gave this jewelry to women in their lives, their wives, daughters, girlfriends. How every time they looked at the jewelry, they could relive the murder, they could assert their dominance over the woman they supposedly loved.

She handed the report to Reed and forced the words from her lips. “Her necklace. Emeralds and diamonds. White gold. It's the one Louis gave me.”

 

“I
CAN'T BELIEVE IT
. He was always real polite. Quiet like. Never gave me no trouble.”

Reed gripped the search warrant in a fist and waited for the manager of Diana's apartment building to flip through his entire collection of keys to find the one that fit Ingersoll's door.

He couldn't believe it either. Couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. Couldn't believe he'd ignored his gut about Diana's neighbor. Here he'd been trying to protect Diana, and he'd missed the small fact that her neighbor was a serial killer.

The paper crumpled in his hand.

He glanced back at the officers around him.
Weapons at the ready, they watched for his lead. They were fairly certain Ingersoll wasn't home. He should be out making deliveries for the food company. But it didn't hurt to be sure.

The lieutenant hadn't wanted Reed to have any part of taking Ingersoll down, but he'd relented enough to give Reed the job of executing the search warrant. At least it was something. Truth be told, he couldn't blame the lieu. With the scent of Diana still swirling in his mind, he'd rather kill Ingersoll than look at him.

The manager slipped another key in the lock. This time the knob turned under his hand. “Here it is.”

“Thank you, sir. Now I need you to go back downstairs.” Reed nodded to one of the officers and the cop escorted the manager to safety.

Giving a nod, Reed pushed open the door and the team of officers and deputies swarmed into the apartment.

It only took seconds to determine Ingersoll wasn't in the one-bedroom apartment. In fact, nothing much
was
in the apartment. A folding card table and single chair stood in the vacant living room. Empty pizza boxes were stacked on the kitchen counter. Ingersoll had lived here for two years, and yet looking at his living room and kitchen, one would guess he had moved in this morning.

Officer Drummond's fresh face emerged from
the single bedroom. “Detective? You got to see this.” The young cop's voice trembled.

He'd definitely found something.

Reed stepped into the bedroom. Photos covered nearly every inch like wallpaper. Photos of Diana sleeping. Diana undressing. Diana making love. Reed's head was cropped from that one, a photo of Ingersoll pasted in its place. Other photos had been doctored, too. Hand-drawn ropes bound Diana's wrists, ankles and neck.

Rage pressed at the inside of his skull, making his head throb. “How in the hell did he get these?”

“Here.” A county sheriff's detective named Mylinski waved him over. He pointed to a spot high in the corner of the room. A stool perched underneath. “Step up and take a look.”

Reed stepped onto the stool. Just under eye level for him, a smooth hole had been drilled through the drywall. He lowered his eye to the hole and peered through.

Diana's bedroom spread out before him. The white flowered comforter across her bed. The chest of drawers where she kept her lingerie. The mirrored closet door that would reflect her image from wherever she stood in the room.

The lieutenant had been right not to let Reed take Ingersoll down. The skinny bastard didn't deserve to be arrested, he deserved to be killed.

“You okay?” Mylinski studied Reed through shrewd eyes, the slanting rays of the afternoon sun glinting off his bald spot.

Reed nodded, but he could tell the county detective wasn't buying it.

“Good.” The detective stepped from the room.

Reed knew he'd left to give him a few minutes to compose himself. A few minutes to suck it up and get ready to do his job. The problem was, it would take him more than a few minutes to cool the anger flaming inside him, to defuse the pressure building in his head until he was ready to erupt.

He closed his eyes. He supposed he should be grateful Diana wasn't here. He never wanted her to see this. He never wanted her to know just what Ingersoll had in mind for her.

Unfortunately, he knew damn well these pictures would come out in Ingersoll's trial. It would all be exposed. To Diana. And to the world.

A footfall sounded behind him. Reed turned around just in time to see the lieutenant step into the room.

The lieutenant usually didn't get personally involved in executing search warrants. But apparently on this case, he'd made an exception. He studied Ingersoll's montage. The overhead light reflected off his glasses, hiding his eyes, but the grim
set of his mouth corroborated the sick feeling twisting Reed's gut.

“Any word?” Reed held his breath.

“He didn't show up at his ten o'clock delivery. No one has seen him since he made his first delivery this morning.” The lieutenant tilted his head to the side, his stance vaguely apologetic. “Have you heard where he made that first delivery?”

Reed's gut tensed. “I'm out of the loop now, remember?”

“Not anymore.” The lieutenant scuffed his shoes on the floor. “This morning, Louis Ingersoll delivered a load of fresh produce to Banesbridge prison. It's part of his regular route.”

So Reed had been right. He'd been right all along. The Copycat Killer was taking his orders from Kane. Reed should feel vindicated. Instead, he couldn't muster anything but worry. “Is Diana still at the district office?”

“She was when I left.”

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“All we have to do is find Ingersoll. Bring him down. And this will be over.”

Reed did his best to nod. Louis Ingersoll didn't stand a chance, not with all the law-enforcement agencies in southern Wisconsin scouring the area for him. But somehow that didn't make Reed feel better. That didn't make him feel better at all.

Rubber screeched against pavement outside.

Reed dashed to the window.

A panel van swerved around the corner and roared up the street. Police cars raced behind, lights flashing, sirens shrieking.

Ingersoll.

The lieutenant dashed to the window, almost running into Reed. “What's going on?”

Reed raced for the door. “Ingersoll didn't disappear. He was just on his way home.”

He took the stairs two at a time, pulling his pistol from his shoulder holster as he ran. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he raced outside and bulled past reporters.

The air shuddered with a screech and the smack of steel on steel.

Reed pushed his legs to move faster. He vaulted a row of bushes and raced into the street.

He could see the wreck ahead of him. The van sat at an angle, its front fender buried into the side of a parked car. Red and blue flashed over a scurry of officers. The light throbbed like a strobe in the storm-darkened sky, making their movements look jerky and unreal.

Officers surrounded the van, drawing down on the driver's door. Perreth's solid form marched toward the vehicle.

Reed reached the inner perimeter of cars just as
the bulldog detective approached the van. Breath roaring in his ears, Reed joined Nikki behind her car and leveled his gun on the panel van.

“I got him. I got him.” Perreth swaggered up to the van and yanked open the door.

Movement flashed from inside. A shock of red hair, the dull glint of a rifle barrel.

Reed didn't think. He didn't feel. He just closed his finger over the trigger and squeezed. Pop. He gave with the Glock's kick, letting the movement bring his gun back into position for the next tap. Pop.

Red bloomed on Ingersoll's chest. His throat. His eyes froze and he slid unmoving to the pavement.

Reed watched him, waiting for the satisfaction to fill his chest. It never came.

Ingersoll might be dead, but this wasn't over. A woman was still out there. Bound. Frightened. Alone. A woman only Louis Ingersoll and Dryden Kane knew how to find.

 

D
IANA HAD NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY
to see anyone as she was when Reed walked through the door of the district office. She scurried across the large office floor toward him, weaving through people and desks. “Reed.”

A smile lit his eyes, but didn't lift the lines etching his face. If possible, he looked more tired and pale than he had in the hospital. As if some
thing tragic had happened. As if at this moment, life was too heavy to bear.

“What is it?”

He reached out and grasped her hand, holding her fingers tight, as if afraid she'd slip away. “Not here.” He pulled her across the bustling space and into one of the offices. Shutting the door behind him, he split the bent aluminum blinds with his fingers and peered out between the slats. “I have to make this fast. There's a meeting I need to get to.”

Now he was scaring her. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to fold herself in his arms and know they were both safe. She leaned a hip on the edge of the desk and hugged her arms around her middle. “What happened?”

“You were right. It was Ingersoll.”

She stood up, her knees wobbling under her. “I knew it. He hid that woman's identity so I wouldn't find out where the necklace came from, didn't he?”

Reed nodded. “That's what it looks like.”

“I keep thinking about the way he looked at me. The time we spent alone in my apartment going through news clippings about serial killers. Clippings about Kane.” She buried her face in her hands. “How long was he involved with Kane?”

“Ingersoll has been making regular deliveries to the prison for four years. Kane works in the kitchen on a regular basis, so we're guessing they pass notes
to one another by tucking them into the produce or hiding them somewhere in the walk-in cooler.”

“So Kane knew about me. He sent Louis to watch me.”

Reed nodded.

She closed her eyes. She felt dead inside. Numb. Kane had known who she was all along. Before she'd had her first inkling about him. Before she'd gotten the nerve to track down her biological parents, he'd been watching her. Moving the pawns into place.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She had to focus. The woman was still out there. The woman with the baby. “Did you find where Louis is holding Cerise Copeland? Is she alive?”

Reed turned away from the window. He stared at the blank wall behind her like a soldier waiting to accept his court martial. “We haven't found her.”