Lethal (Small Town Secrets Book 1) Page 2

  “Go with the officer. Answer his questions. That’s how you can help.”

  “The police will be at the prison too, right? I can answer questions there. I need to go.”

  Trent paced the length of the tiny foyer before he spun back to face her. His expression was guarded, his jaw clamped shut like an oyster with an entire pearl necklace to protect.

  Risa had seen this look countless times before. Back when they were engaged. Back when he’d withdrawn. Back when he’d shut her out of his life.

  She shoved her resentment aside and concentrated on keeping her voice calm, her argument reasonable. “I’ve been heading up a study on criminal psychology. I’ve been to the prison dozens of times in the last year interviewing Dryden. It could be useful if I—”

  “It’s out of the question.”

  Frustration pulsed at the back of Risa’s eyes, rapidly turning into a throbbing headache. “You’ve used victims’ family members to help in other cases.”

  “Not this time. Let the authorities take care of it. Let us do our jobs.” His voice was professional, emotionless, final.

  Risa lurched to her feet, her hands in fists. She wanted to pound them against his chest. She wanted to grab the lapels of his suit and shake him. She wanted to scream until she had no breath left in her body.

  By some kind of miracle, she kept herself calm. “This isn’t about you. Not everything is.”

  His back stiffened, but he didn’t argue with her. He never had. From the night he’d told her he couldn’t go ahead with their vows, he’d taken all the anger she’d thrown at him as if it were his penance for the pain he’d caused. A punishment he knew he deserved.

  But she didn’t want to punish him. She wanted him to understand. “I’ve talked to Dryden, interviewed him. And Nikki found my work so fascinating, she married the man. I’m neck deep in this.”

  “And I won’t be responsible for you getting in any deeper.”

  She bit back a caustic reply. Arguing was a waste of time. “I don’t need you, Trent. I’ll drive myself. If the officer wants to ask me questions, he can meet me at the prison. Or he can arrest me.”

  Clutching her robe closed, she ran up the stairs.

  Trent

  Damn.

  Listening to the soft thump of Rees’s footsteps climbing the stairs, Trent ran his gaze over the warm wood and creamy white walls of her foyer. Her collection of teddy bears scattered the staircase and bench and stared down at him from an ornate shelf. Dozens of them. Judging him with their glossy black eyes.

  He hated teddy bears.

  Of course, it wasn’t the stuffed toys themselves. He knew that. It was what they represented. Innocence. And his failure to protect it.

  He turned away from the staircase and crossed the foyer to the front door. That Rees wanted to help save Nikki from Ed Dryden—that she needed to help—didn’t surprise him in the least. But he’d hoped she would be satisfied with going to the police station and answering questions. He should have known better.

  Simply answering questions wouldn’t be enough for her. Not Rees. Of course she would try to talk him into including her, and when he refused, she’d go barreling in on her own. He should have done something, anything to head her off before she’d latched on to the idea of going to the prison. Before she’d dug in her heels.

  Trent opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop. The gentle glow of the moon caressed an oak tree’s emerging leaves and sparkled off drops of dew in the well-tended lawn. Sweet scents of lilac and honeysuckle mixed with the tang of nearby spruce. Familiar smells of Wisconsin spring that would be embedded in his memory forever.

  But in his memory, those sweet scents were impossible to separate from the odor of blood, the stench of decay, and the evil of Ed Dryden. That was the reality of Trent’s life. Death and decay and a killer on the loose. Not spring bushes covered with flowers. Not teddy bears.

  And certainly not Risa.

  He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the soft, lavender scent of her, the rich, husky quality in her voice, the petite curves even that flour sack of a nightshirt couldn’t hide.

  If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have taken the job at the University of Wisconsin. She wouldn’t have gone out of her way to include Dryden in her study, and her sister wouldn’t have married the monster.

  This wasn’t her fault. It was his.

  But he couldn’t turn his back on the bureau. Not two years ago, and not now. To change the path his career had taken would mean killers he had helped put in prison or on death row would be free. And he couldn’t live with that. Not even for Rees.

  Two years ago, Trent had tried to find a way to reconcile his career and his need to protect Rees. But there was no way. He couldn’t have both. He’d had to face that then, and nothing had changed since.

  Circumstances had only proved he had been right to leave her. His failure was not leaving sooner.

  Trent stepped off the porch and strode across the wet grass toward his rental car. All he could do was try to clean up the mess he’d caused. Find Dryden before he killed Nikki, before he killed someone else.

  And he would do his damnedest to protect Rees in the process. Whether she liked it or not.

  Risa

  Dressed in slacks and a cotton sweater, Risa stepped into the garage and hit the glowing button on the wall. Motor whirring, the automatic door began to rise. A car’s headlights glared from outside, their brightness growing as the door lifted. She held up a hand to shield her eyes from the light.

  “Get in the car.” Trent’s voice barked over the drone of the garage door. “I’ll drive you to the prison.”

  She gripped her car keys in one fist, the pointed edges digging into her palm. Knowing Trent, the turnaround had less to do with a change of heart than a change of strategy. “I’m going to the prison.”

  “I said I’d take you.”

  “And when I get there, I’m going to help with the investigation.”

  “We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Right.” Well, the first step was getting him to take her. Now she had the forty-minute drive there to convince him to let her take a look in Ed Dryden’s cell.

  She punched the code into the garage door’s outside keypad. The door humming shut behind her, she climbed into Trent’s sedan.

  His scent closed over her like warm water. A shiver shimmied up her back. A shiver with a chaser of memory. Once she’d found comfort in his scent, in the warmth of his body next to hers. But that time was gone.

  Now he just made her angry.

  Trent threw the car into reverse, backed out, and headed in the direction of the highway. His face was hard in the glow of the dashboard light.

  “I need to know what is going on, Trent.”

  “I don’t know anything beyond what I’ve already told you.”

  “And you wouldn’t share it with me if you did.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  She blew a frustrated breath between pursed lips.

  “What? Did you expect me to give you all the gory details?”

  “The gory details are my life this time. Nikki’s—” Risa knotted her hands into fists in her lap. “Do you think it’s better if I find out about the case when some true-crime author writes a book about it? Is that when I should discover I had the critical piece of information that could have saved my sister?”

  For the first time since she’d climbed into the car, Trent turned to look at her. A furrow dug between his brows. His face looked thinner than she remembered. His mouth tensed, but he said nothing.

  “I would never forgive myself if something that I know could save Nikki’s life. Or other lives. Would you, Trent? Would you be able to forgive yourself?”

  He turned back to the road, his lips flattening into a noncommittal line.

  Risa leaned back in her seat and stared out the window at the rolling hills whipping by in the night.

  “Okay.” When Trent finally spoke, his voice was low
, barely above a whisper. “But you’d better brace yourself.”

  Trent

  Trent put pen to paper and scrawled his name on the document in front of him without glancing twice at the fine print. He knew what it said. He’d had to sign it many times in his years with the FBI. Sign it and surrender his gun. Every time he’d ventured into the cell blocks of a maximum security prison. The pit he and Rees were heading to now.

  He glanced at Rees standing next to him in front of the glassed-in reception and screening desk. She’d conducted interviews at the prison, but he doubted she’d been deeper than the visiting rooms. She would have had no reason to visit the cell blocks themselves.

  Eyes squinted, she studied the words in front of her. Damn ominous words. Words she should never have to contemplate. In a nutshell, the document stated that should some inmate with a point to prove take either of them hostage, the prison authorities wouldn’t lift a finger to save their lives. No negotiation. No discussion. No kiss goodbye.

  Of course Trent had seen countless instances where prison officials went to all lengths to save a hostage. The document was simply intended to cover the prison from lawsuits should a visitor get hurt. But even so, the implication was there. This was a bad place filled with bad men.

  A place Rees shouldn’t be anywhere near.

  Trent wished he didn’t have to put her in this situation. But she’d been right. He needed to use every resource at his disposal to stop Dryden, even if that resource was Rees.

  Trent turned to the hulking corrections officer waiting to escort them to Dryden’s cell. “Let’s get on with it.”

  The guard turned to Risa. “Ready, Professor?”

  “Lead the way, Gordy.”

  The guard started down the well-worn main hallway, Trent and Rees falling into step behind.

  “So you know the CO,” Trent observed, keeping his voice low.

  “I told you I’ve been here before.”

  “Interviewing Dryden. I remember.” The barred door clanged shut behind them, leaving no sound beyond their voices and the steady tap of their footsteps on scuffed tile.

  “This place is worse at night, though. Funny, since there are no windows, but…”

  Trent had to agree. It was the stillness. A hanging tension. As if they were waiting for a disaster that was sure to come. “Academic study questionnaires don’t cover what we might find here.”

  “They do cover pompous condescension, though.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Listen Trent, I know we might find something disturbing. And if we do, I’ll deal. Not finding anything that could help us would be much worse.”

  After walking for what seemed like an eternity, Gordy stopped to turn his key in the control panel and opened the last set of barred doors at the entrance of the first cell block. They stepped through, and the doors clanged shut behind them. The sound echoed through the vast two-story structure like the slamming of the doors of Hades.

  Trent had never visited this particular prison before, and it was in serious need of renovation. Unfortunately, in that, it was not unique. A long hallway stretched on either side of them, barred windows black with night on one side and two stories of cells on the other. The scarred bars and dingy beige walls and floors looked like it was built in the same era as Alcatraz. A smattering of murmurs, shouts and catcalls erupted as they stepped forward into the cell block. Thankfully, it was the middle of the night. Otherwise the jeers and obscenities would be worse. Among other unpleasantries.

  Rees tensed beside him.

  His first impulse was to slip an arm around her, to protect her from the scum leering at her from behind barred doors. But this was not the time or the place. That time and place didn’t exist. Not anymore.

  Between the open shower rooms in the center of the structure, a steel staircase rose to the second floor. They followed Gordy up the stairs, their footfalls making the metal hum like a tuning fork.

  When they reached the second tier, Gordy led them past two uniformed police officers and down the walkway overlooking the floor below. Each cell pod consisted of a small, enclosed common area surrounded by six individual cells. All the pods in this section stood unoccupied, their doors yawning wide.

  Two men in suits stood in the common area of Dryden’s cell pod. The taller of the two wore a double-breasted Armani suit and French cuffs with the pomposity of a man eager for people to think more of him than he thought of himself. If Trent had to hazard a guess, he’d peg the man as the prison’s warden. Although why the warden of an outdated prison in central Wisconsin would invest in designer suits, and where he’d come up with the cash on a public servant’s salary, Trent couldn’t say.

  The other man, Trent had met years ago. Ed Dryden had terrorized communities in the northern tip of Wisconsin, and that’s where he’d been arrested and charged. As is often the case with sensational crimes, the trial had been moved south to a different county to dip into its theoretically untainted jury pool. The county which was also the home of the tiny town of Lake Loyal, its nearby prison, and sheriff’s detective Dan Cassidy.

  Unfortunately, Cassidy had been one of many local law enforcement officers that Trent ran into in his work who were resentful of the FBI. To put it mildly, Cassidy hadn’t been the model of cooperation. In fact, the man was an ass.

  Now the detective stood listening uneasily to the warden, shifting from scuffed loafer to scuffed loafer. Add the mop of sandy hair on his head and his abruptly turned up nose, and Cassidy looked more like a little kid itching to go out and play than the aggressive hard ass he’d been trying to portray on the phone.

  The warden shook his balding head dramatically. Though he was talking to Cassidy, his voice carried down the row of empty cells. “…and maybe this is for the best. Maybe now the Department of Corrections will give us money for improvements and extra guards instead of funneling all the state’s resources into the new Supermax and into shipping prisoners to Tennessee and Oklahoma.”

  Trent hoped the warden was referring to something trivial like the boiler failing or the maintenance crew running out of wax for the dingy floors. He surely couldn’t be talking about the escape of a serial killer as being for the best, could he? Trent eyed Rees. The last thing she needed to hear was that the danger Nikki faced was for the best.

  A muscle worked in the smooth column of her throat, as if she was doing her best to swallow the idiot’s words.

  The men turned toward them. A wary smile broke across Cassidy’s face. “Special Agent Burnell.”

  “Dan Cassidy.”

  The detective nodded in Trent’s direction then focused on Rees. His brows lifted in surprise and then lowered.

  “This is Risa. Risa Madsen,” Trent informed him.

  “I know who she is.”

  Strange. As far as Trent knew, the two had never met, and yet Cassidy behaved as though he held something against her.

  After more introductions, the warden shook Trent’s hand and then grasped Rees’s. “I’m sorry your sister was involved in this, Ms. Madsen.”

  “Thank you, Warden. I appreciate it. What were you talking about when we arrived? What is for the best?”

  Trent almost smiled.

  At least Hanson had the decency to look embarrassed. He gestured widely with his bony hands, his face animated. “Not for the best, exactly. That was an unfortunate choice of words. But something big had to happen to get the DOC to acknowledge that this facility needs serious renovation. Heaven knows, they haven’t been listening to me. I warned our state representative just last week we need to update security. Thank God, they can’t ignore the problem any longer. I was just looking for the silver lining.”

  Trent had had enough of Warden Hanson. He glanced down at his watch. “Let’s get on with this, Cassidy.”

  The warden smoothed a hand over the front of his suit coat. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have some administrative details to attend to. Good luck, Special Agent Burnell. Professor Madsen.”


  “Thank you,” Trent said pointedly. He turned from the retreating warden and toward the cell.

  Cassidy stood in the cell’s open doorway, glaring at Rees. “Why is she here, Burnell?”

  “Do you have a problem, Cassidy?”

  “I can’t ask? This is my case.”

  “As a professor of psychology—someone who has studied Dryden intensely—and the sister of Dryden’s accomplice, she will provide insights that will be valuable. Now let’s get on with this.”

  Trent couldn’t help catch the grateful look Rees shot him. A grateful look he hardly deserved. Some nice guy he was, letting her in to see whatever surprises Dryden had left for them. He could only hope she did have some valuable insights. That he wasn’t exposing her to this whole damn nightmare for nothing.

  Cassidy’s frown deepened, but he led the way into the cell. The guard who had escorted them remained by the door.

  Dryden’s cell was small and nearly barren, with a built-in cot on one wall, a storage unit on the other and a toilet with a sink above on the third. The hall had smelled like sweaty gym socks that had been left in a pile to rot, but Dryden’s cell reeked of something harsh and slightly minty.

  “Disinfectant.”

  “He cleaned his cell several times a day,” Risa said.

  That fit with the Ed Dryden Trent knew. The man was obsessed with control. Controlling his environment. Controlling his victims. A common theme with psychopaths.

  “Manipulation, domination, and control,” Rees continued, as if reading Trent’s mind. “Wasn’t that part of your original profile?”

  “You know it was.”

  “He manipulated Nikki, controlled her. There were other women, too. He talked about them. Women, men, he thought he could manipulate anyone.”

  “He might have been right.” Dryden’s case had upended everything in Trent’s life. And in turn, he’d upended Risa’s. He’d broken their engagement and shut her out in an effort to protect her, but all that had done was send her straight to Dryden for answers.

  “So why don’t we stop wasting time and look for evidence?” Cassidy gestured to the storage unit. “Or are you afraid that might prove just how involved your sister was?”