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  “What are you planning to bring?” Reed circled the car and stepped to the curb beside her.

  “If you don’t want to help carry it, you can wait in the car.”

  He shot her a dry look. “Follow me.”

  Stifling a sigh, she fell in behind him, walking up the sidewalk and into the lobby. Once inside, he made her wait at the door while he scrutinized every inch of the modest lobby, as if he expected a man with a gun to crawl from under the vinyl bench or pop out of one of the tiny locked mailboxes that lined the wall.

  “You really think this is necessary?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he paused at the door to the stairwell and stared at the mud-tracked entry rug.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing. That’s just an unusual tread pattern.” He pointed at mud shaped in a wavy pattern staining the rug.

  Apparently he was going to micromanage every second of her life. Even to the point of analyzing dirty rugs. “So? It poured last night.”

  “But where does someone find that much mud around here?”

  He had a point. The area around the apartment was covered with a lush June lawn and fresh layer of mulch in the flower beds. For the first summer in years, the street out front wasn’t torn up with construction. But while mud in the entry did seem a little odd, it still didn’t require a news bulletin. Of course, knowing Reed, he was probably just trying to frighten her. Impress on her the danger she faced if she insisted on staying at her apartment.

  As if that were necessary.

  Finished with the mud, he started up the stairs.

  “Wait,” she said. “I need to get my suitcase and some other stuff from my storage locker.”

  “The other stuff again. It had better not be too heavy.” Changing course, Reed led her down the steps into the dank coolness of the basement. He stopped at the secured door leading to the lockers for her section of the building. “Keys?”

  At one time, he’d had his own. Blocking those days from her mind, Diana dug into her purse.

  Down the hall, a door opened. Diana’s next-door neighbor, Louis Ingersoll, stepped out of the laundry room, hoisting a basket of clothes. As soon as he spotted Reed, his eyes narrowed. His contempt reached down the hall like a cold draft.

  Diana shook her head. Explaining all that had happened to Louis was the last thing she needed. He’d been her friend in the months before her wedding, watching her apartment when she was away, clipping stories about Dryden Kane from the newspaper after he’d learned of her involvement in the research project. But since she’d broken up with Reed, their friendship had taken on an uncomfortable edge.

  Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed his romantic expectations until then. “Hey, Louis.”

  Louis didn’t take his glare from Reed. A flush spread up his freckled neck, turning his face as red as his hair. “Is there anything I can help with?”

  “Detective McCaskey is here in an official capacity.” She shouldn’t feel compelled to explain—whether Reed was here or not wasn’t Louis’s business—but she couldn’t stand that look in his eyes. As if Reed were his enemy. As if Diana had betrayed him. She’d never meant to lead him on, but obviously that was what she’d done.

  “What do you mean, an official capacity? Did something happen?”

  “Nothing you have to worry about,” Reed said, words clipped.

  Diana shot him a quelling look. Reed had never been fond of Louis. No doubt she’d been the only one blind to Louis’s crush. A situation remedied when he’d given her a necklace of emeralds and diamond chips for Christmas—a necklace he refused to take back.

  Even now he glanced down at her throat, as if noticing her lack of jewelry, even though she’d never once worn his gift. “If there’s anything I can do, Diana, you let me know.”

  “Thanks.” Fingertips hitting metal, she fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Reed. She couldn’t wait to end this uncomfortable exchange. “We’ll talk later, okay, Louis?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Reed pushed the storage-room door open, and they slipped inside, clearing the hall for Louis to pass with his laundry basket.

  She let out a breath of relief.

  “So he still hasn’t given up, huh?”

  “Louis is my friend.”

  “He might be your friend, but you are his obsession.”

  She didn’t want to talk about it. The air was charged enough between her and Reed without introducing pointless jealousy into the mix.

  She stepped past him and faced the rows of wood and chicken wire that formed individual storage lockers lining the walls. Snagging the keys from his hand, she strode to her locker and opened the padlock that secured the door. She’d been meaning to sort through the jumble of boxes jamming the space, but with Sylvie’s wedding and move to Madison, Diana’s last semester of grad school and the fact that she hadn’t been ready to deal with much of anything the past few months, she hadn’t been down here since Christmas.

  A gossamer strand of spiderweb tickled her face. Wiping it clear, she moved several boxes before she came to the suitcase. And the pair of file boxes underneath.

  Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  After her experience with Professor Bertram, she hadn’t been able to look at the files she’d compiled. She’d merely shoveled the material into the file boxes and stacked them down here. The thought of sharing the same living space with them, many of which had notes written in Bertram’s hand, repulsed her.

  She jingled the key chain in her hand. Suddenly she didn’t want to see those papers again. Just the thought of them brought back memories of that cabin, the darkness, the burn of the ropes on her wrists, her eventual loss of hope, of strength.

  “You want those boxes?” he asked.

  “I’m going to take some work with me to the hotel, too, if you don’t mind.” She could feel his skepticism without turning to look at his face.

  “Fine with me.”

  She bent over the first box, wrestling it out of the pile.

  “What’s inside?”

  “Papers,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t probe further, yet knowing he would.

  “Papers having something to do with Dryden Kane?”

  She let the box plunk back to the floor. She might as well tell him her intentions. “I’m going to read through my notes from previous interviews with him. Prepare for tomorrow.”

  “Is this the ‘other stuff’ you needed?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you think? That if you told me what was really in the box, I’d take them?”

  She gave him a look, not bothering to state the obvious.

  He stroked his chin. “Your lack of trust in me is stunning.” Leaning down, he hoisted the box she’d just dropped and carried it out of the locker.

  She pulled the other box out and slid it across the cement floor until it rested beside her suitcase.

  The room plunged to blackness.

  Chapter Five

  Adrenaline jolted Diana’s bloodstream. She strained her eyes, trying to see something. Anything but colored spots swimming in endless blackness. “What happened?”

  “Shh.” Reed’s suit jacket rustled. A click sounded off the cement, the sound of him unsnapping his holster and pulling out his gun.

  Diana’s heart slammed high in her chest. Had someone cut the electricity on purpose? Someone like the Copycat Killer? Reed seemed to think so.

  Her legs began to shake. Silence hung in the dank air, heavy enough to choke her.

  “Where are the circuit breakers?” Reed whispered.

  Diana never had a reason to know. She combed her mind, trying to picture where she might have seen something like that. “I think I remember some electrical boxes in the laundry room.”

  Reed’s shoes scraped lightly in the darkness, moving toward the door. Moving out into the hall. He couldn’t leave her. Not in here. Not in the darkness.

  Where the killer could be wait
ing.

  No, the killer wasn’t in here. He couldn’t be. But he might be out in the hall. Out in the hall waiting for Reed.

  Panic flared hot in her chest. She pushed herself up from her crouch, willing her trembling knees to support her. Gripping the cage of chicken wire, she felt her way to the two-by-fours framing the locker door.

  “Stay in the locker,” Reed whispered.

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to have to worry about where you are.”

  Of course. What was she thinking? That she was going to save Reed? How? She had no gun. She had no weapon of any kind. And although she’d started attending classes on self-defense, at this moment she didn’t know if she could stand let alone remember a single move.

  She backed into the storage locker and lowered herself into an uneasy squat. The darkness closed around her, as heavy and oppressive as a blanket. A pall. She struggled to hear above the pound of her pulse.

  It was torture, waiting like this. Not knowing what was happening. Helpless. Images exploded in front of her eyes, memory playing out against the black screen. She remembered every excruciating moment of the days and nights she’d lain tied in that dark cabin. The burn of the ropes against her wrists. The terrible thirst that parched her mouth and throat. The emptiness that opened like a chasm inside her.

  She couldn’t push it out of her mind.

  She’d been worried about Reed then, too. She’d seen Professor Bertram hit him with the tire iron. She’d seen the way his head had bounced against the tile floor. She’d seen the blood.

  And she’d been helpless to do anything to help him. The helplessness was the worst. It ate into her until there was nothing left but bitter darkness.

  A sound came from out in the hall.

  She couldn’t sit here and wait for Reed to be attacked. Wait for the killer to find her. Wait to relive horrors she’d barely survived the first time.

  She groped in the darkness until her hands touched the cardboard flaps of boxes. There must be something here, something she could use to defend herself, to help Reed.

  She pulled the flaps of one box open. Taking a breath of dusty air, she shoved a hand inside. Her fingers brushed the spines of books. She tried another box, her hand plunging into soft fall sweaters. Her third try, the buttery leather of a softball glove. She clawed deeper. Something cold and curved and as smooth as brushed metal met her palm. She gripped the softball bat and pulled it from the box as quietly as she could.

  It felt good in her hands. Solid. Strong. She focused on the locker door. If something happened, if someone came inside, she could take a swing at him. She could defend herself.

  The trembling in her legs spread through her whole body. Her breathing roared in her ears, yet oxygen never seemed to make it to her lungs.

  Oh, God, don’t let this happen again.

  The lights flickered, then held.

  She blinked, the sudden illumination blinding. Relief rushed through her bloodstream, relief she was afraid to feel.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall.

  She tightened her grip on the bat.

  Reed stepped around the corner.

  She let the bat clatter to the floor.

  “Diana.” He rushed to her side, encircling her with his arms, holding her on her feet.

  Her body dissolved, as if the muscle holding her upright had turned to quivering goo. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m getting you out of here. I’ll come back for the boxes when backup arrives.”

  “And Nadine Washburn’s mother?” Reed had planned to talk to the woman about her daughter’s disappearance. But right now, the last thing Diana wanted was for him to leave her alone.

  “I’ll have another detective do it. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere just now.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t move. The way she was shaking, she didn’t know if her legs would carry her. Worse, she didn’t want to leave the protection of Reed’s arms.

  BY THE TIME THE OTHER OFFICERS arrived, Diana had gotten her shaking under control, but the tide of failure sweeping through her wasn’t so easy to stem.

  She’d tried so hard. To stand on her own. To be strong. And yet, she hadn’t been with Reed ten hours and any progress she’d made over the past months had washed away, leaving her clinging and shaking in his arms.

  She leaned against Reed’s car and waited for him and the other officers to complete their sweep of the building. The only thing she could think to do was pray the circuit breaker flicking off was an overloaded circuit. If it was more than that, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  “Diana?” Reed walked toward her. A small gift bag dangled from his fingers. He crossed the sidewalk and stopped in front of her. “Who would have left you a gift?”

  Diana stared at the package, her mind a blank. “I don’t know.”

  “I might.” He stepped past her and reached for the car door.

  “What is it?”

  “You can see it later.”

  The tremor reignited, rippling through her legs. “It’s from the copycat, isn’t it?”

  Reed opened the driver’s door.

  She grabbed his arm. “Isn’t it?”

  His bicep hardened under her palm. “You can see it later. You’re in no condition now.”

  “I need to see it now.” She pressed back the tears flooding her eyes. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t let the emotions surging through her overwhelm her. Not unless she wanted to prove Reed’s point. That she couldn’t handle the truth. That she might never be strong enough to stand on her own. “Please.”

  He looked down at her, searching as if he could see her thoughts written across her face. Slowly, he dipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a pair of plastic gloves like the ones he was wearing. “It’s not the type of surface that is likely to give us good prints, but it pays to be careful.”

  She pulled the gloves on. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the bag and peered inside.

  A small box nestled in the bag. The fading twilight gleamed on its white skin. She looked to Reed. “What is it?”

  “A music box.”

  Cold skittered up her spine. Memories niggled at the back of her mind, memories she couldn’t quite grasp. “Can I touch it?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure at all. She managed a nod.

  Holding a handle in each hand, he spread the bag open so she could pull out the box.

  Covered in white satin and fluffy tulle, the tiny box looked like a wedding favor. Or a little girl’s dream.

  She grasped the box in one hand and caught the tiny clasp with the edge of her fingernail, flipping it open. She held her breath as she lifted the lid.

  Pink satin lined the box, a mirror fitted inside the lid. And in front of the mirror, a tiny bride twirled, her dress and veil frothing around her like frosting on a wedding cake. A metallic tune tickled the air.

  Diana didn’t remember her childhood before age three. Not really. Only bits and pieces. A feeling here. An isolated image there. But there was no mistaking the song plucked out by the music box’s metallic tines.

  “‘The Wedding March.’” Her voice rasped hoarsely in her ears, a voice she hardly knew. But she knew exactly who’d given her this gift. She could feel the shiver of memory in each metallic note. “It’s from him. It’s from Dryden Kane.”

  Chapter Six

  Reed stopped his sedan at the curb outside the downtown hotel Sylvie and Bryce had chosen and glanced at Diana. Night had fallen while he and several other officers had been busy turning Diana’s apartment building upside down looking for evidence the Copycat Killer—or whoever had delivered Kane’s gift—had left behind. Despite the passage of time and thick shadows veiling her face, Diana looked as pale and shell-shocked as she had after opening that damn music box.

  He blew a breath through tight lips and switched off the ignition. He’d known dealing with Diana would be pa
inful, but he’d never guessed how bad it would get. At least this morning he could muster some anger toward her, some bitterness for breaking their engagement and his heart. But now he didn’t even have that defense. Now all he could think about was keeping her safe.

  Checking traffic, he opened the door and climbed out. The sooner he got her checked into the hotel and away from him, the better. It wouldn’t remove her from his thoughts, but at least she wouldn’t be by his side, his old feelings chafing like a pair of ill-fitting shoes too expensive to throw away.

  She joined him as he opened the trunk. He grasped her suitcase, and set it on the curb and reached up to close the trunk.

  “What about my notes on Kane?”

  The notes. Damn. He was hoping she would have forgotten the notes. Spending the night reading about the horrors that monster had committed was the last thing she needed. “I need to make copies. I have to be sure we didn’t miss something.”

  “So make copies. Tomorrow.”

  He probably should argue with her, but he didn’t have the heart. He glanced at his watch. Already ten o’clock. It had taken far longer than he’d ever imagined to sweep Diana’s building and canvass her neighbors. Even after all the hours they’d been there, and on a Sunday night, they hadn’t been able to talk to everyone. Like Louis Ingersoll. The little redheaded worm had disappeared sometime after they’d seen him in the basement. Not that Reed wouldn’t catch up with him. “We could make copies right now,” Diana said, bringing his attention crashing back to the boxes in the trunk.

  He eyed the boxes. It would take an hour or more to copy all those files. Another hour of being with Diana. Of wanting to take care of her, protect her. Of wanting her to be his own.

  Maybe Perreth was right. Maybe another detective should deal with Diana.

  He shook his head. He just needed some time away. If he was really considering Perreth’s ideas, he must be too tired to think. “Okay. I’ll have someone copy them in the morning.”

  Trying not to notice the satisfied press of Diana’s lips, he lugged the boxes into the hotel. He placed them on a bellboy’s cart while Diana checked in, then they wheeled their way into an elevator and through a hall to her room. Reaching the room, Reed greeted Officer Kuklin outside in the hall, tipped the bellboy, and prepared to make his exit.