Serial Bride (5 page)

Fortunately, parking on the university campus was easy to come by on a Saturday night. But amidst the university-wide construction, finding the psych building was another matter. As uneasy as Sylvie felt about Bryce accompanying her, she couldn't help but be grateful; at least he knew Madison. Had she been trying to negotiate the campus alone, she probably would have been walking aimlessly all night. Instead Bryce led her through the maze of buildings with confidence, finally locating the temporary offices serving the psychology department while it appeared the psychology building itself was being torn down and rebuilt utterly from scratch.

It was so quiet in the building, she was surprised to find the door unlocked. A glance at the directory inside the door told them which professors were being housed here and how to find them.

“No Risa Madsen. She must not be at the university anymore.”

Bryce tapped the glass covering the directory board. “But Vincent Bertram is here.”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and wound through a narrow hall until they found his office.

The door was closed.

Bryce knocked.

No answer.

Sylvie blew out a frustrated breath. “We must have missed him.” She couldn't wait until tomorrow. Since Diana had disappeared this afternoon, alarm had been blaring in Sylvie's ears nonstop. The pinch of it seized the back of her neck. She had to find her sister
now.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Sylvie whirled toward the quiet voice.

A man only a few inches taller than her, but with the wide shoulders of a bodybuilder, strode down the long hall toward them. His blond hair was liberally sprinkled with white and tapered into almost fully white sideburns that matched his goatee. But the most striking thing about the man was his brown eyes. The dark irises were almost completely surrounded by white, making his gaze very intense. He stared at Sylvie. “Diana?”

She fought the urge to squirm. “I'm her sister, Sylvie.”

He strode closer. “Oh, yes, her sister. I didn't know Diana had a twin.” He stuck out his hand. “Vincent Bertram.”

Sylvie barely contained a relieved sigh. Thank God she didn't have to wait. She shook his hand. His palm engulfed hers, enveloping her hand in a sort of fatherly warmth that contradicted the intensity of his eyes. “I need your help. It's about Diana.”

“Of course. Come in.” He slipped a key into the lock and pushed the door wide. He gestured Sylvie and Bryce into a small, book-lined room barely bigger than Diana's walk-in closet. The only thing that kept the room from inspiring claustrophobia was the single small window overlooking the lights dotting Bascom Hill. Thankfully, he left the door open.

“I'm sorry for the cramped office. These are our construction digs. They tell me the new psychology building will be beautiful.”

Sylvie returned his smile and nodded at the window. “Your view is beautiful.”

“That, I'm afraid, won't be quite so nice in the new building. Have a seat, would you?”

Sylvie and Bryce lowered themselves into chairs.

The professor leaned a hip on the edge of his desk and peered down at them. “Now, what can I help you with?”

Sylvie again found herself fighting the need to
squirm. She'd hate to have Bertram as a professor. Sitting under those eyes made her feel as if he could see right through her. “I need to know why my sister's involved in your research.”

“The research on Dryden Kane, yes.” Seemingly, Professor Bertram had no qualms about saying the killer's name out loud. But then, that kind of comfort probably came with poring over what the man did and said on a regular basis. One grew desensitized.

Sylvie thought of the photo of Kane and all the articles describing what he'd done. Had Diana become desensitized to Kane's evil, too? Did the horror of what he was simply wear off over time?

Sylvie couldn't imagine it.

“Our arrangement is very simple, actually. Diana asked to help, and I took her up on it.”

Bryce gave an incredulous grunt. “And you let anyone who asks waltz into a maximum-security prison and chat with a dangerous serial killer?”

“Of course not. Diana was different.”

“How?”

“I've done a lot of work studying serial killers, put in a lot of years. Studying Dryden Kane was going to be the crowning jewel of my career. I even talked to a publisher for my book on the subject. Then Kane decided to be difficult.”

Bryce leaned forward in his chair. “Difficult? How?”

“He refused to let me interview him further.”

“So your book deal was dead.” The picture was coming clearer in Sylvie's mind.

“More than that. All the research Risa Madsen had started on Kane and I had continued came to a dead end.” He shook his head.

“Enter Diana?” Sylvie said.

“Somehow she'd found out about the work we'd done. She asked if she could be part of the program.”

“That still doesn't explain why you let her.” Bryce's tone was unmistakably condemning. But though Sylvie found the hints of protectiveness he'd shown her nerve-racking, she warmed to the idea that he might feel protective of Diana, as well.

“Diana said she was going to speak to Kane whether I arranged it or not. So I did. Why not? There was no program without her. No book. Not one of much merit, at any rate. Kane wasn't going to let me interview him. But here comes this intelligent woman who wants to give my work a chance at a second life. And Kane agreed to speak with her.”

Sylvie couldn't believe it was that simple. “Didn't it occur to you that you might be putting her in danger?”

“Banesbridge might not be as restrictive as the Supermax, or whatever it's currently called, but it's secure. No one has ever escaped. It's just not possible.”

“It would probably be more secure if Kane
wasn't allowed to communicate with anyone who wanted a chat.”

Bertram met Bryce's comment with a bland look.

Sylvie shot Bryce a warning glance. Shifting in her chair, she returned her focus to Bertram. “Did Diana report a threatening letter she received from Kane?”

“A letter?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “When?”

“About a month ago,” Bryce informed him.

“She didn't mention it.” Graying brows hunkered low. “Why don't you ask Diana these questions?”

“Diana has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? How?” He raked a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly. “Is that why you're here? You think Dryden Kane somehow
caused
her disappearance?”

She wanted to say yes, but the answer seemed ludicrous in the face of the professor's comments about the security at the Banesbridge Correctional Institution. Dryden Kane was an evil man. She had only to look at this photograph, into those eyes, to feel his evil deep in her bones. But he wasn't some sort of supernatural being. He couldn't attack Reed and kidnap Diana from his prison cell. “To tell you the truth, Professor, I came to talk to you because I don't know what to think.”

“Have you reported this to the police?”

“Yes.”

“Have they found anything?”

“The detective on the case isn't very forthcoming. I don't know what he's found.” But she imagined that whatever evidence Perreth discovered, he would use it to prove Diana was at fault.

The professor raked his hair again. “I didn't know. Is there more I can tell you?”

Defeat throbbed through her mind. “I was hoping you knew of something, anything, that could help find her.”

He rubbed his forehead, as if struggling to come up with something. “Is there any reason you believe Kane might be involved?”

“Just the threat she received from him.”

“The threat?” He shook his head. “She never told me he threatened her. Why wouldn't she have told me?”

“Maybe because she knew you wouldn't allow her to see him anymore?” Bryce offered.

“I wouldn't have. I want you to know that. If I thought she was in any danger at all, I wouldn't have let her near him.” He looked to Sylvie. “I'm so sorry, Sylvie. You can't know how sorry I am that any of this had to happen.”

She pushed herself up from her chair. “Thank you.”

He grasped her hand in his. “The police know their job. I'm sure they'll find her.”

At least someone was sure. “If you think of any
thing at all, will you call me?” Grabbing a pen from the desk, she jotted down the hotel's number.

Bryce and the professor shook hands, and Bryce handed him a business card before following Sylvie out into the hall.

They walked a short distance down the hall without saying a word. For a reason Sylvie couldn't name, she wanted to get out of Professor Bertram's earshot before chewing over all he'd told them—and more importantly, all he hadn't.

Rounding the corner, they nearly ran headlong into a dark-skinned man wearing glasses with the largest lenses Sylvie had ever seen. Behind the glasses, the lines of middle age crinkled around sharp black eyes. “Don't believe Bertram's innocent act.”

“What?” Sylvie couldn't have heard him correctly, could she? “Who are you?”

“Sami Yamal. Assistant professor. I couldn't help but overhear. You want to know more? Come.” He motioned for them to follow and walked off down the hall.

Couldn't help overhearing? Sure. More likely he was eavesdropping. But Sylvie wasn't about to turn down his offer. She'd take information about Diana anyway she could get it.

Bryce started after the man, Sylvie right beside him. Once they passed the stairs and rounded another corner, Yamal unlocked an office and led
them inside. Cubicles and file cabinets jammed a room three times the size of Bertram's office. As soon as they stepped inside, he closed the door behind them. “Your sister was obsessed with Dryden Kane.”

Obsessed. Sylvie thought of the file folder Diana kept on the serial killer. As much as she wanted to argue against his charge, she couldn't. “Why do you think that?”

“Things she said. Things she knew.”

“Like what?”

He waved a hand, as if brushing the details away like stray crumbs. “Let's just say she did her research before she ever set foot in this department. And that was just the beginning. She wouldn't let it go. She grilled me.”

“Why would she grill
you?
” Bryce asked. “Why not go directly to the expert?”

“Expert? You mean Bertram?” He raised his chin, clearly prickly over Bryce's question. “I might not have tenure like Bertram, but
I
was the one who kept the Dryden Kane research going in the years after Risa Madsen left. Diana
did
come to the expert.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I answered her questions.”

“And suggested she talk to Kane herself?”

Yamal held up a hand. “I told her not to go near him. Bertram pushed that.”

“Bertram?” Sylvie glanced back in the direction of Bertram's office. Had he lied to them? Why? “He said Diana insisted she would visit Kane whether he arranged it or not.”

“Diana was eager to know about Kane, no question. But that was it. She never asked to visit him. Until Bertram decided she was the savior of his book deal.”

Bryce arched his brows. “So you're saying Bertram pushed her into visiting Kane?”

“Bertram used Diana. And she was happy to let him.”

Sylvie nodded. That much Bertram had told them, if not in so many words. “He implied Kane agreed to talk to her because she's a woman.”

Yamal let out a short, barking laugh. “Not just any woman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever seen pictures of the women Kane killed?”

The faces from the news articles Diana collected filtered through Sylvie's mind. “Some of them.”

Yamal's smile made her want to squirm. He opened a file drawer and pulled a folder. Carrying it to a nearby desk, he removed a stack of photos and spread them across the surface. “One look at these and you'll understand.”

A nervous flutter lodged under Sylvie's ribs.

Bryce stepped up beside her. He placed his hand lightly on her arm, as if to guide her to the desk. Or to offer support.

She pulled her arm away. She could make it on her own. Whatever Sami Yamal was about to show her, she'd deal with it as long as it led her closer to finding Diana.

One by one, Yamal spread a variety of shots of smiling blond women across the desktop. “These are Kane's first victims, the ones he killed before he was captured the first time. Notice the similarities? They're all young. They're all blond.”

Sylvie didn't have to look hard to see what he was talking about. “And they all look like Diana.” And her.

“You betcha.” He pulled one of the pictures from the rest and held it in front of Sylvie's nose.

She nearly gasped. The woman in the picture could be her third sister—not identical, but frighteningly close. The style of the woman's blond hair and the puffy sleeves of her jacket dated the picture. No doubt the woman would be quite a bit older than them—if she had lived. “Is that his first victim?”

He shook his head. “His last. Well, until his later prison escape. But she is the most significant of his early victims.”

Bryce nodded. “His wife.”

“Adrianna Kane. A successful attorney. The theory first developed by Risa Madsen is that Kane
had felt controlled by her, a control he couldn't fight against, a control that emasculated him. So he killed women who looked like her to claim back the power he felt she stole.” He gestured to the collection of photos with a sweep of his hand. “In effect, he used these other murders to fantasize about torturing, murdering and mutilating his wife. When he finally worked up enough confidence and excitement, he did what he'd aimed to do all along.”