“Anxious.” He scribbled the word in his notebook.
“You’re taking this wrong. They were happy. They loved each other. They were eager to be together, to start their new life.”
He nodded, but he didn’t scratch out the word anxious.
Had Sylvie chosen that word subconsciously? Maybe. Diana had been anxious the past few months. But not about Bobby. At least, not that Sylvie knew. “I don’t think you’re understanding me.”
He glanced up at her from under bushy brows. “Oh?”
“Diana and Bobby were in love. They wanted to get married.”
“Did you notice any tension between them recently?”
Back to the same track. “Between them? No.”
“But you noticed tension.”
“Diana seemed tense about something, yes. But not about her marriage.”
He nodded, but she wasn’t at all sure he had heard what she said. Not all of it, anyway.
“Where does your sister live?”
Sylvie gave him the address.
“Apartment number?”
“Three B.”
He jotted it down. “Good, we’ll get a warrant and take a look.”
Unease niggled at the back of her neck. “If looking in Diana’s apartment will help find her, I can let you in.”
“Do you live with her?”
“I’m just visiting for the wedding.” Sylvie had been considering moving to Madison and subletting her sister’s apartment when Diana finished moving in with Bobby in Baraboo. Sylvie could just as easily wait tables in Wisconsin. But she hadn’t yet taken the plunge. “Diana gave me a key, though.”
“I need permission from someone with legal standing.”
“Why?” The buzz in Sylvie’s ears grew, making it hard to think. The only time she’d heard the term legal standing was on an episode of Law & Order. And then it had been used to argue the admissibility of evidence—evidence used against someone charged with murder. “You think Diana hurt Bobby?”
“I don’t draw conclusions until I finish looking at the evidence.”
“It sounds like you’re drawing a conclusion to me. A wrong conclusion.”
“I assure you that’s not the case.” He looked down at his notes. “But there was a history of abuse in your sister’s adopted family, isn’t that correct?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Adopted daughter showing up at school with bruises? Her mother, too. Walking into a doorknob? Falling down steps? Nice family, too. Plenty well off.”
“If you have a point, you’d better get to it.”
“They say women who are abused as children often choose men who—”
“Hold on right there. You think Bobby hurt Diana?”
The detective stared at her, a smug look in his deep-set eyes. “Like I said, I’m still looking at the evidence. But there’s a good chance your sister was merely defending herself.”
“Diana didn’t do anything.”
“A good attorney can probably get her off with a slap on the wrist.”
“She didn’t do anything.”
“You need to tell her to turn herself in, though. It would make things a lot easier for her.”
“What, have you already decided what happened without even looking at any of the facts? Some cop you are.”
Bushy brows lowered over hard eyes.
Sylvie shouldn’t have said that. And now that the words had left her lips, she couldn’t bite them back.
Footsteps approached from down the hall. A uniformed officer stopped behind Perreth. “Detective?”
“Can it wait?”
“I think you’re going to want to see this.”
“Stick around. I’ll want to talk to you further.” Detective Perreth spun away and followed the officer.
Sylvie groaned. She shouldn’t have insulted him, but she couldn’t help it. He’d been right about Diana’s adopted family, but that’s where it ended. His accusation was ridiculous. How could he possibly think Bobby had abused Diana? That Diana had struck back? It would be laughable, even pitiful, if this Perreth character wasn’t in charge of the case. If he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be figuring out what really happened. The one who was supposed to be finding Diana.
Down the hall, Perreth followed the officer into the lounge. As soon as he rounded the corner, Sylvie started for the church’s front door. She sure wasn’t going to wait for Perreth to railroad her sister. She would find Diana herself, starting with taking a look in her apartment before Detective Perreth did.
Bryce
Bryce Walker had spent so much of the past week tracking down Diana Gale that when her apartment door opened and an ice-blue eye peered over the security chain, it took all he had to keep from kicking the door in, pinning her to the wall and demanding answers.
“Can I help you?” Her voice carried soft and low tones better suited to a seductress than a murderess.
Of course, there was no reason she couldn’t be both.
“Bryce Walker. I’m an attorney. I need to ask you some questions regarding a case I’m working on.” His voice sounded as businesslike and detached as he’d hoped. As if this really was any case. As if he was merely doing his job for a client.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card and slipped it through the narrow opening.
She accepted the card. “I don’t think you want me.”
“You are Diana Gale.”
“Diana is my sister.”
He peered through the small crack, trying to get a better look at her. Blond hair, large blue eyes, a heart-shaped face any man would enjoy seeing on the pillow beside him. A silver eyebrow ring pierced through the elegant arch of one brow, bringing a touch of rebellion to the picture. She held a hand to her chest, spreading pink-polished fingers across cleavage exposed by a formal green gown.
“I’ve seen your picture. And I know you’re an only child.”
“I’m Diana’s twin. We were separated as toddlers.”
She sounded sincere. But then, whatever she said in that musical voice would probably sound sincere. “What is your name?”
“Sylvie. Sylvie Hayes.”
“And you live here?”
“I live in Chicago.”
“Where in Chicago?”
“Why do you want to see Diana?”
Normally he might think her abrupt duck of his question evasive. But there was something in her voice. He wasn’t sure what, but he got the distinct impression she was concerned. “Are you worried about Diana for some reason?”
“I want to know why you want to see her, that’s all. So I can pass along the message.”
A lie if he’d ever heard one. And in all the years he’d spent in the courtroom, he’d heard plenty. Not only was he sure she was worried, the prospect that she was telling the truth earlier seemed likely as well. Maybe she was Diana Gale’s twin.
“I have a case to discuss with your sister.” He peered over Sylvie Hayes’s blond head, trying to see into the apartment through the small space in the door. “Will you tell her I’m here?”
“What kind of case?”
“The confidential kind.”
“Well, Diana isn’t home.”
Was she telling the truth? Probably. “Where can I find her?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“When will she be back?”
“I don’t know that either. But maybe if you tell me a little more about why you want to talk to her, I can help.”
“If you don’t know where she is or when she’ll be back, I can’t see how.”
Her lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “You asked if I was worried about her?”