A knock sounded on the door leading to the adjoining room.
Diana raced to the door and pulled it open.
Sylvie opened her arms and engulfed her sister in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t believe you saw Dryden. Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were going to do?”
“Because you would have stopped me.”
“You bet I would have.”
Bryce Walker appeared behind his bride, watching the sisters, concern threading across his brow.
With Bryce here, Diana would be safe. Bobby could work off some tension on his weight bench, catch some sleep, and get back to concentrating on the case. Now was as good a time as any for him to make his exit.
He started for the door.
“Bobby, wait,” Bryce called. “Someone left a gift for Sylvie at the hotel’s registration desk.”
Bobby turned around in time to see Sylvie hand Diana a gift bag.
“At first I thought it might be from you,” Sylvie said to her sister. “But then…”
Diana held the bag open so Bobby could see the small box inside. Covered in white satin and fluffy tulle, it looked like a wedding favor. Or a little girly girl’s dream.
“Can we take it out?” Diana asked.
Bobby pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and handed them to Diana.
Sylvie gasped. “I didn’t wear—”
Bobby held up a hand. “Just being extra careful.”
Diana pulled on the gloves, and Bobby spread the bag open so she could pull out the box. Then she lifted the tiny clasp with the tip of her finger and opened it.
Pink satin lined the inside. A mirror filled 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. The music box’s metallic tines plucked out a tune.
Diana gave Bobby a sideways look. “It’s from him. It’s from our father.”
“How are you so sure?”
“The song.”
Bobby must have missed something. “It’s the Wedding March, right? Here comes the bride, all dressed in white, etcetera? How is that unusual?”
“The actual title is 'Bridal Chorus.' It’s part of an opera written by Wagner. Lohengrin. The marriage that’s being celebrated in the story… it ends in murder and death.”
Bobby stared at her for a moment. “And people use that in their weddings?”
“We didn’t,” Sylvie said. “Neither did you two…”
“In the wedding that never happened,” Diana finished.
“Dryden mentioned a music box when Sylvie talked to him last fall,” Bobby had gone over the recording of the interview many times since he’d gotten out of the hospital last fall. So many that he could almost recite it word-for-word, but that didn’t stop him from making a note to go over it again.
“What did he say?” Diana asked.
Sylvie rubbed a palm over her still-flat belly. “That you loved a puppet when you were a kid. And I loved a music box.”
Bobby watched the sisters, a thought growing. A horrible thought. “Sylvie? He can’t know you’re pregnant.”
Sylvie jerked her head up. “What do you think he’d do?”
“I don’t know. But we don’t want to find out.”
“You need to go away,” Diana told her sister.
“And leave you here to deal with this alone?”
“At least until the police can catch this copycat.” Diana sat next to her and covered Sylvie’s hands with hers. “It’s the only way to be sure he won’t find out. Go on your honeymoon. Concentrate on that baby you’re going to have. Concentrate on Bryce. They’re your family, Sylvie. Don’t think about Dryden.”
“She’s right, Sylvie.” Bryce said. “We need to go.”
Sylvie zeroed in on Bobby. “How close are you to finding the copycat?”
“Not close enough.”
“I can’t leave Diana with this. I won’t.”
“Sylvie…”
Bobby looked from Sylvie to Bryce, an idea forming. “What if you could be a bigger help out of town than you are here?”
“How?” Bryce asked.
“Dryden seems to have some sort of connection to this copycat, right? Could be a recent connection, could be someone he knew in the past. We’re expending a lot of resources looking into everyone he’s come into contact with recently. But tracking down people from the past is proving more difficult.”
Bryce lowered himself onto the bed on the other side of Sylvie. “And you think we might be able to help?”
“How would you two feel about starting your honeymoon in Oshishobee, Wisconsin?”
“Oshishobee?” Sylvie asked. “Where’s that?”
“It’s northeast, on the way to the Upper Peninsula.” Diana knew the town, though she’d never been there. “It’s where Dryden grew up.”
“I took a trip up there last fall,” Bobby said. “But it’s a very tight-lipped small town. I’m willing to bet people who refused to cooperate with the police might be more open to talking to one of Dryden’s daughters.”
Sylvie glanced at Bryce, then brought her focus back to Bobby. “What would we be looking for specifically?”
“Today Dryden mentioned something about the Copycat Killer being like a son to him.”
Bryce raised his brows. “Dryden has a son?”
“Hard to say," Bobby said. "It could be an out-and-out lie. Or it could be metaphorical. Someone younger, someone who looked up to him, someone he bullied. With all that was written about him, we know little of his life before his marriage. And of course, it could be a waste of time.”
Sylvie pressed her lips into a determined line. “Okay. We’ll do it.”
Diana let out a long breath.
“On one condition,” Sylvie continued. “If Bryce and I agree to go, the two of you have to make me a deal.”
An uneasy feeling clamped down on Bobby’s shoulders.
“What?” Diana asked.
“You need to stick together.”
Bobby could feel a muscle twitch along his jaw.
“You’re the only one I trust to keep my sister safe, Bobby. You can’t let her out of your sight. Promise me.”
Bobby could feel himself nod.
Diana looked about as excited about the pledge as he was. “You know Bobby, Syl. He’ll watch over my every move.”
Diana
Bobby accompanied Diana back to her room, giving Sylvie and Bryce a chance to talk and make plans for their trip. But although Diana was grateful Bobby had convinced Sylvie to leave town, being alone with him was the last thing she wanted. The promise Sylvie had elicited from them hung heavy in the air like humidity gathering before a thunderstorm.
The last thing Diana needed was for Bobby to feel even more responsible for her than he already did. If that was even possible. “Don’t worry about what Sylvie said.”
He looked up, as if she’d disturbed him from an engrossing thought. “That I should keep you safe?”
Diana shook her head. He’d try to do that regardless. “That we need to stick together.”
“Oh, that. Don’t worry. I know it isn’t personal.” He was clearly making fun of her. But there was no humor in his voice.
She couldn’t blame him. There was nothing funny about this situation. Nothing at all. Being around Bobby today had made her feel empty and vulnerable and raw. And he didn’t seem to be faring much better.
He walked toward the door and laid a hand on the knob. But instead of pulling it open, he turned back to face her. “You know, everything both you and I said to Sylvie also applies to you.”
“Except the pregnancy.” Diana hoped the last bit would add some levity.