“Now you answer a question for me.”
The muscles in Diana’s back and legs tensed despite her efforts to relax. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you remember from your childhood?”
“My childhood?”
“The good part. Before you were three years old.”
“I don’t know. Not much, really.”
“Think.”
A tremor started deep in her chest. “Just some images, really. Feelings.”
“What images? What feelings?” He leaned forward, his handcuffs rattling on the chair arms.
She knew he was looking for something. But what? If she gave the wrong answer, would he get angry? Would he decide he was disappointed in her? That she didn’t make him feel as good as she had as a child?
“What do you remember, Diana?”
The tremor moved into her legs, her arms, her hands. She gripped her thighs to stop from shaking. She would have to tell the truth. It was all she had. “I remember playing in a sandbox made from an old tractor tire.”
He nodded, urging her to go on.
“I remember a dog. A big brown dog. It barked a lot. It frightened me.”
“It bit you. Do you remember that?”
She searched her mind, but the memory of being bitten wasn’t there. “No.”
“It was found dead the next day. Slit down the middle and hanging in a tree.” His lips pulled back in a smile that left no doubt who had killed the poor animal. “What else?”
“I remember a story. Something about a rabbit that ran away. I remember listening to it and feeling very warm. And safe.”
His face softened with an eerie look of pleasure. “I read you that story. Every night before I tucked you in bed.”
Diana clutched her legs hard and swallowed into a dry throat. She’d always associated that story with her mother. The mother she could barely remember. Could Dryden have been the one reading to her? Could he be responsible for those warm, safe feelings? The most normal feelings she’d experienced as a child?
“What’s wrong, Diana?”
Trent Burnell’s warnings rang in her ears. Dryden could be lying. He could be using her childhood emotions to manipulate her. She had to regain control of herself. “Nothing.”
“You don’t believe I could have been a good father? You don’t believe that you could have loved a serial killer?”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. The thought was abhorrent. He had to be lying. She had to hold on to that.
She thought of what Dryden had told Sylvie—of how she and her sister had made him feel. If he was using the only good feelings about her childhood to manipulate her, maybe she could return the favor. “I do remember feelings I had as a child. Good feelings.”
“I bought you presents. Little dresses. Music boxes. I did all the things a good father does.”
She forced herself to nod.
“You and Sylvie adored me. When you saw me, you would smile so hard your faces would glow. You would ask for me to give you your bath. You would sit on my lap when we watched TV.”
“I remember.”
He arched a brow. “Do you?”
“To us, you were the most important man in the world. We worshipped you.”
His smile faded. His expression grew as cold as his eyes. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“Yes, I do. I remember feelings. The impressions.”
“Who told you to say that?”
Her stomach seized. She wiped her palms on her jeans and gripped her thighs harder. “What do you mean?”
“Someone told you to play up to me. Who was it?”
Oh, God, she shouldn’t have pushed it. She should have stuck to the truth and kept her mouth shut otherwise. Hadn’t Trent Burnell warned her about how sharp Dryden was? How well he could read people? Hadn’t she already witnessed that herself?
“Were you talking to the FBI, Diana?”
Her blood froze in her veins.
“Who did they send? A profiler? Did he tell you what I dream about at night? Did he tell you what makes me tick?” He fired the words at her.
Diana forced herself to remain in her chair. “I remembered the story about the rabbit. I remembered the feelings.”
“But you don’t remember the profiler’s name?”
She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Was it Trent Burnell?” Dryden’s voice was quiet.
Diana tried to focus. She tried not to react.
“I see how it is. It isn’t just Vaughan’s words you’re reciting, is it? Burnell has made you into his puppet. Just like the puppet you played with as a child. The puppet I bought for you.” He jerked up on his arms. The cuffs clanged against the chair.
Diana flinched. She half expected him to break free, to reach out and grab her by the throat.
“No daughter of mine is going to be Burnell’s puppet. You wanted to know who the copycat is? You wanted to know where he took that woman? You’ll have to ask Burnell.”
“It’s not like that. I only talked to him for a few minutes. He’s not even here anymore.”
“Then you’re out of luck.”
And so was Nadine Washburn. “No, please. Listen to me.”
“I did. I didn’t like what I heard.” His lips pulled back in a cross between a smile and a snarl. “There was one part of being a father I didn’t like. Playing the disciplinarian. But sometimes it has to be done.”
“What are you saying?”
“That sometimes children need to be taught a lesson.”
Diana could only imagine what kind of cruel lesson he would teach. The tremble enveloped her, closing over her head like water.
“Learn it well, Diana. And the next time you come to see me, you’d better be on your knees.”
Bobby
It wasn’t until after Bobby had signed out of the prison, retrieved his pistol, and settled into the driver’s seat of his sedan that he was able to convince his voice to function. “I’m so sorry, Diana. I never should have asked Burnell to meet us. I should have known Dryden would sense you’d talked to someone.”
Diana fastened her seat belt with shaking hands. Folding her arms across her chest, she stared through the bug-spattered windshield. “I was the one who blew it.”
“You did fine.”
“I knew I had to be honest with him...” She shook her head. “I remember only a few things from when I was really little. One was that rabbit story. I just couldn’t stand the thought that he was responsible for that. Do you think he really was?”
Bobby wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, but he’d promised last night he would give things to her straight. “I don’t know.”
“I really screwed up. I’m afraid for Nadine.”
“Our chances of finding Nadine alive were almost nonexistent from the beginning.”
“You don’t think he ever intended to help me?”
“I don’t think he ever intended to help the police. And as long as he thinks that’s what you’re doing…”
“What are you saying? That I should stay in my hotel room and knit?”
He had to admit, he liked the idea, but he wasn’t dumb enough to say it out loud. Instead he went with, “Maybe I was wrong.”
“About knitting?
“About looking for advice on how to speak to him. About letting you speak to him at all.”
They drove through the bluffs in silence. Each twisty mile put between them and Dryden made Bobby feel better. It wasn’t easy, sitting back, doing nothing. Maybe Diana was right, and his instinct would always be to try to take care of her, despite his failures. Maybe he would never change.
Maybe if he was honest with himself, he didn’t even want to.
When they reached the taskforce’s new offices in Madison, he spotted two news vans parked at the main entrance.