Bobby went on. “He made parole two years ago and as far as we know, has been clean since. Lives in an apartment on the southwest side of town. Washes windows. Store fronts, homes, that kind of thing. His own business.”
Sylvie looked stricken. “He convinces people to let him into their homes?”
“Sounds like an opportunity to find potential victims,” Bryce said.
“I don’t know…” Diana said, voicing one of the doubts that had plagued her all night. “I keep rethinking Dryden’s ‘like a son’ comment. If Tillman is the copycat, why would Dryden want to point us in his direction?”
“You don’t think it was a mistake,” Sylvie said.
“I don’t think Dryden makes mistakes. Not like that anyway.”
Bobby nodded for her to continue.
“He told me about Sylvie when I visited him last year because he guessed I would try to find her. He was frustrated when I didn’t tell her about him.”
“So you think he might be using you to reach his son.”
“It seems like something he might do, doesn’t it?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Bobby said. “We have a word with Curt Tillman.”
“We?”
“Well, me.” He paused. “But if you want, you can ride along. You’ll have to stay in the car, but maybe you’ll recognize him.”
The fact that he offered, even after the trauma of finding the body in her bed last night, wasn’t lost on her. “Sylvie?”
Sylvie gripped the table harder, her knuckles blanching. “You’d better count me out.”
“Are you okay?”
“I will be. I just need to lie low for a bit. Like nine months, apparently.”
Bryce swiveled in his chair and laid a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“I have an appointment in three weeks.”
“Which isn’t soon enough for me.”
“Maybe you need to see the doctor more than I do.”
Bryce chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure of it.”
Diana couldn’t help but smile. She was so glad Sylvie had Bryce. Seeing how they looked at each other, the tender way they touched, made Diana want to believe that maybe such happiness was possible someday, even for her.
At least with the right man.
“I want to hear all about him. Our brother. Good or bad. Okay?” Sylvie asked her.
“Every detail.”
“And don’t visit Dryden anymore, okay? Please?”
Diana glanced at Bobby. “I won’t.”
Sylvie let out a sigh of relief.
Too bad Diana couldn’t feel the same. Whether she visited or not, whatever she said or didn’t say, there would be consequences. She knew that now.
She just prayed they were consequences she could live with.
Bobby
As soon as Bobby stopped the car in front of the construction site where Curt Tillman was washing windows, he knew bringing Diana along was a mistake. Just the thought of her being anywhere near a man who might be the Copycat Killer made him want to encase her in bubble wrap and plant her in a jail cell where he could be sure of her safety.
At least Bobby had thought to ask Val to come along to babysit. Not that he planned to use that term within Diana’s earshot.
In the passenger seat beside him, Diana shielded her eyes with her hand, blocking the sun, and studied the three-story brick mansion jutting up from the shore of Lake Loyal. “How do you know he’s here?”
“He told Val this morning.”
“I called about getting an estimate,” Val said from the back seat. “Seems my windows are in need of a good cleaning.”
“So that’s all there was to it?” Diana twisted to look over her shoulder. “You just called and made an appointment and he told you where he was working?”
“Not quite. He said he was working in the Lake Loyal area, but he couldn’t stop by until after he’d finished construction cleanup on a house that’s scheduled to close tomorrow. A few calls to title companies, and I found two houses that fit that description. This builder was the only one who hired a professional window cleaner. Voilà, the miracle of police work.”
Diana grinned. “I’m impressed.”
Bobby turned away from Diana and Val and devoted his attention to giving the house a once-over. The place looked as if it had a long way to go before it would be finished. Dump trucks were hauling in topsoil for the yard. Cement for the driveway and sidewalk had yet to be poured. Two men carried a long roll of carpet in through the open garage. Of course, the more workers involved, the faster things would get done.
“So Perreth is on his way, right?” Val asked Bobby.
Bobby checked his watch. “He should be here by now.”
“Give him ten more minutes.”
Bobby didn’t have ten minutes to waste on the likes of Stan Perreth. “You two wait in the car.”
Val looked up from her phone. “If you really think that might be Dryden’s copycat in there, you shouldn’t go in alone.”
“And Diana can’t stay by herself in the car.”
“What, am I a toddler now? I’ll be fine.”
Bobby shook his head. This was a mistake. He should have left Diana at the taskforce offices. At least there he knew she’d be safe. “I’ll give Perreth a few more minutes.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “And if he doesn’t show?”
“We’ll take you back to Madison.”
“Give me a break. There are construction workers all over the place. I’ll be plenty safe. I’ll lock myself in.”
He scanned the area. She had a point. Trucks and vans lined the street. Just across from the car, three workers clustered around a van with carpet rolls sticking out the back. Add them to the dump truck driver, the bulldozer operator, and another guy eating lunch in a van just down the street. With that many people around, someone would have to be crazy to pull something.
Bobby massaged his aching neck. “Lean on the horn if you notice anything out of the ordinary. And I mean anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll leave the keys. Don’t be afraid to just drive away.”
“I’ll be out of here like a shot. You’ve seen me drive.” She gave him a teasing smile.
His gut hitched one more time. But this time, fear wasn’t the only cause. It had been a long time since he’d seen a smile that sparkled in her eyes and crinkled her nose. “I’ll get him outside. Nod if you’ve seen him before.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. And be careful.”
“I promise.”
Bobby and Val got out of the car, picked their way around construction mess and entered through the front door. Workers clamored inside, their nail guns popping over the blaring radio. Bobby and Val followed a protective paper runner across the foyer and up the carpeted staircase. They ventured into three different bedrooms before they finally located Tillman working on a giant bay window overlooking the lake.
Of average height like his father, Tillman had obviously spent more hours in the prison weight room than Ed Dryden did. Tattooed arms like steel pipes stretched the short sleeves of his blue polo shirt. Hard muscle defined his back, tapering to a tool belt hugging a trim waist.
“Curt Tillman?”
The brute tensed and spun around. Light from the window struck the hard planes of his face and glinted off the sharp edge of a razor scraper he held in one fist. He narrowed his eyes on Bobby and Val. “Who are you? Cops?”
“You expecting police?”
“I’m never expecting police. But with the way you look, you’re either a cop or a high school principal. And I have no idea what a principal would be doing here.”