She found him in the inn’s dining room. A carafe of coffee perched on a mahogany table wide enough to feed a houseful of guests. An empty cup sat on the table as well. Waiting for her.
Trent looked up from a file. He wore a starched white dress shirt and pressed tie under his shoulder holster. “Good morning,” he said. And though his brow was once again knit with worry and his face tense with concentration, his voice held a note of something she swore hadn’t been there yesterday.
“Good morning.” She crossed the room and stopped by his side. She wanted to bend down and kiss him like a lover, but she didn’t dare. What they had shared last night was too fragile to stand up to the reality of morning.
Contenting herself with laying her hand on his shoulder, she peered at the file spread open on the table in front of him. Police reports stared back at her. Witness interviews.
He closed the flap of the folder, blocking her view.
She bit her bottom lip. But before she could say something, Trent reached down, pulled a fat file from the box at his feet and set it on the table.
“Newspaper clippings to read with your coffee.”
She didn’t try to hide her smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I need help, and you work cheap.”
He poured her a cup of coffee and set the cup on the table next to the file.
She slipped into the chair and took a sip of the coffee. Rich and hot, the brew washed over her taste buds in a welcome wave of flavor. But what she really needed was the dose of caffeine to sharpen her mind. And her eyes. She looked down at the file folder bulging with clippings. Drawing a fortifying breath, she opened the cover and focused on the first article.
The article documented the disappearance of Ashley Dalton, a twenty-year-old biochemistry student at UW-Superior who had last been seen by her roommate when she’d left for the bus station. Ashley had been planning a trip to Madison to attend Freakfest with her boyfriend the weekend before Halloween. When the bus arrived and she wasn’t on it, the Daltons had filed a missing person report with the police. The article was very dry and factual, but what hit Risa like a kick to the chest was the photo of the young woman.
Though not exactly beautiful, Ashley Dalton had a zest for life that came across in the sparkle of her eyes, clearly visible even in the grainy newspaper photo. A zest and sparkle Dryden had stolen.
Risa paged through three more entreaties for information on the missing girl before reaching the article proclaiming her body had been found by a deer hunter. Risa’s throat felt thick, but she pushed on.
The next article sported several photos covering Ashley’s funeral and details of the ongoing investigation. Risa read the article before turning her eyes to the photos.
The first was another photo of Ashley as vibrant as the first. Next to that was a photo of a detective standing in the wooded area where Ashley’s body had been found. Risa was about to ask Trent if he recognized the detective when the third photo caught her eye.
It was a shot of the funeral. Ashley’s bereaved parents standing at the door of the church, their arms encircling their two younger daughters as if they were afraid the girls would be snatched away from them like their older sister had been.
However, it wasn’t the bereaved family that caught Risa’s attention, but the sliver of a face hovering in the background. A familiar square-shaped jaw. Kindly eyes turned down in sorrow.
Gordy Young.
A gasp tore from her lips. Shock stuttered through her mind.
“What? What do you see?” Trent craned his neck to look at the photo.
She angled the clipping toward him and pointed. “It’s Gordy Young, the guard at the prison.”
Trent stared at the picture. “It sure is.”
Questions spun through her mind. What was Gordy doing at the funeral of Dryden’s first victim? Was he Ashley’s friend? A relative?
Risa squinted, searching Gordy’s face. Even though the old photo didn’t carry a lot of detail, the guard looked drawn, tired, his apparent mood matching that of Ashley’s parents and sisters.
Images flooded Risa’s mind in a jumble.
Gordy calling her to the prison to stop her sister from marrying Dryden.
Gordy’s eyes hardening in hatred at the sound of Dryden’s name.
Gordy’s lethal words as he stood with her at the prison entrance. Scum like that doesn’t deserve to live. Not one more day. Not even if it’s in a hellhole like this.
Gordy couldn’t have helped Dryden. He hated Dryden. He would never help free a serial killer.
Would he?
I didn’t give Dryden anything. The only thing I wanted to give him was a bullet in the head.
A cold finger traveled up Risa’s spine.
Trent raised his gaze to hers, the look in his eyes telling her his mind was traveling a similar path. Without saying a word, he bent and shuffled through the files in the box at his feet. He withdrew a file and spread it open on the table.
He scanned through the pages with narrowed eyes. “Ashley Dalton had a boyfriend. Lived in Madison. Going to school at the technical college.”
“She was supposed to meet him that weekend.”
“Right. The police thought he might be a suspect for a while. But they cleared him.” Trent plucked a report from the stack and placed it in front of Risa.
She looked down at the paper. The name of the subject interviewed stared back at her in black and white.
Gordon Young.
She raised her eyes to Trent’s. It was clear to her now. Gordy’s attempt to keep Nikki from marrying Dryden. His hatred for the killer. His comments about Dryden deserving to die. It all made sense. “Gordy didn’t let Dryden out to help him.”
Trent nodded. “He planned to kill him.”
Nikki
Nikki didn’t know how long she’d been yanking at the speaker wire tying her to the headboard, but her wrist felt cut to the bone. Her eyes burned from crying. The right side of her head throbbed.
She’d been stupid, so stupid she wanted to die. But that meant giving up, and she couldn’t give up. Not yet.
Nikki looked past the blood Eddie had spat on the sheets… past the little lump of skin she knew was a piece of her ear… and beyond to the bedside table. Eddie had picked up his knife before he left, but he’d missed her cell phone. Probably figured there was no way for her to reach it.
Nikki needed to prove him wrong.
She stretched for the phone again, the wire giving just a little bit more.
Trent
Trent gripped the steering wheel hard and swung the car through the twists and curves in the road. With each foot of road whirring under the tires, the bed-and-breakfast faded farther and farther into the past, only the tangle of forest visible now in the rearview mirror.
Subera had wanted to continue with the trap, to send Trent to speak with Young while Risa waited in the B&B. He’d argued that Trent’s stepping out would be Dryden’s cue to make a move. It was a logical plan. One that made sense.
Only Trent couldn’t agree to it.
In the passenger seat next to him, Rees held on, one hand on the door handle, one hand on the dash, the seat belt holding her securely. She hadn’t said two words since she’d discovered the newspaper clipping, but Trent knew she was upset. How could she not be? She’d trusted Young and here his actions had caused many deaths and put Nikki in danger.
Put Risa in danger, too.
In the end, Risa had agreed with Trent. She’d insisted on talking to Young, on finding out what he knew about Dryden. And without his bait, Subera had no choice but to suspend the trap.