Trent would go back to his lonely life. And she would struggle on rebuilding hers. Alone. There would be no happy ending. Not for them.
But there might still be a happy ending for Nikki.
Risa tangled her fingers together in her lap and mouthed a silent prayer. It would be tough for Nikki. She would need time and love and a really good therapist. Risa would find someone. The best. Risa would dedicate herself to rebuilding their relationship, getting Nikki on her feet.
Please, please just let her be safe.
An office door swung open and the ruddy face of Lake Loyal’s police chief peered out. “How are you holding up, Professor?”
She shot to her feet, barely preventing herself from lunging at him. “Have you heard anything?”
“Not a word.”
She nodded and lowered herself back into her chair.
“Sorry.”
“I’m just a little nervous.” With great effort, she managed to bring something resembling a smile to her lips. The police chief had been kind enough to house her in his station and provide her with protection. The last thing she needed to do to repay his dedication was jump all over him.
“I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything. I promise.”
“Thanks, Chief Schneider.”
“No problem. But call me Jeff.” His grin widened, and he nodded in an awkward attempt to be reassuring. “Listen, I ordered lunch from the Schettler Brew Pub down the street. I got you one of their special Black Forest sandwiches. I hope you don’t mind.”
Sandwiches. Lunch. Risa glanced at the clock. It was past one o’clock. She had totally lost track of time. And she wasn’t hungry in the least. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can eat, but that was really nice of you.”
“No problem.” He gave her a smile. “Somebody’s bringing ‘em over. I’m just going to step outside, meet ‘em at the curb. Don is in the conference room doing his reports. He’ll tell you if any news comes in.”
“Thanks, Jeff.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile and strode out the front door.
Risa slumped in her chair. She hated being so powerless. So utterly helpless. She hated not knowing. She hated having to sit and wait.
She was definitely all about hate, at the moment.
It was so quiet. Even the plunk of Don’s search-and-peck typing had stopped. Nothing to distract her. Nothing to focus her wild tumble of thoughts. Thoughts of what was happening this minute while she sat in the station alone. Thoughts of what would happen in the future, after Dryden was caught, after Trent’s role was over, after he left her alone, struggling to help Nikki while patching her own shattered life back together.
All over again.
Hate and self-pity. She couldn’t forget the self-pity.
A thump sounded from outside the door to the station. The door that Schneider had just walked through.
She straightened in her chair, trying to identify the sound. Something hitting the wall of the station? Or the distant slam of a car door?
The sandwiches?
Or could it be Trent? Was he back? Did he have Nikki?
Risa rose from her chair just as the front door swung open.
Emotionless eyes focused on her. A smile slithered over thin lips. And one fist balled around the handle of a knife, the gleam of its blade muted by smears of fresh blood.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the radio squawk. Trent’s voice shouting over the airwaves. A warning that Ed Dryden was on his way.
“Hello, Risa. Miss me?” Dryden’s voice rang with a note of sadistic glee. He stepped toward her. His athletic shoes, wet from the outdoors, squeaked on the tile floor. “Not much security in this place, is there?”
She stood riveted to the spot, her legs frozen, her mind paralyzed. Dryden. Here. Coming for her.
“I sure missed you.” His grin widened. He took another step forward. “Nikki is a nice piece of ass, but she can’t hold up a conversation.”
Terror clogged her throat, bitter as bile. Finally getting her feet to move, she lurched backward, running into the legs of her chair and almost going down in a heap.
“Of course, maybe my memory of you is a little enhanced. First your roof stunt, that was stupid, and you don’t seem to be very talkative today. What’s the matter?”
Regaining her balance, she backed away from him, step after step, groping for the wall behind her. She had to find help.
“I sure hope your quietness isn’t permanent. I was looking forward to hearing you beg. I’ve thought about it a lot. You begging. You screaming.”
Scream. She had to scream. She forced a sound past her lips. A gurgle echoed through the tiny station, then a piercing shriek.
He threw his head back in a laugh. “There it is. Too bad no one can hear you.”
No one—Police Chief Schneider? Don, the cop typing? Had Dryden killed them both? Slit their throats like he had Deputy Perry’s? She looked to the front door, desperately willing Schneider to walk in, gun in hand.
The door remained closed—the entire station silent except for the relentless pounding of her heart.
“Don’t you think I would take care of the loose ends before I set foot inside that door? I’ve planned for this meeting. Every detail.”
Alarm spun through her mind in a dizzying whirl. She grasped the wall behind her and willed her mind to clear. She had to stay levelheaded. She had to focus.
“I don’t want any interruptions.” He lowered one eyelid in a wink. “We have too much catching up to do.”
Her mind groped for a sliver of hope. She’d heard Trent’s voice on the radio. She’d heard him say the police were on the way. Trent was on the way.
But would he make it in time?
Risa eyed the blade in Dryden’s hand. No. Trent would never reach her in time. She had to get away from Dryden herself. She had to run for it.
She tensed the muscles in her legs, ready to spring. There had to be a back door to the station. There had to be. It was her only chance. Whirling, she dashed down the hall.
Dryden’s shoes squeaked into motion behind her.
Faster.
Closer.
Grabbing the door frame, she whipped into the conference room. A body slumped over a typewriter. Blood oozed red and wet down on the tabletop.
Risa’s stomach retched.
Beyond the body, a neon Exit sign gleamed. Her escape. Her only chance. She forced her feet to keep moving.
Dryden turned into the room.
Two steps behind her.
One step.
She reached for the doorknob. Her fingers grasped cold metal.
His hand grabbed her hair. Yanked. Her head snapped back. Momentum slammed her into the door. She fell, her knees hitting the hard tile.
No, no, no.
She kicked backward, connecting with his shin.
Hauling her to her feet by her hair, he pinned her between his body and the closed door.
She thrashed, kicking out, striking nothing but air. She struggled to turn around, to claw at him with her fingernails, to bite. Anything. She didn’t want to die.
“Stop.” A cold edge of steel pressed against her neck.
Risa froze. A whimper climbed up her throat, and she forced it back.
“Where were you going? We have so much to talk about.” Dryden’s breath fanned the side of her cheek. Mint. As if he’d freshened it just for her.
A shudder racked her body, a convulsion she couldn’t control.
“You don’t seem happy to see me, Risa. You don’t seem happy at all. Why is that?”
Pain wrenched her neck and throbbed in her knees and scalp.
“Is it because you like to be in control? Is it because you like to set a guy up and then humiliate him? Do you like to play those games?” Fingers still entwined in her hair and blade pressed to her throat, he pulled her back past the body slumped over the old typewriter. He pushed her onto the table beside Don, and flattened her cheek to the top.