Accessory To Marriage. Ann Voss Peterson

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      She stepped out onto the driveway and punched the code into the garage door’s outside keypad. The door humming shut behind her, she pulled open the passenger door of Trent’s sedan and lowered herself into the bucket seat.

      His scent closed over her like warm water. A shiver shimmied up her back. A shiver with a chaser of memory. Memory of a time when she’d found comfort in his scent, in the warmth of his body next to hers. But that time was gone. Gone like the love they’d once shared. The future they’d once planned.

      She ground her teeth, anger winding into a tight ball in her belly. Good. She preferred anger to the simpering wistfulness and sadness of dwelling on what she’d lost. And how Trent had betrayed her. Anger kept her sharp. Focused. Determined. All of which she needed if she was to help Dixie.

      Trent threw the car into reverse, backed out of the driveway and piloted the vehicle in the direction of the highway. His face was hard in the glow of the dashboard light, his eyes shuttered, as if he was bracing himself for the arguments bouncing around in her mind and had already resolved not to pay them heed.

      Of course, he probably did know what she was thinking. After all, they’d first met when she was still a grad student and he was a raw FBI recruit. And God knows, eight years of courtship was plenty long enough for him to learn how her mind worked.

      And how determined she could be.

      She set her chin. “I need to know what is going on, Trent.”

      “Rees…” The muscle along his jaw clenched. His eyebrows turned down in warning. “I don’t know anything beyond what I’ve already told you.”

      “And you wouldn’t share it with me if you did.”

      “No, I wouldn’t.”

      She blew a frustrated breath between pursed lips.

      “What do you expect? Do you expect me to give you all the gory details?”

      “The gory details are my life this time. Dixie’s—” She cut off her sentence. She might as well save her breath. It was just as she’d figured. He was willing to take her to the prison, but only so he could keep her from gathering information on her own. She knotted her hands into fists in her lap. “Do you think it’s better if I find out about the case when some true-crime author writes a book about it? Is that when I should discover I had the critical piece of information that could have found Kane? That could have saved Dixie’s life?”

      His shoulders tensed, and the ever-present shadows settled deeper in his steel eyes.

      “Is it, Trent?”

      For the first time since she’d climbed into the car, he turned to look at her. A furrow dug between his brows, and his face looked thinner than she remembered. Drawn. Troubled. His mouth tensed, but he said nothing.

      He knew her, yes, but she also knew him. And she knew where that troubled look came from. She knew about the sense of responsibility that shrouded his heart. “I would never forgive myself if something that I know could save Dixie’s life. Or other lives. Would you, Trent? Would you be able to forgive yourself?”

      He flinched as if she’d slapped him. Eyes hard, he turned back to the road, his lips flattening into a noncommittal line.

      She leaned toward him and laid her hand on his arm. “Let me look at Kane’s things. Let me find out if anything sparks a memory of something he told me, something Dixie may have told me. Let me help. Before it’s too late.”

      He heaved a weighted sigh, the shadows in his eyes deepening. “We’ll see.”

      Exhaling, she leaned back in her seat and stared out the window at the rolling hills whipping by in the night.

      We’ll see.

      It wasn’t exactly a promise. But it was far more than she’d realistically hoped to squeeze out of him. And she’d take what she could get. For Dixie’s sake. And for her own.

      Chapter Two

      Trent put pen to paper and scrawled his name on the document in front of him without glancing twice at the fine print. He knew what the document said. He’d had to sign it many times in his years with the FBI. Sign it and surrender his gun. Every time he’d ventured into the cell blocks of a maximum security prison. The bowels of a prison. The pit he and Rees were heading to now.

      He glanced at Rees standing next to him in front of the glassed-in reception and screening desk. She clutched the pen in shaking fingers. She’d conducted interviews at the prison, but he doubted she’d been deeper than the visiting rooms. She would have had no reason to visit the cell blocks themselves.

      Eyes squinted, she studied the words in front of her. Damn ominous words. Words she should never have to contemplate. In a nutshell, the document stated that should some inmate with a point to prove take either of them hostage, the prison authorities wouldn’t lift a finger to save their lives. No negotiation. No discussion. No kiss goodbye.

      Of course Trent had seen countless instances where prison officials went to all lengths to save a hostage. The document was simply intended to cover the prison from lawsuits should a visitor get hurt. But even so, the implication was there. This was a bad place filled with bad men.

      A place he didn’t want Rees anywhere near.

      He pulled his gaze from her, from the fear and vulnerability evident in her trembling fingers and her ramrod-straight posture. He wished to hell he didn’t have to put her in this situation. That he could shutter her away and keep her safe. But she’d been right. He needed to use every resource at his disposal to stop Kane, even if that resource was Rees. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.

      He turned to the hulking corrections officer waiting to escort them to Kane’s cell. The sooner they sorted through the cell, the sooner he could get Rees out of this godforsaken place. And the sooner he could track down the serial killer. “Let’s get on with it.”

      The guard nodded and turned to Risa. “Ready to go, Professor?”

      Risa looked into the guard’s weary eyes and forced a brave smile to her lips, a smile that trembled slightly at the corners. “Lead the way, Duane,” she said, her voice a little too chipper, a little too eager.

      The guard returned her shaky smile with a reassuring one of his own and started down the well-worn main hallway. Trent strode behind, Rees falling into step beside him.

      “Before we reach the cell, I want to warn you.” Trent projected his voice above the bars clanging behind them and the steady tap of their footsteps on scuffed tile.

      “Warn me about what?”

      “I don’t know what we’re going to find in Kane’s cell. Probably what he wants us to find. And Kane is one twisted bastard. You may have to face some very ugly things.”

      She set her chin and strode forcefully forward. “I’ll manage.”

      “I hope so.” He didn’t even bother to censure the doubt in his tone. “Because I’m bringing you along against my better judgment.”

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