Accessory To Marriage. Ann Voss Peterson

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      Chapter Three

      Risa leaned against one of the government-beige walls in the entrance of the prison—walls that closed in around her, crowding her, smothering her. Like all the other times she’d ventured inside the razor wire, the lack of light and air and freedom made her lungs constrict and her heart pound. But it was what she’d seen in Kane’s cell that made her head throb with fear.

      The sight of that photo of Dixie cut and bloody had left her shaking. She’d known Kane intended to kill Dixie since the day of their wedding, but seeing such a graphic reenactment of his earlier crimes with Dixie as his subject was almost more than she could take.

      And the worst part was that he’d gotten to her. His booby trap had worked. She’d blown it. She’d insisted she didn’t need protection, that she could handle whatever Kane had planned, and the truth was, she couldn’t.

      Trent was right. All the research she’d done into the criminal mind, all the horror stories she’d heard while compiling that research, none of it had prepared her to face the blood on that photograph. The slit down the middle of Dixie’s body. The clear threat to her sister’s life.

      Trent hadn’t thrown her over his shoulder, thankfully. But he had whisked her out of the cell block, deposited her here and instructed Duane to baby-sit until he and Wiley could gather up Kane’s belongings and make sure they hadn’t missed anything.

      She gritted her teeth and cursed her own weakness. Thank God, she hadn’t fainted. If she had, Trent probably would have shipped her off in an ambulance and ordered the doctors to sequester her in the hospital until Dixie was rescued. Or until it was too late. At least here, she could talk to the guards and do some general fact gathering on her own. She might still be able to help in some way.

      She sighed and looked up at Duane. Even before he’d phoned to inform her of Dixie’s secret wedding, the guard had taken her under his wing. And judging by the way he hovered over her, he was nearly as protective as Trent.

      Noticing her gaze on him, Duane laid his hand on her arm, his big mitt making it look as fragile as a toothpick. “I’m real sorry about what happened, Professor.”

      She looked into his weary eyes. “Thanks, Duane. That means a lot to me.”

      The guard’s coarse features clouded with obvious anger. “Damn Kane. Why did he have to drag your sister into this?”

      “I don’t know.” She resisted the urge to pace the floor. She didn’t want to be reduced to bemoaning her sister’s status as a fugitive. She wanted to find Dixie. She wanted to do something to get her little sister away from Kane.

      She glanced around the entrance to the prison, at the barred doors leading to inner corridors guarded by more barred doors. Despite the warden’s moans about funding for extra guards and security measures, the prison seemed awfully secure to her. Impenetrable. She couldn’t imagine how a prisoner could break out. Not without inside help. “How well did you know Kane, Duane?”

      Duane’s mouth curled in distaste. “Know him?”

      “Did you ever talk to him? Have any personal contact with him?”

      Duane shook his big head. “I don’t talk to the scum that lives here.”

      “Never?”

      “Not if I can help it.”

      “Are any of the guards friendly with prisoners? Or more specifically, were any friendly with Kane?”

      Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he thought for a moment. “No one comes to mind.”

      “Can you think of anyone who would have reason to help Kane?”

      Surprise registered on Duane’s face. “Help him?”

      “Yes. Help him escape. Someone who might have helped him get through security and over the fence, so Dixie could pick him up.”

      Duane’s bushy brows turned down, and he shook his head. “I think you got it wrong. He must have gotten out on his own.”

      “How? СКАЧАТЬ