Serial Bride. Ann Voss Peterson

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СКАЧАТЬ be a very accomplished liar. Unlike her sister. “Where can I find Diana?”

      “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

      “When will she be back?”

      “I don’t know that, either. But maybe if you tell me a little more about why you want to talk to her, I can help.”

      “If you don’t know where she is or when she’ll be back, I can’t see how.”

      Her lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “You asked if I was worried about her?”

      Maybe now they were getting somewhere. “Yes.”

      “I am. If you tell me what this is about, maybe I can make some sense out of things. For both of us.”

      Okay. He’d roll the dice. Since the client in this matter was actually himself, the case’s confidentiality was as flexible as he needed. “I came across your sister’s name yesterday. It was on the sign-in sheet at the Banesbridge prison. She visited an inmate there several times in the past year. I want to know why.”

      Pale-blue eyes rounded in surprise. Or fear. Or maybe both. “Diana?”

      “Yes, Diana.”

      Her eyebrows pinched together, causing a tiny crease at the top of her slender nose. “I don’t understand.”

      “She signed in as part of a university research project under the supervision of a Vincent Bertram.”

      “Bertram?”

      He did his best to tamp down his frustration. He wanted answers, not to listen to her parrot his every word. “He’s a professor in the psychology department.”

      She shook her head. “Diana is earning her Ph.D. in English. I can’t see her finding a lot of twelfth-century poetry in prison. Are you sure it was her?”

      “I’m sure.” Her signatures on the sign-in sheets were burned on the inside of his eyelids like a brand. “Your sister is the only Diana Gale at the university. The guards recognized her picture. The only other person it could have been is you.”

      The tiny crease deepened. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

      None of it made sense. Especially not his kid brother’s death. “Of course, your sister might have used her affiliation at the university to gain access, and the visit was personal.”

      “Personal? How?”

      “I was hoping you might have some idea.”

      Once again she shook her head. “I don’t.” She sounded certain, but her eyes blinked and shifted.

      “I would bet a lot of money you do have ideas. Plenty of them.”

      “I’m sorry.” Through the sliver of the opening, he could see her throat move under tender skin. “What prisoner was she visiting?”

      He hesitated. The idea of saying the man’s name to those delicate eyes already filled with fear felt cruel. And although Ty had accused Bryce of being heartless more than a few times when he’d hesitated to take his brother’s charity cases, he was not an abusive man. “My cell phone number is on that card. Have your sister call when she gets home. I’ll be up late.” He turned away from the door.

      Behind him, the door slammed shut followed by the rattle of the security chain. A second later the door flew open and Sylvie Hayes jolted into the hall. “Wait.”

      He turned to face her.

      He could tell she was attractive through the small space in the door, but he still wasn’t prepared for the full stunning view. The green dress flowed over smooth curves like water. Cheeks flushed pink under translucent skin. Wide eyes flashed with light-blue fire and more than a little desperation. “You have to tell me who she visited.”

      “It’s confidential.”

      “Confidential? I can probably pick up the phone and find out tomorrow.”

      “Good luck with that.” At least he wouldn’t be the one to break it to her, to see fear swamp her beautiful eyes. He could keep his focus right where it belonged. On the vow he’d made at Ty’s grave. On justice.

      “Who did she visit? Please.”

      He should walk the hell away. He should keep things easy, clear. Yet Sylvie Hayes obviously knew more about her sister than she was letting on. Far more.

      Down the hall, a neighbor’s door creaked open. A young man’s spiked red hair poked out. Narrowing his eyes, he watched them with interest.

      Bryce spared him a quick glance, then stepped toward Sylvie. “Invite me in.”

      “Tell me his name.”

      Bryce shook his head. He didn’t need the whole building to hear the inmate’s name. Not this inmate. “Invite me in. We’ll talk.”

      She backed into the apartment, pushing the door wide.

      He followed her inside and closed the door behind him.

      Sylvie stood her ground between the living room and a small dining area. “Okay. Tell me.”

      “As long as you tell me everything you know about your sister.”

      She nodded.

      “Diana has been visiting Dryden Kane.”

      He’d thought it impossible for her eyes to grow larger. He’d been wrong.

      “The serial killer? The one who hunted women down and gutted them like deer?”

      “That’s the one.”

      She covered her lips with trembling fingers. “Are you sure?”

      He didn’t want to tell her more, but now that she knew, it was only fair. “Your sister visited him once a month, starting seven months ago.”

      “Seven months? That’s a month before I knew her.” Her eyebrow ring dipped in a frown. “She never said anything about it. About him.”

      “You were worried about her. Before I came to the door tonight.”

      She nodded.

      “Why?”

      “She was supposed to be married today. But the wedding never took place.”

      That explained the fancy green dress—a dress, he now realized, marred with brown smudges. “Is that blood?”

      She nodded. “Right before the ceremony, I found Reed—the groom—unconscious and bleeding. Diana was gone.”

      “You called the police?”

      She dropped her hand from her mouth and curled her fingers to fists at her sides. “The police think she did it.”

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