feel any less responsible. “I have to stop him.”
Bryce looked from one sister to the other, worry heavy on his brow. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I know who might.” She forced a breath into aching lungs. Although eight months had passed since she’d given him back his ring, the pain pulsing behind her eyes made it feel like yesterday. “I’m going to take the portrait and card to Reed.”
Sylvie thrust to her feet. “I’ll go with you.”
Diana held out a palm as if that would hold Sylvie in place. “You have a baby to worry about.”
“I’m pregnant, not crippled.”
“No, but you’re sick.”
She gave a shrug, as if morning sickness were nothing. But the pale sheen to her skin told the real story.
“And you don’t want that baby to get sick. Besides, you still have guests to deal with. The last thing we need is to have Lisa storming back, demanding answers.”
Sylvie opened her mouth to protest, but Bryce cut her off. “We’ll take care of Lisa. Tell Reed to call me.”
“Of course.”
Sylvie pressed her lips together in a frown. Finally she nodded and gave Diana’s arm a squeeze. “We’re in this together, Diana. Remember that.”
Diana nodded. They were in this together. Whether Sylvie deserved to be or not. And now it was Diana’s turn to contribute—to bring what she’d started to an end.
“TELL ME THAT’S SYLVIE.”
Reed McCaskey glanced up from the reports scattering the table he and his partner Nikki Valducci had commandeered at the Easy Street Café.
A young woman pushed through the café door and scanned the worn Formica tables and coffee-sipping crowd. From her cascading blond hair and light blue eyes to the soft line of her cheeks that made him ache to protect her, she hadn’t changed. And although she and her sister were identical, there was no doubt in his mind which twin he was looking at. He could feel her presence in the churning of his blood. “It’s Diana.”
His day had started with being kicked out of his office in the City County Building after inmates in the sixth-floor jail had spent the night stuffing whatever they could find down the toilets until sewage had backed up in the first-floor police station. With the station so pungent it had brought tears to his eyes, he’d traded that smell for the burned-coffee-and-stale-grease aroma of the Easy Street Café. At least until the cleanup crew had a chance to do their thing. But as badly as his day had begun, it was about to get worse.
He dropped his gaze to the reports. “Why don’t you take this one?”
“Somehow I doubt she’s here to see me.” Nikki let out a pained sigh. “Aren’t you even curious about what she wants?”
“No.”
Another sigh.
Of course Nikki wouldn’t understand. She always had to stick her nose in everything. Especially things that were none of her business. A good characteristic for a detective—especially one as ambitious as Nikki—but not a trait he appreciated when the subject was him. “Go up to the counter and ask for some refills, will you?”
“Are you kidding? I’m not going to miss this show.” Nikki leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Picking up her coffee cup, she took a long, leisurely sip.
So much for keeping his pain to himself.
“Reed?”
No matter how braced he thought he was, the sound of Diana’s voice hit him in the gut like a full-fledged ulcer. He kept his eyes riveted to the report in front of him. He didn’t need a close-up view. He still saw her face nearly every night in his dreams. And in his nightmares. “I’m busy here, Diana.”
“Dryden Kane contacted us.”
Kane. An extra shot of acid added to his misery. He looked up, searching her face. “When?”
“He sent Sylvie a wedding gift. A family portrait of us as children.”
“Nice.”
“She’s kind of upset.”
He could imagine. He knew Sylvie wouldn’t want his pity, but he couldn’t help giving it all the same. The poor girl had grown up in foster homes, dreamed of having a family, only to discover her father was notorious serial killer Dryden Kane. To get this “gift” the day after her wedding had to be a blow. “How did the portrait arrive? Delivery service?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t come in the mail either. The only thing I can figure is that he must have had someone drop it off at the reception last night.” She tensed her shoulders in a protective shiver.
Reed knew what she was thinking. The same thing he was. That someone who’d delivered the package might very well be the Copycat Killer, the serial murderer who had claimed three women’s lives the past fall using the same techniques as Dryden Kane. The killer they believed was being controlled by Kane himself. “Do you have the portrait with you?”
Nikki pulled the cup away from her lips. “Fingerprints?”
He nodded.
Diana gestured at the street outside the café. “It’s in my car.”
“Good. Nikki can take it over to the lab. They can lift the prints there. Maybe the frame will tell us something, too.”
“That’s not all.” She dipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a large plastic bag with a greeting card inside. She extended it to him.
“A card. I guess he must have read the etiquette books.” He opened the card a crack through the plastic-bag cover. Bold handwriting scrawled at the bottom of a wedding verse. A father should have the privilege of walking his daughter down the aisle. I miss my girls. I look forward to your visit.
“I’ll bet he does,” Reed muttered under his breath. The opportunity to emotionally torture his two beautiful adult daughters must be a dream come true for a sadist like Kane.
“There was a newspaper clipping about the Copycat Killer inside, too. It’s tucked in the envelope.”
Manipulating the bag, he opened the envelope. The slightly yellowed shadow of newsprint peeked from inside. He shook it out into the bag. The headline was more than six months old, originating from around the first time the press had officially named the Copycat Killer. The killer hadn’t killed since, at least not that they’d detected. But with summer here, Reed feared the total would start to rise.
The pain in his gut hardened to anger. Diana might not want him to take care of her anymore, but she’d have to accept certain precautions. “You and Sylvie need to move to a hotel for a few days. I’ll arrange for protection.” He braced himself for an argument.
Diana merely nodded. “I’m worried about Sylvie. She’s pregnant.”
Pregnant.
