goals here.”
Of course, he was right about that, too. But even though she could get to Professor Bertram’s house faster if she didn’t first have to call for a cab and then rent a car, she’d rather have her own wheels. She didn’t want to have to rely on Bryce only to have him leave her the moment she needed him most. It would be far easier to rent her own car from the outset than to struggle to pull things together once he cut out on her. “Listen, it’s not that I’m not grateful. But I like to do things on my own.”
“What, you don’t like me?”
“I like you fine.” Maybe too much. She doubted she’d ever been around a man this attractive before in her life. A man whose every expression she noticed. A man who made her feel out of control just by looking in her direction.
“You don’t trust me?”
He wasn’t too far off there. “I don’t want to be left in the lurch.”
“Why would I do that?”
“In my experience, a more realistic question would be why you wouldn’t.”
“Listen, you might have had bad luck with people in the past, but when I give my word, I keep it. No matter what.” He gestured to the BMW. “Now are you going to get in, or do you want me to throw you in?”
She shot him a look she hoped conveyed all the annoyance she felt. He wouldn’t dare throw her in the car. If he did, he’d get far more than he bargained for, starting with two black eyes.
“Listen, Sylvie, we made a deal. You help me with my case, I help you find your sister.”
They had made a deal. A deal she wasn’t comfortable with. Not in the least.
He glanced at his watch. “It’s already pushing eight. Do you really want to stand around here and argue about this, or do you want to find your sister? It’s up to you.”
Her heart clutched. Diana had been missing for four hours. Four hours and the clock was ticking. “Okay. For now.”
He nodded, as if it was all settled. “Get in the car.”
SYLVIE GRIPPED the leather armrest and scanned the beautiful homes scrolling by, trying to spot the house numbers. When she’d first visited Diana in Madison, she remembered thinking the way the downtown funneled into an isthmus between two large lakes was charming. But after more than half an hour with Bryce negotiating hilly, winding one-way streets in the dark, the charm had worn off. “There it is.” She pointed to the beautiful stone Tudor lit with artfully arranged spotlights and covered in ivy.
Bryce piloted the car into the home’s narrow drive. “Ready?”
As if he had to ask. She was itching to talk to Professor Bertram. To find out what in the world he’d been thinking when he’d arranged for Diana to talk to Kane. And if he’d known about the threats, why hadn’t he reported it to the police? Why he hadn’t sounded the alarms? But most importantly, she needed to know if he knew anything that could help find her sister.
Sylvie swung her door open and climbed out just as Bryce circled the car. They walked up the cobblestone sidewalk to a front door half shrouded with wide, red-edged leaves of ivy. Bryce stabbed the doorbell button.
Chimes echoed through the house. A moment later footsteps tapped across a wood floor inside and an eye peered through the peephole. “Yes?” A woman’s voice.
“My name is Sylvie Hayes and this is Bryce Walker.” She projected her voice, hoping the woman could hear her through the door. “We’d like a word with Professor Bertram. Is he home?”
“No.”
“Do you know when he will be home?” Bryce asked.
“No.”
“Is this Mrs. Bertram?”
Silence.
Strange. Wisconsin Heights was not a neighborhood that seemed to call for a lot of security. Mostly home to university professors and well-to-do business leaders in Madison, it was a safe neighborhood in an area overflowing with safe neighborhoods. Except for the nighttime visit, which would make anyone wary, there didn’t seem to be a reason for Mrs. Bertram’s apparent paranoia.
Sylvie couldn’t help thinking about the night before when Bryce had knocked on the door of Diana’s apartment. She had answered, yet had been careful to keep the door chain secured. She’d known at the time that if Bryce had wanted, he could have easily kicked in the door and broken the chain. But even though the chain offered little real protection, after the shock she’d suffered at the church finding Reed injured and Diana gone, she hadn’t wanted to expose herself to a stranger.
Judging by Mrs. Bertram’s reluctance to open the door, or even to answer, she was even more frightened. Sylvie couldn’t help but wonder what or who had spooked her.
Bryce raised his eyebrows at Sylvie. Apparently he had a few questions about Mrs. Bertram, too. “We need to talk to Professor Bertram about a graduate student who is working with him on one of his research projects.”
“My sister, Diana Gale,” Sylvie added.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that. He doesn’t live here anymore. He hasn’t for many years.”
But he’d been listed in the phone book. “You’re divorced?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Disappointment seeped into Sylvie’s bones like the chill of approaching winter. “Do you have his address?”
“Of course I have it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to give it to you.”
“We really need to talk to him. My sister has disappeared.”
“And you think Vincent can help you?”
“We hope so,” Bryce answered.
“What project was your sister working on for Vincent?”
Sylvie hesitated. Not only did she hate saying the name out loud, she doubted dropping Kane’s name would do anything to make this obviously frightened woman more open or responsive. But then, not telling her the name wasn’t going to get them anywhere, either. “Diana interviewed Dryden Kane.”
She could hear Mrs. Bertram’s sharp intake of breath even through the door. Silence followed that was so complete Sylvie thought the woman might have walked away.
Suddenly the clack of two dead bolts sliding open cut the quiet. The door inched open and Mrs. Bertram peered out. Skin nearly as white as her hair, she blinked even in the darkness, like a mouse venturing out of a safe, dark hole. “Stop by Vincent’s office. He’ll be happy to help all he can.”
Sylvie let out a heavy breath. “I was really hoping to talk to him before Monday.”
The woman glanced at her watch. “He’s probably there now.”
“On a Saturday night?”
“He usually stops back
