She yanked on the knots, but the zip ties only dug into her flesh.I’m trapped.
A few moments later, he returned. He’d removed his reading glasses and put on the blond wig and fake beard and moustache. In his arms, he held a white wedding gown. Her stomach dropped.Oh, God, no.
“This is for you.” He laid it across her desk. “It’s too big, but we’ll make it work.”
Despite her bone-dry mouth and frenzied heartbeat, she was going to continue playing this cool. Ignoring his disguise, she pushed on. “Lyle, I didn’t ask you to the police station to arrest you. I was going to offer you an apprenticeship, working in the homicide department.”
He stared at her, blinking. Had she hooked him?
“Lyle? I’m Casey. Casey Quinn, freelance photographer.” His soulless smile made her shiver.
“You told me you wanted to be a police officer and I can help you. Tying me up isn’t gonna get you the job.”
“You can’t fool me. I’m a suspect in the Wedding Gown Killer case.” Lyle pointed to the photos on her wall. “You were looking for me. I saw you at the club a week or two ago.”
“Why didn’t you say hello? I thought we were friends.”
“Friends? Ha! What a joke. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re no different from everyone else in my life. My parents hate me.Hate me! Do you know how furious that makes me?”
Emerson wanted to scream. She wanted to cry out for help. Instead, she encouraged him to keep talking. She needed to buy herself some time. “Why do they hate you?”
He swigged more scotch. “My mother has belittled me my whole life. I was never good enough, never smart enough. I never lived up to her expectations and became a big, fat loser. This’ll show her I can accomplish something.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.” She meant it.
“My dad’s no better. He pretty much ignores me. Always has.”
Spinetti had been genuinely happy to see him. “What about a grandparent? Do you have a special relationship with your grandma or grandpa?”
He smiled. “My grandpa pities me, but someone framed him for a crime he didn’t commit. Now, he’s stuck in prison.”
She needed to keep him talking about everything, anything. Could she diffuse him? Could she appease him and get him to untie her?
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “That must be tough for both of you. Can you visit him?”
“Yeah, but he’s…I can’t talk to him about my parents because he always sides with them. I just make stuff up so he’ll be proud of me.”
“Like what?”
“Last time I visited him, I dressed like this and told him I’d gotten the lead in a play. He was so proud of me.” His eyes grew cold and a chill slithered down her spine. “My life is one big fucking lie.”
Keep stalling him.
“You’re a journalist and in grad school. That’s something to be proud of.”
He snickered. “I lied. I’m not in college. I don’t even have a job. I called the magazine and told them I wanted to write the piece, but I never did. Not a single fucking word.”
His life is so tragic.
“It’s not too late,” she pressed on. “You know so much about the case. Write that story. I’m sure they’d print it.”
He hopped on the desk, facing her. “I’m always amazed at how easy it is to fool people. They’re so malleable. They see what you want them to see. They believe what you want them to believe. I spent a lot of time in that wedding gown store, but when I returned as mild-mannered, dopey Lyle, the store owner had no clue I was the same person who bought those dresses.” He threw his head back and laughed.
Like most psychopaths, he was a master at conning and manipulating people.
Lyle picked up the dress and cradled it in his arms. “None of that matters, now. I need you to put this dress on, Detective.”
If he untied her, she might be able to overpower him.
