by Brenda Novak
“Hugh was there. He pulled me off your father. Told me to get the hell away. To stay away—from his father. From you. He said I was the dangerous one.” He could still see that scene. His first punch had busted the senator’s nose. The man hadn’t even tried to fight back. He’d just taken the blows. “I think Hugh was right.”
Ivy shook her head.
“I’m the one who attacked. I’m the one who fought. I’m the one who could have gone to jail.” His laughter was bitter. “One phone call. That was all it would have taken. Your father came to see me the next day, you see. He made me a deal…get the hell out of town. Or go to jail.”
“No!”
“Oh, yeah, he did. But that trip out of town—it came complete with a college education. A ticket to start over, just like the ticket he had given my mother.” His breath rushed out as shame burned through him. “And dammit, I took that ticket.”
She touched his arm. “You were young, Bennett. You—”
“Didn’t want to go to jail? Didn’t want to throw my life away? No, I didn’t. I gave in to his threats. I took his money—just like my mother did—and I left behind the only thing I really cared about.”
Her hand squeezed his arm. “I’m here now.”
She was.
“We can’t change the past,” Ivy told him starkly. “I wish to God that we could, but it’s over. The most we can do is go forward. Try to make things better.”
“Like you did with the Sebastian Jones murder?” He threw that out to see her reaction.
Her expression shut down. “I guess I should have expected you to go dig in my life. Only fair, since I was doing the same thing to yours.” Her smile turned bittersweet. “Let me guess…was Dr. Battiste the one who told you about that case?”
Bennett nodded.
“I figured he might do something like that,” she murmured. Then she softly sighed and said, “When he learned about the accident that my father caused, my grandfather had a stroke. He was in the hospital for months.”
And I was gone. I’d left Ivy.
“My grandfather’s recovery was slow. He had to learn how to speak again. How to walk. Every moment tore out my heart, and I just wanted to help him.” She glanced down at her hands. “So I didn’t go away to college. I transferred to a school here. I stayed close to him. I visited him as often as I could, and I tried to give him a reason to fight.”
He waited.
“Cold cases.” She nodded. “That’s what we started with. The cases that the cops weren’t trying to solve. I would go in to his room each day. Tell my grandfather about them. Read the files. He had…friends…who were happy to pass those files along to me.”
“Friends like the chief?” Bennett murmured. “And Dr. Battiste?”
“He wasn’t the chief back then.” She turned away. “But yes, like them.” The sheet trailed behind her. “My grandfather’s body was weak, but his mind was sharp. He hated the way things had become with my family. Once, his investigations business had thrived. It had the best reputation in the southeast.” She glanced back at him. “He didn’t know that my father had used the employees there to dig up dirt on his competitors so he could win political races. He didn’t know that the business he’d built with his blood and his sweat had become a blackmail tool for my dad. We all learned that, too late.”
Her father was a real prize.
“As I sat in the hospital room with my grandfather, we made plans to change the business…to get it back to the way it used to be. And we decided we’d just start with two employees.” The sheet rustled as she walked. “It was just me and him. And our cold cases. With cold cases, sometimes you just need a fresh pair of eyes.”
And he was betting her eyes had been plenty fresh.
“As my grandfather and I poured over the notes, we started to find small clues. Details that others had overlooked. Our first big break came with the Sebastian Jones murder.”
Thanks to the tip-off from Dr. Battiste, Bennett had pulled up the original case file for Sebastian Jones. Sebastian had been a sixteen-year-old boy—a boy whose body had been found slumped near a dumpster on the outskirts of the city. Drug paraphernalia had been found on the boy, and he’d been shot in the heart. From all accounts, it had looked like a drug deal gone wrong—with the kid’s shooter just vanishing into the night.
Bennett had wanted to dig deeper into the case, but he hadn’t been given the time. He waited for Ivy to tell him the rest of the story.
“Sebastian was a straight A student,” Ivy said. “His mother told me that he was determined to get a scholarship. He wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to save lives. To change the world. She was adamant that he would never be involved with drugs, and the ME’s report—”
Ah, that would be her friend Dr. Battiste…
“It showed no drugs in his system. It did show gunshot residue on his hands, consistent with him fighting his attacker, trying to wrestle the guy away.” Sadness softened her voice. “In the official report, the cops noted that Sebastian’s mother had just sent him out to the grocery store. That he had one hundred dollars and that he was supposed to buy a few things on her list.” Her voice softened. “We realized he was robbed for that money, and his body was just dropped in that spot—because it was an area well-used by drug dealers. When Sebastian was discovered there, the authorities thought just what the killer wanted…”
“That Sebastian was a drug dealer.”
She turned toward him. “So the cops were focusing their efforts on the gangs and the drug trade and they didn’t look close to home…” Her smile was bitter. “Home isn’t always the safest place, you know. Sometimes, that’s where the real monsters live.”
He knew just how true that was.
“I went back to Sebastian’s home. I interviewed his mother. His step-father. I talked to the neighbors. My grandfather was starting to get better, but it was slow. All so slow…he told me not to go alone, but I had to investigate. For him. For Sebastian.” Her breath expelled in a rush. “For me. I had to prove that I wasn’t going to be like my father. I wasn’t going to take an easy way out. I just—I wasn’t.”
Her hand lifted and she brushed back her hair. “You can’t really see the scar now. And it seems almost stupid to show it…considering what you went through.”
Scar? She didn’t have a scar. He’d touched every inch of her smooth skin.
“Sebastian’s step-father kept acting odd. So jittery. His eyes were bloodshot. His answers too fast. No, he hadn’t seen Sebastian when he left. Yes, he thought the boy had been trouble—‘always acting so high and mighty when he was no better than me’. That’s what he said but…I thought Sebastian was better, way better than the image that guy was presenting to me. So I followed the step-father, acting on a hunch…and he was the one doing drugs. The one getting high before he’d go home. And I realized…he was the one who took that hundred dollars from his own step-son, and he left Sebastian to die with the garbage.”
He crossed to her. She’d pulled the hair away from the nape of her neck, and now he could see the faint, white line that sliced from just behind her ear around to the back of her head.
What the hell?
“The step-father didn’t like being followed, so he turned the tables and he started following me. He tracked me to the PI office.” Her eyelids lowered. “I didn’t realize he had the knife on him. He’d sliced me before I even knew what was happening.”
His hand rose to her neck. His fingers traced that scar.
“I hit him, drove at him as hard as I could. He fell back but jumped up and was coming at me again, yelling that he wasn’t going to prison because Sebastian had died. He screamed that if Sebastian had just given him the money, the boy wouldn’t have died. Sebastian’s mistake was that he fought back.” Her lashes lifted as her gaze held his. “I fought back, too. I grabbed the lamp from my grandfather’s desk, and I threw it at him. Even as it shattered, the office door was flying open. Hugh and Cameron rushed in. They’d
heard the guy’s confession. He went to jail. Sebastian got his justice.”
Yes, he had.
“And I got a new job. One that was scary and hard and so worth every single moment and every drop of sweat and fear. It’s a job I intend to keep working, no matter what.”
And I thought she wasn’t strong enough to handle the dark? I am such a fucking fool.
He bent, and his lips brushed against her scar. He kissed it softly, the same way she’d kissed the marks on his body. “Something you should know,” he said. She was naked, sexy as all hell, stronger than steel and… “I love you, Ivy. Sometimes, I think I always have. And I know I always will.”
“Bennett?”
He forced himself to step back. “If I get a break in this case, I will be calling you, partner.”
Her eyes widened.
“Now if I don’t get the hell out of here…” His gaze dipped down her sheet-covered body. He swallowed. “I’ll be getting you in bed. And as much as I want that—want you—the chief and the mayor are waiting.”
He’d said that he loved her. She was pretty much staring at him in shock now. Had she really not known how he felt? Did she truly believe he’d left her before without a second glance? Leaving her had gutted him. For months, he’d walked around like half a person—because he’d left his heart with her.
He never wanted her to doubt how he felt—not ever again. He’d have to show her—every day for the rest of their lives—just how much she truly meant to him.
“I will be calling you,” he said again. Then he turned for the door. He’d only taken a few steps when Ivy said—
“Don’t you want to know how I feel?”
He glanced back. “I’m scared to know,” he said starkly. And that was the truth. He’d screwed things up between them. But if she would just give him time, he could build her trust back. Maybe even get her to care for him again.
“Oh, Bennett…you should never be afraid, not with me.” Her smile was tender. “I loved you since I was eighteen. It’s not the same love now, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be even better than before.”
Stay with her. He wanted to, so badly. He wanted to stay and hold her and never let go.
But a killer was out there. One who threatened Ivy. One who had to be stopped.
“Partners, huh?” Ivy smiled and his heart stopped at that beautiful sight. “I really like that.”
So did he.
She headed back down the hallway. He didn’t move, not until she was gone, then, his steps wooden, he exited the house.
She loves me. She still loves me.
He was such a lucky bastard.
“Morning, Bennett!” Detective Drew Trout called out. The guy hurried up the sidewalk, giving him a quick nod.
Bennett stepped directly into the man’s path. He and the chief had decided that Drew would be the best person to keep watch over Ivy while Bennett was gone. The young detective was smart, tough, and he should be able to handle any threat that came up.
But…Bennett’s voice was curt as he said, “You stay with her, every moment. You keep your eyes on her. If anything happens that makes you even a little bit nervous, you call me, right away, got it?”
Drew’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, sir. You know, this isn’t my first time working a case.”
Yeah, he knew, and that was why Bennett had picked the fellow. He didn’t trust any of the uniforms with a case of this magnitude. I don’t really trust anyone with Ivy. Bennett’s eyes narrowed. “She is the priority in this case, got it? You don’t jeopardize her for any reason.” Because if you do, I will kick your ass.
“Sir.” Drew nodded quickly.
Good. They’d better be clear. Bennett hurried to his car. He climbed inside, cranked the engine, but didn’t leave. His gaze slid to his house once more.
She said…she loves me.
His fingers drummed against the wheel.
He hated the case right then. He hated anything that was keeping him away from Ivy.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m telling you,” Cameron Wilde said as he paced in the interrogation room at the Mobile police station. “I don’t know where the Porsche is.” His hands fisted as he snarled, “It’s supposed to have one of those fancy security systems! You know, the kind where you can just ping some shit and the car is instantly located in the case of theft.” He stopped pacing and shot Bennett a furious glare. “I paid too much damn money for the car to just be gone!”
Bennett lifted a brow. “You were told by the Fort Morgan officers that the car was linked to a murder.”
Cameron paled. “Yes. Shelly. Poor, sweet Shelly…” He marched to the little table in the middle of the room and pulled out the chair across from Bennett. Cameron sat down, his body falling a bit heavily. “I tried to call Hugh on my way here, but he didn’t answer. Shit, I hope he doesn’t wind up like his old man. Is the guy on suicide watch?”
Bennett didn’t let his expression alter. “Ivy was going to be with him.” He’d had the same fears about Hugh, especially after last night.
“So messed up.” Cameron’s head sagged forward. “None of this was supposed to happen.”
That was an odd turn of phrase. A bit wary now, Bennett studied the other man. “Just what was supposed to happen?”
Cameron’s shoulders stiffened. Very slowly, he glanced up. “Hugh was supposed to marry Shelly.”
Bennett reached for the manila file on his left. He wanted to see Cameron’s reaction to the photo. “I guess when Shelly changed her hair color, she was too much of a temptation for the killer.”
“She…changed her hair color?”
He flipped open the file and pushed a crime scene photo toward Cameron.
The guy’s eyelids barely twitched. “She’s a brunette now.”
She was also covered in blood. She was your friend. And you’re just staring at her with almost clinical curiosity.
“Stabbed, like the others?” Cameron asked.
“Others?” Bennett cocked his head to the side.
Cameron flushed. “Look, stop it. Stop trying to jerk me around. You think I haven’t been following this case? The minute Ivy was involved, I got involved, too.”
Had he?
“Others…others,” Cameron snapped. “The councilman, that woman at the parade—Evette something or other.”
“Evette Summers” Bennett supplied, still watching the other man carefully.
“Right. Evette Summers.” Cameron cleared his throat. “How damn tragic.”
Bennett’s instincts were on full alert. He’d never liked Cameron, mostly because the guy had always been sniffing around Ivy.
“It’s actually even more tragic than we first assumed.” Bennett pulled the photo away. He noticed that Cameron’s gaze followed the image until it was placed back in the folder. “There are more victims.”
“More?”
“Quite a few more,” he said casually. “Here…and in New Orleans.”
Cameron leaned forward. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Just how long has this madman been killing? And why hasn’t he been stopped?” Cameron jumped to his feet. “Shelly is gone, murdered…and this animal is still out on the streets?”
“For the moment.” He looked up at Cameron. The guy had taken up a dominant position, towering over him. Why would he feel the need to claim dominance? Bennett had learned a whole lot regarding body language when he’d been hunting with the Violent Crimes division at the FBI.
“You can be assured,” Bennett continued slowly as he rose and faced off against Cameron, “that I will not rest until this perp is apprehended.”
“This perp.” There was the faintest emphasis on that last word. “Good. Good. I hope you catch him and you kill him.” Cameron whirled on his heel and marched for the door.
I never said we were done. “Killing him isn’t my goal. Arresting him is.”
Cameron’s hand was almost touching the d
oor, but he stopped and looked back at Bennett. “They look like Ivy,” he rasped. “I see it, and I know you see it, too. That Evette—her picture was splashed in the paper. I thought she was Ivy at first. And now Shelly is killed—killed when her hair goes dark like Ivy’s…” He yanked a hand over his face. “The killer—the perp—is going to come for Ivy. While you’re in here, showing me pictures of—Shelly was my friend!” He suddenly exploded. “She shouldn’t have died!” He gulped in a deep gasp of air. “But Ivy…Ivy could be next.”
Bennett stalked toward him. “Just how do you feel about Ivy DuLane?”
Cameron laughed, but the sound was bitter. “How do you think I feel? I’ve been in love with her my whole damn life. Hung up on a girl who could never see past you, not even when you left her. When you took her father’s money and roared out of town and didn’t so much as glance back to see that you’d wrecked her.”
Ivy wasn’t wrecked. She was strong. Determined. Smart.
“I stayed by her. I stayed by Hugh. Their father only lasted a year before the guilt ate him up and he put that gun in his mouth.” His eyes glittered. “You think that shit was easy? She mourned without you. All that time—without you.”
“You know I came back then,” Bennett bit out the words. He had come back, so desperate for her. But when he’d gotten to the DuLane home, Cameron had met him at the door. “You’re the one who told me—”
“That Ivy had moved on.” A mocking smile curled Cameron’s lips. “Because I thought that she really might. I thought she’d finally give me my chance. But it didn’t work. She could never see past you. Even though you’re the worst thing that could ever happen to her.”
The sonofabitch had lied to him. “You never told Ivy I was there, did you?”
Cameron glared at him.
Bennett wanted to drive his fist into Cameron’s jaw.
“I would have been good to her,” Cameron said, voice rough. “I thought that night we were together, she’d see…”
Bennett’s hands had fisted.
“But the next morning, she would barely look at me.” Cameron’s jaw jutted up. “Is that what you want to hear? That I was desperate for her and she couldn’t stand the sight of me…because I wasn’t you?”
