Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (42 page)

“Not if it was just a crime of opportunity,” the chief argued. “That’s what he pretty much told you when he called Ivy, right? That the councilman got in his way…”

And I can’t help but wonder…has anyone else ever gotten in the killer’s way? 
Bennett’s fingers flew over the keyboard. And finally—finally—he got access to the records that he needed. His gaze scanned over the notes from the first officer on scene.

“Uh, Detective Morgan?”

“He was the one who found the body,” Bennett said as he quickly scanned the material on the screen.

“Excuse me?” The chief advanced and the floor creaked beneath his feet.

Bennett didn’t spare him a glance. “According to this report, when Senator DuLane committed suicide, two other people were in the house—his son Hugh and Hugh’s best friend, Cameron Wilde.”

He put a gun in his mouth.
Cameron had said those words so coldly. 

“The way he talked when I had him in interrogation, I suspected that Cameron had found the body, and he did.” It was right there in the report.  Hugh had gone out for a swim.  And Cameron had been the one inside the house. He’d been the one to rush into the Senator’s bedroom and find him sprawled on the ground.

“The senator’s case?”  Now the chief was leaning over him to stare at the screen, too. “Why are you digging that back up now? Is it because of what Hugh said last night?”

“Not Hugh.”
He was outside.
“Cameron Wilde.” He clicked the mouse and opened photos taken from the scene of the senator’s death. “Look, he had blood on his clothes…” He saw the clothes right there.  Pictures of them. They’d been bagged and tagged for evidence.  His eyes narrowed as he read about that analysis.

“Well, yes, of course there was blood on him.” The chief sounded aggrieved now. “He tried to revive the guy at first. That’s what he told the officers. You think I don’t remember this case? It’s not every day a man like DuLane eats his gun.”

Did he eat it?

“Although why the hell Cameron tried to revive him is beyond me,” Chief Quarrel said gruffly. “The senator was missing half of his damn head.”

That picture was there, too. Horrifying. Gory.  A picture of the senator…with the gun still cradled in his hand.

Only…
Is that right?  If he’d fired the gun, wouldn’t it have fallen from his fingers when the bullet slammed into his head? At impact, he should have lost control of his hand, not continued gripping the weapon, even in death. 

At the very least, when the senator fell to the floor, the gun should have flown from his hand. Not still been held so conveniently there.

Bennett tapped on the keyboard again and went right back to reading the report about Cameron’s blood stained clothes and—“Gunshot residue.” 

“Dammit, man, focus on
this
case!” The chief snarled, his patience obviously gone. “We don’t need to waste time in the past just because some—”

Bennett whirled his chair toward him. “Ivy said that sometimes cold cases just need a fresh pair of eyes.”

“That sounds like her,” the chief muttered.

Bennett pulled up the picture of the senator’s body. “The gun
shouldn’t
still be in his hand.” The odds of that—
too low.
“And why was gunshot residue on Cameron’s shirt?”

“He…he might have just brushed against the weapon. Or against the senator’s hand or—”

“Or maybe
he
fired the weapon.”

The chief stepped back. “You’re saying Cameron Wilde killed the senator?”

Bennett surged to his feet. “It was the way he acted in interrogation. All wrong.  Just…too cold. He didn’t even flinch when he saw the picture of Shelly’s body.”

“Having a strong stomach doesn’t make a man a killer!”

No, but having gunshot residue on his clothes…being in the same house with the senator…being—

“Everyone knew the senator was spiraling out of control.” Chief Quarrel’s voice was even rougher now. “His suicide was no surprise. I would think you, of all people, would have been glad that justice was served.”

It hadn’t been justice. Not even close.  “Everyone thought he killed himself…so no one looked deep enough into the case.”

Not even Ivy? Or her grandfather?  But maybe…maybe her father’s death had hurt her too much. His life and his death. So she had worked other cases, but never his. 

“You got the number for the officers who are trailing Wilde?” Bennett demanded.  The guy had been gone about thirty minutes—and Bennett needed to know just where the fellow was at that moment.

“Officers Brady and Givens.” The chief immediately rattled off Brady’s number.  Bennett yanked out his phone and called the officer. The line rang once, twice.

“Officer Brady.”

“You still have eyes on Wilde?” 

“Yes, sir…he’s just…he went back to his house.  He’s gone inside and pulled the blinds shut. His car is out front.”

“If he leaves, if he moves at all, you call me right away, got it?”

Because he didn’t trust Wilde. And it wasn’t just about Ivy and the past they shared. It was something deeper. Darker.

***

“When I heard that shot, I jumped out of the pool and ran inside as fast as I could,” Hugh said, his voice halting. “I was dripping water everywhere and I thought about how much Dad would hate that. You know how he always wanted the house to look perfect. The perfect house to hide our screwed up family.”

She squeezed him harder.

“Cameron was in Dad’s room.  When I ran in, he was standing over Dad.  Staring at him. I didn’t even understand what the hell had happened, not until Cameron looked up and told me…he said it was all over now.  Dad had killed himself.”

He shuddered against her. 

“That’s what one of the cops told me last night,” Hugh whispered. “Same stupid words. That Shelly was g
one
. That it was all over for her.
All over.
What the hell does that even mean?” 

She looked up at him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough. I can still see Shelly. I see her everywhere.”

She glanced around the wrecked house. “Is that why you’ve been breaking everything?” 

“Ives…I’m scared. I don’t think I can do this without her.”

“
Hugh.
” She snapped out his name, saying it hard and fast.

His bleary stare met hers.

“You can do this. You
will
do this, do you understand me?  You aren’t going out like our father. You are going to get through this. Because I’m going to be with you.  We always stick together, don’t we? No matter what?”

Hugh nodded. 

“We’re going to find the man who hurt Shelly. We’re going to stop him.”

His shoulders straightened a bit.

“You have to get yourself together, though, Hugh. You have to get some sleep. Eat.  Stop drinking.” 
Don’t take our father’s path.

“It hurts…”

“I know. And it’s probably going to hurt a lot more before it gets better.” She wouldn’t lie to him. The funeral would be hell. “But doesn’t Shelly deserve justice?  Don’t you want to give her that?”

“
Yes.
”

Damn straight. “Good. Then let’s get you to bed and—”

“I…wrecked the bed.” 

She frowned at him, then went to investigate. She peeked in the room and sure enough—“Why?” She turned around and Hugh was behind her. The detective had waited in the den.

“Because the sheets smelled of her.  Because I could still feel her there.” 

Ivy nodded. “Okay, then we’re going back to my place.” Because she wasn’t leaving her brother alone. “You’ll stay in my guest room. And we’ll get through this—together.”   She offered her hand to him.

He stared at her fingers. Slowly, his hand rose and curled around hers. “Is this what it felt like for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“When Bennett left you?  Is this what it was like? You hated the whole damn world and pain was ripping your guts out?”

She’d hurt, so much, but it wasn’t the same. Bennett had still been alive. Just not with her. Shelly… “Everything is going to be all right.” But those words felt like such a lie.

And his bitter smiled called her on that lie. “I told him to leave you.  To never look back.  I saw what he did to Dad.  Saw the way he attacked him…he was dangerous, Ivy. I thought he’d hurt you.”

“Let’s go, Hugh.”

“But I’m the one who hurt you…I forced him to leave, threatened him with jail.
I
did that to you. Not just Dad, me.”  His fingers squeezed hers. “I’m so sorry.” 

So was she. For so many things. 
Bennett never mentioned that Hugh threatened him. Just my father.

Why had he kept that part secret?

Hugh didn’t speak again as they left his condo. Their guard watched them, the detective’s face grim.  At least the guy hadn’t needed to use his gun. Her brother was safe.

She’d make sure he stayed that way.

***

Bennett’s phone rang just as he was heading out to his car. He yanked the phone to his ear. “Bennett.”

“Detective Morgan? He’s…he’s gone sir.”

“Officer Brady?”

“I got worried because his place was so quiet. I went to the door, knocked—”

So much for keeping a low profile.

“The house is empty. The back door was unlocked, so I-I searched the place before calling you.”

Sonofabitch.

“He’s gone.” The cop sounded miserable.  “He must have left on foot.”

“Start searching the area. Maybe he just went out for a damn jog or something.” The cops from Fort Morgan had said they’d found Cameron jogging on the beach. “Look for him.
Find
him. Call in extra units.” Because he was afraid it wasn’t going to be something as simple as a run.

He was afraid…afraid that Cameron’s obsession with Ivy might have grown too much over the years. Grown so much that he started seeking out women with long, dark hair, just like hers. Women who were close to Ivy’s age.

Women he’d killed.

Because Ivy had rejected him?

“Find him,” Bennett ordered flatly. “Find. Him.” 

Chapter Twelve

Ivy turned off the alarm at her house.  She cast a nervous smile toward Detective Trout. She felt so bad having the guy trail her. He was a detective, for goodness sake. He probably wanted to be out, hitting the streets, looking for clues.
Not playing guard duty.
“Why don’t you relax in the den, Detective?” she offered. “I’m going to get my brother settled in upstairs.”

“You need some help?” the detective asked.

“No, but thank you.”  She steered Hugh toward the stairs. “Feel free to grab a bite from the kitchen. Or if you want to run out and get something…I mean, I’m safe here. And I’m not alone.”

“She’s got me,” Hugh mumbled.

But the detective shook his head. “My orders were to stay close.”  But his gaze slid toward the kitchen. “Though I could go for a sandwich.”

“Help yourself.” She flashed him a nervous smile, then turned back to her brother.  He was wavering on his feet. They climbed the stairs together, then she turned to the right, heading for the guest room.

Her brother pretty much fell into the bed. He put his hand over his eyes. “I hope I dream about her,” he muttered. “Then maybe…maybe I can pretend she’s still with me.”

She pulled the covers over him. 

“Love you, Ives…”

“And I love you.”  She shut the blinds, darkening the room.  She slipped back into the hallway and shut the door behind her.  Ivy dug her phone out of her pocket. She should call Bennett and tell him that she’d gone back home.  Maybe he could update her on the case.  Tell her what was happening.

She put the phone to her ear.

***

Ivy was back
. She’d finally returned home.

Only…

She wasn’t alone.  He’d heard the voices. The footsteps.

Her brother. A cop.

Too many eyes. Too many distractions.

Did she think they’d keep her safe? They weren’t going to stop him. No one was going to stop him. Ivy was his key. No, his mirror. She saw beneath his mask.

He’d do anything for her.

Now he knew why she mattered so much. It was all clear to him.

He stood in her pantry, waiting.  He’d been in that house for so long, just waiting for her to come back. A knife was gripped in his left hand, and he had his mask on. 

Waiting
…

Hugh had been so stupid to keep the security code for Ivy’s house on his phone. Such a dumb mistake. But then, Hugh wasn’t the brightest fellow. So blind. So easily misled.

He’d known she would be back to her home, sooner or later.

Footsteps padded closer to him.  He’d left the pantry door cracked open, just a bit, and he saw the cop approaching. He backed up a bit, heading into the darkness of that pantry. The shadows.

Come and get me…

The pantry door opened.

A blond man stood there. Had to be the one Ivy had called “detective”.  Behind his mask, the killer smiled.  The cop wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring at the bread on the nearby shelf. The guy strolled inside as if he owned the place.

You don’t.

The cop reached for the bread.

The killer gripped the weapon in his hand—and he stabbed the bastard with his knife.

The cop opened his mouth to scream.
Can’t have that.
Before that sound could escape, the killer clamped his left hand over the guy’s lips. He stabbed the cop again and again.

He stabbed him until the man’s body stopped twitching.

Until the detective just slid to the floor.

***

“Bennett? Hi…um, I’m home,” Ivy said when he answered her call. She paused near her bedroom door.

“
Ivy.
”

She liked the way he said her name. Liked the need and the—

“Is the detective still with you?” Bennett demanded.

She smiled. “He’s downstairs. Don’t worry. I’m totally safe.” She strolled into her room. Gazed down at the street below. It was broad daylight, and the moss hanging from the oak tree at the end of her drive swayed lightly in the breeze.  “Hugh is with me, too. Though he’s currently sleeping like—”
The dead
. She cleared her throat. “He’s sleeping.” She paced back toward the bedroom door. “Bennett, did you learn anything new? Did you—”