Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (37 page)

The chief grunted. “Well, that makes things easier. At least I won’t have to deal with the nightmare of arresting a
DuLane.
”

Even with the scandals that had been attached to their family, Bennett knew the name still carried power. Power and too much wealth. 

“Would it matter?” Bennett asked him grimly. “Say Hugh was our killer. Would his last name stop you from arresting the guy?”  Because the senator hadn’t been arrested when he’d committed murder. Back then, the cops had just let him walk.

The chief’s face hardened. “You must not know me well, son.  Because you shouldn’t have to ask that question.” His coal black eyes narrowed. “Money and power don’t mean shit to me if you’re guilty.”

Good.  Bennett nodded. “My apologies, sir.”

The chief grunted. “You think I don’t know about what went down here before? I heard all about your aunt.”

That wasn’t what Bennett had expected to hear right then.

“That shit won’t go down under my command. Count on it.” 

Bennett’s respect for the man notched up even more.

“Now tell me about Cameron Wilde,” the chief said gruffly.

He wished that he had more to say. “You know Cameron Wilde is missing.”

The chief lowered into Bennett’s desk chair.

“Wilde
and
the Porsche.” The traffic camera had caught that vehicle fleeing, and they’d gotten the tag number, a tag number that showed the owner of the vehicle was one Cameron Wilde.

His hair isn’t dark.  It’s blond.
But, otherwise… “There weren’t any signs of foul play at his house in Mobile. Ivy told me the guy had a second home over at the Fort Morgan beach area.  I had officers from the Fort Morgan police department check the place out, but they said it looked deserted.” Not a good sign. “They’re going to head back at first light and check again.”  Though they sure hadn’t sounded very hopeful when they’d talked to him.

“How are those sketches going?” Chief Quarrel asked him.

“Fucking worthless.”  He shook his head. “We had three witnesses who saw the guy—Morris Hatch, the head of the security at the gate, a guy named Todd Wiles, and Peter Blask, the valet. All three men saw the driver of that Porsche. And when they were paired up with sketch artists, all damn three of them described a different man. The pictures are useless to me.”

The chief sighed. “You know how faulty eye witness descriptions can be—especially in situations like this one.” 

Yeah, he damn well knew how unreliable such testimony could be. He’d had his share of issues with misleading descriptions during his time with the FBI. But he’d hoped they’d gotten lucky. He’d
needed
to see who he was hunting. 

“I’ve got the APB out for Wilde,” Bennett said. “Uniforms are searching his property and his business. We should be able to find him.”

The chief just looked back at him.

And Bennett knew the chief was thinking the same thing he was.
We should be able to find him…provided that Cameron Wilde was still alive.

He wasn’t so sure about that. Maybe the killer had stabbed Cameron and dumped his body,
then
taken his ride.   

“You’re the hotshot from the FBI,” the chief groused. “I know you worked with serials. Is that what we’ve got here? A serial?”

Bennett’s hand rose and pressed to his side. Beneath his shirt, he could just feel the ridge of his scar.  So many scars marked him.  “Usually, serials have certain victim types that they enjoy.”

“Like pretty young brunettes…”

“Just like that.” 

The chief’s fingers tapped on Bennett’s desk.  “Give me a profile.”

Bennett’s brows rose. “I’m not a profiler, not some psychiatrist—”

“Aw, cut the bullshit. You were Violent Crimes. I know you’re the one who tracked down the Greenville Trapper.”

Bennett didn’t let his expression alter.
Greenville Trapper.
That was the name the media had come up with for the killer who had terrorized the Greenville, South Carolina area. A man who’d hunted his prey—and had trapped that prey. The Trapper had seen himself as some sort of big gamesman, and he’d only gone after big prey. Men in their prime. Men who were physically fit. Men who could survive his game for longer periods of time.

Because after he’d trapped his prey, the sick freak had enjoyed torturing them…for weeks. 

“I tracked him,” Bennett said grimly.  The marks beneath his clothes—the scars he would always carry—seemed to burn. 

“So I think you know a pretty good bit about profiling killers.” The chief motioned to him. “Profile this one. Go—”

Bennett’s door flew open. Ivy stood there, chest heaving, her dark eyes blazing at him. “Three hours,” she snapped.

What was she doing there? She was—

“I’ve been back in holding for three hours.” She stalked toward him and jabbed her finger into his chest. “Like a common criminal! I’m all for protective custody. I mean, hell, do what you need to do, but you can’t just lock me up and forget about me!”

As if he could forget about her.

“You need to use me,” Ivy said flatly. “The killer is calling me. He’s hurting my friends—
use me.
”

The fuck he would. 

“Ah, Ms. DuLane,” the chief murmured as he rose. “I was wondering when you’d be making an appearance.”

Ivy glanced over at him.  “As exciting as I find your jail, Chief. I think my time can be better spent elsewhere.”

“Actually,” the chief drawled. “I think you might be here just in time. Detective Morgan was just about to tell me what sort of profile he had for the killer.”

“He was?” Ivy asked quickly.

“
Uh, chief, she’s a civilian. She—”

“Do you have any idea how many cold cases the woman has solved in the last year?” The chief marched toward Bennett. “I tried to draft her for my force, but she likes playing it independent. Just like her grandfather.”

And he suddenly wondered if—like Dr. Battiste—the chief had enjoyed fishing with Ivy’s grandfather back in the day.

“He would have been proud of you,” the chief murmured to Ivy. 

“I don’t know about that,” she whispered, her voice so low that Bennett barely heard her words. But then Ivy straightened her shoulders. “Give us the profile, Bennett, and then let’s see what we can do to trap him.”

Trap him.

For an instant, Bennett remembered pain. Screams. Death.

“Bennett?” Ivy frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

No, he hadn’t been okay in a very long time.

When he’d been far too close to death, when his partner had been dead around him, the Greenville Trapper—a guy with the non-threatening name of Paul Friend—had tried to make Bennett beg. He’d tried to break him.

Bennett had screamed with his agony, but he hadn’t broken.

Because he’d been thinking…

Of her.

“He’s obsessed,” Bennett said flatly. “A woman…a woman he can’t let go. A woman he wants to own.” 

Ivy stared up at him.

“Dark hair, mid-twenties…beautiful.”

You won’t touch her.

“He’s been killing a while. So confident. The first time he killed…it was
her.
” His obsession. “And he got high from the pleasure of taking her life. Of having the ultimate control. He liked that feeling. He liked having her…so he did it again and again…but he was smart. He picked two different towns. He killed when the crowds were at their full height. When the cops were so busy that they didn’t notice a woman missing. He did that, not too often, maybe once a year or once every two years, controlling himself as much as possible. Choosing his victims and hunting.”

Ivy licked her lower lip. “But he’s had more than one victim this year.”

Yes, he had. “Because something changed in his equation.
You
changed things.”

“Th-that’s why he called me. Why he’s targeting my friends. Because I saw him kill Evette.”

Yes. “Maybe he liked that you saw. Maybe it pissed him off. I don’t know yet—but you were a trigger for him. You broke his control. He’s acting on impulse now, with no cooling off period between his kills, and that makes him even more dangerous.”

The chief rubbed his chin. “Because that means we don’t know what he’ll do next?”

Bennett nodded. “We need to contact the FBI. They’ll send a team down here. He’s been crossing state lines, killing for years. He’s a serial they need to chase.”

Ivy grabbed his arm. “You
were
FBI! You can catch him. Bennett, come on, we can do this.”

“You’re out of your league, Ivy.”  She didn’t understand. “What will you do if he gets you alone again? If you can’t get free?  When he drives his knife into you…
what will you do?”

Die.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“If he’s focused on me, if I set him off, then we can use that,” she said desperately. “Bennett, we can—”

“He’ll kill you! He’ll stab you, carve you up until nothing is left!”
His fury and fear erupted. “Then what the fuck am
I
supposed to do?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her hand away from him.

Silence.

“Yeah…” The chief murmured. “I’ll let you two talk this out a bit more. I think I’ll head in there and see what her brother has to say…”

Ivy didn’t speak, not until the chief closed the door behind him. 

Then…

“What the fuck,” Ivy asked softly, “am
I
supposed to do if he targets someone else that I care about?”

He flexed his fingers. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to hold her tight. 

“If he calls me again, if he contacts me…
we
bait the trap,” Ivy said as her dark gaze held his. “Stop looking at this from a personal angle. If you didn’t know me, if you’d never slept with me…wouldn’t you already be using me to catch him?”

His hand lifted and slid under her chin. “I do know you. I did sleep with you.” Too long ago. He needed her
now.
“And I will be lost if he hurts you.”

“Bennett?” She stared at him in confusion, as if she didn’t know him.

When she was the only one he’d ever let close. “How do you think I survived before? When that freak had me chained up in that cabin? When he took his time slicing the skin from my chest even as my partner’s dead body was just a few feet away?”

She backed up a step. “I didn’t…I didn’t know!”

She’d asked for the gritty details before.
Be careful what you wish for.
“That’s what you’re asking for, baby. You’re asking to become a serial killer’s toy. You’re asking me to stand back and let that shit happen to you.”  He gave a grim shake of his head. “No, it won’t happen.  It
can’t
happen.” 

“Bennett…”

“That’s my worst fear,” he rasped. “For you to be hurt like that. For you to be trapped, to need me…”

“Protective custody,” she said softly. “Now I understand.” She threw her arms around him.

He bent, hugging her, holding her as tightly as he could.

He thought of the way Hugh had reacted when he’d seen Shelly’s body. The guy had been destroyed.

If Ivy had been on that floor…

“It can’t happen,” he said flatly. “It won’t.”  Because he truly would go mad. She didn’t get it—Ivy thought he’d left town and never given her another thought.

But she’d been on his mind. Every day.  The one thing that had been
his.

A knock sounded at his door. Hell, probably the chief, trying to get him moving.

He pulled away from Ivy, just a bit, and glanced at the door. Sure enough, the chief poked his head inside.

“Chief, I—” Bennett began.

“Call it a night,” the chief ordered. “Go take Ms. DuLane home. You both need to catch a few hours’ sleep. Then you can come back here. We’ll meet at 0700.”

Take her home? The hell,
no.
“But she’s in custody—”

“I didn’t say it had to be her home, now did I?”  The chief turned away. “Priorities are important in this world, Bennett. Make sure yours are in place—and that they are the right ones.”

Ivy is my priority. Priority One.
Maybe it was time he proved that to her.

“Come on.” He grabbed his keys and looped his fingers with hers.  They hurried into the hallway and turned toward the bullpen. 

But Ivy stopped and glanced back toward interrogation. “My brother?” 

And then Hugh appeared.  Standing in the hallway, with his shoulders hunched, her brother seemed like a completely different man to Bennett. 

Ivy pulled from Bennett and hurried to Hugh’s side. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. “I’m so sorry,” Ivy said.

Hugh didn’t hug her back. He stood there, stiff and seemingly lost, in her embrace. 

Ivy eased back. “Hugh?”

He blinked and looked at her. Bennett didn’t even know if the guy was really seeing her or not.  When he’d interrogated Hugh, he’d thought the other man might be in shock.  “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Hugh asked.

Bennett tensed.

“Payback. Fucking karma. Because I kept my damn mouth shut before, I’m being punished now.”  Hugh’s gaze cut to Bennett. “He was my father, man.  I…he said we’d lose everything.”

Bennett could barely breathe as he realized just
what
Hugh was talking about. Another time. Another murder.

“I tried to get her out of the fire.”

They weren’t talking about Shelly, not even close. But Shelly’s death had pushed Hugh over some sort of edge.

“That’s why I have the burns.” Hugh looked down at his palms, and, sure enough, there were old scars there. “I tried to get to her, but she wasn’t moving inside her car. He told me she was already dead.”

Bennett felt his cheeks ice.

“He pulled me back. He was on his phone, calling for help.  The flames were rising.” Hugh closed his eyes. “Then I saw her move. Your aunt was still alive.”

No, shit, no. I can’t hear this now!

His aunt had been so close to him. His mother had usually been too busy with her lovers to give him much thought. But his aunt…she’d been everything.

“The car exploded before I could get back to her.  I’m so sorry.”  Hugh raked his hands over his face. “It’s payback! I let her die, and now Shelly…Shelly is gone!  I didn’t get to help her, either! I didn’t get to do a damn thing!”