Until Death (8 page)

He saw the blood.

Shit, but he hadn’t wanted to be right.

Shelly was on the floor, blood covering her gown, and a green mask was just inches from her fingers. Her mask?

Her lashes were closed, her body so still. He hurried to her, and Bennett put his fingers on her throat.

No pulse, but she was still warm.
So warm because…he just killed her.
“We need to lock this place down. No one else leaves.” He surged to his feet.

“Shelly!” Hugh tried to rush past Bennett.

Bennett grabbed the guy. “No, dammit! This is a crime scene, stay back!”

But Hugh fought his hold. Twisting, and punching and when Hugh’s fist slammed into his jaw, Bennett swore, but didn’t let the other guy go. “You can’t help her now. She’s gone man, I’m sorry.”

“No.” Hugh’s denial was sharp. “No, she’s not!” He kept fighting, but Bennett pulled Hugh out of the room. “Shelly!
Shelly, baby—no!”
Pain and fear laced his voice. “Please, no,” he whispered.

Bennett glanced at Ivy. Her hand was over her mouth and tears trekked down her cheeks. “We have to get security to close this scene,” Bennett said softly. “No one can leave, not until my men talk to everyone here.” Because the killer was there—if the bastard hadn’t already slipped away. “We close this place down,
now.”

Ivy nodded.

“Shelly?” Hugh’s voice was lost. “Why…
Shelly?”

***

“Have a good night, gentlemen,” he murmured as he cleared the security gate. He gave the security staff a friendly wave as he waited for the valet to bring his car around. He didn’t want to appear nervous, after all. Why would he want to do that?

He smiled at them. “Sure were some pretty women here tonight.”

Shelly had been a pleasant surprise. Would they find her soon? He certainly hoped so. What fun that discovery would be.

The man to his right—a big, balding fellow who was built rather like a tank—gave him a broad smile. “Plenty of pretty women,” the guy agreed. A diamond winked from his ear lobe.

And, because it tempted him so much, he just had to tell the man, “There was one brunette there…” He whistled. “She was to die for.”

The valet appeared, driving up in the Porsche.

Such a beautiful ride.
One that commanded attention. Just like he commanded attention.

The smile was still on his lips as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He handed off his tip to the valet.

And he heard the crackle of a radio to the right. He glanced over, idly curious. The bald guard with the earring pulled the radio away from the clip on his hip.

“This is Morris,” he said.

“
We’re under lockdown…a detective is saying that no one should—”

Ah, that would be his cue to leave. “Have a good night.” He closed his door, pushed his foot down on the gas pedal and got the hell out of there before Morris’s boss could finish giving him instructions. Instructions that he was sure originated from Detective Bennett Morgan.

You found her.

Much faster than he’d thought. Yes, it was definitely time to leave this particular party. And he was getting away clean. The way he always did.

Ivy hunched her shoulders when the body was brought out of Melton House. She was getting really tired of seeing dead bodies.

Only that wasn’t just any dead body…

I’ve known Shelly for years.
They’d shared secrets. Laughter. Tears. Shelly had always been trailing after Hugh, and her brother had finally gotten his shit together and seen the beautiful woman who wanted him.

Now she was gone.

Ivy shivered in the night air.

Dozens of cops were at the scene. Police tape blocked the driveway—so did armed guards. No one was getting out of that ball without talking to the cops. They were getting names and addresses. They were questioning everyone for details about that night.

And her brother…he was one of the ones being grilled the most.

Hugh was currently in the back of a patrol car. The door was open, and another detective—Drew Trout—was leaning in close, talking to him. Grilling him.

It’s not Hugh.

Bennett should understand that. He needed to get his colleague to understand that the killer had tried to set up Hugh. That he’d used Hugh’s phone.

That he’d killed Hugh’s lover.

Her gaze slid back to the body bag.

I’m so sorry, Shelly.

“No, no, I’m telling you…” A man’s voice rose, drawing her attention to the left. “I shut the place down as soon as I got the radio message from my boss.”

Her body turned toward that voice. She saw Bennett with his arms crossed, sizing up one of the security guards at the event—the guy they’d passed when they’d first arrived. Big, tough, with a gleaming bald head and good taste in diamonds.

“No one got out of here after I got that message,” the guy said flatly. “My boys and I secured the scene. No one got past us then.”

She inched closer to them.

“Did anyone leave right before that?” Bennett asked.

The fellow sputtered and said, “Yeah, folks been coming and going all night. I didn’t know to stop them!”

Bennett’s hands fell to his side. “Morris, I need to know if a man left. A man about my size with dark hair. I think he would have been traveling alone.”

Morris’s gaze slid away from his. The guy seemed to be staring over near the valet line. A line that wasn’t moving very much at all.

“He said,” Morris licked his lips, “he said the brunette…that she was ‘to die for’…”

Ivy swallowed as nausea rose within her.

“Who said that?” Bennett asked immediately.

“The guy—the guy who drove off in the Porsche. Real sweet ride.” Morris ran a hand over the top of his head. “He was your height. Had his tux coat tucked under his arm.”

Because he was hiding some blood that might have gotten on it?

“I need a full description of him.” Bennett’s voice was grim.

“I-I didn’t know to stop him. Not then. He was friendly. Not in any kind of rush. I mean, if he’d just killed that lady…” Now the bouncer’s gaze slid toward the ME’s van. His jaw locked. “Shouldn’t he have been running?”

Not him. He’s too cool. Too controlled.

“Describe him,” Bennett said.

“White guy, dark hair, blue eyes. Shit—I don’t know. His hair was pushed back. I just—I really noticed the car, okay? It was a sweet ride. Damn fine. I was looking more at it than I was at him.”

Bennett motioned to a nearby officer who hurried over. Then Bennett focused on the witness again. “Did you get the tag number?”

“Uh…”

No, he hadn’t. Ivy could already tell that from the man’s tone of voice.

Bennett turned to the uniform. “There’s a traffic camera at the light two blocks away. Get access to that camera,
now.
If the Porsche is on there, we can get the license plate.” He pointed at Morris. “And you’re going to describe the vehicle to us. Every detail. We’ll get an APB out on the car. I want every Porsche fitting that description pulled over right the fuck now. The guy wants to drive a fancy ride? His mistake. It will just make tracking him easier.”

Maybe…Ivy shifted a bit nervously from foot to foot as she considered the matter.

But the killer had stolen Hugh’s phone to call her.

So maybe he’d just stolen that car from someone, too. Just in case…in case a situation like this occurred. If his car was spotted, he wouldn’t want it to be traced back to him.

“It was dark blue,” Morris said quickly. “A new car, one of those fancy 911 models.”

Oh, hell. Ivy cleared her throat. She had to speak up now. “I know someone with a car like that.”

Bennett’s gaze was immediately on her.

“Cameron Wilde,” she said softly. “He got that 911 just a few months ago.” He’d been so proud of that car, driving it everywhere. Then he’d gotten a scratch on it when the car had been parked at a wine bar. After that, he’d started keeping his ride locked up in his garage, and taking his “baby” out only for special occasions.

“Was Cameron attending the party tonight?” Bennett asked her.

“I don’t think so. When I talked to him last…” A talk that hadn’t gone so well. “He said he was heading over to his beach house. He has a place in Fort Morgan.” That would be about an hour drive away. “If his plans changed, he didn’t tell me.”
And he wouldn’t.
Because he’d been pissed when he left her.

“I’m putting out an APB for that car,” Bennett said, his voice hard. “And I want you…” His gaze cut back to Morris once more. “I want you going downtown.”

Morris lifted his hands. “Aw, man, no, I—”

“You’re working with a sketch artist. You saw the guy. You—and any of your men who were close by. I want every single detail that you can give me. This man has killed three people in the last two days. He’s not getting away with his crimes.”

Because if they didn’t catch him, Ivy knew he’d just be killing someone else again soon.

“And I want a patrol car sent to Cameron Wilde’s house, right now,” Bennett gritted out as the officer near him nodded briskly. “Bring him in to the station. I’ll be having a nice chat with him, too.”

“Bennett—” Ivy began.

He whirled toward her. He took two steps and his hands caught her shoulders. “It could have been you in that body bag.”

She shook her head.

“He called
you.
He lured
you
here. He’s baiting us. Playing a game that I won’t let him win.” His breath sawed out as his eyes glittered down at her. “I won’t let you be his victim. I can’t.” His hold tightened on her. “I need you too much.”

That was good, right? He needed her. He—

“So I’m sorry, Ivy, but this has to be done. You matter too much. I can’t risk you.” He dropped his hands and stepped back.

Oh, no. She got a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Bennett?” Just what was he doing?

Bennett sighed. “Officer Jansen, please place Ivy DuLane in protective custody.”

“What?” Had she just misheard? Because she was already freaking out over Shelly, so maybe—

“You’re going to have a guard, twenty-four seven, until this bastard is caught.” Bennett’s hands clenched at his sides. “You’re not going in a body bag, understand? I won’t let that happen. I’ve seen first-hand what sick freaks like him do to their prey. How they get off on the pain. That’s not happening to you. It can’t.” His voice sounded ragged as he whirled away from her.

Seriously—that was it? “Bennett?” Chill bumps rose on her arms.

“Um, Ms. DuLane?” A female officer was at her side. Must be Officer Jansen. She hadn’t even realized the woman was there until Bennett had said the lady’s name. “You’ll need to come with me now.”

Bennett had already paced several feet away. He was on his phone, barking orders. Probably demanding that APB and putting out a search for Cameron.

“Can he do that?” Ivy asked. “Can he just put me in protective custody?”

“Uh, ma’am, it’s for your safety.”

The ME’s van was pulling away.
Shelly didn’t have any chance of safety.
She shouldn’t have died. If the killer was truly playing a game…
then why won’t he just come after me?
Why was he bringing her friends and her brother into this nightmare?

“Life can change so fast,” Ivy murmured. “Two days ago, my biggest worry was whether or not I’d get enough new clients this year for my business.”

Now…

Now she had to worry about staying alive. Worry about protecting those close to her.

If he wants me, then he needs to focus on me. And leave them the hell alone.

“Ma’am,” Officer Jansen’s voice hardened. “You need to come with me now.”

Ivy nodded. Yes, she did. And she also needed to figure out what the hell she could do next.

***

Police Chief Berney Quarrel stalked into Bennett’s office and shut the door behind him with a soft click. “Tell me…
please
tell me that I didn’t see Senator DuLane’s son in my interrogation room.”

Bennett put down his phone. “You saw him.”

The chief winced. “You really thinking that man is our killer? That he brutally stabbed his own girlfriend and then just hung around at that party, waiting for her body to be found?”

I think Hugh DuLane has plenty of secrets.

“You think that man is harassing his own sister? Trying to kill
her?
”

“No, shit, I don’t.” Because Bennett thought the man they were after had driven away in a Porsche. “I saw Hugh when he realized Shelly Estes was dead.” The guy had been destroyed. And Bennett didn’t think that reaction had been faked. “He’s just one of the killer’s pawns. Hell, the guy is
in
interrogation because I think
he
saw the bastard. I think the guy walked right up to Hugh and took his phone, and DuLane didn’t even realize what was happening.”

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.