Bennett glanced down at the phone cradled in Ivy’s hands. “Call her again.”
She swallowed and her fingers slid across the screen. He saw the screen note of Dialing Shelly…and Shelly’s smiling face appeared on Ivy’s screen.
Then the call connected.
And Katie Perry began to sing from behind the door.
“She could have dropped her phone,” Hugh said quickly as he gave a hard nod. “I bet that’s what happened. She dropped her phone in there. She’s probably somewhere else, hell, maybe she’s even looking for her phone…”
Bennett wasn’t so sure of that, and, judging by the worry on Ivy’s face, she wasn’t, either. They both knew the killer was there—and he could already have a new victim.
“Get back,” Bennett ordered.
“Why?” Hugh blustered. “What are you—”
Growling, Bennett pushed the guy back once more. Then he kicked in that door. If he was wrong, he’d pay for a new door. If he was right—
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.
Chapter Eight
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.