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.”