A car turned down her street. She tensed for a moment, but then recognized the vehicle. Ivy didn’t move from her positon as Bennett parked near the curb. He exited quickly, and hurried toward her.
He looked big. Strong. Dangerous. Typical Bennett.
The exact opposite of Cameron. In so many ways.
She’d been doing some digging on him since their last little meeting. Digging on him and the other potential victims. Nothing she’d learned had been particularly reassuring.
In fact, it had been quite the opposite.
He stopped at the foot of her porch and stared up at her. “Your new alarm system won’t do you much good if you’re outside.”
“And staying locked away for the rest of my life won’t do me a whole lot of good either.”
His lips hitched into a half-smile. “Touché.”
She didn’t smile back. “Is there a reason for this little visit?”
“Yeah, I wanted to check on you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have to be watched twenty-four hours a day.”
He put his foot on the bottom step. “Maybe you shouldn’t be too sure about that.”
She tried to read his expression. The light from her porch spilled onto him. “What did you learn?”
“I talked with Evette’s family. They said she’d hooked up with a man she called Robert Adderly—they met about a week ago at a ball. Evette seemed to fall hard for the guy, and she told her mother he was perfect. Smart, handsome, rich.”
Ivy waited.
“Only the mother—and none of Evette’s friends—actually met Robert. And when I tried to do a search on the guy, I couldn’t find him. At least, not a guy matching that description. I did find one Robert Adderly living in Mobile, but he’s an eighty-eight year old gentlemen currently residing in a nursing facility.”
“So you think that her lover gave her a false name.”
“I think he fed her plenty of lies. I think he got close to her, he enjoyed her, used her, and when he was done…”
No defensive wounds.
“She never even had a chance to fight,” Bennett said.
Ivy rubbed her arms. “And the others that Dr. Battiste mentioned? Did they have mystery men in their lives, too?” She already knew this part, though.
“You tell me,” he invited.
Uh, oh…
“Because Fiona Hargrave—she was the woman found in Mobile about two years ago—her mother said that she talked with an investigator today. A woman who wanted to know about the men in Fiona’s life.”
Ivy shrugged. “Guilty.”
He climbed another step. They were on eye level now. “You know that Fiona also had a lover, one that her family never met. A man who called himself William Walker.”
She nodded.
“The victim in New Orleans had a lover, too. Her family didn’t meet him.”
There was no missing that pattern.
“No lover showed for any of the funerals,” Bennett added. “The guy just vanished when the women turned up dead.”
“Of course, he vanished,” she said, speaking softly, “he was done with them.” He’d already moved on to someone new…just like he did with me. Evette’s body had barely been cold, and he’d already been tormenting Ivy. Only… “He didn’t try to seduce me.”
“Good fucking thing,” Bennett muttered.
She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand.” And, yes, she had talked to the families. She’d called them and told them that she was a private investigator interested in solving cold cases. They’d been hesitant at first, but they’d answered her questions.
And they’d been grateful…glad someone was still looking for answers. Because they’d felt as if their daughters had been buried and forgotten by the rest of the world.
“These women were all infatuated with the men they knew.” That had been clear in the phone calls. “They told their families wonderful things about the man.” If it had been the same man. “But he didn’t try to charm me or trick me. He came at me, showing me exactly what he was. Not pretending anything else.”
Why?
She hadn’t seen his face. She wouldn’t have known if he’d walked up to her and flirted. Hell, she still didn’t know what he looked like.
“Something is different with me,” Ivy said. And that made her nervous.
“Maybe you’re just different.” Bennett gazed at her. “You saw him kill. Maybe that makes you different. Maybe you saw him for what he is, and maybe the bastard likes that.”
A shiver swept over her. “Maybe.”
It was good, being on eye level with him. Being so close to him. Their bodies were close, but not touching. The temptation to touch him was strong, but she didn’t move.
“I like that coat,” Bennett remarked.
Her lips parted and she glanced down. “Oh, sorry!” His coat. She’d put it on without really thinking about it before and she shouldered out of it.
“No.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Keep it. I’ve got more.”
So did she.
He didn’t pull his hand back.
“You know killers.” Those weren’t the words she’d meant to say. Were they?