“No luck?”
She looked up at Bennett’s voice. She was in his office, sitting at his desk, and he’d just appeared in the doorway. His voice hadn’t been particularly hopeful, and she saw that his expression was grim.
“No, I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “It was a long shot. There are so many exits from that convention center, and the place was total chaos.”
“No bloody clothes were found?”
“Not by the crime team, and they went back again earlier, searching for it.” He crossed the room and came to her side, standing over her as he looked down at the computer. “It’s really the perfect place, if you think about it. All of those people, many of them already so drunk they can’t stand…and even if they aren’t drunk, then maybe they’ve had enough to be buzzing a bit. They won’t remember what they saw. Throw in the masks and the darkness, and you have your total anonymity. If you wanted to commit a crime, if you wanted to hurt someone…do it right there. No one will know.”
She shivered because his voice had turned so cold. “Is that what you think he’s been doing? Killing in the crowds for what—the last few years?”
“It’s what makes sense. A prime hunting ground.”
Okay, that was creepy. But she didn’t speak because she knew exactly what he was doing—profiling the killer. He’d probably done that before, when he’d been working Violent Crimes. She wanted to hear what else he had to say.
“His victims look alike,” Ivy said as she craned her head to look up at him. They look like me.
“And that’s why he’s probably thrilled right now.” His eyes glinted. “Fate just dropped you right in his hands. Another perfect victim.”
Now she jumped to her feet and their bodies brushed. “I’m not anyone’s victim.” The hell she was.
“Ivy,” he sighed out her name. “I’ve been doing research on you, too.”
Only fair. She’d dug into his past and—
“Why do you like danger so much?”
She flinched at that question. “It’s not the danger. Maybe I just want to help someone else.” And that was exactly what she was doing—trying to help. Trying to save someone else’s life.
Her grandfather had trained her well, and she’d loved working at his PI business. And it wasn’t just about the rush that came from the job. It was about the difference that she could make. The difference her grandfather had made.
Her father had tried to crash and burn that legacy, but she’d been determined to build it back up. Ivy heaved out a hard breath. “Money and power can do a lot of things in this world. They can sure hide plenty of sins.”
“Like your father’s?”
“I know you hated him.” There was no use pretending for either of them. “He blackmailed his way to power. He covered his past, made sure that the skeletons in his closet would stay dead, but I am not him.”
“I never said you were.”
“No, you just look at me sometimes, judging me, thinking I’m cut from the same cloth.” Why had she thought anything would change regarding that? “Screw that, Bennett. Screw you.” She shoved by him and marched for the door.
She’d taken only a few steps when he caught her. He grabbed her wrist and swung her back around to face him. The office was small and with their bodies intimately close—it sure felt one hell of a lot smaller.
“He got away with murder,” Bennett whispered.
Yes, he had. But only for a time.
“He was drinking that night, Ivy,” Bennett continued gruffly. “He killed her. And the cops and the media just let him walk.”
She thought of that fiery crash. Of the way the flames had shot in the sky. She’d gotten there right after the accident. She and Bennett had arrived together. She’d seen the aftermath.
And had borne the brunt of Bennett’s pain, even back then.
His aunt had been in that car. His aunt…she’d been the one that Senator DuLane hit with his BMW late one night after he’d had too many drinks at his bay house. His car had slammed right into hers, and Bennett’s aunt…she’d never been able to escape the flames.
But the cops and the press, they’d told a different story. Slick roads. Too much rain. A tragic accident.
Not manslaughter.
No matter what Bennett and his mother had said, no one had believed them. Hell, there hadn’t even been a blood alcohol test taken from the senator that night, or…if there had been, it had vanished later.
Money and power.
That night had torn her and Bennett apart. He’d become so angry. So full of rage. And so determined to get justice.
He’d left town. Joined the FBI.
And she’d…
Stayed. I tried to make things better. I tried to atone. It just didn’t always work for me.
“I couldn’t stay here,” Bennett said. “Not after that. Not with the world treating him like he was some damn victim.”
No.
“He tried to buy us off,” Bennett admitted.