You Belong to Me (19 page)

Of course the bank accounts had been cleaned out.
By me
.

Ryan had no money of his own, poor guy. Mama Janet kept him on a tight financial leash, with a teeny little allowance that barely fed his methadone habit. He’d come back east, and quickly. He’d want the money. And maybe because Ryan would want to prove to himself that Mama really was dead.
And I’ll be waiting
.

‘Too bad she fucked you over, Ry,’ he murmured. ‘Because even if I let you live, which I will not, you’d be answering to the cops for what you did.’

Because murder had no statute of limitations.

He crouched next to dead Janet and yanked her up by her throat. ‘Right, Mrs Gordon? No fucking statute of limitations.
But I didn’t do anything
,’ he mimicked cruelly and flung her away. He rose, dusting off his jeans. ‘No, you didn’t. So I did.’

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the table next to his tools. One left. He’d bought this pack specifically for Janet. Virginia Slims. They made a smaller burn mark, a benefit since her back was a lot narrower than Bennett’s. He’d used all but one burning the ‘L’ into her skin.

She’d screamed all kinds of useful information, like her bank account passwords, her son’s cell number, and the name of her attorney – the one who held her confession letter. All of which would come in very handy.

He lit up the last cigarette and took a nice long drag. He had time for one smoke before heading back.

Monday, May 3, 5.00 P.M.

Fitzpatrick’s fists had tightened on the steering wheel, his mouth flattening at Lucy’s cool assessment of her possible fate. ‘You’re not going to be any goddamn killer’s second victim, Lucy. It’s not gonna happen. I won’t let it.’

There was the confidence she’d expected. He was nervous about the personal stuff, like whether or not she’d want to be involved with him, but he was completely secure in his duty as a cop. And as her protector. ‘Good to know,’ she murmured.

‘So tell me, what would your becoming involved with me depend on? Please.’

The
please
undid her. ‘I don’t think you’d understand if I told you.’

The muscle in his jaw was twitching again. ‘Try me.’

Lucy looked away, staring out the window at the I-95 traffic as she searched for an answer. Finally she decided on the truth. ‘It would depend on how exciting you are.’

He was silent for a long moment. ‘I don’t understand.’

Lucy’s smile was rueful. ‘See? I told you.’ She gathered her courage and turned to look at him. ‘I’m a lot of trouble, JD. I’d advise you to keep moving on.’

He frowned, but said nothing and she found herself disappointed. A piece of her wished he’d argue, but another piece of her was glad he didn’t. He might be sweet and he might be kind, but every instinct she had said he’d be a thrill-seeker.

And then she’d become one too. Again. Which couldn’t be allowed to happen. Again. Hyatt had actually done her a favor by dredging up Heath’s death and her trial earlier. It was just the bucket of cold water she’d needed to focus on reality.

Lucy settled back for the rest of the drive to the first Mrs Bennett’s house. Then sat up when Fitzpatrick exited the highway a few exits too early. ‘Where are you going?’

His expression was grim as he pointed. ‘There.’

There
was a gas station at the end of the exit ramp, but instead of pulling in, he drove behind the building and parked the car. Pocketing his keys, he came around to her side, opened the door, and popped her seatbelt free.

‘What is—’ was all she had time to say before he took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She stared up at him, her skin buzzing and her pulse pounding. He was angry. But he was also aroused and that fast, so was she.

‘Is this exciting enough for you?’ he growled before digging his fingers into her hair, a second before his mouth came down on hers.

Coherent thought fled.
Yes. Please. More
. He was hot and demanding and hard. Her hands were on his chest, then around his neck as he pressed her against the car. Oh God, he was hard, in all the right places. He ate at her mouth, nips and bites that made her moan. His hands slid down her back, detouring to grab her hips just before they would have closed over her butt. She lifted on her toes, cursing the straight skirt that kept her from wrapping her legs around his waist.

Narcotic
. The man was a narcotic. She ripped her mouth away, struggling for control where there was none.
This is why you don’t get involved. Not even a little bit. It’s like an alcoholic having ‘just one drink’. You can’t. No maybes. Just no.

His breathing was strident against her cheek, sending new shivers down her spine. ‘Is this exciting enough for you?’ he repeated, much more quietly.

‘Too much,’ she whispered, her arms still around his neck. She needed to move, to push him away but she could not. He felt too good. Smelled too good. Made her feel too good.
Alive
. Wearily she leaned her forehead against his chest. ‘Way too much.’

‘I should apologize,’ he said roughly. ‘But I’m not sorry. I’ve wanted to do that since this morning.’

‘Do you always do everything you want?’ she asked, a little bitterly.

‘No. Not nearly. And I get the impression that neither do you.’

He was right. She swallowed hard, wishing. ‘What do you do in your spare time?’

‘What?’

She lifted her head, met his dark eyes. ‘Your spare time. How do you spend it?’

His jaw tensed. ‘Are you asking me if I’m involved with anyone? Because if you think I could do this when . . . I’d be no better than Bennett.’

‘No. Stevie told me that you’d had no one since you lost your wife.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What else did Stevie say?’

‘That you were a good man. A good friend.’

His anger disappeared like mist. ‘Oh.’

‘I need to know, JD,’ she urged, her voice low. ‘Please. Your spare time?’

‘I don’t have a lot of spare time. I sleep. Sometimes I do weekend coaching.’

‘What do you coach?’
Please say something normal. Something safe.

‘Now a little baseball. In the fall, it’ll be football. Why?’

She let herself breathe. That was normal. Americana.
I can do that. I can sit in the stands and cheer him on without losing it
. She hoped. ‘I just needed to know.’

He was studying her intently. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I know,’ she murmured. Eventually, if this worked out, she’d tell him. She’d have to. But for now, for this moment, he held her in his arms and she was warm, her body needy. It had been a very, very long time. She lifted on her toes, fitting her mouth to his, her kiss light, tentative.

For about five seconds. Then he took the kiss deeper, made it richer. So much hotter. He kept his hands on her hips, but he tightened his grip, as if the effort cost him. He ended the kiss gradually, giving her mouth a little nudge as he pulled away.

‘We have to go,’ he whispered. ‘I have to work.’

‘I know,’ she whispered back. He helped her into the car and buckled her in with a tenderness that made her want to sigh.

He’d pulled the car back onto the highway before clearing his throat. ‘For the record, in the future, that’s how I’d like to spend my spare time.’

He was nervous again. It was sweet. ‘I won’t fight you on it.’

He glanced over with a wry smile. ‘Good to know. We’re almost at the first Mrs Bennett’s house. Tell me everything you can remember about her.’

Chapter Nine

Monday, May 3, 5.15 P.M.

S
tevie checked her watch again. There was no way she was going with JD to notify Bennett’s parents. She’d never make it back in time for Cordelia’s graduation.

Which Stevie would not miss, no way, no how.
Ah, finally
. JD parked behind her car. ‘What took you so long?’ she asked when he and Lucy got out.

‘Traffic,’ he said, but Stevie was no fool. There was something different about him. About Lucy Trask, too. Her lips were a little puffier than they’d been before. Which would have been fine, except that Hyatt had let them know he was watching JD.

That JD and Lucy had stopped for some quick nookie was
not
a good thing.

Stevie sighed. ‘Let’s get this interview done. I’m not going to be able to go with you to the Bennetts’ in Anderson Ferry. You want to put it off until tomorrow?’

JD shook his head as she’d expected. ‘The parents need to hear it from us before they see it on the news. I’m surprised the story hasn’t already broken.’

‘It did, but the network said they wouldn’t disclose the name until the family had been notified. So far they’ve only reported the body in the park this morning.’

‘That’s good, at least. Do you want to lead with the missus?’

‘Sure. What about Lucy?’

‘I can stay outside,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m fine with that.’

JD frowned. ‘Okay, but lock up,’ he said, as if the woman were Cordy’s age.

To Stevie’s surprise, Lucy just smiled dryly. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Stevie got a piece of paper from her car. ‘It’s the list of Bennett’s girlfriends from the courier. I got backgrounds on a few of them. Three more on that list are from Anderson Ferry. See if you know them. We’ll want to check them out.’

Lucy read the list, wincing. ‘I’m here too, with Doctor Barbie. I’ll see what I remember.’ She shot JD a meaningful look. ‘Because I’m the best damn native guide there is.’

He chuckled and gave her his keys. ‘Don’t play with the radio.’

‘Lucy seems . . . comfortable,’ Stevie said as they walked up to the front door.

‘She’s not as rigid as you might think,’ he murmured.

‘Just be careful, JD,’ Stevie warned. ‘Hyatt’s watching you.’

‘I know,’ was all he said, then knocked on Mrs Bennett’s door.

‘First name is Helen,’ Stevie murmured just before the door swung open, revealing a chicly dressed woman who’d undergone way too much plastic surgery.

‘Can I help you?’ Helen asked.

‘Yes, ma’am. I’m Detective Mazzetti and this is Detective Fitzpatrick. We’re here to talk to you about your ex-husband, Dr Russell Bennett.’

Helen looked confused. ‘They sent detectives? I never expected that. Come in.’

Stevie swallowed her frown. ‘What were you expecting, ma’am?’ she asked.

Helen led them into a very nicely furnished living room. ‘Well, I expected a phone call at the most. You’ll want the details for your report. Let me get the papers for you.’

‘Wait.’ Stevie gently held the woman’s arm. ‘Why do you think we’re here?’

‘Because of the fraud report I started with the bank this morning,’ she said, then frowned. ‘But you’re not.’ Her expression changed to panic. ‘Is it one of my boys?’

‘Sshh,’ Stevie soothed. ‘Not your kids. This isn’t about your kids.’

Weakly, Helen sank onto a sofa. ‘Thank God. Then what is it? What kind of detectives did you say you were?’

‘We’re from Homicide,’ Stevie said. ‘We’re here about your ex-husband.’

Helen Bennett’s face lost all its remaining color. ‘Russell? He’s dead?’

‘We believe so, ma’am.’ Stevie sat next to her. JD took a chair across the room.

‘You believe so?’ Helen repeated, her voice hollow and shocked. ‘What does that even mean, you believe so? Is he or isn’t he?’

‘We’re still working on a final identification,’ Stevie said gently. ‘But scars and bone breaks match. Your ex-husband was beaten too badly for a visual identification.’

Helen covered her mouth with a hand that shook. ‘Oh my God.’

‘I need to ask you some questions, Mrs Bennett, and they might not be comfortable ones. For that I apologize. Can you tell me about the fraud report?’

‘Our bank funds were stolen. Russell kept a bank account for the boys, separate from my alimony and child support. It was for big, special things.’

‘And you tried to use that account?’ Stevie prompted.

‘Yes. My oldest son is twelve today. I used the debit card for his gift this morning, but the card was denied. The bank said the account was empty. I called Russ, but only got his voicemail. I was furious. I thought he’d cleaned out the account again.’

‘Again? He’d done this before?’

‘A few times, if one of his floozies wanted something expensive.’

‘When did you last speak with your ex-husband, ma’am?’

‘Two weeks ago. Our youngest had a special recital and wanted Russ there.’

‘Did Dr Bennett go to the recital?’

‘No. He had some excuse, as usual. This time he was meeting a new client.’

‘Which day did you talk to him?’

‘Sunday, two weeks ago. Russ said he’d come, but then he called a few hours before the recital and said he’d gotten tied up. My son cried himself to sleep that night.’

‘What time did he call you?’

‘It was just after one. I should have known something was wrong.’

‘Why?’

‘Normally he just wouldn’t show. But this time he called, said he was tied up and told me to tell the boys he loved them.’ Tears rolled down her face. ‘I told him to go to hell.’

Stevie patted her hand. ‘Did he call your house phone or your cell?’ Proof of the call would cement Lucy’s alibi. Lucy would have been halfway to LA by then.

‘My cell. Do his parents know?’

‘No. We’re going to tell them when we leave here.’

She nodded uncertainly. ‘I should call them first.’

‘We’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t,’ Stevie said softly. ‘This is a police matter now. We need to talk to them. Do you know of anyone who wanted to hurt your husband?’

‘Only every woman he two-timed, every patient he cheated. The only people who’ll cry about his death are his parents and my boys – and me for their pain.’

‘Tell me about his patients. You say he cheated them?’

‘He’d been sued more than once for shoddy work. If you want to make a list of people who hated him, you’re going to need a lot bigger pencil.’

‘Do you know any names of disgruntled patients?’ Stevie asked.

‘None from after our divorce, only patients from five years ago who actually sued.’