A Twisted Love Story(35)

6:30.

She’s the one who should be mad that he didn’t tell her about Karen’s visit the other day. He never mentioned it. Still hasn’t. He knows that was wrong.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to hear it. Wouldn’t be the first time he went out of his way to avoid hearing something he didn’t want to. The same way he refused to believe she took a job at a strip club. When she told him, he waved her off and turned back to the TV. The Warriors were playing that night.

So perhaps he’s just being a baby.

6:33.

Or maybe she has been wrong this whole time.

She had thought, had hoped, that they were trying to make this work. For real. Honest and open, and all the things that healthy, functional couples are supposed to be. She believed they were on the same page.

At least 99 percent of her did. She’d refused to acknowledge the other 1 percent, but now it’s like a buzzing fly she can’t kill.

Perhaps this has all been part of his game. Maybe he’s the one who is mad. If she hadn’t called the police, Karen never would’ve visited his office. Never would’ve asked about the stolen car.

The decision to go to the police had been impulsive. She can admit that. The night before, she had been out late, and it wasn’t a particularly good one. She woke up tired, slightly hungover, and the first thing she had done was check her phone. Wes had posted on IG, which in itself was a rarity. When he did post, it was always of scenery or nature, photos he took while hiking. An occasional photo of himself. But he never posted pics of other people—not friends or family or even Ivy. But on that day, he did.

It had been taken at a bar, a selfie with a large group of people, and the caption said Happy Hour. Ivy recognized a few of his coworkers, but others she had never seen. Including the woman standing next to him. She wasn’t looking at the camera, either. She was looking at Wes.

After work, Ivy went home and gathered up everything she needed—the photos, notes, truffles—and brought them straight to the police station. Wes deserved it. More importantly, she knew he would respond. She just didn’t think he would be this angry about it.

Wes is not above payback. In fact, he loves it.

So he reeled her in, made her feel comfortable, and then disappeared. The simplicity of it is almost admirable. But not quite. Not from where she’s sitting.

And it’s a little hard to believe he would be that cruel. That calculating. Even for him, that’s a little far.

6:40.

Ivy checks her phone one last time, then starts her car and drives home. At a stoplight, she bangs her hands against the steering wheel.

Forget pas grave. Now she’s furieuse.





31




Karen woke up early to ride the bus to Sacramento and back before going to the police station. Still no sign of the voyeur, despite the fact that another report about him came in this week. When she gets to work, two new cases are waiting. The endless flood of sex crimes is no longer shocking. The only surprise comes when someone is arrested, tried, and convicted.

She goes outside, taking a deep breath just as a semitruck passes by. The exhaust in her lungs makes her feel like she’s choking.

Perfect.

She stands on the sidewalk for a minute, looking up and down the street. The station is downtown, near the business district, and people are out running errands, grabbing that midmorning coffee, talking on their phones. She doesn’t see them as individuals. Not really. What she sees are potential victims and potential suspects. That’s the difficult part. Either one could be anybody.

“Morning, Karen.”

Louis Knox stands before her, holding his own cup of coffee. No, tea. She remembers that detail from all the way back at the academy. Even then, she was taking notes.

“Louis. Just the person I wanted to see.” Karen looks up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. He looks a little annoyed.

“What can I help you with today?” he asks.

“I wanted to ask about the Tanner Duncan case. Are you making an arrest?”

“Waiting on the DA’s decision about prosecuting Bianca Mercado,” he says. “We’ve also been talking to a few other women Tanner had . . . propositioned.”

“Propositioned? Really?”

“We didn’t find anyone he actually assaulted—at least not anyone who would admit it. But there’s a few where the line got blurry. He was pretty insistent with some women.”

Insistent. Is that what they’re calling it these days?

Before she can say a word, her cell rings. Louis moves on when she holds up the phone, indicating that she has to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Um, hi. This is Sara? Sara Walker? You left a message for me the other day.” She sounds impossibly young, like a teenager, though she is at least thirty.

“Yes, Sara. Thank you so much for calling me back,” Karen says. “I’m looking into something that happened a few years ago. It would’ve been when you were working at the Fine Line.”

“And who are you again?”

“A private investigator,” Karen says. “I’m working for a family that’s trying to find their daughter. She briefly worked at the Fine Line.”

“What’s her name?”

“Ivy Banks.”

“Dancer?”