Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,23

spoke up again.

“So, you know about me. I know nothing about you. What brought you into this? I don’t know a lot about people like...like us. Those who see the dead. I didn’t know anyone else who had this talent until Adam told me about the Krewe, and I finally came here and joined. Everyone I’ve met all have something in the past that brought them to the Krewe. Then, there’s you—a seasoned agent having a hard time believing in me. So, what’s your story? Because if you want anything more on me, you’d best start sharing, too!” Her tone had hardened with every word.

He supposed she had the right to question him, and she couldn’t possibly know what his answer would be.

“A murder,” he said tightly. “My girlfriend.”

She gasped. “Oh, God! I’m so, so sorry,” she said and fell silent.

It was long ago now. Most of the time, the pain was on the back burner, along with the helplessness he had felt when it had happened. Yes, he’d been involved with finding the killer. But that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop it—and Allison had paid the price.

“Even as a kid, with my family’s past, I knew I wanted to be a cop, a detective, or an agent. The tales in my family are intriguing. My great—I don’t know how many greats—grandfather guarded Lincoln at that time. And my great-grandfather worked on some of the most notorious cases. He helped bring down a lot of mobsters. So, hearing all that as a kid, yes, I wanted to follow the path.” He paused, shrugging. “With Allison...well, I knew where I wanted to go and what I wanted to be. It wouldn’t bring her back, but I knew that it mattered that we find her killer. And after that...well, I guess I was like you. I became passionate about stopping what I could—and about finding and stopping killers before they could kill again.”

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured again.

“We all came from something, like you said,” he told her.

There was a pause between them. He felt closer to Stacey, and incredibly awkward at the same time.

Then he purposefully changed the subject. “So. At the Bingham house—CSIs have been through. They’re working on what they’ve gathered. I’m afraid what we need isn’t going to be on any kind of a list. And I doubt anyone is going to be able to trace much through credit cards. We’re looking for what others don’t see, right?”

“Right,” she said.

They arrived at the Bingham house—or estate. In an area where homes might be grand but land limited, there were gates and a drive that led to the imposing Victorian manse.

Stacey stared at the arched iron gates, manned by two officers in uniform, one of whom quickly pressed a button that sent the arched iron gears in motion, and then at the house they approached.

“Whoever thought there could be this much money in sex!” she said.

He glanced her way, smiling. “My dear Miss Hanson, they do call it the oldest profession. Now, this is an escort service, you know. Billie Bingham would have had you believe she merely supplied handsome people to link arms with the high-and-mighty when they were supposed to make appearances at galas or balls.”

“Yeah, right, whatever,” Stacey said, shaking her head and still staring at the house. “I just wonder...”

“What?”

She shook her head, wincing.

“What is it? Tell me?”

“I...I was just wondering how good you have to be to make this kind of money! Wow, sorry, that was embarrassing.”

He laughed. “Good, I imagine, is in the mind of the...client. Which again makes you wonder about the massive difference between Billie Bingham and unfortunate girls like Jess Marlborough and Andrea Simon. I guess wealthy clients can pay more. And Bingham ran it like a business. She was the boss.”

* * *

They pulled behind a police car at the curve in the driveway. Keenan got out, flipping his wallet and ID out for the officer at the door of the house.

“CSI is done, but we were told to hold guard here for today,” the officer told him and Stacey. “We’ll be out here, should you need us for anything.”

“I’m sure she had live-in help,” Stacey said.

“All told to leave,” the officer said. “The house is empty.”

“What about heirs to the estate?” Stacey asked. “Did anyone attempt to stop searches or gain entry?”

“She was apparently queen of her own castle,” the officer said. “Her secretary was terrified when she learned about the murder—ready