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Ian set his jaw. “I was twenty-one years old, and Raskin had robbed me of the man I loved, the man I envisaged spending the rest of my life with. And don’t tell me I was way too young to feel that depth of emotion. You know nothing about me. I was willing to bide my time until Connor knew whatI’dknown the moment we met—that we were meant to be together.” He grabbed an ashtray from the coffee table and stubbed his cigarette out. “I thought my letters would pay off, that Raskin would suffer, but then he up and disappeared. I mean, there was no trace of him whatsoever.” Ian locked gazes with Dan. “He’d escaped it all, and Connor’s family and I, we were left to grieve.” He shuddered. “Please, don’t tell Roland I lied.”
“He’ll have to know eventually.” Gary’s voice was gentle.
“Why will he?”
“Because we’re going to discover who the real murderer is,” Dan told him. “And once we do that, the media will be full of it. How will you explain that?”
The horror in Ian’s unwavering stare almost made Dan feel sorry for him.
Almost.
Then he realized both Ian Gordon and Mr. Brightmore were alike in one important respect.
“The hate in your voice when you speak of Cheryl—Benjamin—and your actions would make a lot more sense if Benjamin had actually been the one at fault in the accident.” Dan didn’t break eye contact. “But he wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t he?”
“According to both the witnesses and the police, no, he wasn’t.”
“And no one’s ever bribed witnesses? Or police officers?” Ian retorted.
At last it made sense.
“You think they all lied. You think someone paid them to exonerate Benjamin.”
“It makes more—”
The sound of the back door opening made all three of them jump.
“That’s my husband,” Ian said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want him to know about this.”
“Then we’ll be on our way.” Gary gave Dan a nod, and they headed for the front of the house, leaving Ian standing in the living room, looking lost.
Dan was shaking as they walked toward the car.
“You need to rest, don’t you?” Gary gave him a sympathetic glance.
Resting could wait.
“What if he really did kill her? And what he hinted to Connor’s father was the truth?”
“You didn’t get a clear picture, did you?”
Dan had gotten a few images, but not enough to point to Ian Gordon’s absolute guilt or innocence.
“At least we know now that the senator was telling the truth.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Dan glanced at Gary. “You want him to be dirty, and he keeps coming up clean.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “Can you blame me? Whoever heard of an honest politician?”
Dan chuckled, but then his mind went back to the conversation with Ian. “One thing puzzles me,” he murmured. “Gordon owned up to the letters, but not the calls.”
“Who’s to say he’s telling the truth?”
“But why lie? One act isn’t worse than the other. But that leaves us with a conundrum. Who made the calls? Becausesomeonedid.” Dan shivered. “And if he didn’t intend harming Cheryl, why did he buy a gun?”
