She sighed, nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Rumor was she had several very wealthy men friends over the last couple of years. Delilah loved jewelry. The men . . . umm . . . earned her favors by giving her expensive gifts.”
“Did she keep the stuff in her apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know the men’s names?”
She shook her head. “We weren’t close friends.”
Ethan’s phone signaled. He hit the hands-free. “Brodie.”
“Hoover.” The detective’s voice rattled over the line. “The guy hit her safe. It was hidden in the back of her closet. We missed it the first time. Killer took whatever was inside.”
“She had boyfriends who gave her jewelry,” Ethan said.
“Must have been in the safe. I’ll follow up. The thing is, Brodie, the box was empty, but the guy left a note inside. Pretty much the same as the last one. ‘Sinners, sluts, and whores. Repent or you’ll be next.’”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, that pretty well sums it up.”
“How’d he crack the box?”
“Either he knew the combination or the guy was a real artist. I’m thinking he forced her to give him the numbers before he killed her.”
“How’d he know about the safe?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Maybe she offered him the jewelry as a bribe, tried to use it to get him to leave.”
Ethan started nodding. “Instead, he got the combo and killed her anyway.”
“Works for me. Considering the note he left, that would make sense.”
Ethan ran a hand over his face. “That it?”
“For now.”
“Appreciate the call, Lieutenant. If I run across anything, I’ll be in touch.”
Ethan ended the call and turned to Val. “That was Detective Hoover. He’s the lead on the case.”
“So it wasn’t a burglary,” Val said softly.
“No.”
“You never thought it was, did you?”
“No,” he said.
Val looked at Ethan, feeling a kernel of respect. The man knew what he was doing. She was glad he was the guy keeping her safe.
Ethan flicked a glance at the beautiful blonde sitting rigidly in the passenger seat. Her face had paled as the ramifications of the note in the safe sank in. “Now you understand why I needed you with me.”
“Yes . . .” She glanced down. “I’m sorry.”
Her hands were clenched in her lap. He reached over and covered them, gave them a squeeze. “We’re going to get this guy, Val. Before he hurts anyone else. The police are working the case. Carlyle asked me to help. We’ll find him, okay?”
She frowned. “So you’re a detective. I thought you were a bodyguard.”
