"That sounds fascinating to me," Ben said with a genuine smile. "Much more interesting than banking, at least."
For some reason, his easy acceptance made her throat tighten with emotion. It had been so long since someone had validated her career choice without qualification.
"It's not just about the wedding," Kelly found herself saying. "I was hoping Kevin would distract them because while I'm there..."
She trailed off, suddenly uncertain if she should share her real plans with this virtual stranger.
And yet, he wasn't entirely a stranger anymore. They were having wine and sharing a meal. He knew what she did for a living, and he didn’t care or judge. Plus, there was something about Ben that made her want to trust him.
"While you're there, what?" Ben prompted gently.
"I'm going to look into my friend's murder,” she admitted. “She disappeared during my senior year in high school and was found a few days later, murdered. She was one of my best friends.”
Ben's expression remained neutral, encouraging her to continue.
"They never found who did it." Kelly's voice grew quieter, the memory of those days still painful after all these years. "She's the reason I started looking into cold cases. I haven't made much progress, though."
The oven timer beeped, startling them both. Ben moved to retrieve the pizza, the domestic normalcy of the action at odds with the weight of what Kelly had just shared. He placed the hot pizza on a cutting board and began slicing it with efficient movements.
"Have you told your family what you're planning to do while you're home?" he asked, sliding a few slices onto a plate for her.
Kelly shook her head. "They'd just tell me to let it go. The town doesn't like to talk about what happened to Lori. It's like they'd rather pretend it never happened than face the fact that her killer might still be living among them."
She accepted the plate, but didn't immediately eat. A sudden idea struck her. One that seemed both impulsive and perfectly logical.
"Wait. Maybe you could look at the file?" The words tumbled out before she could second-guess herself. The fact was, she’d do anything to find Lori’s killer. Anything. “You were pretty good with the case file yesterday. You said you had a lot of free time on your hands."
Ben's expression shifted from surprise to interest. "You want me to look at the case?"
"If you wouldn't mind. I've been staring at it for years. Maybe a fresh perspective would help. See something I've missed. I’m desperate here, and I don’t know which way to go. My friends say that I’m too close to it, so I can’t step back and see the whole picture."
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. She was sure he was going to turn her down, but then he smiled slightly and nodded.
"Of course, I'll look at it," Ben said without hesitation, and Kelly felt a rush of gratitude at his willingness to help.
"I'll be right back," she said, setting down her wine glass. She didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind. "Let me grab it from my place."
As she crossed the hallway to her apartment, Kelly felt a flutter of something unfamiliar in her chest. Hope, maybe. Or perhaps it was simply the relief of sharing a burden she'd carried alone for too long.
Could her bored next-door neighbor help her solve a murder? It was worth a shot.
Chapter
Five
Ben cleareda space on his bed, carefully setting aside the half-finished to-do list that now seemed trivial compared to the worn manila folder Kelly had just handed him. Her eyes had been bright with a mixture of hope and vulnerability when she'd returned from her apartment, clutching the file to her chest like it contained her most precious possession.
He spread the contents across his bed, the crime scene photos and police reports forming a macabre jigsaw puzzle of a life violently interrupted.
The first thing that struck him was how disorganized the file was. It wasn’t Kelly’s fault. She'd clearly tried to impose some order on the chaos with color-coded tabs and sticky notes, but the original investigation materials were a mess. Police reports were incomplete, some pages missing entirely. Witness statements weren't properly dated or signed. Even the crime scene photos seemed haphazardly taken, without proper markers or consistent angles.
"What the hell kind of investigation was this?" he muttered to himself, picking up a crime scene photo that showed the area where Lori's body had been found.
Even to his untrained eye, it was obvious that the scene had been compromised. Footprints everywhere, no clear perimeter established. One photo showed what appeared to be a deputy smoking a cigarette in the background, within feet of where evidence was being collected. Ben's jaw tightened as he examined image after image of what could only be described as contamination.
His father would have had a conniption fit if his deputies had handled a scene like this. Seth Reilly ran a tight ship, even in their small town. Evidence was sacred. Chain of custody was inviolable. Witnesses were never, ever interviewed together.
But in the Bergen police's handling of Lori Powell's murder, witnesses had clearly been allowed to mingle. Ben frowned as he read through statement after statement, noting the identical phrasings that suggested people had time to coordinate their stories.
