But when she'd pushed on the medications, on his financial arrangements with the agencies, the charm had fallen away.He was hiding something.Whether it was murder or simply the kind of ethical corners that powerful men cut without consequence, she couldn't yet tell.
She walked to her rental car and sat behind the wheel for a moment, the afternoon sun hot through the windshield.Her thoughts kept circling back to what Carter had said about the pattern.Five deaths in three years.All connected to Elite Vision or Image Management.All involving medications that someone like Pemberton could easily provide.
She pulled out her phone and called Ben.
He answered on the second ring."Kari.How's it going out there?"
"Making progress.I just interviewed a plastic surgeon who treated at least three of the victims.He got defensive when I pushed on his relationship with the agencies."She paused, gathering her thoughts."Carter officially opened a serial murder investigation.Five deaths in three years, all connected to Elite Vision or Image Management.All staged to look like suicides or overdoses."
"Five deaths.Shit."Ben let out a breath."At least someone's taking it seriously.That's more than I can say for the FBI out here."
"Still nothing new on Naalnish?"
"Nada.But I've been going through your mother's files.I've been trying to trace the shell companies—Devco Holdings is one of them—but they're buried under layers of other corporations.Whoever set them up didn't want to be found."He paused."Your mother saw this years ago.She was documenting it, building a case.And then..."
He didn't finish the sentence.He didn't need to.
"When I get back, we need to go through everything together," Kari said."All seventeen cases.See what else she found."
"I've been organizing it.Ruth's helping—she remembers things Anna told her, context that's not in the files."Ben's voice softened."She misses you, by the way.Asked when you're coming home."
"Soon.A few more days, hopefully.I'm close to finding Tayen—I can feel it."
"Then focus on that.We'll dig into the rest when you're back."
"Thanks, Ben.For staying on this."
"Your mother was onto something real.Someone needs to finish what she started."A pause."Be careful out there, Kari."
After she hung up, Kari sat in the car for a long moment, watching the L.A.traffic stream past on the boulevard.She found herself thinking about patterns—the ones her mother had seen years ago, the ones Kari was seeing now.
Different cities.Different victims.Different circumstances.But the shape of it felt the same: vulnerable people dying under suspicious circumstances, their deaths explained away as accidents or bad choices, while the people responsible went on with their lives untouched.
Her mother had spent years documenting those patterns, building a case that no one wanted to hear.And now Kari was doing the same thing—chasing a killer through a city that didn't want to admit it had one, fighting for women whose deaths had been dismissed as unfortunate but inevitable casualties of an unforgiving industry.
She wondered if this was what it had felt like for Anna.The frustration of seeing something that others refused to see.The loneliness of being the only one who cared enough to keep asking questions.
But Anna had been alone in her investigation.Kari wasn't.She had Carter now, a real detective with real resources who believed her.She had Ben back home, digging through files and following threads.And somewhere in this sprawling city, Tayen was waiting to be found.
Kari started the engine and pulled out into traffic.The case was coming together.She could feel it—that familiar sensation of pieces shifting, edges starting to align.She wasn't there yet, but she was close.
She just had to keep pulling the threads until the whole thing unraveled.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Margaret Blake looked older than her fifty-three years.
She sat across from Kari in a coffee shop in Culver City, her hands wrapped around a mug she hadn't touched, and talked about her daughter in the halting, circling way of someone who'd told this story many times and never felt heard.
"Jennifer was my miracle baby," she said."I was forty when I had her.The doctors said it probably wouldn't happen, that I'd waited too long, that I should accept being childless.And then she came along, and she was perfect.The best thing that ever happened to me."
Kari listened, letting the woman talk.Sometimes that was the most important thing an investigator could do—just be present, just bear witness, let the story come out at its own pace.Margaret Blake had been waiting eight months for someone to take her daughter's death seriously.She had a lot of words stored up, and they needed somewhere to go.
"She was always beautiful, even as a baby.Perfect skin, these huge brown eyes.People would stop me on the street when she was little, tell me I should put her in commercials, in catalogs.I never took it seriously.She was my daughter, not a commodity."
Margaret's voice caught."But she was smart too, and funny.She wanted to be a teacher at first, can you believe that?Said she wanted to help kids like her, kids who grew up without much."She shook her head."It was just me and her after her father left.I worked two jobs to keep us afloat.Jennifer wore hand-me-downs, qualified for free lunch at school.She never complained, but she remembered what it felt like.She had such a big heart."
"How did she get into modeling?"
