Shadowing Ivy Page 4

  And then she’d met Declan McLean at that awful, boring party. So handsome. So tall and muscular. He made her mouth go dry. She could barely speak for the first few minutes. That’s the effect he had on her body. For the first time, Ivy understood what it meant to fall madly in love on sight. To be driven wild with desire. When they’d been introduced, Declan mentioned he worked for Sedgwick Enterprises as an analyst. She’d immediately felt a strange spark of envy; this total stranger was closer to her father than she was, since he worked for her father’s company.

  She’d expected Declan to make a few minutes of polite conversation and move on (there were some gorgeous women in killer dresses at the party), but he never did. He asked her questions about herself, seemed so impressed that she was a police officer, that she was a strong woman in every sense of the word. They talked a little about William Sedgwick; Declan had said he’d had the pleasure of meeting William just once and that he was one of his idols in the business world, that he was so lucky to be working part-time at Sedgwick Enterprises while he pursued his MBA full-time. And once they’d stepped outside on the terrace and he’d placed his suit jacket around her shoulders, Ivy had told him that she and father were estranged, that they rarely spoke, that he simply had never had an interest in his own children.

  Declan had understood. He had a troubled relationship with his own father and he also had a half sibling whom he’d never been close to, an older brother who’d made his life hell. They’d talked and talked and talked, and then they’d kissed for just as long. That very night, Ivy had brought him home and they’d made love for hours, again and again.

  The next day, Ivy had received red roses at work. She could hardly believe it was only six months ago; she felt as though she’d known him forever. She smiled at the memory of Declan proposing after their third date. She’d said, “Maybe after our thirty-third date,” and he’d said, “Okay, I’ll be keeping track.”

  On their thirty-third date, he’d proposed again, with a beautiful diamond ring. Ivy accepted. The next day, William Sedgwick had appeared on her doorstep, ordering her not to marry Declan. Prior to that, she hadn’t seen William Sedgwick in over three years. And she’d never seen him again.

  To the end, she hadn’t had her father’s blessing. In any aspect of her life. He’d thought being a cop was beneath her. He thought a student was beneath her. But he didn’t seem to think that not being a part of her life since birth was beneath her.

  “Will your mom be walking you down the aisle?” Amanda asked.

  Ivy shook her head. “I decided that I want to walk down alone. As a testament to making peace with never having had a father in the first place.”

  The three Sedgwick sisters held hands, and then there was a knock at the door.

  It was Declan. He looked at Ivy and his mouth dropped open.

  She jumped up. “Declan? Are you all right?”

  He stepped back, looking her up and down. “You look so incredibly beautiful,” he said. “My God, Ivy.”

  She almost cried. Not good for her mascara.

  “Hey, you’re not supposed to see the bride before she walks down the aisle!” Olivia teased.

  He smiled. “I know. But I need to tell my beautiful bride something important.”

  “We’ll give you two some privacy,” Amanda said as she and Olivia headed to the door. They both turned and smiled, then closed the door behind them.

  Declan took both of Ivy’s hands. “I’ve been thinking. I’m so sure that the letter from your father says that if you marry me, you’ll inherit nothing. Are you sure you want to do that? I don’t want to deny you what’s yours, Ivy. What should have been yours.”

  “Declan, I don’t care about my father’s money. I’ve never had it. Why would I want it now?”

  “I just don’t want to take anything away from you,” he said, letting out a breath.

  “Marrying you is all I want, Declan. I’m absolutely fine with forfeiting whatever he left me. Let’s just not open the letter.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she said.

  “Ivy, I need you for a minute,” her mother called through the door.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes. “Give me a sec,” she told Declan and stepped outside the room.

  Her mother, remarkably beautiful in her fifties, was decked out in a pale peach beaded gown, her highlighted light brown hair swept up to reveal a lovely diamond necklace, the one thing William had given her during their week-long marriage.

  “Aunt Jane says she won’t sit at the same table with her cousin Barbara. Should I switch Barbara to the Petermans’ table? Or just leave it? That old bat is lucky I invited her. Do you believe she had the nerve to tell me she hoped we’re not serving salmon, that’s it’s too fishy, and—”

  Oh Lord. Save me. Please. “Mom, I leave it all up to you, okay?”

  Her mother threw up her hands. “Dear, it is your wedding.”

  “I really need to go, Mom. I’m getting married in like ten minutes!”

  “Well, then, one more thing,” her mother said, reaching behind her neck. She unclasped the diamond necklace and moved behind Ivy to place it on her daughter. “This covers a lot—something old, something new, since it’s new to you, and something borrowed. You don’t need blue.”

  Ivy almost cried, suddenly sentimental and nostalgic. Sometimes her mother could be so wonderful. “Oh, Mom,” she said, gently touching the three round diamonds that hung from the delicate gold chain.

  Tears shone in her mother’s eyes. “You look so beautiful, Ivy. I’m so proud of you. And now I’d better go make sure your relatives aren’t murdering each other.”

  Ivy laughed and watched her mother walk away on her four-inch heels. Again her hands went to her neck. She wasn’t sure why the necklace meant so much to her. What was the history behind it? Where were the memories? It wasn’t as if the necklace symbolized her mother’s happiness with the father of her only child.

  It represented hope, Ivy realized. And love. And possibilities. When her father had given it to her mother, it had meant something. That was what it stood for. What lay between then and now wasn’t the point.

  Ivy slipped back inside the room. Declan stood by the bank of windows, glancing out. She admired his profile for just a moment. He was so beautiful.

  “Ready to become my husband?” she asked.

  He turned to face her. “Can’t wait.”

  Another knock on the door. “Places, everyone!” someone called.

  Declan and Ivy squeezed hands, then stepped outside. Declan headed toward the front of the church. Ivy waited at the rear archway to the church. Her sisters joined her, and Kayla and Alanna came running over. Kayla would walk down first, then Alanna, and then her sisters, together. Declan’s mother had passed away last year, but Declan’s father and brother and a few close friends would be attending. Ivy was so excited to meet his father and brother. Apparently, they were long estranged, but Declan had invited them. The day he told Ivy that they were coming to the ceremony was the happiest she’d seen him in a long time.

  To my new life, Ivy silently toasted herself. When her sisters began walking, Ivy awaited her cue. At the beginning of the “Wedding March,” she slowly walked down the aisle. Floated was more like it.

  She was heading straight to her partner, to the man who would stand at her side forevermore. She kept her eyes focused on him. He seemed nervous. Unusually nervous. The blood seemed to have drained from his face. Was he sweating? His forehead was slick.

  Was he that nervous about saying, ‘I do’?

  He was staring at someone in the pews, Ivy realized. Who? Ivy followed his gaze to a handsome man in his thirties, a stranger to Ivy. The man returned Declan’s stare. What was going on?

  Declan tugged at the collar of his shirt. Ivy could see he was sweating profusely now. Declan started looking around wildly, then he glanced again at the man in the pews. He held the man’s gaze for a moment. And then Declan started running.<
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  He bolted right past Ivy, nearly knocking her over, and ran straight out the church doors.

  Chapter Four

  On her three-inch heels, Ivy ran after Declan. The stranger he’d been staring at was out the door before Ivy could even reach it. When she reached the top stone platform, the stranger and Declan were gone.

  What the hell?

  She was suddenly surrounded by people. Her mother pushed through to grab her hand. “Cold feet, honey. That’s all. Let’s give him five minutes, okay?”

  She heard one of the officers at her precinct ask, “Can we arrest him for fleeing the scene of his own wedding?”

  Words, sentences, thoughts buzzed around her. Ivy felt like she was going to faint.

  Her sisters and Alanna made their way to her. “Come inside, Ivy,” Alanna said. “You’re shivering.”

  She let them lead her inside and to the back room, where not five minutes before Declan had told her he loved her.

  They sat her on the chair near the window. Amanda cracked it to give Ivy some air.

  “What the heck just happened?” Alanna asked, her pale brown eyes confused.

  “Declan was staring at someone in the pews, the man who ran after him,” Ivy said. “Who could it have been?”

  “A henchman of William’s?” Olivia suggested.

  There was a knock on the door. Olivia’s and Amanda’s husbands checking in. Her sisters assured them Ivy was all right—as all right as she could be.

  Ivy’s mother burst in. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Ivy. I announced to the guests that Declan was suffering from a case of nervous jitters and that he’d be back in a few minutes.”

  “Doubt that,” came a deep male voice.

  Everyone whirled around. It was the man Declan had been staring at. The one who’d pursued him. He was tall and muscular. Imposing. Darkly handsome. Intense. Ivy shot up. “Who are you?”

  She sensed he was a cop. He looked like a cop. Like a detective, actually. Something in his expression, in his posture. In the suit he was wearing, despite the fact that every male in the church was in a suit.

  He pulled ID from his inside pocket. Ivy studied it. He was from Homicide, New York City. Manhattan. The ID looked real enough, as far as she could tell. She’d have to check him out later. Right now she could barely stand.

  “Name’s Griffin Fargo,” he said to Ivy. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “I need to ask you a few questions,” she retorted.

  Ivy’s mother rushed over to the detective. “Is it a crime to get cold feet? I’m sure Declan will be back soon.”

  Oh, Mom, Ivy thought, letting out a deep breath. This was all just too much.

  “As I said, I doubt that,” the detective responded.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Ivy’s mother said, her tone getting huffy. “Just what is your business here?”

  “I’d like to speak with you alone,” the detective said to Ivy.

  Alanna turned to the detective. “I’m a police officer with the Applewood PD and this is our jurisdiction.” She waved her finger between herself and Ivy. “I’d like to listen in, see if I can help. Ivy just had quite a shock.”

  “Well aware of that,” the man said, his tone not the least bit concerned. “I’m here on police business from my jurisdiction. And I’ll need to speak with Miss Sedgwick privately.”

  Ivy turned to Alanna. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

  Alanna squeezed Ivy’s hand, and Olivia and Amanda helped shoo Ivy’s mother from the room. “We’ll be right outside,” Amanda said.

  Ivy nodded. God, she was numb.

  “Have a seat, Miss Sedgwick,” Detective Fargo told her.

  “I’d rather stand,” she said, staring him down. But her legs wobbled and she sat.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not. The man I was supposed to marry just bolted out of the church.”

  “Yes, I caught that,” he said.

  “Why did he run at the sight of you?” she asked.

  “Because he knows that I’m Manhattan homicide,” he said. “And he knows that there was a homicide this morning. And he knows I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” he added.

  “How about if you don’t speak in circles?” Ivy snapped.

  “Okay, how’s this. Your fiancé is my prime suspect in this morning’s murder of his other fiancée.”

  The blood drained from Ivy’s face. “What?”

  He said nothing for a moment. Just watched her.

  “His other fiancée?” she repeated. “Declan doesn’t have another fiancée, Detective.”

  “Actually, he does,” he said. “Did. Her name was Jennifer Lexington. Their wedding date was two weeks from today. She’s now dead. There was a suicide note beside the body, but forensics show she was murdered.”

  What? This was crazy! Another fiancée? A wedding date in two weeks? A woman dead? This was all insane. Some big mistake. A mix-up.

  “Look, Detective, I really don’t know why you think Declan has anything to do with this murder. I can assure you that he wasn’t engaged to anyone else!”

  “How?” he asked, his gaze steady on her.

  Her mouth opened and closed. “Because I know.”

  “You don’t sound much like a cop,” he said.

  “I’m not here on police business,” she reminded him, her tone ice-cold. “Right now, I’m a civilian.”

  He leaned against the wall for a moment. “With a fiancé who bolted at the sight of me. How do you explain that?”

  She really couldn’t. Yet. Why had Declan run?

  Because he was set up. That must be it. He’d been set up, maybe. By her father? Framed on the morning of their wedding so that there would be no wedding? Ivy’s mind started whirling with possible explanations.

  If Declan had run, it was because he’d been set up and got scared. Her father had that kind of power. And Declan clearly knew it.

  “I was hoping to bring Declan in for questioning before he got a chance to leave the country for his honeymoon,” Fargo said. “Of course, Jennifer didn’t know him as Declan McLean. He used one of many aliases with her.”

  “Are you saying that Declan McLean is an alias?” she asked. Ha! She had him. It wasn’t an alias. Couldn’t be. Ivy’s mother was a friend of Declan’s late mother. They’d known each other, albeit not well, for many years.

  “Actually, Declan McLean is his legal name,” Fargo said. “Declan Noah McLean, to be exact.”

  Ivy relaxed. A bit, anyway. “So I’m the fiancée he was going to marry under his real name, yet he had others under aliases. That makes a lot of sense.” She shook her head and smiled. “Come on, Detective.”

  “Actually it does, given the family history. Your mother is an old friend of Declan’s mother’s.”

  Ivy faltered. “How do you know that?”

  “It’s my job to know,” he said.

  Ivy had had enough. She let out a deep breath. “What the hell is going on? Tell me straight.”

  “I am telling you, Miss Sedgwick.”

  Miss Sedgwick. She’d been moments away from being Mrs. McLean. But, apparently, someone else had been two weeks away from being Mrs. McLean, too. Aka Mrs. McLean, that is, if the detective was telling the truth. She still hadn’t figured out how Declan had been set up. By her father. From the grave. She buried her hands in her face, trying to block everything out for a moment. Nothing made sense.

  “I did a background check on Declan,” she said shakily, uncovering her hands. She looked up at Griffin Fargo, hoping, waiting for him to tell her this had to be some kind of mistake.

  “A con artist like my brother has favors owed to him everywhere,” he responded.

  Ivy’s mouth dropped open and she shot up out of her chair. “Your brother?”

  He nodded. “Declan is my half brother. Younger. We have the same father. Declan took his stepfather’s last name when he turned eighteen. He didn’t have much respect fo
r our dad.”

  Ivy just stared at him for a moment. Fargo looked nothing like Declan. Not even remotely. Fargo’s eyes were dark, as dark as his hair, which was almost black. His complexion was fair, like Declan’s, and they were both tall and muscular. But so were a lot of men.

  “You look nothing alike,” she told him.

  Fargo nodded. “I look exactly like my mother. Declan looks exactly like his mother.”

  “Any other half brothers who look like your father?”

  He shook his head. “Just me and Declan.”

  “Declan told me he invited you and your father to the wedding and that you agreed to come, even though you’d been long estranged.”

  Fargo shook his head. “It’s true that we’ve been long estranged, but Declan didn’t invite me to the wedding. And our father died six months ago,” Fargo said, his expression unreadable. “After suffering for months from Alzheimer’s.”

  Oh God, Ivy thought. This was all news to her. Why would Declan have lied about that? What else had he lied about? “He didn’t mention any of that,” Ivy said. “We’d just met six months ago. He said his father was alive and well in Florida, living in a Florida mansion, that he was too busy playing shuffleboard to visit.”

  “Six months ago would be the time he learned his father—who hasn’t stepped foot in Florida—left him nothing,” Fargo said. “Declan has long been leeching women for money, for rent, for meals, but I think he always expected Dad would leave him a windfall. He had some money. Not much, but a couple hundred grand.”

  Declan McLean, a leech? A man who glommed on to women for their money? That made no sense. Wouldn’t she know if something was off about the man she was going to marry? The man she loved? She was a cop, with a cop’s training, a cop’s instincts, a cop’s nose for off. Alanna had met him several times and thought he was as terrific as Ivy did. He’d come to a few police functions, a promotion celebration, a couple of birthday parties, and he was well regarded.