“Hack it, Lilah?” he challenges. “This shit has to hold up in court.”
“I’m trying to save lives here, Andrew. We’ll backtrack into the documentation the right way later, and we’ll do it with more people alive than dead. Put on your big boy pants, Captain America, and be a man about it.” I hang up.
But I also decide I definitely don’t want to talk to Murphy right about now.
For now, I dial Lucas, go over what I need with him, and then say, “Do not push your luck with Kane. None of this means you have an invitation to be that stupid. Tic Tac has the final say on what goes in the official records. What he does can be admissible in court. Treat him as such.”
“Jesus, Lilah, you act like I’m a Neanderthal.”
“Considering how you acted with Kane this morning, I’m thinking you actually are a Neanderthal, and that I’m an idiot for making this happen for you.”
“I need this, Lilah. You know I need this. It’s—”
“An addiction you can now justify. I know. Don’t fuck it up. I’m calling Tic Tac now. Expect his call, which will be scathing.” I disconnect.
I dial Tic Tac. “How are you, Lilah?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“I just held a gun to a man’s head and promised to shoot him,” I say. “It helped. I have to make this fast because I’m about three blocks from the NYPD and in a rush. Stuff is happening.”
“And you need stuff.”
“Yes. And I don’t have time to update you. We hired Lucas. He’s with us now.”
“Director Murphy approved this?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t do things right.”
“I know. Which is why I need you to call him and backtrack and get the same information legally.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“My jokes are much better than this. You know that. I’ll make this up to you later. Likely with food, because that’s how I communicate, but I’ll do better if you make me. And you really should make me. You have to get a backbone to handle Lucas.”
“I am not a babysitter.”
“More like a boss. I think that deserves a raise. I’ll see if I can get you money and food. Would that work?”
“I’m not happy, Lilah. None of this is good enough.”
“Oh Tic Tac, baby,” I purr, exaggerating my words. “Please forgive me. I love you and—” He hangs up.
“Prickly little pear, that one,” I murmur.
“You, Lilah Love, are crazy as fuck,” Kit comments.
“Does that scare you?”
“Considering I’m there for the blowback,” he says. “Hell yeah.”
“Good. You should have called me when you knew he was alive.”
“You think I wouldn’t have called if I could have, Lilah? I couldn’t risk someone tracking the number I called you from and finding us.”
“You called Jay.”
“Before I found Kane, and I called him from a throwaway I tossed.”
I don’t forgive him because he’s speaking logically. I don’t have that in me right now. “What have you found out about the crash?”
“The engine was tampered with,” he says. “There was a blackout on one of the cameras the previous night. We assume it happened then. And I’m picking up bits and pieces here. You don’t think it’s Pocher anymore, do you?”
“I’m not going to make that call yet,” I say and I don’t elaborate, my mind is racing.
I’d originally believed the killer didn’t have access to Kane, and thus he couldn’t attempt to kill him in the same manner as the other victims. Though the fake sous chef in our house could have been headed in that direction.
Or it could be that the killer divides people into two forms of revenge. Those who played games with him and those who just plain rejected him. Those who played games with him were more personal. He wanted them to die with a weapon of his own choice, of his making, thus the ripped-out throats.
I reject that idea. The jar of blood with my name on it and the fake sous chef in our house screams of personal attacks. No, the word would be intimate, the way a Black Widow prefers to work. Blood is intimate. Food is intimate. The chopper crash doesn’t feel intimate. It’s violent. It’s brutal. But it’s an impersonal way to kill someone. Some could argue that the person knew about my mother’s death which made this personal but that isn’t intimate. It doesn’t feel like it fits anymore, not with these killings. Not in the light of day with Kane alive and my emotions banked. Not in my gut and my gut has served me well. Maybe the chopper incident has nothing to do with this case at all. This is me and Kane and our life is filled with opposition. We can’t rule out an attack on two sides. Our killer trying to play games with me and Kane. And Pocher trying to kill Kane. Or maybe, just maybe, uncle Miguel wants Kane out of the way.