Love Me Dead (Lilah Love 3)

I hold my hand out behind me, telling him to back off. I enter the apartment, scan the small living room, and find nothing. Jay steps to my side and I trust him because Kane trusts him. No, Kane trusts no one. I trust him because he’s afraid of Kane, which is a thought I’ll need to be uncomfortable with later when I have more time. I motion Jay right, down a hallway. I go left. I’ve just cleared a small workout area when I hear, “Holy fuck.”

I hurry back down the hallway toward his voice, joining him in a bedroom where I find a dead pig with a bullet hole. It was shot to death. The absence of blood on the bed tells me it didn’t happen here. “How the hell did he get it up those stairs?” Jay asks. “And why?”

My cellphone rings, and when I find Tic Tac’s number, I answer. “Yes, Tic Tac?”

“Ralph Redman just shot and killed himself in the courthouse. He’s dead.”

I hang up. Most people will now believe that Ralph was the killer, but that’s a bunch of crap. The real message is one of control. The killer controlled Ralph. He made him kill himself, and like the pig, he was shot because he was inconsequential to the killer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“What kind of wicked fuckery is this?” Jay asks from beside me. “Is the cartel involved? Fuck. I need to call Kane.”

“No.” I holster my weapon. “This isn’t the cartel. It’s just my job. Sick bastards are what I do, and Kane doesn’t need a phone call every time I deal with one of them.”

“In this case, he needs a call.”

“Holy fuck,” I say, grabbing my phone and dialing Kane myself.

“Lilah.”

“If your man can’t handle the sick fucks I deal with all day long, he needs to not be your man with me.”

“You really are a bitch,” Jay bites out.

Kane laughs. “What sick fuck scared Jay?”

“The one who put a dead pig in a bed. I’m hanging up now.”

“Lilah,” Kane says, and there’s expectation in his voice. He knows I don’t usually call him at all, let alone incessantly.

“Yes, Kane?”

“Glad you finally accepted protection.”

“Fuck you, Kane Mendez.” I pull my gun and point it at Jay. “Should I kill him now?” Jay curses as I add, “Will that be enough acceptance for you?”

“He’s a good guy, Lilah. Don’t kill that one.” He hangs up.

I grimace and lower my weapon. “He told me not to kill you, but I don’t follow Kane’s orders.”

“I’m not your enemy, Lilah, but whoever put that pig in the bed is. Now what?”

“I was trying to figure that out when you distracted me with Kane fucking Mendez.” I point at him. “Stop talking.” I turn away from him and consider how any move I make creates another move by the killer. If I call him on this, if I tell the world he did this, not Redman, all I do is become a worthy opponent. I need him to believe that I’m stupid enough to believe he’s dead.

I dial Houston, and he picks up right away. “Agent Love.”

“Oh you answer your phone now but don’t return calls?”

“I was taking care of a problem for you. And I was about to call you back. You’ll be happy to hear that Moser is on leave and under investigation.”

“Good,” I say. “Fine, whatever. What about—”

“That’s all I get?”

“Yes. What about—”

“The missing evidence hasn’t shown up. I talked to Joe. He said Williams took it from him. She’s still missing. I’m working on a search warrant to properly search her apartment. I should have it by morning.”

“I’m about to make your search warrant easier. Detective Williams’ boyfriend has a dead pig in his bed, which I suspect is the pig that matches the blood at the Mia Moore crime scene. Additionally, if you haven’t heard, he just killed himself in an open courtroom.”

“Holy hell. That was him? And you know this before me how?”

“Because I’m doing my job.”

“And I’m not?”

“I’m texting you the address. Get me a forensic team here, and I’ll meet the team at Detective Williams’ place when you get the warrant. No one goes in without me. And see if we have camera footage somewhere. This bastard got a large pig in the building. Someone had to see that.”

“Is he our guy?”

I hesitate. I want to tell him no, but I don’t know who’s dirty and who’s not. I don’t know who is Society with some fucked up agenda I don’t know about or understand. “Just get me my team over here. And find my fucking evidence.” I hang up on him and turn to Jay. “You need to leave. You’ll have to be interviewed officially if you stay.”

He nods and heads for the door. “Jay.”

He turns to face me. “You didn’t save my life or anything, but you tried twice now. I won’t kill you. I might even save you if it’s in reverse.”

He laughs. “You’re welcome, Lilah.” He exits the bedroom.

“Yeah, thanks. Whatever.” I turn back around and stare at the poor pig, and my gut twists. I like animals more than most people. They don’t have attitudes and agendas. They aren’t inconsequential at all. They’re the necessary pure good in a world of evil. It’s hard to protect asshole humans, some of whom I’d rather kill my damn self at times. Protecting animals feels like a part of how I repent, how I make up for being one of those asshole humans. The thing about humans who are scared, who know they’re about to die, is that they become animals and this asshole knows it. I realize that now. He clearly believes animals to be inconsequential. He clearly made sure those women, and Redman, felt inconsequential before they died. That’s his message. I get it. I understand it and him.

What he doesn’t understand about me is that when he killed the pig, he made sure I wouldn’t arrest him. I’m going to kill him. And I’m not going to feel bad about enjoying this one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It’s my expert profiler opinion that Umbrella Man has a sparkling clean toilet. Redman does not.

I don’t wait on the forensic team. I start searching Detective Williams’ boyfriend’s apartment and what I find is a big fat nothing. That’s actually not true. He’s a slob. I stand at his nasty ass bathroom toilet that hasn’t been cleaned in what I estimate to be six months and grimace. I’ve decided I don’t like buckets of blood and dead people’s toilets, at least not Redman’s. It’s truly disgusting, and it’s also not Umbrella Man’s. Umbrella Man is anal. He’s precise. He’s a guy who cleans his bathroom. He’s not the guy who has shit hanging around on their toilet seat. And where does this lead me? Besides a memory of a Mr. Clean commercial? Redman is so far from “the guy” that I’m not sure Umbrella Man would believe it if I said this was the guy. It’s tempting to buy time to hunt Umbrella Man and say that he is, but I don’t believe Umbrella Man to be that stupid. He didn’t pick me because I’m stupid. He’s playing a game. I need to make sure that game becomes mine. I can’t do that when I haven’t even sat down and analyzed the case properly.

I need to be in Purgatory, away from this sick fuck long enough to figure out the sick fuck.

For now, I’m stuck in this hellhole with a dirty toilet that I know isn’t going to tell me shit unless Umbrella Man wants me to know. It’s that thought that drives me forward, looking for another message. By the time the forensic team arrives, I haven’t found any other significant find. The dirty toilet and the pig pretty much sums it all up. That pig deserves justice. I can’t say what Redman deserves. I didn’t know him. All I know is that he was a filthy bastard who didn’t kill himself. He did it for a reason, and there’s really only a few ways you can convince someone to kill themselves: shame, fear for someone else, or a dre

adful future, which could mean prison, but it could also mean loss of limbs, eyes, or the tool between his legs. Yes, I’m a sick fuck, too. That’s how I catch sick fucks. I go where someone a little less sick won’t. Williams is missing. Redman was dating her. Maybe killing himself was about a choice Umbrella Man gave him. He had to choose himself or her. It’s a thought worth exploring.

It’s near four when the search warrant clears for Detective Williams’ apartment. I meet the team there, and because this is my crime scene, they damn sure cover their feet and hands. While they get wrapped up and covered, I’m the first in the door and alone by choice. I do a quick walkthrough to confirm what I already suspected: Detective Williams isn’t here, not even in pieces.

Houston arrives shortly after I’ve allowed the team to enter the property with Thomas, the team forensic expert I’d met at the station. “This feels awkward,” Thomas says when I meet them at the front door. “She’s my damn boss.”

“I’m your fucking boss,” I say. “Suck it up and get in there and find something you wouldn’t find because you know her.”

Houston motions him forward. “She’s right. Do your fucking job.”

Thomas sighs and heads into the apartment. Houston motions me into the hallway. “Anything?” he asks.

“If you mean is Williams here? No, she’s not. I have no idea where she is, but I could have told you she wouldn’t be here before we ever arrived. She wasn’t here when we looked for her before.”

“What do you know that I don’t know?”

“Aside from the fact that she wasn’t here when we were here before, and that he isn’t dumb enough to show up at a place that’s on our radar?”

“He? Like I said. What don’t I know?”

“Nothing I feel like sharing, considering you can’t keep up with evidence,” I reply.

“If the lead detective was dirty, Agent fucking Love, what do you expect from me?”

“I expect your whole department to be investigated.”

“It was, which is how I got this job. I’m cleaning up, which is exactly why acting on Moser was so damn easy for me. I don’t like the bastard, I don’t trust the bastard. I’m not the bad guy here. Ask Murphy. I called him. He told me to tell you to call him.”