Love Me Dead (Lilah Love 3)

I disconnect and hurry past our apartment security. The minute I’m inside the apartment, I call Kane. “Did you meet with Roger?”

“Not that now. Tropical storm Beth is coming. That means rain and murder, and it’s Beth. That means something. I need the number to Beth’s security person.”

“I’m texting it to you now. I have to go into a meeting. I’ll call you right after.”

“Yes. Okay.” I hang up and dial the security person, updating him as I start a pot of coffee. He’s with Beth, and he places her on the line.

“Listen, it’s probably nothing, but the rain, the blood, the storm named Beth. I just want you to be careful.”

“I’m here. The guard is great. I feel pretty okay here.”

“The guard is great? And you feel okay there? Okay. That’s unexpected but good. And even better, you’re getting your samples.”

“I heard. You know this is saving the lab six figures. That’s how much getting in this same equipment would have cost them. All and all, this worked out. I’m digging in the minute the samples arrive. Any leads?”

“I’m working on some things.” It’s not really much of an answer but it turns into chit chat that really isn’t my thing, but I manage. The minute I hang up, my mind goes to Beth’s family. Damn it. They could end up suicide victims. I dial Jay and make arrangements to protect them. I’m literally using an army of Kane’s resources. I try not to think about what else he uses those resources for or how fucked up and contradictory it’s all becoming. Then again, maybe helping me is like my marks on the back of our photo. He’s redeeming himself. A good for a bad. He might need to do a lot of good. Why the hell doesn’t that bother me more than it does? That’s the reality here. I’m not as rattled by who and what Kane is as I vocalize. And he knows it.

With coffee and strawberries in hand, I head to Purgatory and sit down at my desk. I don’t shut the door. I’ve always shut the door while in Purgatory, but not this one, not here. I’m not going to analyze why that is right now. The many layers to who I am with Kane Mendez are far too complicated and problematic. And good, but that’s another topic, too. I open my bag and set the pig on top of the desk. I should have left it for evidence but that meant Thomas, and for reasons I still can’t identify, I’m uncomfortable with that man. I’m actually uncomfortable with most people, but I deal with it. I just can’t with him.

I stare at my board and repeat the data I know, looking for things that are similar and different between the two women. Mia had a boyfriend. Shelly didn’t.

I dig through my paperwork to confirm. I’m correct. Shelly had no boyfriend. I also get irritated at Greg for not returning my calls. I dial him now. “Okay, asshole,” I say to his voicemail. “Whatever is going on with you, this is it. I got you back your job. Come Monday, it’s gone. Did I say asshole? I need you. I have something big going on.” I hang up.

My phone rings, and lo and behold, it’s Greg. “Thank you, asshole, for calling back. What the fuck?”

“I’m on a job. Private hire. It pays big. I’m not coming back. You should consider it. It’s damn good pay.”

“I’m not in this for the money.”

“Right. Rich bitch and all. You can buy me a drink when I get back next week.”

“Where are you?”

“Mexico. Heard a lot of shit about Kane Mendez down here. I’ll fill you in.”

Says a man who was sleeping with a Romano, when a Romano killed Kane’s father, I think. “I don’t need to hear about Kane. I know about Kane.”

“I doubt it. I doubt it very seriously, or else you’re not the person I know you to be.”

“I’m not, Greg,” I say before I can stop myself. It’s out. It’s that whole embrace who you are lecture of Kane’s. It’s gone to my head.

“Maybe you aren’t. But then maybe I’m not who you thought I was either. Later, Lilah.” He disconnects, and I sigh. He’s getting himself in trouble. I feel it. Then again, so am I, or I wouldn’t have run my mouth like that.

I text Houston: Your guy is in. Mine is out.

He replies with: The mayor wants you fired.

I reply with: The mayor needs to eat a cookie and wax his bald head.

He answers with: In case you didn’t see. He held the press conference. He told the city that Ralph’s suicide was a tragic accident and the two murders were isolated and unrelated.

My cellphone rings, and it’s Murphy. I answer, “Hello, Director Murphy,” all polite and official, like a sweet innocent girl or something.

“Don’t be stupid? To the mayor, Lilah?”

“You can’t hide from stupid. His press conference will be answered and not by me. But by the asshole I’m hunting who wants attention he didn’t get. Saying nothing was better than stealing his thunder.”

“He wants you fired.”

That’s all he’s going to fucking say? “Okay,” I reply. “Am I fired?”

“No, Agent Love, but if you make me come back to New York to save your ass, neither of us will enjoy my visit.”

“If you come here, you can do your own dirty work rather than using Kane, because that’s where this is headed, right?”

“I didn’t know you needed Kane to do your dirty work.”

“My dirty work?”

“Your dirty work is mine. If you don’t get that, you will. Stop pissing me off. Now get to work.” He hangs up. And this hang up shit continues and continues.

I return to my note cards and focus on the one for Detective Lori Williams

Redhead

Police detective

Boyfriend

Killed stepmom

Mom in a nursing home

Father dead

In my mind that bird and that man from those insurance commercials come to my mind: What do all of these people have in common? Nothing. That’s exactly right.

I groan. The answer is not nothing. I shove a strawberry in my mouth and wash it down with coffee. I then pace, sit down, repeat. I look at the pig. I write down my name and Kane’s name again. I write down the words “the Society.” I set that card aside. I think that Beth being involved is what got me shoved down that rabbit hole. This is not the Society. They’d do an assassination, clean and done. This is not clean and done. And Kane went to war with Pocher recently and won. I don’t believe Pocher would cross him this fast or this directly. No. The Society is out.

I write down “Junior” and set that card aside. Again, Junior feels like someone from the Hamptons, someone far less sophisticated than Umbrella Man. I write down “Roger” and stare at the name before sliding my name next to his. This guy is someone who has watched one or both of us; perhaps, we’ve crossed paths. Perhaps he was a part of one of our cases in the past.

“Damn it,” I murmur and dial Roger.

“Lilah. Or Agent Love. Interesting case. Melanie filled me in on the details.”

Of course, she did. “What unsolved cases do you have that connect to these cases? What unsolved cases did we have that connects to these cases?”

“I can’t think of any.”

“Me either, but I feel like there’s something we’re forgetting, a connection, past or present.”

“Maybe we should sit down and go through our old cases, and you can tell me what’s leading you here.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“You go through your cases. If you see anything, send it to me.”

“No to a meeting. Why Lilah? What’s going on?”

“Murder, Roger. It’s a little time consuming. Let me know.”

I disconnect and stare at his name on the paper. He was my mentor. I wanted to please him, but there was a point, in the end, where we started butting heads. That constant push and pull of me questioning him and him questioning me made leaving easier. No. I’m lying to myself. Killing someone and fearing he’d know is what made leaving so damn easy.

My ga

ze lands on the pig Umbrella Man left me at the diner where Maria Mendez worked. He was bringing attention to Kane. Was he telling me, through Kane, that he knows who and what I really am? Was he telling me that we’re the same? Are we both killers hiding in plain sight? Was this his way of telling me that I’m looking right at him? He’s right in front of me. He’s close. He’s telling me that he knows me, and I know him. He’s so damn close, and that’s dangerous.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Kane calls me about an hour into my Purgatory torture. “Everything handled?”

“Aside from the storm I can’t shut down and despite knowing that’s when he kills again, yes. It’s all just peachy fucking keen.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Roger or are we avoiding that topic?”

“I’m not avoiding anything including him. Yes, damn it, I saw him. He was far less intimidating than I remember.”

“You’re afraid of yourself, not him,”

“Are you my shrink now?”