Love Kills (Lilah Love 4)

Also Melanie’s brother, Brandon Carmichael, who is a real standout as far as I’m concerned. He might not have supplied the drug that killed the victims, but he must know how to use it. He’s on Kit’s list, to begin surveillance, but I text myself all of his details. I can’t interview him without setting off a major red flag, but I need to see him in person. I know people. Okay, I know killers. As much as Kane wants to make me believe I’m not one of them, they see me as one of them. Ghost sure as hell does. If I get close enough to Brandon, I’ll know if he’s him, the man behind Umbrella Man. And there is one person behind Umbrella Man, even if he has help. This is all done in such a calculated perfect way, his way. Anyone else is support staff. This is a cause to him, a major New York stage show that he’s orchestrated.

My cellphone rings with Houston’s number again. “Did he confess?” I answer.

“Funny,” he says. “Your always so ‘not’ funny. The mayor has me holding a press conference tomorrow morning. Do you want to be there? To let the public know the FBI is involved?”

“What part of stop holding press conferences do you not understand?”

“The victims include one of our own and a television star,” he says. “That is high profile. On this, I get where he’s coming from. It’s getting press. We want to control the narrative.”

“There were three victims, not two.”

“Two sisters. Right. That rattles people as well.”

“This is what he wants. He wants attention. He wants to be in the press.”

“And he’s got it. His way, not ours.”

“This is my call.”

“You can’t stop the mayor from talking about losing one of our own or a crime spree in the city. Do you want to be there?”

“The killer wants me there.” I tap my pencil on the desk and consider my options, “but you know what? Yes. I have a plan.”

“Are you going to tell me that plan?”

“No.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” I hang up.

The only plan I have is to buy time, but I’m not sure I can.

It feels like this is it.

It feels like Kane and I are next.

And he’s going to meet Ghost.

I stand up and head down the stairs, following male voices to the kitchen. Rounding the corner, I find Kane at the endcap and Kit and another man on the side facing my entry. I glance at the stranger, and Kane says, “Meet Zar, Lilah.”

I give his short hair and thirtysomething features a once over. “I thought with a name like that you’d have long hair and wear lots of jewelry.” I stop at the island across from Kit and next to Kane, focused on Kane. “I need to talk to you.”

“I need to show you something first,” Kit says, sliding a photo in front of me. “Kane told me who I was looking for, and I’d already flagged this guy. He wasn’t with the rest of the crew that came in.”

I glance down to find the same green-eyed reporter, dressed in a service uniform, inside the stairwell of this building. I grab it. “When was this?”

“During the power outage,” Kit says. “We let a team in to try and repair the circuits. He had a fake ID and logged in as Miller Farris.”

“I need to call Houston,” I say, “and my phone is upstairs.” I start to turn, and Kane slides his phone to the counter.

“You want me to call the police chief from your phone?”

“I’m highly amused by the idea,” he assures me, a quirk to his lips.

“I’m sure you are,” I say, but I make the call.

“Kane Mendez,” Houston answers.

“No, he’s just my lover,” I say.

Zar laughs, which you know always earns points with me. I like people who get my jokes, especially hearing half the conversation. They’re few and far between. “I have footage from our building, and your reporter asshole was here. He was dressed in a maintenance-style outfit and signed in with a fake ID.”

“He’s known for being sneaky,” he says. “He’s not the guy.”

“I want him brought in for questioning,” I say. “Call me when you have him, and I’ll meet you at the precinct. And Houston? I’ve never met a killer who someone didn’t think was a nice person. Don’t be an idiot who gets someone killed. Assume he’s the killer.” I hang up.

“How many killers have you known?” Zar asks.

“More than you.”

“I doubt that,” he says dryly, and he actually sounds proud of that statement.

I lean on the counter and look him in the eyes, killer’s eyes. “I know you. I knew you the minute you walked in the door and the only reason you’re staying in my house is that I know you’re riding along with Kane tonight. And I know Ghost. I’ve met him. He’ll shoot you first.” With that, I look at Kane. “I need to speak to you.”

“Anything you wish, my love,” he says, giving me another amused look.

I exit the kitchen, and he follows me to the bottom of the steps where I turn to face him. “I have a bad feeling about this meeting with Ghost.” I press my hand to his chest. “Just hear me out. The murders were by our building and in our building. That’s the perfect time to make us the next victims. And now, we even know the building isn’t secure.”

“This apartment is,” he assures me. “Ghost called again. That’s what he does. He moves things around to protect himself. I have to go now. I’m leaving Kit with you because you seem less likely to shoot him.”

“Zar isn’t enough backup. Let me go. I’ll be your backup.”

“I’m not taking you, Lilah.”

“Because you think we’ll both end up dead.”

He cups my head and kisses my forehead before looking down at me. “Pocher is the one who is going to die. And painfully. The kind of pain I’ve wanted him to feel since he had you attacked. I’ll be back tonight. I promise.” With that, he releases me and walks away.

And I let him because I have to let him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Kane makes me human alright.

I’m pacing Purgatory, imagining him dead, imagining me killing Ghost in a fit of rage. Imagining the moment that I’m no longer human. Why didn’t I just kill Ghost? Why the fuck didn’t I kill him when I had the chance?

Loaded with adrenaline, and get to work, I call Tic Tac, and have him get me “stuff.” He pulls Miller’s file. I manage to occupy my mind by reading up on him. He’s forty-four. He’s single. He’s had a domestic abuse charge. He could be the guy, at least on paper, but he doesn’t feel like the guy. One of the cult, I decide. I call Houston, and he doesn’t answer. My phone buzzes with a text: Miller was an entertainment reporter for a year. He interviewed the soap star.

I immediately dial Houston again. Twice. He answers the second time. “He’s not at home or work,” he says

. “They can’t find Miller.”

“Did you go into his apartment?” I ask.

“We can’t just go into his apartment,” he says.

“You sure as fuck can. He was at two murder scenes and one of them he identified himself as law enforcement. And he’s got a history with one of the victims. He interviewed Karen. Go in now.” I eye the address of his apartment, which is across town. “Call me when they’re in. I’m on my way. And tell them to glove and boot up. I don’t want evidence trampled on.”

“You really think this is the guy?”

“Just do it, Houston. It’s raining again. He might be gone because he’s at a victim’s home and the way we save him or her is at his apartment.” I hang up and grab my field bag. This might not be “the” guy, but he’s really damn close. I just hope like hell Kane really has Ghost on a leash because I’m about to put a hell of a lot of pressure on Umbrella Man and the Society.

I hurry down the stairs to find Kit watching TV in the living room. “Let’s go.” I don’t wait on him; I head for the door.

Five minutes later, I’ve updated Kit, and I’m in the back of an SUV, driven by one of Kane’s men with Kit next to me when Houston calls. “He’s dead, Lilah. A bullet just like the others.”

“Fuck,” I say. “Then he’s the secondary victim. The family member who was doing things to try to keep the real victim alive. We need to know who that victim was, though, from what I read, there isn’t a long list. A girlfriend. Look for a girlfriend.”

“I was just told that he was Detective Williams’ press contact. Maybe this really is him. Maybe he killed himself.”

I digest that with a discomfort level equal to heartburn. He didn’t kill himself, and this isn’t over, but someone wants me to think that. They don’t want me to know that I’m a future victim. They don’t know Kane knows about Ghost. Someone knew that I’d found him and that information traveled through law enforcement. “I’ll be at the crime scene in fifteen minutes.” I hang up, grab my field bag, my damn rain jacket, and rush for the door to have a little chat with yet another dead body.