“Lilah!”
It’s Kane, and Morris’s gaze lifts wide and then goes to his hand where he’s holding something. That’s all the opportunity I need. Plan A it is. I lift my gun and shoot him between the eyes. Yes. I’m that good a shot. Being raped created an obsession with killing after all. I needed the skills to do it. At the same time I fire, an explosion rips from behind me. Everything is in slow motion. Morris falls to the ground. Andrew and I both fall to the ground. My head rattles but I push to my feet, to find Andrew doing the same. I turn, and I’m dragged into Kane’s arms only to watch my mother’s house burning to the ground, and I know in my gut, that this was the distraction Morris planned to get to his boat, to escape. My eyes go wide. The boat. Someone was on the boat. I shove out of Kane’s arms and turn to find the boat speeding away.
Whoever was on it is gone.
“Call the Coast Guard!” I shout as law enforcement overwhelms the scene. “The boat!”
Andrew grabs me, hugs me and whispers, “I love you,” in evident good physical condition before he says, “I’m going to make sure Pocher gets picked up before he can run.” He takes off running, and I turn to find Kane on the phone, stepping to him as he asks, “Is it done?” I don’t miss the disposable phone. “Excellent. Until next time.” He disconnects and pockets the phone. “Pocher is dead. Another victim of Sergeant Morris.”
I digest that with bittersweet victory. He ordered my rape. He ordered my murder, twice, and that of my brother. “He killed my mother. Or he ordered her death. Morris said he did.”
“And now he’ll burn in hell.”
I nod and turn to stare down at Morris, fighting unease. Kane’s hands settle on my shoulders from behind. “It’s over, Lilah.”
And yet, it doesn’t feel over at all. After all this time, it was too easy. I feel like there’s more, but then, there always is more. If there is anything my rape taught me, it’s that I never stop living it. I will never be over it. This will never be over.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It’s hours later, dawn is breaking on the horizon, and I’m staring at my house, my mother’s house, now a shell of what it once was, while firefighters work to clean up. Kane is with me, his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll rebuild it.”
“No,” I say, turning to him. “This was where she ran from my father. This is where she hid from his nastiness. This is where I was raped. I don’t think that’s a part of her life she needs remembered. How is Fernando?”
His lips thin. “He gave a statement and then headed to the city to tell his mother. I don’t envy him.”
A car pulls up, and halts. The doors open and Director Murphy, along with Chief Houston, step out. They head our direction and Kane murmurs, “Do you want me to leave?”
“Fuck them,” I say. “You stay. They can leave.”
He gives a low chuckle, and the two men step in front of us. “Agent Love,” Murphy greets. “Good to see you in one piece.” His gaze shifts to Kane. “And Kane Mendez,” Murphy says, offering up his hand. “Good to have you by our beast of an agent’s side.”
Kane shakes his hand with ease. “As I always will be,” he assures him.
Houston’s expression sours. “The coast guard caught up with the boat. It was a Spanish speaking hired hand. We don’t believe he was involved beyond a paycheck.” He doesn’t give me time to reply. “You okay, Lilah?”
“I’m fucking amazing,” I say. “He’s dead.” But even as I say the words, it doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel like Umbrella Man, and I just can’t shake that feeling.
“So is Pocher,” Murphy informs me.
My gaze rockets to his. “Is he?”
I swear Murphy smiles without actually smiling. “He is. Apparently, Morris killed him.”
“He and Williams were having an affair,” Houston tells me. “Once we got into Morris’s apartment—which was insanely OCD by the way—we found a shrine to Pocher and Williams on his walls.” His lips thin. “There were a lot of people on his walls. They were in color-coded segments that appear to be the way he murdered them. He changed it up, so he wouldn’t seem like the same person. He’s going to be studied for years to come.”
Director Murphy motions me aside, and the amusement in his eyes is hard to miss. He’s leaving Kane with Houston, and he loves it. I follow him a few feet to a tree. “When one falls, another will rise, but it will take time. We, you, slowed them down.”
“He told me that Pocher killed my mother. Or he ordered the murder.”
“And he turned on Pocher?” he asks, but the glint in his eyes says that he knows better. He knows what we did.
“Seems that way,” I say.
“Indeed. Well just know this Agent Love, Pocher was near the top of the chain, but he was not the top of the chain. Nor was he one of a few. They are many. Don’t forget that.” His hand comes down on my shoulder. “But you, you are making the difference that I knew you would make. I’m just sorry it came at the cost of so many good officers tonight.”
“As am I.”
“I’ll stick around a few days. I’ll go back to the city for meetings. This is your rodeo.” He turns and walks away, while another car pulls up to meet him. Yet another arrives, this one a police vehicle, and my brother gets out.
I walk to meet him at his door, noting Kane and Houston are actually in what appears to be a deep conversation. That’s as likely as a damn cow laying an egg, and yet, it’s indeed happening. “How are you?” I ask as I join Andrew.
He scrubs his jaw. “I lost some good men tonight. It’s going to be a rough week.
I need to do a press conference. How about we do it together tomorrow?”
“Together,” I agree. “Let’s do more of that.”
“Yes. Let’s.” He hugs me and pulls back. “You talk to dad?”
“No. You?”
“I talked to him. He knows about Pocher. I assume you know about Pocher?”
“I do. He was evil, Andrew. I tried to tell you that.”
“I should have listened.”
“Then listen now. The people he worked for still exist. They may or may not continue to support dad, but together, we need to pull him back.”
“They’re going to support him, Lilah. He already got a call about protecting his campaign. That’s what he wanted to talk to me about when I was dealing with the loss of lives. When you and I almost lost our lives.”
And there it is. Proof that it’s not over.
As Murphy said, when one falls, another rises.
Houston joins us, and we game plan on the press conference and the press that will follow that. We just killed a serial killer. I just killed a serial killer. Houston is about to leave when he says, “Truce. I called a damn truce with Kane. For you, Lilah. For you, because of what you went through tonight and in the past.” He turns and walks away.
My gaze shoots to Andrew’s. “Did you tell him—”
“No. I can’t tell anything I don’t know. Because you never talked to me about a rape, Lilah.”
“And I never will.”
He nods in understanding. “I hope my personal life doesn’t affect that.”
“I hate your girlfriend. I love you. And now that you might actually listen when I talk, I might talk. One day.”
“She moved to LA. She’s gone, Lilah.”
“Oh. How very disappointing.”
He laughs. I laugh. And the laughter is enough for now. I turn and walk toward Kane who is waiting on me. “Houston called a truce?”
“So he says.”
“My father already has new Society support.”
“Of course, he does,” Kane says.
“One falls—”
“And another rises, but we’ll win, Lilah. Because we have you and your badge to keep us in the middle, where we belong.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
After six weeks of chaos, I’m on a boat not far from the Hamptons home I now share with Kane when we’re not in the city. I sit on th
e top level, bundled up in jeans and a sweater, watching the storm clouds that are holding us back from launching, the first storm in weeks. It’s a chilly day that isn’t too brutal, and Thanksgiving is only a week from now, but there is nothing like brisk ocean air and champagne with Kane Mendez. And below deck, it’s nice and toasty. Not to mention, Kane and I both need this getaway.
There has been press. There have been funerals. There has been far too much interest in me and Kane, considering Kane’s lifestyle, as well as me as my father’s daughter. The father I don’t speak to. Just once since Pocher’s death. And that was far from cordial. There’s Roger, who wants to be in the press over this far more than I do, so I let him. At one point, Kane and I sat and watched him on a hot nighttime news channel talk about serial killers and Morris who he knew was no match for me, and I had to turn it off. Every time I start thinking about Morris, something nags at me.
“You’re thinking about him again,” Kane says. “I thought the idea of unplugging on the ocean was not thinking about him.”
“You’re right,” I say, “And don’t get used to hearing that. I just can’t shake the idea that it was a cult operation ran by one person who wasn’t Morris.”