“She’ll do it. Beware.”
At the sound of Andrew’s voice, I turn to find him joining us, all decked out in his Police Chief Love uniform.
“Big brother,” I greet. “I thought Samantha would have greeted you with such love last night that you’d never make this early drive.”
“Well, though her secret garden is alluring, I didn’t see her last night. I didn’t get home until four.” He glances at his watch and then motions me forward. “I don’t have long. Let’s get moving.”
I eye the security guard. His lips press together and he motions me onward.
Seconds later, Andrew and I fall into step on a path toward the elevator. “Why are you here, Andrew?”
He doesn’t look at me. “It’s my case unless you’ve officially claimed jurisdiction and haven’t told me.”
“I thought it was Officer North’s case?” I challenge.
“You don’t trust him or Danica,” he reminds me. “As far as the eye can see, him, her, and you in one place was a recipe for another murder.” We arrive at the elevator and he punches the call button. “And this got personal when you were called out by name.” The doors open.
“I can handle this, Andrew,” I say as we step inside the car and he punches our floor.
The elevator closes and we face each other while my brother tries to play hardball. “Either you’re running the show or you’re reporting to me, Lilah.”
“Contrary to your attitude,” I reply, “I play nice with those in charge at least fifty percent of the time. I often work with the locals, offer aid, and I don’t take control. Which is why I assure you that I’ll go to the city, run down the leads, and report back.”
“So you’ll respect me being in charge?”
“As long as this case is confined to one murder in your jurisdiction,” I say. “Yes. Sure. I’ll let you know tonight.”
He faces forward, giving me his profile. “So much for respecting who’s in charge.”
I face forward as well. “Probably I will.”
The elevator halts and the door opens. He catches the door and I step outside into the hallway, with him fast on my heels, but when I would charge onward toward our meeting, he has other ideas. “Lilah,” he says, and his tone halts my steps.
I turn to face him and he motions for me to move further down the hall, away from the elevator, away from prying eyes. Once we’re huddled together, he lowers his voice. “You handed me a bombshell last night and just left.”
He’s all intense and hard-jawed, though I have no clue which bombshell he’s talking about. I said plenty to try and wake him up last night. “I’m good at that, actually,” I reply. “Can you be more specific?”
“Pocher ordered Mom’s murder?”
At least he’s focused on what’s important. “I already told you that.”
“Yeah well, I got a little distracted by the person you stabbed to death.”
“Understandable, I guess. You are you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t say shit like that just to say it.”
“You did need me to help bury a body right then, Lilah.”
“Yes, but when have I ever been a liar?”
He scrubs his jaw in earnest. “Does Dad know?”
“I’d like to think he doesn’t,” I reply, “but he knows—” I hesitate. “I said I wouldn’t talk about this.”
“The rape,” he says. “You said something about rape, Lilah.”
“It’s a little more than rape.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about this but—”
“Pocher ordered my murder and he’s still with him.”
“Murder?”
“Yes. Murder.”
“And Dad knows?”
“From the horse’s mouth,” I say and because I need him to understand just what Pocher is capable of, I dare to add, “I was drugged, taken to the beach at my house, and if the piece of shit hadn’t decided to rape me first, I wouldn’t be here now. He meant to kill me. I think he told me that. I blocked it out. Or I try. Kane saved me. If he hadn’t come home early to see me, I wouldn’t be here. He pulled the guy off me.”
I speak that confession with remarkable ease, I think, but then killing your attacker does lend to closure. And other things, like a willingness to kill, but that isn’t a topic to discuss with Captain America.
He presses a hand on the wall and lowers his chin to his chest, torment radiating from him before he looks at me again. “There’s a lot of things I could say to that—”
“Don’t. That’s not why I told you. I want you to know who Pocher is, what Dad knows, and how much Kane really is there for us.”
“I get that. I owe him then.”
“He doesn’t want to be owed.”
“Either way, I can’t believe you didn’t come to me.”
“It was complicated.”
“I’m only letting you get away with that simplistic answer right now because of location and time restraints. Be straight with me. Do you think Pocher is behind that jar of blood and the visit to your house last night?”