Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Ghost.
That’s why he’s here. Kane is freaked out about this obsession Ghost has with me, which makes me think about the obsession Junior also has with me. There are no coincidences in becoming a joke I’ve been telling for way too much of my life. For now, I focus on Kane and putting his mind at ease. “This wasn’t Ghost. My father is freaked out because his finger hurts, and Ghost scared him.”
“Who’s the victim?”
“Don’t know yet. That may take some time. He has no hands so no fingerprints. And before you start thinking the mob is lashing out at us through him, this is a sloppy kill. I don’t think a pro did it.”
“Teeth?”
“Don’t know yet. The carpet is wet. That’s why we don’t know if he has ID. We needed sterile footwear to reach the victim and properly investigate.”
“Why is the carpet wet?” he asks.
“On first glance, it seems like the killer was trying to dilute the evidence. Again, I don’t know much yet. I don’t even know where the water came from. Is that something the mob does and I don’t know it?”
“No, but we’re dealing with the mob, and the hands are cut off,” he says. “Isn’t it you who always says there are no coincidences?”
“A series of current events have me thinking that was a joke.” I motion to Enrique. Kane leans forward, speaks to him, and by the time Kane is resting against the leather seat again, Enrique is outside, and we’re alone.
Kane angles my direction. “Tell me.”
“Did you bury Roger’s body?”
“With great pleasure. Why?”
“You saw him in the dirt?”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “What is this, Lilah?”
I reach in my pocket and hand him the note. He reads it, and in my mind, I read it with him: You’re the problem, Lilah.
Kane’s gaze lifts to mine. “Where did this come from?”
“It was shoved under the door of the restaurant bathroom. It doesn’t read like Junior.”
“No. The same person didn’t write this.”
“But Junior just came back. It’s a big coincidence, Kane.”
“So are the chopped off hands and the mob, but that murder you just described to me is not the mob.”
“When core values I used to investigate start slipping, I start questioning all I know as an investigator.”
“What you know is how to adapt and change, Lilah.” He indicates the note. “Roger is dead. This could be another protégé, but he said that to you all the time. You said it all the time. When you couldn’t figure out a case, you said—I’m the problem.”
“Which means someone close to me, someone I repeated this to.” I stick the note back in my pocket. “I can’t think about this right now. I need to go deal with the victim and I left Jay searching for the hands. I doubt he’s okay right now.”
He laughs, and says, “If the hands don’t scare that man off, you need to ease up on him.”
“I’m just trying to save his life,” I remind him. He knows this. He seems unconcerned about how nice a guy Jay is in a nasty world, but that’s a topic for later. “Go rest.”
“I should talk to your father first or I’ll never get any rest.”
“I sent him home. He was never here. That’s the story.”
“You know why I pulled my men last night.”
“Of course. Why he feels so safe with them around anyway, I don’t know. He had his team. He was never in danger, that I know of, either. And you are not his ally anyway. And on that note, I’m second guessing this game we’re playing with him to get close to the Society and that all balances with what is happening with your father.” I pause. “Is he alive?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Lilah. Never again. I told you, yes. Unfortunately. Yes. Go solve a murder. I’m going to see your father.” He leans in and kisses me, easing back, and sliding my hair behind my ear. “You are not the problem, Lilah Love-Mendez. Don’t forget that.”
I lean in and kiss him hard on the mouth before I open the door and step outside, but as I start walking toward the house, I’m replaying that note again: You’re the problem, Lilah. Roger’s translation of that phrase meant you’re not looking in the right places or you are and not seeing it clearly. Everywhere I look I see a coincidence, and that can’t be right.
And with that, I decide the note writer is right. I’m the problem.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I really do prefer dead bodies to living chaos.
I walk through the door to the governor’s mansion to be intercepted by Jay and Jack. “No hands, thank God,” Jay breathes out.
“Not hands yet,” I say. “We need those hands. The victim needs his hands.”
“Are we ready to get started?” Jack asks, even as Jay says, “He’s dead, Lilah. He does not need his hands.”