Page 29 of Murder Notes

“I have business going on today. The log and your brother should clear me. And this is really ridiculous. I might be many things, Lilah, things that you don’t like, but I am not a killer.”

“You are indeed many things,” I state. “Some quite easy to confirm, but as it stands, being innocent of murder is not one of them any more than guilty might be. I need proof of your alibi.” I turn and start walking.

“Lilah!”

I keep walking.

“Agent Love!”

I stop and turn to face her. “Yes, Ms. Young?”

“If you choose to make this personal, you will not like the results.”

My lips curve. “Spoken like every suspect that has something to hide, even if it’s not the crime I’m investigating,” I say, and this time when I start walking, I don’t stop until I’m sitting inside my car and have shut the door. Glancing up at the rearview mirror, I note Samantha has yet to move, which means her car has yet to move out of my way. I shift to Reverse and give a small pump of the accelerator that has her hands flying in the air, and she is apparently shouting something at me. I hold the brake and rev the engine, and she turns around and stomps back to her car.

From there, she is speedy to back up and pull off to the side of the drive to allow me to pass. I do so quickly, my mind already chasing conclusions from this meeting and the one with Kane—many I do not like. I’m just beginning the process of dissecting them when my cell phone rings. Snatching it up, I glance at the caller ID and note my boss’s number.

“Director Murphy,” I greet him. “You’re early.”

“That’s called good work,” he states. “Talk to me. Do we have a serial killer?”

My jaw clenches. “I told you. I think—”

“An assassin. Back that up with facts.”

“Different ages, races, lifestyles, jobs, sexes, do I need to go on?”

“One killer?”

“I’m not ready to say that.”

“Did they die the same way?” he presses.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s one killer,” he concludes.

“Or one execution style.”

“That’s a reach.”

He’s right, but I’m trying really damn hard here not to claim jurisdiction.

He reads my mind. “You don’t want to claim jurisdiction.” He doesn’t give me time to argue. “This isn’t personal, Special Agent Love. This is your job.”

“Which I’m doing properly. I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours. We can’t shake up two police departments in New York in less than twenty-four hours and with an incomplete investigation. And how do we know that’s not what our killer wants, considering I had a murder here waiting on me?”

He’s silent for a few beats. “Forty-eight hours from now, we’re claiming jurisdiction unless you convince me otherwise. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“What do you need from me right now?”

“Space.”

“All right then. Space. You know how to reach me.” He hangs up.

I glance up to find I’ve pulled back into the parking lot of the same diner I’d caffeinated at this morning. I kill the engine, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel, several conclusions hitting me like a WWE Smackdown: If Samantha wasn’t with Kane last night, neither has an alibi for the murder. However, if they were together, which is my gut instinct and also probably why she didn’t want to tell me, Andrew’s sister, the truth, then I have a bigger problem. Because if she is the true whore she seems to be, with Kane and then with my brother on the same night, there’s no way she was at my house. That would mean Samantha can’t be my note writer. Not unless she hired someone to play the role. Translation: no matter how I look at this, someone I have yet to identify knows my secret. And while Samantha knowing my secret wasn’t ideal, the other people I know control her to a certain degree. Most certainly Kane could control her. That spelled control of my own. What don’t I know about that night? And who is motivated to get me out of town? Could it be Kane himself?