Page 81 of Murder Notes

“Rich. Go home.”

“With you. I’m going home with you.” He steps toward me and I step back.

“No. You’re not. I’ll pay for a chopper to get you out of here tonight.”

“What? You want me out that badly?” He scrubs his jaw. “Fuck, Lilah. Can you get any colder?”

“Do I have to?” I ask, because if he pushes me, I will. I’ll have to.

“I’m gone, Lilah. I’m gone.” He starts walking toward I don’t know where, and I suck in air. No. I just suck. Kane sucks for making me do this right now, like this.

I walk to my car, climb inside, and don’t hesitate to dial Kane, wondering what it says about me that I’m this close to a man who I think would hurt Rich.

“Lilah,” he answers.

“He’s leaving.” I say. “Tell me you won’t hurt him.”

“Tell me you won’t go to Romano.”

“Are you negotiating for a good man’s life? Are you really doing that?”

“I’m protecting yours. Say it. You will not go to Romano.”

“You bastard. I won’t. Not yet.”

I hang up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The drive home is all about how the men in my life are driving me crazy. All of them, Greg included. I went on the line for that man, and now. Now, I think he might be involved in this. Or maybe he’s just a dirty, rotten loser. I walk into the house, and do what I do to stay sane. I strip and pull on pajamas, head to Purgatory, and start trying to solve a crime. For hours, I scour the data Tic Tac sent me, looking for links to Kane, Pocher, or Romano, and it’s not easy. Looking for family who knows family or friends. All I need is one link to Laney and I find the link to my attack and, I believe, to these murders.

At four in the morning, I lay my head on the desk. At six, I wake up with my cheek stuck to the desk and only an hour to meet my brother. I rush to the shower and forget brands and money. I just toss on a pair of faded jeans and a sweater along with a North Face jacket, load up my briefcase, and head for the car, dialing Andrew as I start the engine. “Let’s do the graveyard first so I’m not dreading it the entire time we’re eating.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Fifteen minutes later I pull into Cedar Lawn Cemetery and park under a tree. My brother parks next to me, driving his fancy Porsche 911 today, just one of his three vehicles. I lean on the hood of my rental, and he joins me, also in jeans and puffer jacket. “Sorry I missed you last night,” he says.

“Shit happens,” I say, my stomach twisting and turning with the kind of gut-wrenching emotions I often think I’m now incapable of feeling.

“You really hate this, don’t you?”

“This sucks, Andrew.”

“I know.” He motions me forward and we walk to her grave, and damn it, my cheeks are all wet and I’m crying.

Andrew wraps his arm around me, and we start telling stories about Mom. “I still don’t understand how she ended up with Lucas’s dad.” I glance up at him. “Do you think they were—”

“Yes. I do. And I was angry at her for a long time over it, but she was human. We all are.”

His cell phone rings and he pulls it from his coat pocket. “The NYPD.” He answers the call, a grim look on his face. “Right. Got it. My sister’s in town. Yeah. The profiler. I think she might want in on this one. Right. Yes. We’ll take a chopper.” He ends the call. “Lilah.”

“Why did you just say my name like that?”

“There was a decapitation in Manhattan.”

“Oh. Well. Don’t worry. I’m not shaken, Andrew. I do this for a living. But why did they call you in the first place?”

“It was a Romano, and the trademark kill of a Mendez is decapitation. And since Kane is in our territory—”