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“After I solve the case would be a good time for me. As for Kane” —I eye Kane— “call him. I’m not his keeper.” My phone stops ringing and starts again. “I need to take this. More later.” I hang up, sip my coffee, and answer the line to repeat a similar conversation with the mayor. After which, I spend an hour on the phone with Tic Tac, dissecting evidence and game planning. “I have hours of video footage I’ve scanned, but I sent the raw material to Rollins. He has a team that is going to watch it all today. Also, I’m going to lunch with my mother. Feel free to interrupt me. She will just be lecturing me on marriage, babies, and my path to never have either.”
“If I’m not in an autopsy, whipping the ass of a pathetic, frightened ME, I’ll save you.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep. Long story for another time. I’ll call you. I’ll need—”
“Stuff. I know.”
We disconnect and I spend another fifteen minutes with Rollins, during which Jack is blowing up my phone. I try to ignore him, declining his call to ask Kane a question I should have asked already. “Did you get any word on who is working with Miguel?”
“Not a word. Everyone I have on the inside is shocked he came at you.”
I walk to the other side of the desk and lean on it to face him. “But he is involved with someone else. I assume you’ve been watching him.”
“We have, but you know as well as I do there are ways to communicate off the grid.”
“Do you have any idea who might be involved with Miguel outside of Pocher?”
“Pocher still rings as the most logical choice, even if my gut is telling me it’s not him.”
“So what now?” I ask.
“Miguel needs to be gone. Laslo needs to take over.”
“I thought he wasn’t ready.”
“He’s not ready, bella. I’m going to have to make it clear he’s with me.”
He’s going to have to be in control. It’s not the right answer, but neither is leaving Miguel in place.
“But Miguel feels untouchable. That’s obvious,” I warn. “You can’t go after him until you know why. It feels like a trap.”
“Which is why I have to set my own.”
“Meaning what?”
“I’ll handle this, Lilah. You catch your killer.”
My cellphone starts ringing again and I groan, pushing off the desk to grab it. It’s Jack again. Of course. Kane’s phone rings as well, and he snatches it from the counter, eyes the caller ID, and motions to the other room, “The office. I have a supply issue in Texas.”
I drop into my chair behind my desk and let my phone fall silent. I barely remember what happened to Jack last night. That says everything about just how emotionally wasted I was and he may well have noticed. He was in my face. Constantly in my face. But for the first time, I do consider the idea that he might have something to contribute to the investigation.
Therefore, when my phone buzzes again, I cave and just answer the damn line. “I’d say good morning, but then you might think that’s an invitation to ramble, and I haven’t had enough coffee for your rambling, Jack.”
“I was lying in bed last night—”
“First, you and the word ‘bed’ makes me uncomfortable. This also sounds like a long story. I haven’t had enough coffee for long stories and I’ve had a lot of coffee.”
“There’s no DNA evidence at any of the crime scenes,” he says as if I haven’t spoken. “How is anyone that good at killing people unless, of course, they bury the bodies and we never find them?”
Why do I always feel like this man has been following me around?
“What’s your point?” I ask.
“That a lack of DNA evidence points to a killer with skill and knowledge. To a member of law enforcement, or a family member in law enforcement, or a medical professional. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I called Tic Tac and asked him to check for those things. I know I’m not technically your assistant yet, Agent, but I’m auditioning. And did you notice how skillfully I avoided using the Love or Mendez name? I never really know which you prefer, as it seems to be based on your mood.”
“You’re not my assistant, Jack. You arenotgoingto be my assistant. I work alone.”
