Love Me Dead Read online

  “Did something happen?”

  “I talked to Mia’s boyfriend. He’s a photographer. He was on a shoot out of town, and he said he couldn’t reach her. He was worried, but they kind of had an on again off again relationship, so he thought she decided off was permanent. He said she wasn’t really messy, but she never hung her clothes up. She’d try them on and throw them onto the floor.”

  That doesn’t fit the OCD shape of her apartment at all. “What else?”

  “Her boss said she called in sick the day before she disappeared.”

  Because Umbrella Man had her already. He probably made her clean her own place. “What else?”

  “Shelly’s parents are overseas, and no one can reach them. It’s causing some concern.”

  “Oh shit. Get with the Texas officials and have them do a safety check at their home. Do it now.”

  “On it. I’ll call you back, but oh crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.”

  “Fuck me, Tic Tac. Crap what?”

  “I’m looking at a report I pulled. I tracked Detective Williams’ cellphone pings for the past month. She was on Mia Moore’s street a week before she died.”

  “Holy fuck. Call for that wellness check and call me back.”

  Kane is sitting at my desk drinking my cold coffee. He arches a brow. I rush toward him and motion for him to let me sit. “Problem?”

  “A big one,” I say, grabbing the NYPD investigation file from my briefcase because I don’t remember anything about Mia calling in sick to work in that data.

  I flip through pages, and it’s not there. Nothing about Mia being out sick. That would be part of a basic interview done in the twenty-four hours following an incident, and Mia’s boss was contacted. If he told Tic Tac, he would have told us. It was that research girl, Lily, who talked to him. I go through my records, find her number, and call her. Kane walks out of the room and disappears into the apartment. I sit down. “Lily,” I say when she answers. “This is Agent Love. Did you talk to Mia Moore’s boss?”

  “Yes, I did. I wrote a report on the call.”

  “Who instructed you to do that if Detective Williams was missing in action?”

  “It’s a standard process. I create the lists of contacts. I do preliminary phone interviews. Detective Williams follows up in person. We’ve done this for dozens of cases.”

  “Were you told that Mia Moore was out sick the day before her murder?”

  “No,” she says, a lift to her voice. “Her boss said no such thing to me.”

  She’s lying, I think. “He told my office but not you?” I challenge.

  “Maybe he was hiding it, and the FBI label scared him into talking? Do you want me to research him a bit more?”

  “No. I want you to find Williams.”

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  Just like she doesn’t know where my missing evidence is. She or Williams took it. The question is why? I don’t believe her. I dial Houston. He answers on the first ring. “Agent Love.”

  “Lily just lied to me, and Williams was on Mia Moore’s street the week she died.”

  “Lily is afraid of her own shadow. Maybe she’s afraid of Williams?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. None of this makes sense. Maybe she’s working for our dear friends.”

  “Dear friends. Check. Murphy made that association clear. As to Lily working for them: with what endgame?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. Watch her and watch your back.”

  “Does that mean we’re on the same team now?” he challenges.

  “It means watch your back.” I hang up.

  Kane walks in and sets a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, holding another in his hand. “Breakthrough?”

  “From my perspective, the evidence points to Detective Williams being the Umbrella Man.”

  “But you don’t believe the evidence,” he assumes.

  “No. I don’t even come close to believing the fucking evidence.”

  “Tell me about it. Maybe I can pull some whispers from the wind.”

  “You and your damn connections, Kane. You’re a criminal.”

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  “Yes. I want to tell you about it, asshole.”

  He laughs and motions to the chairs. My cellphone rings with Tic Tac’s number again. “They’re dead. It looks like a double suicide.”

  “Get me a number for whoever’s in charge. Text it to me.” I disconnect. “The second victim’s parents in Texas were found dead in an apparent double suicide. Detective Williams’ boyfriend killed himself in an apparent suicide today.”

  “Are we going to Texas?”

  “We?”

  “I own the chopper. I’ll give you a ride with me inside the chopper.”

  “That’s bribery.”

  “And?”

  “And we’re not going to Texas.”

  He arches a brow. “Why not?”

  “Because Detective Williams is going to show up dead here.” A thought hits me. “Or Lily. Umbrella Man is getting people to do work for him by threatening people close to them.” I walk around the desk and hand Kane my coffee. I squat and find the information sheet on Lily, key in her address into my phone, and then holster my gun that is still on the ground before I stand up.

  “I have to go to Lily’s place now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Lily isn’t one of the bad guys. She’s one of the victims. I need to save her.

  I start for the door, determined to get to her now, quickly, but I stop dead, turning to face Kane. “No. Going to Lily’s is a rash, wrong move. I need to think.”

  “Think out loud,” Kane urges, stepping closer to me again. “Tell me what you know. Lily works with Detective Williams, correct?”

  I scowl at him. “You know things you shouldn’t know, Kane Mendez.”

  “Irrelevant at the moment. Think out loud.”

  “Okay,” I say. “First, Umbrella Man. I believe he has OCD. I even believe he makes his victims clean up their own living and work spaces under the threat of some sort of pain, but that’s speculation.”

  “Based on what?”

  “The crime scenes. The living space of the victims is sparkling clean, completely outside of a average living condition. We now know that wasn’t normal for the victims.” I walk away from him, thinking as I talk, recapping what I already believe I know. “He’s white,” I turn to face him, “in his forties, fit, white-collar, smart. My profile. More speculation. I think he’s high level law enforcement, someone Murphy’s level.”

  His lips quirk, and he motions to my board where the index cards are pinned. “And he has a small dick.”

  “That is not a joke. Did you know that the Golden State Killer had an abnormally small dick? He dominated and raped women, and he especially liked ones with large men in their lives he could force to watch.”

  “I did not, in fact, know that the Golden State Killer had an abnormally small dick. This is why I love you, Lilah. I’m always just a little more educated with you in my life.”

  “Kane,” I warn. “I’m being serious.”

  His brown eyes dance with mischief. “As am I. Keep going.”

  “I believe that the women he killed aren’t his only victims. He plays with the people around them. Call them secondary victims to the primary ones. All speculation but I’m working the theory that he tells them that if they don’t do something for him, he’ll kill someone they love. And then, somehow, he gets them to kill themselves. Maybe to save their loved ones. Maybe to save themselves a worse fate. Ultimately, he still kills his primary target.”

  “How were they killed?”

  “We believe the primary victims to have been poison, but we’re struggling to find the toxin. Suicide for the secondary victims.” My brows dip, this conversation bringing a hot point to my mind. “Ralph Redman. He’s a secondary victim connected to one of the primaries. He kille
d himself in open court. His place wasn’t spotless. I’m guessing the Texas crime scene where we have the double suicide won’t be either. I think,” I pause in thought and continue as my ideas materialize, “the secondary victims aren’t worthy of his hyper-focus. They’re like the pig he killed for the blood.” At that point, I recap everything, including my theory that the blood in the fan was simulating rain.

  I summarize it all with, “I now believe that Lily, who works as a staff member of the NYPD, might be one of the secondary victims.”

  “And who’s the primary?”

  “Detective Williams, though I’m not sure why Lily would be emotionally attached to Detective Williams. Maybe they’re lovers. That actually makes sense. They could be a couple. Damn, Williams must be gay. Or maybe Lily’s a niece. I need to find out. I’m better with killers than I am normal people and their love lives.”

  “I thought Ralph was her boyfriend?”

  “Right. Okay. She’s not a lesbian.” I shrug. “Okay, well, maybe she’s bi.”

  “Or maybe Lily’s not a girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but that’s not as romantic, now is it?”

  “And you are, of course, so romantic?”

  I frown. “I can be romantic.”

  His lips curve. “Can you now?”

  “I can. Remember your birthday the year before I left?”

  His voice softens. “But you left, Lilah.”

  “That doesn’t erase the good times.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Now you’re clearly baiting me to say what you want. I baked you a cake. I don’t bake. That’s romantic.” I sit on the edge of the desk. Kane claims the spot next to me while I shift back to the case. “If I go grab Lily, it seems to me that he might kill Williams.”

  “I think that’s a reasonable assumption,” Kane agrees, shifting topics with me, without so much as a blink. “Why don’t we have my men watch Lily?”

  I push off the desk and step in front of him. “I’m pulling a lot of your resources.”

  “And that’s a problem why?”

  “That problem you told me about,” I say, thinking of his uncle. “Isn’t that where your focus needs to be?”

  “I’m capable of multitasking in all ways, Lilah, or I’d be dead already.”

  “Are you trying to convince me that you are or are not your father with that statement?”

  “I’m not my father, but I am my father’s son.” His voice hardens and he repeats what he told me in his office. “I can’t change that fact. You know that.”

  “I do know that,” I say, a realization coming to me. “What I also know is that you’ve changed. You used to deny it all. Even when I got back into town, you weren’t your father or your father’s son. Now, you’re at least admitting the part we both know we can’t escape.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Call Jay. Tell him what you need.” He pushes off the desk. “And I’ll trade our coffee in for something stronger.” He walks away, and I’m living a déjà vu moment from our past, when I knew that he was dealing with cartel business, and I pushed him about it. He’d shut me out, he’d push me back. Which was almost as bad as the times I knew he was dealing with cartel business and we both pretended I didn’t. I don’t know how to make this work with us, and yet, I’m ready to admit that I don’t know how to not make it work anymore either. Right now, though, I just need to focus on Umbrella Man before he kills again.

  By the time Kane returns, I’m on the floor in front of the chair with a fluffy rug beneath me, and I’ve just finished up a call with Jay. Kane sets a glass of wine on the table next to me. He then claims the chair opposite the table and opens his MacBook; another déjà vu moment. This is what we did. I worked. He worked. We were always together.

  “Any problems with Jay?” he asks.

  “Not with Jay. I’ve already established my dominant alpha role with him.”

  Kane laughs. “I have no doubt.”

  My phone rings on the table with what I am certain is a Texas number. I move to the chair and answer the call that is, in fact, the lead law enforcement officer handling the crime scene for Shelly’s parents. “This is relevant to a case we’re currently working,” I say. “What is the condition of the house? Messy? Immaculate? Average?”

  Officer Wright is quick to answer. “Average to messy.” Considering Ralph’s nasty toilet, we’ve now confirmed that the suicide victims do not receive the same one-on-one personal attention from Umbrella Man which I still believe is about worth. He doesn’t find them worthy of his time.

  “How long have they been dead?”

  “I’m no medical examiner but I’ve been around the track. Three days at least.” They died before their daughter. That has my mind racing and I quickly finish up the call.

  I sit there a moment and consider what I’ve just learned. Ralph killed himself and Williams is missing. If she ends up dead, the suicides taking place before the murders, supports my theory that he taunts the loved ones of the victims before killing the victims themselves. But if that’s true, who did he taunt before he killed Mia? There may be a body we have yet to discover. I quickly dial Houston and follow that with a call to Tic Tac. We’re now looking for another body and anyone who traveled to Texas recently who is on our list.

  Through all of this, Kane works on some sort of financial project for his oil business which I know because he shares a few details about a new drill site he’s launching in between my calls. But Kane doesn’t interrupt my process. He understands me and my Purgatory, in ways Rich never could fathom. Rich couldn’t handle how dark I get in this place. Kane can handle anything. We don’t work unless he knows that I can, too.

  It’s late, well after midnight, when my work slows, and I turn my attention to Kane. He feels my stare and looks down at me, where I’ve settled on the floor again, and as he always does, just that quickly, I’m his full focus. He sets his MacBook aside. “What do you want to ask me, Lilah?”

  “Who did your uncle have killed?”

  The air shifts, his mood darker, but he doesn’t pull away. He never pulls away. He stares at me a moment and then takes my hand and guides me to his chair and scoots over, giving me room to join him. I sit down next to him, and he meets my gaze before he says, “I know that I told you that if you asked, I’d answer, but you don’t want to know, Lilah. And I don’t want to tell you.”

  “You can trust me.”

  “It’s not about trust, beautiful. You know enough about me to destroy me if you wanted to, and even when we were apart, I knew that would never happen.”

  “If it’s not about trust, what then?”

  “That promise I made you earlier. I promised that I wouldn’t let you become what you could become, what my world could make you if we let it. When you start crossing certain lines with me, that’s what will happen.”

  I’m not sure if he believes that or if he fears that I’ll hate him if I know all that he is and can be. I did shut him out after he buried that body, and by doing so, I gave him every reason to assume that in the right circumstances, I will judge him as a monster. “I’m not going to push you now, but you say that I save you. I can’t do that if you don’t give me the chance.”

  “You do, Lilah. You are the only thing that saves me.”

  “Then in your silence and mine alike, you find acceptance from me for that life that isn’t there.”

  “Without it, I find hate,” he says, confirming what I’d just assumed.

  “No. I promise you that is not the case. Make yourself tell me. That will force you to limit yourself.”

  “Lilah—”

  “If you want me to stay, Kane, we both know that I can’t let you stay silent. We both know that the middle isn’t me pretending to be in the dark.”

  He stands up and takes me with him, his hand under my hair at my neck. “There is no if, Lilah. You’re staying.”

  “I’m trying to save you.”
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  “You save me by staying.”

  “Would you rather me imagine what you’re doing, than you just telling me?”

  “Yes,” he says, without hesitation, and then he kisses me. “Yes, I would.”

  In other words, he believes that nothing I can imagine is as bad as reality. He kisses me then and I let him, and in that kiss, I remember now what I’ve failed to remember since the night of my attack. When Kane kisses me, he always kisses me like he needs me to save him, while I always kiss him like I’m hoping he’ll destroy me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I wake in a bed I once said I would never sleep in again, pressed close to a man who is the devil incarnate, but apparently, I still love that devil. My cellphone is also ringing, so I roll over and grab it, answering without even looking at the caller ID. “Agent Love.”

  “Agent. I can’t get used to that title.”

  At the sound of Roger’s voice, I sit straight up. “Roger.” Crap. My voice sounds like someone shoved a damn banana in my mouth and said eat it all now. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Kane is immediately next to me, grabbing my leg and grounding me. God, this man knows me. “Are you back in the city?”

  “I am, and I hear I’m reporting to you on this case.”

  “I don’t think you need to report to me, but I’ve got this one.”

  “You’ve got this one?” he challenges, sounding quite peeved. “Why wouldn’t you use me? One of our own is missing. Why don’t we meet for coffee? We can talk it out.”

  “Are you at the station today?” I ask.

  “I am.”

  “I’ll find you there.”

  “I’m shocked you don’t want to have coffee. We’re old friends. You’re like a daughter, Lilah.”

  “I have a meeting. I’ll find you.”

  “Huh. Yeah. You do that.” He hangs up.

  I scoot to the side of the bed and grab Kane’s work shirt, pulling it on. By the time I have it wrapped around me, he’s standing in front of me in his pants. “You’re making this worse than it has to be. Go have coffee. Get it over with.”

  “I don’t want to go to coffee with that man.”