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)
Nothing follows. Nothing I have to fill with something. I’m going to Long Island.
I’m ending the distraction that is Junior. Then I can get back to murder.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The pizza arrives and I grab a box, and head to the door, intending to get lost in Purgatory. “We’re big guys, Lilah,” Jay complains. “We need more than you left us.”
I pause at the door. “Order more. And book a chopper to the Hamptons. The three of us need to leave about six. And we’ll stay the night. I have to be back here for the investigation and the morgue visit.” I don’t explain myself. I don’t allow them to ask questions, but as I’m about to leave I turn my attention to Augustin. “Travel ready. In every possible way.”
“Oh shit,” Jay murmurs, “Lilah, what the heck is going on? You have a case and—”
“Junior wants to meet, Jay, and at this point, all I know is he sounds an awful lot like Roger.”
His eyes go wide. “The serial killer?”
“That’s right, but before you panic, Roger is dead. Someone who worships his words, clearly is not.” With that, I walk away and head upstairs. I’m at the top when Jay calls out, “Lilah, this is worrying me. Does Kane know?”
I glance over my shoulder. “Yes. He’s certain I’m just fine because you’re with me, Jay. Book the chopper.”
I walk into my office aka Purgatory, and I can tell my brain is not on the case. I’m not focused. I sit at my desk, stuffing my face, writing out notecards, but I keep scribbling Roger’s name. My cellphone buzzes with a text from Kane: I’m about to get on a plane. Enrique is going with you. He’s on the way there now.
I don’t even argue. I know it’s killing Kane to leave right now: Kill. Don’t be killed.
I love you too, bella, he replies.
Another text lands and this one is from Tic Tac: We don’t know enough yet to deep dive on similar cases, Lilah. We just don’t. Houston tried to help. We’re looking for anything to connect dots.
I don’t reply. He’s right. We need to name our victim and then we dig into motive. I write some more notecards, dividing out involved parties and Leonard sends me his interviews, along with names and connections to my father. I forward them all to Tic Tac and Lucas, who I still haven’t heard from. It’s odd. Lucas is not silent. Ever. Could he be Junior? It’s a logical choice, but I just don’t see it, not really, but he’s pretty fucked in the head, too.
My cell rings and I find Jack’s number on caller ID. I answer to hear, “It’s not human blood. It smells like chicken blood.”
“I do not want to know how you know what chicken blood smells like.”
“I do something I’ve heard you don’t. I cook.”
“Oh. Yeah. I hear people do that. What else?”
“No blood outside. No camera feed. I would have called sooner, but the internet seems to have had water poured on it. This guy loves water. Service was in and out and only in certain locations.”
“How do you know it had water poured on it?”
“The service tech said it was wet inside. You missed the ME. It was DD. I had no idea her and Jay had a thing, and then broke up. That was awkward.”
I didn’t know they broke up. Damn it, Jay. Quit this job.
“What did DD say?”
“She wasn’t able to determine the cause of death. She said she’ll do the autopsy late tomorrow if you want to show up. And to text her to confirm.”
A cause of death was just too much to ask, I think. The unknowns are too many. “What else?”
“I got nothing else right now,” Jack adds. “I need some lab time to see what else I can come up with. There’s this movie I think this guy might have watched. I’m going to watch it tonight and—”
“Meet me at the morgue at ten tomorrow.” I disconnect.
And I receive yet another text message: This is Special Agent Leonard.
I roll my eyes. Who addresses themselves formally in text?
He goes on: Director Adams gave me your number. Can we connect on the case?
I reply: Morgue. Tomorrow at ten. The governor and Chief Houston will join us.
I set my phone down and head to the closet, changing into my favorite combat boots, with a perfect pocket for a blade. A pair of utility pants allows me a few extra hidden weapons and of course, I holster my service weapon. Once I head downstairs, I find Jay and Augustin sitting at the kitchen island, both looking bright eyed and ready. I slip my field bag over my chest. “Anything on the flowers?”
“Nothing useful,” Augustin says, “The delivery person was wearing a scarf over his face, and a bulky jacket. I can say he was tall. That’s it. Or she. It could have been a tall female.”