Never ignore a theme in your life. And never blame that theme on someone else. You’re responsible for it, at least on some level. And if someone else is controlling the theme, then you had better fix it fast. That’s where I’m at.
For me right now, the theme of my life is “the games we play.”
My father is playing a game with my life. If that’s what you call tormenting my mother and potentially helping to plot her murder. Pocher has long been playing a game with my entire family’s lives. Emma’s killer is dragging me into a game. Junior has long been playing a game with me. And I’ve let it happen. I give Junior props, though. She, for I’ve always thought Junior a female, chooses times when I’m hunting a killer and when a note writer is not my priority. And therefore, Junior goes untouched, but not this time. This time, I will find and deal with Junior.
I won’t be sidetracked.
This time I will deal with Pocher, once and for all.
Once Jay and I are on the road again, I do the only thing I can do at this very moment. I open my donut bag and start eating what turns out to be a delicious treat. And thank God, rather than asking questions, Jay does the same of his. Perhaps he’s silent simply because we’re stuffing our faces, but whatever the case, I’m starting to move past “I don’t hate him” to “I like him.” Especially since I didn’t buy a drink and he has bottled water in the car. He’s a virtual saint, no worry that he works for my future husband who is not. He’s also not a monster either, like his uncle and Pocher.
Whatever the case, by the time I’ve licked the last dusting of sugar from my fingers, he’s dropping me at the door of the medical examiner’s office. With my trusty field bag at my side, I head up the stairs and enter the building where a security post greets me. I disarm and pass through the metal detector, only to set it off. The next thing I know, a thirty-something guard with a scar is patting me down and getting about as handsy as I get stabby. At one point, my legs are spread and he has his hand on my inner thigh. I decide the scar came from some woman biting him. He goes a little too high and I’ve had enough. “If you touch me in my secret garden, you will lose your sense of smell.”
He yanks his hand back. “What does that mean?”
“Well, my secret garden is right there between my legs, and your sense of smell is right there on your face, right above my knee.”
“She’ll do it. Beware.”
At the sound of Andrew’s voice, I turn to find him joining us, all decked out in his Police Chief Love uniform.
“Big brother,” I greet. “I thought Samantha would have greeted you with such love last night that you’d never make this early drive.”
“Well, though her secret garden is alluring, I didn’t see her last night. I didn’t get home until four.” He glances at his watch and then motions me forward. “I don’t have long. Let’s get moving.”
I eye the security guard. His lips press together and he motions me onward.
Seconds later, Andrew and I fall into step on a path toward the elevator. “Why are you here, Andrew?”
He doesn’t look at me. “It’s my case unless you’ve officially claimed jurisdiction and haven’t told me.”
“I thought it was Officer North’s case?” I challenge.
“You don’t trust him or Danica,” he reminds me. “As far as the eye can see, him, her, and you in one place was a recipe for another murder.” We arrive at the elevator and he punches the call button. “And this got personal when you were called out by name.” The doors open.
“I can handle this, Andrew,” I say as we step inside the car and he punches our floor.
The elevator closes and we face each other while my brother tries to play hardball. “Either you’re running the show or you’re reporting to me, Lilah.”
“Contrary to your attitude,” I reply, “I play nice with those in charge at least fifty percent of the time. I often work with the locals, offer aid, and I don’t take control. Which is why I assure you that I’ll go to the city, run down the leads, and report back.”
“So you’ll respect me being in charge?”
“As long as this case is confined to one murder in your jurisdiction,” I say. “Yes. Sure. I’ll let you know tonight.”
He faces forward, giving me his profile. “So much for respecting who’s in charge.”
I face forward as well. “Probably I will.”
The elevator halts and the door opens. He catches the door and I step outside into the hallway, with him fast on my heels, but when I would charge onward toward our meeting, he has other ideas. “Lilah,” he says, and his tone halts my steps.
I turn to face him and he motions for me to move further down the hall, away from the elevator, away from prying eyes. Once we’re huddled together, he lowers his voice. “You handed me a bombshell last night and just left.”
He’s all intense and hard-jawed, though I have no clue which bombshell he’s talking about. I said plenty to try and wake him up last night. “I’m good at that, actually,” I reply. “Can you be more specific?”
“Pocher ordered Mom’s murder?”
At least he’s focused on what’s important. “I already told you that.”
“Yeah well, I got a little distracted by the person you stabbed to death.”
“Understandable, I guess. You are you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t say shit like that just to say it.”
“You did need me to help bury a body right then, Lilah.”
“Yes, but when have I ever been a liar?”
He scrubs his jaw in earnest. “Does Dad know?”
“I’d like to think he doesn’t,” I reply, “but he knows—” I hesitate. “I said I wouldn’t talk about this.”
“The rape,” he says. “You said something about rape, Lilah.”
“It’s a little more than rape.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about this but—”
“Pocher ordered my murder and he’s still with him.”
“Murder?”
“Yes. Murder.”
“And Dad knows?”
“From the horse’s mouth,” I say and because I need him to understand just what Pocher is capable of, I dare to add, “I was drugged, taken to the beach at my house, and if the piece of shit hadn’t decided to rape me first, I wouldn’t be here now. He meant to kill me. I think he told me that. I blocked it out. Or I try. Kane saved me. If he hadn’t come home early to see me, I wouldn’t be here. He pulled the guy off me.”
I speak that confession with remarkable ease, I think, but then killing your attacker does lend to closure. And other things, like a willingness to kill, but that isn’t a topic to discuss with Captain America.
He presses a hand on the wall and lowers his chin to his chest, torment radiating from him before he looks at me again. “There’s a lot of things I could say to that—”
“Don’t. That’s not why I told you. I want you to know who Pocher is, what Dad knows, and how much Kane really is there for us.”
“I get that. I owe him then.”
“He doesn’t want to be owed.”
“Either way, I can’t believe you didn’t come to me.”
“It was complicated.”
“I’m only letting you get away with that simplistic answer right now because of location and time restraints. Be straight with me. Do you think Pocher is behind that jar of blood and the visit to your house last night?”
“Logically, yes, but my gut keeps telling me that this is just a sick fuck who killed for the sport. Which means he’ll kill again.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair and settles his hands on his hips. “I came here to talk. Emma’s fiancé is flying in at noon. I’ll set the interview up for tonight. Can you make seven?”
“I’ll be here.” I tilt my head. “You came all the way here just to talk to me?”
“There are some things better not discussed by phone.”
“Good to see you growing a brain. The Society is monstrously large and powerful. Don’t underestimate them. And don’t trust anyone. And that means Samantha, Andrew.” I glance at my watch to discover it’s eight-fifteen. “I have to go.” I grab his arm. “Don’t go trying to play Captain America on your own. There’s a way to deal with the Society. Leave this to me and Kane.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then you work with us. Promise me.”
“I can’t do nothing, Lilah.”
“Work this case. Just work the case. And come by the house tonight.”
His lashes lower, but he nods before he takes a step backward. “I’ll leave this to you.” He turns and heads for the elevator. He punches the call button and disappears inside the car, leaving me kicking myself. I should not have told him about Pocher killing Mom. He’s not going to let this go or wait on me. And he’s going to get himself killed.