I shoot the photograph of the murder weapon to Andrew and Tic Tac via a group text and label it the obvious for me but perhaps not for them: Murder weapon. The medical examiner believes this starts as what I assume to be a ball the size of the head of a pin that expands with water. I’m not sure how metal expands with water, but that’s her theory.
I don’t wait for either to reply. I don’t even give my brother time to look at the photograph. I dial Andrew and not only does he answer on the first ring, he gets right to the point. “Lucas isn’t at home or he’s not answering his door. I walked around back and looked inside and the lights are out. And the airport won’t release information. I’ve got a call into the big boss. I know him. He’ll help. Call me when you get a break or I’ll call you when I know something. And Lilah, this is Kane. He’s fine. He’ll call soon.”
“Right,” I say, and I’m now thinking of Kane’s warning to Lucas about getting involved in his uncle’s business being a good way to have a short life. Not long ago, when Kane’s uncle disappeared for a few days, Kane was pulled into the cartel, he had to prevent some sort of war between rivals. What if during that period, Kane burned someone and they wanted revenge?
“Lilah.”
At Andrew’s prodding, I snap back to the present. “Yes,” I say, and I move the conversation forward. “You heard about the new victim?”
“Houston called me,” he confirms. “Was she wearing a wedding dress?”
“No.”
“Did the killer leave you a jar of pig’s blood?”
“No pig’s blood this time.”
“Interesting,” he says, “And before I comment further, there are no reports of missing or dead pigs in our area, or for a sixty-mile radius.”
“What?” I say in mock disbelief. “The elites of the Hamptons have no pig blood donation center?”
“That was a bad joke,” he says. “Worse than most of your jokes.”
“Probably.”
“Absolutely.” He changes the subject. “We tested your food from last night. It’s all clear.”
“Somehow I knew that. I don’t think that woman was there to hurt us. Just distract me.”
“Okay, so let’s talk about that. Someone, the killer, we assume, wants to distract you and us. Why leave the blood and dress the first time, but not the second?”
“If my attention was the goal, the killer has that already,” I say, though it’s a decidedly lame answer. And I don’t have a better answer, not one I’m satisfied with, which I normally would by now. “Did you see the photo of the murder weapon?”
“I just saw it,” he says. “Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like black ops military weapons from a movie.”
“A good reason to see if anyone in Emma’s life, past or present, has a background in the military.” I think of the investment game Banking the Billionaire. “Or investments in a military project of some sort,” I add. “I’ll have our tech team work on it, too. Though we both know that’s the most obvious thing to do. The killer expects that.”
“What does the profiler in you say right now about the killer?”
Oddly, while I couldn’t answer that question for Houston, some pieces of the puzzle flow from me now. “He’s not easily challenged. He’s bored easily. He most likely plays that online game and wins every time and easily. He’s probably wealthy and highly educated.”
“Well, those two things describe this entire city. I’m back to why did he want your attention? You, Lilah.”
“I’m the challenge.”
“But why you? It feels personal. The wedding dress. The blood.”
“I told you. The Umbrella Man case grabbed his attention. My role in that case declared me the one who might challenge him. The blood was in the news. The wedding was most likely blabbed about by Samantha, and don’t tell me you didn’t tell her. Once she knows something, the entire town knows.”
“You had to make this another kind of personal, didn’t you?”
“Bottom line, I believe there’s a lot of intentional distraction going on. As long as we hyper-focus on this being about me, we’re not seeing something else. We need to work the case.”
“But you said we’re doing what the killer expects.”
“And we are, but we’ve also got two dead ex-husbands or would-be ex-husbands. Naomi and Emma are both widows, but Emma also lost a husband and a brother. If Naomi was still married to Emma’s brother. That is something we need to confirm with records. And I’d bet my last bag of Cheetos that they’re all part of that damn game.”
His cellphone beeps. “Hold on,” he says, and I assume he glances at the number before he says, “I need to call you back.” And because what else do I expect from my brother? He hangs up without another word. But whatever.
I text Tic Tac a list of things I need him to handle, exchanging random messages with him. Just as we finally wrap up, my cellphone rings. I glance at the caller ID and grimace before I answer with a greeting of, “Director Murphy.”
“Agent Love. I hear you had a visitor last night.”
“With no fallout aside from the brutal injustice of mac ‘n’ cheese thrown away in the trash.”
“And?” he asks curtly.
I sigh inwardly and update him with everything in as condensed a fashion as is possible. I end with, “I need to force that game to disclose its members. I need that now.”
“With two murders, I believe I can make that happen in the next twenty-four hours. Where are we on our friend’s involvement?”
Friend. I’m so sick of him calling Pocher friend. “Can we come up with a different nickname like ‘the dirty dog,’ or I can compromise and go with ‘the dog.’ I like the dog.”
“All right. Where are we on the dog’s involvement?”
“Less than forty-eight hours later and two dead women is where we are.”
“I know you think this is just a calling card for a new killer,” he says. “But the dog coming home right as you are taunted at a crime scene feels personal, and not for you. For the killer. Think about that little nuance. I’ll go get the data you need.”
He hangs up.
I replay his little nuance.
It’s personal, not for me but for the killer.
He’s right.
And perhaps wrong.
What if it’s personal for the killer, who therefore wants to make it personal for me?
And now Kane is missing. My mind, logically, went to the cartel, but now I’m back to a killer clearly obsessed with me. I briefly remember Kane’s comment about Ghost being obsessed with me, but this, all of this, doesn’t fit his profile. Ghost is about clean kills and originality. He wouldn’t send text messages and play games and this killer is, I believe. And Ghost wouldn’t cross Kane.
For the moment, I stop worrying about involving other people in my hunt to find Kane. I call Andrew back. “I’ve talked to you more in one day than I did for the entire two years you were in California,” he says.
“Ping Kane’s phone,” I say. “He’s missing. He didn’t make it to the city, but I want this off the record. I’m worried—”
“It’s another way this case just got personal. I’ll handle it. Give me a few minutes.” He hangs up.
I push to my feet and start walking toward the door. I’m going to Kane’s office. I don’t know why that feels like the thing to do, but it does.