Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“But it’s okay if I get hurt?”
“I guess it would just be the hard lesson you need, Dad, on hiring the wrong people. Kind of like me on the beach that night, right?”
He’s silent a beat and then, “Lilah—”
“Don’t say anything except, I understand, Agent Mendez.”
“I’ll handle it,” he replies, sounding like he has a stick up his ass and then the line goes dead.
He hung up.
Oh how he must hate having to be submissive to me. There’s no way Pocher believes my father won’t become power hungry. He has a plan to control him, perhaps some sort of ammunition, on him. I make a mental note to figure out what, later, when I don’t have two assassins running around my small town.
I text Andrew: Call him now. He should do whatever you tell him to do.
We are talking about the man we call father, right? he replies.
I call him because I don’t have a choice. “What happened?” he asks when he answers.
“I told him I’m working for the president.”
He snorts. “And he believed that?”
“I am working for the president, Andrew. Ellis took me to see him after Murphy was murdered.”
“Do I even want to know how that went?”
“He likes to say hogwash. I like to say fuck. It’s a relationship destined to fail.” Kit pulls up to the Walker house, or as close as he can with the police tape. “I need to go.”
“Wait. I think I should go back to the city and make sure we know what Dad’s up to.”
“Agreed.”
“That leaves you with Taylor to contend with.”
“If I can’t handle a sourpuss chief, I can’t handle you and we both know you’re my little bitch.” I hang up and exit the back door to find Kit already there waiting on me.
“My father’s event will remain in the city. I don’t want the extra press to scare off my targets, and I damn sure don’t want to give Ghost or Elsa extra places to hide.” I don’t wait for his reply. I head toward the unmanned yellow tape with Kit falling into step with me.
There’s one stoney-faced uniform at the door with a bald head and a bit of a belly, with a badge that reads “Berg”. Maybe I should invite Berg to the gym with Jay. I cannot stand a cop who doesn’t stay fit. It’s a sore spot for me. He’s risking people’s lives. One second too slow and someone dies. Kit’s right. The police academy is not the proper place to train Jay. Exactly why I need to start sparring with Kane again. Now. Today.
I flash my badge from where it hangs around my neck. “FBI Special Agent Love,” I say, as the name is well known in the town. “Anyone inside right now?”
“No one all day.”
“Someone is covering the back door?”
“Yes.”
I’d say good, but I’m not sure it matters. The crime scene has been exploited for evidence at this point. “I’m going to take another look inside.”
He immediately reaches for his phone.
“What are you doing?” I snap. “Nothing about what I said requires your phone.”
“Chief Taylor said to call him if anyone wants in the house.”
“Stay with him,” I order Kit, “and make sure no one, including Chief Taylor gets in until I say he gets in.”
Kit steps forward and takes the phone from the shocked uniform. I open the door and step inside, shutting the door firmly behind me, before I glove up and then lock the door.
But I don’t move. There’s a slight shift in the air, not even a creak of wood, just a shift. I’m not alone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Adrenaline surges through me, the promise of conflict an aphrodisiac to me that most call fear.
I don’t pull my weapon. Some would say that’s exactly what I should do, but one of the things I did this morning before I ever got in the shower, was sit down and force myself to review my profile of Elsa and write it down this time. In a matter of a few minutes I wrote “she’s running on emotions” twenty times.
And “she’s alone,” another twenty.
I need to know if anyone else is helping her, preparing to take out one or more targets, and I can’t find out if she’s dead, or in a jail cell with an attorney shutting her up.
There’s a blade in my bag that I’ve been wearing cross-body since before I left the house. With a steady hand I retrieve it and slip it inside my pants pocket.
My speech during the news conference plays in my head, in particular the part where I painted Elsa as a scared loser who practically murdered her own brother. On second thought, I pull my firearm.
Only then do I ease left, and bring the piano into view, careful where my back is at all times.
The body is gone.