Bloody Vows

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “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.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I reach the subway entrance and Andrew hasn’t called back.

  I try to call him, but he doesn’t answer. I leave a message. “I’m going into the subway. Leave me a message. I’m headed to Kane’s office.” I disconnect and jog down the stairs, eager to catch the next train out of there. As it is, I’ll have to change trains and I’m twenty minutes out. Once I’m in the tunnel, it doesn’t take long for me to make it to the train right after the doors shut. I curse and stop dead in my tracks. “Damn it to hell.” I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe, but I can’t. For just a moment, I’m back on that first crime scene in L.A., back in a room that was ankle-deep in blood, suffocating with the knowledge that’s it’s slushing around my ankles. That’s what’s happening to me now. I’m suffocating in the idea that Kane is dead.

  Dead.

  God, where did that word come from?

  Kane is not dead.

  I open my eyes and force myself to calm the fuck down. He has reasons he might go silent, all likely to protect me, which means I’ll be kicking his ass tonight. And enjoying it. I try to think of anything he’s said to me that might remind me of something I’m forgetting. But nothing comes to me.

  Finally, the train comes. When the doors open, I step inside, and thank God, it’s nearly empty. I still haven’t eaten my nuts and with only sugar in my system, I’m feeling unsteady. The subway is a nasty place to eat, but I have no option. I shove down the nuts and nearly choke with nothing to drink. My coffee is still sitting on the table where I accidentally left it. A homeless lady in a trash bag walks toward me, screaming, “They’re coming to get us! The aliens are coming to get us!”

  “Yes,” I say. “They are. You should sit down and hope they don’t notice you.”

  “They’re coming to get us!” she screams.

  I’m going to pull my fucking gun on her in about thirty seconds, and that thought is how I know just how not right I am over this Kane stuff. As if that’s a real revelation. The woman throws her hands up and turns and runs the other direction. The train halts and I get the fuck off.

  It’s a full fifteen minutes later when I reach street level a few blocks from Kane’s office building. I check my messages and there are none. I dial Andrew. He doesn’t answer. I’m going to kick his ass. I really am. I’m about to dial Tic Tac when Andrew calls.

  “Okay,” he says, and I already know it’s bad. I stop walking and step to the wall outside the rush of pedestrians that is the sidewalk in New York City. “He’s not pinging, Lilah. That has to be intentional. And that’s good news. If he had the forethought to destroy his phone.”

  “Or maybe someone else did,” I say, and my throat is tight, my words thick. My heart beats too quickly.

  “I’m headed to the airport now.”

  “So am I, right after I check in with his office.” I hang up and finish my walk, hurrying into the Mendez Enterprises office tower and then into the elevator. In a flash, I’m in the fancy lobby, approaching the reception desk where sweet, pretty little Cindy is managing the phones. “Is he here?” I ask Cindy as she hangs up from a call.

  “Still not here,” she says. “I tried to reach him. He’s got people looking for him. He missed a meeting. Is he okay?”

  “Of course,” I say. “He’s Kane.” I motion to his office to let her know that’s where I’m headed.

  She nods and I’m in his office in about twenty seconds. I walk to his desk and sit down, looking for clues to where he might be, but this is Kane Mendez. There is nothing to be found. He leaves nothing behind for the wrong eyes,
ever.

  I exit the office and head toward the door, calling out to Cindy as I pass through the lobby, “Call me if you hear from him.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m at our apartment building, where Kit is usually at as well, and he is nowhere to be found. I call him. He doesn’t answer. I head to our place and Kane isn’t there. I have no idea why, but I feel the pull to return to the Hamptons.

  I dial Jay. “Where are you?”

  “About to pull up to the building now.”

  “I need to go back to the Hamptons now,” I say, praying I won’t regret that decision. “Is the chopper ready?”

  “It is.”

  I hang up and waste no time heading downstairs. I exit the building and climb inside. “Where’s Kane?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “His phone isn’t pinging. You know something.”

  “I don’t. I swear I don’t.”

  “What about Kit?”

  “He’s not answering. I’ve tried to reach him because I knew you wanted answers.”

  “His phone is not pinging.”

  “He did that on purpose, Lilah.”

  “Or someone else did,” I say, repeating what I said to Andrew.

  “This is Kane—”

  “I know,” I say. “Just drive.”

  I text Andrew: I’m on my way to the airport to come there.

  I’m not sure why I reach in my bag and pull out the note from Junior. M is for money, M is also for more, and M is for Mendez. Was that a warning or a threat? Or something completely different? If it was a warning it was a fucked-up one. And it was too late. He was already off the grid when I got this. Maybe it’s an explanation. I read it to Jay.

  “The note I got today. M is for money, M is also for more, and M is for Mendez. What does it mean?”

  He takes it from me and reads it before handing it back to me. “Sounds like some sort of piss-poor threat.”

  A threat.

  And if Kane’s people know where he is, they don’t want me to know.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  During the short ride to the airport, I keep replaying the note from Junior in my head: M is for Money, M is also for more, and M is for Mendez. It feels relevant for reasons I can’t explain. Unless—a thought hits me and I dial Tic Tac.

  “Just who I wanted to talk to,” he answers.

  “That’s a first,” I comment, somehow teasing him when my mind is only partially in the conversation.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve been eager to talk to you,” he says, his voice cheerful.

  “You’re in a good mood. You and the boyfriend make-up?”

  “He does not dictate my moods,” he snaps.

  “Ouch. You’re moving on.”

  “Yes. I love my job which I’m doing right now. Director Murphy is battling to get the game system to release the information we need. We may need a warrant, which he will attend to tomorrow. For now, I just hacked the system and downloaded the phone numbers used to log-in. And I know, I know, that won’t be admissible in court, but it will get you what you need to find the killer. I’m now creating a program to feed them into a database and connect them to names. It’s going to take time, but it’s happening.”

  “How does the game work exactly?” I ask. “I haven’t had any real time to look at it.”

  “There are a lot of different ways users can play. For example, they can create fake portfolios and compete against individuals for who pays out the most.”

  “Is Kane’s company used for any of the games?”

  “He’s not publicly traded, so that is doubtful. Once we get full access to the system, I’ll be able to navigate those things, or have the company navigate them for us.”

  “Who owns the game?” I ask, hoping Tic Tac has found what Lucas did not.

  “That’s interesting, actually. The company started five years ago, but supposedly—I can’t confirm—changed ownership a year and a half back and that’s when it took off like gangbusters.”

  “I don’t know what a gangbuster is. Is it anything like a gang—”

  “Do not make the joke you’re about to make. I’m moving on.”

  ‘I understand the servers bounce all over and register in different countries.”

  “I guess whoever you asked for help who wasn’t me failed you there. Yes, that is true, but a little work and I nailed down the location. The servers are based in Russia, and it’s thought that it’s owned by a large conglomerate. It’s a cover for something else and yes, I’m working on finding out what. Another interesting tidbit. The surge of players using unregistered phone lines really began about a year ago. There’s a lot to be done fast.”

  A large conglomerate, I think. Maybe it’s something Pocher is involved in? Director Murphy is high on the idea that he’s involved, but I’m not sold on that yet.

  “Here’s what I have for you now,” Tic Tac says. “Both dead husbands, Naomi’s and Emma’s, were registered, but none of them have played, at least on their registered phone numbers, for over a year. Emma’s husband played the week he died.”

  Jay pulls us into the airport.

  “We need to know if Naomi and her husband were actually divorced. I’ve been told six months and a year ago on the split. I’ve been told pending divorce and divorced. Also, I need to when they split which might fall on me in the field. I’m trying to find a timeline that aligns in some important way.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” he says. “I can get the divorce records if they exist. And?”

  “And?”

  “There is always an ‘and’ or an ‘I need more’ with you, Lilah.”

  Jay parks the Escalade and I hesitate before I ask a question, dreading the answer. “I need you to do something for me off the record. And then I owe you.”

  “Okay. I hear something bad in your voice. What is it?”

  “Find out the last place Kane’s phone pinged.”

  “Oh shit. What happened?”

  “Just please do this.”

  “Please? When you say please, it’s big. I got this. It’s going to take me a few minutes. I have to call you back.”

  “I’m about to get in a chopper. Hurry.”

  “I will,” he says.

  I hang up, all twisted up inside, and look at Jay. He’s staring forward. I’m not sure if he’s as worried as I am or if this is something else. “If you know something tell me now.”

  He looks at me, meets my stare. “I don’t. I wish like hell I did. Come on, Lilah. Lying to you while riding sidekick to you. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  I study him long and hard and decide he’s telling the truth. I get out of the vehicle and head inside. A few minutes later, I’ve received no callback from Tic Tac. I try to call him. He doesn’t reply. Damn it to hell. I just need to get to the Hamptons. My gut says to go now. And so, I do. I board the chopper and I pull out my notes and start writing down everything that comes to me. None of it makes any sense, but the minute we land, I know I’ll soon make sense of plenty. I’m not Andrew. I don’t just know a lot of the people at the airport, I’m dogmatic about what I want, while he’s diplomatic. One on one with the staff, with me and my badge in their face, I will find out if Kane boarded a chopper today.

  We land and as soon as I’m off the chopper, I’m dialing Tic Tac. By the time I’m inside the airport, he answers. “You were supposed to call me before I took off.”

  “I thought waiting until you landed was better.”

  My heart is back to pounding a hole in my chest. “What does that mean?”

  “The last ping was somewhere over the ocean between the Hamptons and New York City.”

  I suddenly cannot feel my face. It’s an insane reaction for someone who walks through crime scenes all the time. And yet somehow, even with my world falling apart, I calmly say, “And of course a phone won’t ping under water.”

  “That’s right. Lilah, I checked
and—”

  One of the aviation crew I know walks by and I hang up on Tic Tac to grab the man, quite literally by the arm. He turns to face me, an older man with salt and pepper hair. “Lilah,” he says, and it’s in his face.

  “Kane—”

  “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “You will talk to me.”

  His eyes bore into mine, and I don’t know what he sees, but he says, “Yes. Kane has tipped me enough over the years to put my kid through college. I’ll tell you what I know. And unfortunately, that isn’t much. We just plain don’t know anything yet.”

  “Bullshit,” I snap, ready to explode on him.

  “Hold up.” He holds up his hands to drive home that statement. “I mean beyond the basics. They made an emergency landing in the water and a landing is not a crash. We’re expecting to hear from the crew anytime now.”

  “It’s been hours since he was supposed to take off.”

  “I know, and we’re not sure why our team hasn’t checked back in, but I’ll go see if there’s more news now.”

  “Yes. Go now.”

  He hurries away. Jay steps to my side. “What’s going on?”

  “Wait for that man to return. Find me when he’s back. I’m going to the bathroom. I need a minute.”

  “Lilah—”

  I turn to him. “They emergency landed. The crew that went to get them is MIA.” I try to turn away and he grabs my arm.

  I lift a finger. “I need a fucking minute.”

  “Listen to me. If Kane suspected an attack, he’d keep the rescue crew off radar to protect himself and them. He’s smart. He’s resourceful. He knows what he’s doing. Kit probably went to get him. His men, our people, went to get him, I’m sure of it. They didn’t tell me because I would have never been able to keep it from you. I believe that.” He releases me. “Now with that in mind, go take your minute.”

  I do that. I walk away and hurry to the one-stall bathroom of the tiny airport and shut the door. Suddenly, I’m back in the past, living the hellish moment I found out my mother died.