Page 57 of Murder Notes
We reach the entrance and he opens the door for me. I don’t look at him. I walk through and he is almost instantly by my side again, a man in a black suit motioning us forward. Our path leads straight to the tarmac where Kane’s familiar private luxury chopper waits, complete with Mendez Enterprises’ logo on the side. At the steps, he motions me forward, and I climb the short staircase, greeted at the top with the same four leather seats, two on each side, that were here all those times I used to make this weekend trip with him in the past. We’d been inseparable, even sharing his Manhattan apartment during the week. And while I’d like some of the distance from that past right now, I choose the window seat on the right, as I always did, because really, fighting the norm that once was is wasted energy at this point.
I remove my coat, drape it over my seat, and settle into the cushion, grabbing my cell phone from my purse and then placing it and my briefcase beneath my seat. I’m just buckling up when the phone rings, and I glance at the number to find Andrew on caller ID. “Now that the press is involved, you call back?” I demand, watching the door for Kane, who has yet to arrive.
“I was asleep when you called last night. What happened with the press?”
“I was pretty clear on voice mail. They cornered me and I told them I did you a favor, since I was in town.” I change the subject before Kane is here and I can’t talk. “That wasn’t a confession. And why did he call Alexandra? Does she know him?”
“I have no indication that she does.”
“That message directed to her does not fit, unless she does.”
“I’ll find out.”
“I need her to call me. I left her a message. Was there DNA in the victim’s house to match Woods?”
“No.”
“If he was dating her there would be DNA. Do you have any proof the victim even knew Woods?”
“We’re questioning neighbors. Looking for eyewitnesses.”
“That’s a no on DNA or evidence against that man.”
“The call—”
“Nothing he said on that transcript made sense to me.”
“Lilah. The man is crazy. He’s talking crazy.”
“Are you a profiler now and I don’t know it? I came here for a reason and actually, why haven’t you asked me for more details about my cases?”
“I’ve been a little busy trying to actually catch the killer.”
“He doesn’t fit the profile.”
“Then let’s nab the copycat killer and you can have a clear view of the rest of the case.”
“Copycat?” I demand, as Kane steps into the helicopter, his eyes meeting mine, a brow arching to indicate he not only heard me, his reaction is about the same. “Again with this?” I demand of my brother. “I could claim jurisdiction right now. Even with Woods as a suspect.”
“We both know you don’t want to make a public announcement about a serial killer unless you have to,” he says while Kane claims the seat next to me and buckles up. “I do not want my community scared,” he adds.
“And if there’s another murder? How scared will they be then?”
“Look,” he says. “Lilah. Sis. Give me seventy-two hours to try to find Woods. If we can’t do it, I will humbly ask for FBI assistance.”
I inhale and let it out. “Fine. Yes.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Wait—”
He hangs up and I start tapping my fingers on my leg. Kane grabs my hand to still it. “Her fury does reveal itself. Deep breaths, beautiful. I don’t want you punching me or the wall. He’s responding to the pressure of the spotlight.”
The door slams shut, alerting me that I have about three minutes before we can’t speak without a headset and the pilot overhearing. I yank my hand from his and face him. “How dirty is my family?”
“Your father is Pocher’s puppet.”
“What does that mean?”
