Page 71 of Murder Notes

“Right. Of course, Agent Love.”

I roll my eyes at his emphasis on “Love” and hang up, dialing Tic Tac. “Two hours, Lilah,” he reminds me.

“Our New York City victim.”

“Emerson.”

“Right. He’s a Wall Street guy. Did you pull his list of clients?”

“Yes. No dots connected.”

“Keep an eye on it. Woods will show up there soon.”

“Hold on.” Keys click and seconds pass. “Still not there.”

“Check it when your two hours are up. It starts now.” I hang up and climb out of the bed, shove my phone in my pajama-bottoms pocket, and rush out of the bedroom, planning to make my way to Purgatory, then note the horrible taste in my mouth. Good God. I need toothpaste or mouthwash. Or better yet, Cheetos. I hurry to the kitchen and grab an entire bag, but decide I need coffee, too. I stick a pod in the Keurig, and my phone rings.

I pull it from my pocket and glance at caller ID before answering. “Director Murphy,” I greet him.

“Agent Love. I’ve started the wheels turning on Detective Harrison, and we’ve found some interesting activity surrounding his case.”

“Interesting how?”

“I’ll let you know when I know more. For now, you know, it’s in process.” I open my mouth to push, but he never gives me the chance. “Moving on. Locals here are getting pressure to close these cases. And after giving your assassin theory some thought, I pulled the FBI database, with nothing impressive to show for it.”

I grab my coffee and start adding sweetener. “So it’s someone new to us. That’s not surprising considering how clean the crime scenes are.”

“My thoughts exactly, which reminded me of a guy I heard about while I was in the army. A sniper they called the Ghost. No one knew who he was or who he worked for. Turns out he’s not in the FBI database.”

“Who is he?”

“Still unknown, but over the past fifteen years there have been seven incidents, half overseas and half stateside, attributed to him. The one link to all is the way the victims are killed.”

“A bullet between the eyes and a clean crime scene.”

“That’s exactly right. But he doesn’t undress them, which still rings true of a serial killer taking a trophy.”

“It could be a client request.”

“Which means if we want to be the ones to catch the Ghost, we need to find out who that request came from.”

“I’m already on it, but just an FYI: the locals are continuing to push on Woods. I’m going to let them think I’m on board.” I think of Kane’s warning. “I want the real killer out in the open, not in the shadows.”

“Good plan. Keep me informed.”

We disconnect, and I decide against the coffee, grabbing a diet Sprite and my Cheetos, and head back to Purgatory when my gaze catches on the blanket on the floor. The one my mother made and that I’d wrapped myself in last night. I walk to the living room and set my breakfast on the coffee table, picking up the blanket and folding it, my eyes landing on the camera under the pillow.

Great. It’s pointed right where Kane and I undressed. I’ve made a sex tape and didn’t know it. I set the blanket on the chair, thinking I don’t need a sign that says, WILL WORK FOR FOOD but rather, WILL SCREW FOR INFORMATION I DON’T GET. A sudden thought hits me, and I grab my food and hurry down the hallway toward Purgatory. Once I’m there, I grab a marker, and on the left side of the board I write:

POCHER

ROMANO

On the right side I write:

KANE

Kane shut down Pocher. Romano is his enemy. This makes Pocher and Romano allies. Whatever it is, something went wrong in some way, and they needed to do damage control, hence hiring the assassin. Kane’s employee must have been working for them and became a liability they couldn’t afford. It’s got holes, but it’s a working theory. I circle the name Romano, and I realize, then, that I have power. I like power. I sit down at the desk and remove my phone again, this time dialing Kane.