“Calling Pocher our friend is really fucking irritating right now, Director. He tried to kill Kane. I know he killed my mother. He is not our friend. And yes, he’s lucky to be alive.”
“You’re lucky he’s alive,” he snaps. “I don’t need one of my best assets in jail. And I don’t believe Kane would appreciate his bride being locked away, either.”
“I walked away,” I argue.
“Because there was another murder. And just so we’re clear, Tic Tac has updated me on the new murder last night and your dismissal of a connection between it and the crash. Why?”
“Surely Tic Tac told you why.”
“Do you believe in coincidences, Special Agent Love?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” he replies.
And with that, he hangs up.
I scowl and I dial him back, only to get his voicemail. “Of course,” I murmur, shoving my phone in the side pocket of my leggings, and my feet in fuzzy slippers before I exit the closet. Kane is nowhere in sight and I pray, oh how I pray, he’s making coffee when I should be making it for him. He did crash into the ocean yesterday.
For now, I hurry to the bathroom and start brushing my teeth while Murphy’s words play in my head, damn him. Do you believe in coincidences?
“That bastard,” I murmur, before rinsing my mouth. Inspecting my wild hair, I grab my hairbrush and start brushing. Kane appears beside me and leans on the counter next to me, his skin still angry, but far better than I expected this morning, considering how it looked last night.
“I made coffee,” he adds.
“Thank fuck,” I approve, giving him a once over and deciding he doesn’t look quite as stiff as last night. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” he says, scrubbing his stubbled jaw, which is now blending into his goatee. “In need of a shave, but coffee first. What did Murphy say to piss you off?”
Obviously, he didn’t mean the coffee first statement one little bit because I still don’t have coffee. “Aside from calling Pocher ‘our friend’ over and over? That’s the stupidest code word for the devil I’ve ever heard. Call him the devil. That’s what he is. And as for the rest of the call, you need context to understand. There was another murder last night.”
“I heard.”
“Right. Because Enrique showed up and tried to interfere. Side note, I was not in a good place. He’s lucky he can still procreate.”
His lips quirk. “That would probably be doing the world a favor. What about the murder?”
“The victim was wearing a tuxedo and an anonymous caller said: He’s dead. He’s still in his tuxedo. I told him not to say yes. Now he’ll never get married.”
His brow shoots up.
“Exactly,” I say, knowing he’s following where I’m leading. “After the pig’s blood left for me at the first crime scene, and with you missing at the time, it felt like a message I couldn’t ignore.”
“Understandably.”
“And yes, the victim was in a tuxedo, but he wasn’t a groom. He’d been at a charity event. I think the whole thing was opportunistic.”
“Meaning what?”
“The killer saw the news about your chopper going down and left that message at the other crime scene but he wanted me there last night when I wasn’t focused.”
“And yet, he left the blood for you to get you to the assumed first crime scene when you weren’t distracted,” he points out. He doesn’t give me time to let that sink in. “What does that have to do with the call from Murphy?”
“He told me not to dismiss that connection between the crime scene and you and then the bastard hung up.”
“What does he know that you don’t know?”
“If he knew something, he’d tell me,” I say.
“Would he?” he challenges. “You know how I feel about Murphy.”
There’s something in Murphy’s past that doesn’t add up to Kane. He doesn’t trust him. And that is just too much to take on without caffeine. “I need that coffee,” I say, stepping around him and heading down the stairs, calling over my shoulder. “And Junior left another note. It was about you.”
Thankfully, once I’m downstairs, I discover Jay isn’t present. By the time I’ve grabbed two cups and filled them, Kane is on the opposite side of the island studying me. “What note from Junior?”
I set the mugs on the island, one in front of him, and then head to the fridge for my new favorite Almond Joy creamer. “It said ‘M is for money,’” I say, pouring creamer in his coffee and then mine. “M is also for more,” I add, “and M is for Mendez.”
His cellphone buzzes with a text. He grabs his phone and starts typing. I sip my candy bar in a cup. I’m savoring the sweet caffeine fix, and my mind starts waking up and processing more than the fear that consumed all of me yesterday.