Each victim is connected to the game by way of that message.
There was another connection to that game, though, and what I don’t understand is why a bunch of rich people were playing a game to learn to invest in the stock market. Unless they weren’t. I grab a chocolate from the bag sitting next to me and stuff it into my mouth, followed by another, before I decide the game could be a way of communicating. Or maybe it was a different game altogether. I remember the kinky photos I saw on Emma’s and Rip’s phones. Sex games, maybe?
My phone buzzes with a text message. I glance down to read: This is Marco Polo.
I almost laugh at him using my nickname for him. Almost. He thinks he’s funny. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t.
Naomi’s father was the CEO of a pharmaceutical company, he continues. He left her a wad of cash. How she ended up broke, I don’t know. Why she wasn’t working, I don’t know. But I’m working on it.
I reply with Tic Tac’s number: Tell him what you just told me and tell him Lilah sent you. He’ll find out what you need to know. And he’ll let us both know.
I heard there was another murder last night, he replies.
Call Chief Love, I answer. Don’t text. He loves phone calls.
Andrew hates phone calls, but what is a sister for if not to help the world irritate her brother?
I stand up, set my phone on the desk, and organize all the cards on my pinboards before I step back and study them. Rip, Lawrence, and Morgan were all catering to the rich and famous in ways that directly involve money. To me, an attorney dealing with the rich and famous is a factor in money and asset management. Emma and Naomi were not. The game caters to those wanting to get rich. This seems to tie to money and the men in the picture. Which could be how they all met, or it could be a bigger clue.
I’m just going through all the photos I took at Rip’s crime scene when my cellphone buzzes and I glance at it to find Lucas calling. Considering he was there for me last night and I walked out on him without a goodbye, I answer. “I suck. Sorry about last night.”
“I was fine. You needed to be with Kane. And for the record, I’m always a little blown away when you act human, Lilah.”
“Act human? I am, in fact, human. You know that, right?”
“I’m not always certain, but listen, I’ve been digging for you and I’d rather not talk about it on the phone. I figure you’re not wanting to leave Kane right about now. Will he kill me if I come over?”
“He’s not going to kill you, Lucas. That’s silly.”
“Is it?”
“Well, not today,” I amend. “He has other things on his mind.”
“Good because I’m right down the road at the coffee shop.”
“Oh. Good. Okay. We have security all over the place so let me go give them a heads up. Head this way.” I disconnect and hurry downstairs.
I find Kane alone, standing at the glass doors of our living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand, dark energy radiating from him. And I remember that energy. I remember the morning after I was attacked. No matter who you are, almost dying affects you. It creates a strange feeling I can’t even put into words. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Lucas come.
I close the space between me and Kane and step to his side. “What did you find out about the crash?” I ask.
“The engine was tampered with,” he says, downing his whiskey and setting the glass on a nearby table before reclaiming his spot next to me. “But we knew that.”
“Any idea how and when it was done?”
“The airport won’t release the camera footage,” he replies. “They’re afraid of liability.”
I’m about to suggest Lucas hack the footage, or maybe Tic Tac, considering Kane’s hate for Lucas, when Kane catches me and pulls me in front of him, hands on my arms. “Did you mean what you said last night?”
I know instantly what he’s talking about. This is about that night, the night he buried that first body for me. “Absolutely. Every word. And in case that isn’t clear enough, I was wrong to blame you for what happened. And adding another in case here—in case you didn’t know, I never say I’m wrong.”
He kisses the hell out of me, and I can feel that dark edge beneath his surface. This conversation is about that morning-after feeling when you try to make sense of life and death. It’s also interrupted by the doorbell, and damn it, I know it’s Lucas. Kane tears his mouth from mine and curses, obviously not in the mood for guests.