“In other news,” he says, “the chocolate isn’t proving to be easy to track down. North has a team going around to every shop in town. Houston has manpower on it as well to expand the search. We’re working on it, but just a thought: what if it’s a company Woodard owns?”
“Seems too obvious, but it’s worth a try,” I say. “I’ll get our team working that angle.”
Our food arrives and once we start eating, he says, “How’s Kane?”
“Honestly,” I dare because Andrew is my brother, my only family—Dad doesn’t count, “not that good,” I add. “I know from experience that the day after something traumatic is kind of an out-of-body experience. You feel weird.”
He studies me a moment, and I can see in his eyes that he’s thinking about my attack. “I would have liked to have been there for you.”
“Kane was,” I say. “Andrew, I know you have issues with him, but that man would do anything for me.”
“I know that. I get that. I do.” He hesitates. “Did Dad call about Kane?”
I snort and salt my fries and then his. “You know he didn’t.”
He dumps ketchup on his plate and hands the bottle to me. “You still think it was Pocher?”
“I think it’s personal,” I say and leave it at that. Because I don’t know any more.
From there, we get back to business. Proof Andrew gets me. I need to keep my mind busy with work. We talk through various aspects of the investigation while stuffing our faces, and I almost eat as much as he does. Apparently, stress doesn’t affect my appetite. We’ve just wrapped things up when my cellphone rings. I glance at my caller ID and grimace when I find Houston’s number. I flash it in Andrew’s direction. “He just wasn’t going to wait on your update, was he?” I say, but I answer the damn call. “Yes, Chief Houston?”
He wastes no time getting to the point. “We just had a woman call in. She says she knew Rip, Emma, and Naomi. She wants to talk, but she’ll only talk to you.”
I slide my plate aside. “Who is she?”
“She wouldn’t give her name and she called in on a—get this—throwaway phone.”
The relevance of which is the use of throwaway phones being used to play Banking the Billionaire. “How do I call her back?”
“You don’t. She says she’ll call us back to get your number. Then she’ll set-up a meeting here in the city.”
My lashes lower with the impact of this hellish information. Holy fuck, I’m going to have to tell Kane I’m getting on a chopper tonight.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Give her my phone number,” I say.
“And you’ll get your ass over here?” he challenges.
“No, I’ll send a decoy,” I say. “What the hell, Houston?” I hang up.
And even as I do, I decide right then that when this case is over, I’m eloping with Kane, and as quickly as possible. And then we’ll go somewhere wonderful and hide there for a month. There will be hamburgers, pasta, chocolate, and lots of sex. All things that motivate me to talk to this woman who wants to talk to me, now rather than later.
Andrew arches a brow. I update him because it’s preferable to going home and delivering this news to Kane.
“Some person who claims to know the victims wants you, and only you, to meet her,” Andrew repeats. “I don’t like how that sounds, Lilah.”
“It sounds like about all we have right now,” I say.
He doesn’t let it go. “The killer asked for you by name with that jar of blood and now this person is asking for you by name.”
“I’ll take Kane’s men with me.”
His lips press together. “I’ll get North on the nurse’s interview.”
“I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”
“You know time matters,” he argues.
“Get surveillance on her. I’ll interview her.”
His phone buzzes with a text and he glances at it and curses. “I have to go. Apparently one of the higher-profile residents of our great town is raising hell at the police station. Tell them to put this on my tab.” He stands and just like that he’s walking away.
I flag the waitress. Andrew returns before she ever makes it to the table. “I just got an urgent message. They found a woman dead in her car at a rest stop just inside the Boston city limits. She fits the description of your fake sous chef that came to your house. Her throat was cut from the inside out.”
In other words, someone didn’t want her to be able to identify them. I stand up and fold my arms in front of myself, and set in close to him. “I need to go to Boston.”
“You need to go to New York. We can’t miss out on what could be a witness or informant. I’ll go myself. I’ll handle it.”