“I can read, Andrew.”
Snow pelts down on him and he yanks his hood up. “Pig’s blood, Lilah? The Umbrella Man is dead.”
“Pocher might not have created the Umbrella Man, but he used him, he hired him to do his dirty work. Roger was eager and willing. And Pocher isn’t dead.”
“Then he knows about Roger, about what happened.”
“Does he know I killed him and you got rid of the body? Maybe. I don’t know. Let me go now and deal with this, Andrew. We’ll talk at dinner tomorrow.”
“If he saw me—”
“He’s not going to turn you in,” I say and I know he’s really worried. I know I’ve been hard on him. I worried for my badge after my beach attack, too. “That’s not how this works. If you’re a problem, he claims leverage over you or he kills you.” I lay my hand on his arm. “If he knows, if he believes he has leverage over you, you get to keep breathing. That’s a good thing.”
Worry, not relief, etches his face. “And what about you, Lilah?”
“There are reasons he can’t leverage me.”
“Kane,” he says tightly.
“Yes. Kane.”
“And if he starts killing brides until you bow down, then what? Because that feels like leverage and Kane can’t do shit about that.”
“Don’t go climbing up a cliff and jumping off just yet, Andrew. There’s one dead bride. Two birds. One stone. If this is Pocher—”
“If?”
“If this is Pocher, he declared war tonight. On me. Not you.” I change the subject because this one is going no place good. “Who is Jamie?”
He frowns. “Jamie? I don’t know. Why?”
“That’s who the victim was texting with tonight. A man, I assume, but it could be a woman.”
“Right,” he says. “I don’t know who that is, but I’ll find out.”
“You don’t have to work at it too hard. North already knows. He’ll tell you he doesn’t, but he does. And don’t ask how I know. I read people, just like Mom did.”
“Which we can assume got her killed, Lilah. You need to be careful.”
“For once I won’t argue,” I say, shifting back to why we’re here tonight. “Find Jamie and call me. I told North I need his or her full name and address tonight.” I turn to depart, but hesitate, twisting back to face him long enough to add, “Be careful with North and Danica Day. I don’t trust either one of them.” And then I’m moving down the stairs before he can turn that into some kind of debate I might enjoy another day and time.
“You don’t trust anyone,” he calls out, and I cup my hand behind me and shoot him a finger. He knows that’s not true. I trust him. Mostly. And I trust Kane.
Once I’m in the Mercedes, I crank the air and shrug out of my wet coat. Something is bothering me beyond the obvious and I just sit there—processing information. Andrew’s suggestion that Pocher is going to start killing off innocent women to get to me is unpalatable. The very idea cuts and the only good part of that sensation is that I’m reminded that I am human, that I do care about the people who’d died and need my help to find justice. That is who I am. That is why I do this job. I was wrong earlier. I’m still human. I’m still me.
And I was right when I said nothing about what Pocher does is simple. He’s also not stupid. To kill just to kill would be a path to doom. No. He’d have a reason to kill that woman. Maybe a reason he doesn’t want me to see. I can’t focus on Pocher. I have to focus on solving the crime. I grab my badge and pull the photo of Kane and I out that I keep there. I turn it over and look at the matchbox marks I’ve marked there, every person I’ve saved, or found justice for, to repent for those I’ve killed. No, those I’ve been forced to kill. And I focus on one thing. My goal has to be another mark for Emma. I need, and I will, deliver justice for her murder.
That’s what comes next.
And what if—I frown—what if the jar of blood isn’t from Pocher? I’m slightly obsessed with him right now. I did just get the news that he’s alive tonight. So, if this isn’t Pocher, then who? My brows dip and I start to process. The pig’s blood was in the news. I was in the news. Roger tried to take all the credit for the Umbrella Man case, but ultimately, I was mentioned. Maybe, this is another one of his protégés or even another enemy, a new enemy, a new killer with a fixation on me. As Kane said, and I know too well, killers are drawn to me.