“Just who I wanted to talk to,” he answers.
“That’s a first,” I comment, somehow teasing him when my mind is only partially in the conversation.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been eager to talk to you,” he says, his voice cheerful.
“You’re in a good mood. You and the boyfriend make-up?”
“He does not dictate my moods,” he snaps.
“Ouch. You’re moving on.”
“Yes. I love my job which I’m doing right now. Director Murphy is battling to get the game system to release the information we need. We may need a warrant, which he will attend to tomorrow. For now, I just hacked the system and downloaded the phone numbers used to log-in. And I know, I know, that won’t be admissible in court, but it will get you what you need to find the killer. I’m now creating a program to feed them into a database and connect them to names. It’s going to take time, but it’s happening.”
“How does the game work exactly?” I ask. “I haven’t had any real time to look at it.”
“There are a lot of different ways users can play. For example, they can create fake portfolios and compete against individuals for who pays out the most.”
“Is Kane’s company used for any of the games?”
“He’s not publicly traded, so that is doubtful. Once we get full access to the system, I’ll be able to navigate those things, or have the company navigate them for us.”
“Who owns the game?” I ask, hoping Tic Tac has found what Lucas did not.
“That’s interesting, actually. The company started five years ago, but supposedly—I can’t confirm—changed ownership a year and a half back and that’s when it took off like gangbusters.”
“I don’t know what a gangbuster is. Is it anything like a gang—”
“Do not make the joke you’re about to make. I’m moving on.”
‘I understand the servers bounce all over and register in different countries.”
“I guess whoever you asked for help who wasn’t me failed you there. Yes, that is true, but a little work and I nailed down the location. The servers are based in Russia, and it’s thought that it’s owned by a large conglomerate. It’s a cover for something else and yes, I’m working on finding out what. Another interesting tidbit. The surge of players using unregistered phone lines really began about a year ago. There’s a lot to be done fast.”
A large conglomerate, I think. Maybe it’s something Pocher is involved in? Director Murphy is high on the idea that he’s involved, but I’m not sold on that yet.
“Here’s what I have for you now,” Tic Tac says. “Both dead husbands, Naomi’s and Emma’s, were registered, but none of them have played, at least on their registered phone numbers, for over a year. Emma’s husband played the week he died.”
Jay pulls us into the airport.
“We need to know if Naomi and her husband were actually divorced. I’ve been told six months and a year ago on the split. I’ve been told pending divorce and divorced. Also, I need to when they split which might fall on me in the field. I’m trying to find a timeline that aligns in some important way.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he says. “I can get the divorce records if they exist. And?”
“And?”
“There is always an ‘and’ or an ‘I need more’ with you, Lilah.”
Jay parks the Escalade and I hesitate before I ask a question, dreading the answer. “I need you to do something for me off the record. And then I owe you.”
“Okay. I hear something bad in your voice. What is it?”
“Find out the last place Kane’s phone pinged.”
“Oh shit. What happened?”
“Just please do this.”
“Please? When you say please, it’s big. I got this. It’s going to take me a few minutes. I have to call you back.”
“I’m about to get in a chopper. Hurry.”
“I will,” he says.
I hang up, all twisted up inside, and look at Jay. He’s staring forward. I’m not sure if he’s as worried as I am or if this is something else. “If you know something tell me now.”
He looks at me, meets my stare. “I don’t. I wish like hell I did. Come on, Lilah. Lying to you while riding sidekick to you. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
I study him long and hard and decide he’s telling the truth. I get out of the vehicle and head inside. A few minutes later, I’ve received no callback from Tic Tac. I try to call him. He doesn’t reply. Damn it to hell. I just need to get to the Hamptons. My gut says to go now. And so, I do. I board the chopper and I pull out my notes and start writing down everything that comes to me. None of it makes any sense, but the minute we land, I know I’ll soon make sense of plenty. I’m not Andrew. I don’t just know a lot of the people at the airport, I’m dogmatic about what I want, while he’s diplomatic. One on one with the staff, with me and my badge in their face, I will find out if Kane boarded a chopper today.