I can almost feel his prickliness before he ever speaks. “I’m not talking about this right now,” he says tightly. “But we need to talk about this. Later. When I’m composed.”
“Composed? Oh my. So prickly, Tic Tac. Someone needs chocolate.”
“So demanding is what you are, Lilah.”
“I feel like we’re in grade school right now.”
“No,” he says. “Because grade school students follow the rules. We no longer do.”
“Well, as much as it breaks my heart not to talk right now, let’s not. Somewhere on one of those guest lists is the killer’s accomplice.” I grimace. “Unless the person was never a guest in the hotel. Do we have anything that shows who attended the events?”
“Nothing.”
“Have we gone through all of Rip’s electronic records at least twice to make sure we didn’t miss anything?”
“Yes, and there’s nothing there. My guess is he kept it online on that Banking the Billionaire app somehow. The private rooms I’ve now been able to access have private file storage. And I doubt he knew the servers were in another country. Most people don’t check their file storage for the country of origin. My thought is the game is an extension of the dark web, but I can’t prove that right now. And we aren’t going to get any information he documented there. We just aren’t. Not with a server in Russia.”
We start dissecting what everyone has done on the case, including Andrew’s and Houston’s teams. And we do it without fighting. Surprise. An hour later we disconnect and Kane appears in the doorway. Despite it being Sunday, he’s in a gray suit with a burgundy tie, his power uniform that is part of the image he maintains with almost everyone but me, Jay, and Kit.
“You find a dress?”
I stand up and meet him on the opposite side of the desk. “I did and it’s perfect. It reminds me of my mother’s. It’s luxurious and delicate. Did I mention it’s perfect? Cost a small fortune, but it’s worth it.”
His hands settle on my waist. “I can’t wait to see it. Another question: what name are you using tomorrow on the marriage license?”
“Lilah Love-Mendez,” I say without hesitation. “That way when they’re looking for the bitch who gets the job done, they have Lilah Love. When things get a little gangster, they get Lilah Mendez.”
He laughs. “All right then. Lilah Love-Mendez it is. What about the guest list? We need to firmly pin that down.”
“I invited Jay so far. We still need to invite Kit, Andrew, and Tic Tac, if you’re fine with him being there?”
Amusement lights his eyes. “If he’s not too scared to come.”
“He’ll be terrified, but he’ll come.” I cringe and say, “What about Lucas?”
His lips press together but he says, “Fine. Lucas. Who else?”
“I told Murphy he wasn’t invited, but I thought he might be dirty then. In light of the new developments, should we invite him?”
“I checked out his story today, just to be safe. He’s telling the truth, Lilah.”
“I knew that the minute I saw the documents he sent. Should we invite him? I think he did love my mother.”
“It’s your call, beautiful.”
“I think we invite him. Strange, isn’t it? Our blood family isn’t always who we end up considering family.” I pause with a thought. “Our blood family isn’t always who we end up considering family,” I murmur again, this time to myself. “I have to—”
“I know,” he says. “Get to work.”
I’m already walking to my desk and once I’m sitting down, I start reading the notes I’ve already read ten times again and find what I’m looking for. I dial Tic Tac. “Marilyn’s parents were married for twenty-nine years. She’s thirty-two. Pull her birth certificate and find out if the man we think is her father really is her father.”
“Hold on,” he says. “I can get to that information.” His fingers click on the keys and I wait impatiently until he says. “We have the right father.”
“Something is off. There’s time missing.” My mind ticks. “I don’t think she’d take a father figure to one of those sex-for-money events Rip put on. Maybe a step-brother.”
“Or step-cousin, like Lucas to you.”
“Exactly.”
“I need a number to reach Ann’s parents. Text it to me.”
I disconnect and wait. He sends me the number. At this point, Kane reappears, now in sweats and a T-shirt, with MacBook in hand. He sits down to get comfortable, but I’m pacing. The number comes through. I dial and a woman, pain radiating in her voice, answers. “Hello.”
“Mrs. Casey?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Special Agent Lilah Love.”
“I don’t know if I can talk anymore today.” She sobs.
Some people think I’m cold. Some people think I’m a bitch. But I’m selective about those things. They’re part of how I work a crime scene. How I survive dead bodies and the betrayals I uncover every day of my life. But when I’m dealing with someone who’s lost a loved one, I possess a profound understanding I wish I didn’t.
“I know,” I say. “I really know. This is difficult in every way. And I know because I lost my mother in a chopper crash a few years back. These first few days and months are brutal. You feel like your soul is about to be ripped from your chest.”
“God, yes. Yes. Yes. Exactly,” she sobs.
“But I also know that if you want us to find out what happened to Ann, the first few days are critical. Our solve rate goes down rapidly with every passing day. So, I need to ask you, and I will make this quick, did Ann ever mention or bring by a woman named Marilyn?”
“Oh yes. Marilyn. I remember her name because of you know, Marilyn Monroe. Not many people name their daughter after her. It comes with such expectations, you know?”
“Well, since my mother was Laura Love, I absolutely do know.”
“Your mother was—oh my. Honey, I remember when that crash happened. She was so young and beautiful.”
“She was,” I say, a pinch in my chest. Apparently, getting married is making me all kinds of sappy, after all. “Did you meet Marilyn?”
“I didn’t meet her. Ann just mentioned having coffee with her here in the city. Please tell me she’s okay.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do right now. Make sure everyone is safe. Did Ann tell you anything about Marilyn?”
“They flew up together a few times. They both had family here. I don’t know much more.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Thank you, Agent Love.”
I hang up.
And I’m right.
The missing piece of this puzzle is in Boston.