Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Kane steps to my side. “I’m not an FBI agent,” he says. “But this looks like a clue.”
I walk to the box office booth and shine the light inside. The selection of movies includes: Friday the 13th, Halloween, and A Nightmare on Elm Street.
This isn’t a clue. The killer knew we’d find this. He wanted us, or someone in law enforcement, or even the families themselves, to find this. It’s a celebration of his work, and a “fuck you” all in one.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“What do you want to do?” Kane asks. “Wait on a warrant, or go in now?”
“You know what I want to do.”
He makes a phone call. Ten minutes later, Enrique and Kit have parked the vehicle and are now our entrance team or better put, our break-in team. Kit makes opening a locked door look as easy as I do wearing lipstick on the wrong part of my face. Once we’re inside, there’s no power, and judging from the dust, there has been no power for a very long time. It’s impossible to do a real search until morning, but I do what I can.
“I’ll send Kit with you to look at the place in the morning.”
“As much as I appreciate that, I’m going to do this the right way, and get a warrant,” I say, as we all stand outside the building. “And, I’m going to want to have a team of officers question the neighbors about what they’ve seen happening around this building.”
“You sure?” Kit asks. “I can get you in and out.”
“I’m sure.” I eye Kane. “I have to call it in now.” I catch his hand. “Go home. The NYPD will get all kinds of prickly about you, and your men, being here. And, the last thing we need is the present leadership getting any ideas about using us to dirty my father.”
Kane surprises me, and cups my head and kisses me right there in front of his men. Kane has been far more possessive and affectionate in public than ever before.
“I don’t like leaving you here. Call it in. I’ll leave when your team arrives.”
“Kane.”
“I’m not leaving you alone, Lilah. You’re human. I’m not letting you forget that.” He releases me. “When your backup gets here, I’ll leave.”
“There’s no reason for you to stay.”
“That’s not what my gut is telling me.”
His gut is driven by threats from the cartel, and we both know it. His determination to stay lets me know how seriously he takes them. In other words, so should I. I don’t fight him on the company. I don’t like to consider myself among the stupid in this world. There are too many of those people without adding me to the list.
Kane eyes Kit. “Walk the neighborhood. See what stands out.” He motions to Enrique. “Go the other direction.”
I don’t fight him on this, either. Five days is not a long time to catch a brilliant serial killer, and this guy is brilliant, or he’d already be in custody. I retrieve my phone, and call Detective Rollins.
“Agent,” he greets.
“Interesting development. You’re going to want to come see what I found, and we’re going to need a warrant, but let’s try to do this quietly. I’ll get the warrant. You just get here. Meet me in the back alleyway.”
We disconnect and I call Lucas. “Cuz. What’s up?”
“I’m texting you an address. Find out who owns it yesterday. Text me.” I disconnect, and dial Murphy who doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. I text him the address and then a message: I need a warrant. It’s related to the serial killer and I don’t want this to become a press circus. I have no idea who owns the property. Lucas is working on it. I proceed to send him the pictures I took with a few notes for a judge.
I’ve just finished when an update from Lucas hits my phone: The building is owned by a company out of Wyoming called, Taylor Holdings. It’s going to take digging to find information. Wyoming shelters the owners. No phone number. The address is a hotel room in Wyoming.
My reply: Does that company own Curly Joe’s here in the city?
His answer is short and sweet: Yes.
I grimace and forward this to Murphy who still hasn’t replied, adding a note: There’s a diner nearby where two of the victims were customers, owned by a holding company in Wyoming. The same company.
Not willing to wait on his reply that may never come, I dial Chief Houston. “Agent Love, or is it Mendez?”
I ignore the question. “I need a warrant and it’s related to the serial killer case. Who do I go to—who will move fast, and keep it quiet?”
“With the runoff election in ten days. No one.”
“Wrong answer. And before I hang up, just so you know, when I see you, I’m going to kick your ass for being MIA on this case, and this.” I hang up on him.