Damn it to hell. I don’t want to be in the middle of this side of the case. I grab my phone and dial Murphy. He answers on the first ring. “Special Agent Love-Mendez,” he greets. “I didn’t know you were going to wish me safe travels. It’s early.”
“The locals want us to take over this case because of the political tug of war going on between candidates. They feel it’s an interference to the investigation that only we can overcome.”
“They’re not wrong. Take it over. If I need to run interference, I can. Or not. It’s your show to turn the dial on. I have to board. I’ll call you when I land.” He disconnects, but his words echo in my mind.
It’s your show.
All of this feels like a show.
And I don’t like it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When I was four, my father was the king of the world to me. My mother used to say I was his princess. He wanted me to be just like her. By the time I was a preteen, they had me at modeling agencies, and somewhere out there, you can still find the young me in those campaigns I booked.
I loved it until I hated it.
By the time I was twelve, on some young person level I didn’t quite understand then, I could see how the fame affected my mother, how she both loved her craft and hated the criticism. I’d started rebelling, getting in trouble at school, dressing tomboyish when my father wanted me in dresses.
My mother understood.
On a cold winter night when I was only sixteen, over hot chocolate by the fireplace, she’d confessed to me that she was happy I’d turned away from the spotlight. “I love what I do passionately and I am blessed beyond words for the opportunities life has presented me, but there are downsides to who I have become. I don’t know who really loves me for me, and who loves me for the movie star persona that isn’t real.”
I hadn’t realized then that she was talking about my father, but I do now. I don’t condone my mother having an affair, but my father told me my mother knew about the Society. And I do believe she felt trapped and without options with my father, most likely because of them.
The Society controlled my mother. I’ve allowed them to control me as well. It’s time for me to take control, and I’ll do that through my father, even against his will and without his understanding of what is taking place.
I walk into the NYPD conference room in front of Detective Rollins. My father and Pocher sit side-by-side on one side of the table. There’s a security person standing in the back of the room, hands in front of him, staring at the wall. I wonder if the walls those guys stare at ever get boring, kind of like before cellphones when there was the same magazine by the toilet and nothing new to read.
Rollins and I sit down at the table across from Pocher and my father.
Rollins takes the lead. “Special Agent Love-Mendez has taken jurisdiction over the crimes in question. For that reason, she is the point of contact for you and your team.” He glances at me. “Special Agent.”
My father’s lips curve. “Excellent decision, Lilah. We need you on this.”
His approval is like nails on a chalkboard that just won’t stop. I don’t even look at Pocher, because if I see a gloat on his face, I’ll punch it off. This all serves a purpose, it all confirms and supports the plans Kane and I have put in place.
I must be nice.
Ish.
I define that as not telling anyone to fuck off. Everything else is on the table. Except for my gun, which is in my holster at my side, and close enough to be in my hand at any moment. God, it’s a powerful feeling. “Then you’ll be receptive when I tell you that I don’t recommend that you do a press conference today,” I say, and when my father opens his mouth to object, I hold up a hand. “I’m going to make it clear that I expect the same things from the current leadership in place,” I reply.
“If you can call that leadership,” Pocher murmurs under his breath before adding, “The people of this city need to know they’re supported.”
“And they will,” I assure the little dweeb. “Detective Rollins will hold a press conference today and he’ll tell the city what I’m telling you. These are not random attacks. There is no threat to the general public. He’ll encourage safe behaviors.”
“What about the tip to the press?”
“We get thousands of tips every day,” Rollins chimes in. “About three percent of them amount to something. The press, however, wants to create a story, and no longer feels the need to validate information.”