I think about Murphy allowing Lucas to become a contractor for the FBI, albeit after I pushed him to do it. Or I think I did. Maybe I was manipulated? I mean my cousin’s father was having an affair with my mother, and Lucas is a badass hacker, who can find out about anything. Suddenly I wonder if Murphy is playing the, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’, card. That rings that Society bell to me, but maybe I’m obsessed with the Society, and he was obsessed with my mom.
And now me?
That doesn’t feel right.
My phone rings again, this time with Tic Tac. I answer. “You got the notes from Grayson Kellerman’s father?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Did you look at this?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“One of the places he and Grayson frequented stands out.”
I know immediately what he’s going to say. “Curly Joe’s.”
“Yes,” he confirms. “Curly Joe’s.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Curly Joe’s is somehow the focal point of the murders.
And, I have five days until he kills again.
That thought is all it takes to convince me not to open the envelope Kane gave me—which will absolutely fuck with my head and drag me into hell and obsession about her murder, not the serial killer I’m hunting. I might not think my father deserved my mother but seeing her with my uncle? No, thank you. Instead, I call Tic Tac, and chat out the investigation with him. He, in turn, sends me over everything there is to know about Curly Joe’s, and together we punch through any lead that produces.
It’s all a dead end.
The ownership for Curly Joe’s is a holding company, that is then held by another holding company in Wyoming, a state that hides the stockholders’ names. We challenge Lucas to find a way around that, or I do, since Tic Tac doesn’t break the rules. I don’t either. I just tell Lucas what I need and I don’t ask how he gets it done.
As for the staff at Curly Joe’s, there are five people on the payroll, and Tic Tac finds no connections to the victims when cross-referencing those five people to the four victims. I hope that after the interviews tomorrow produce what I like to call “knowledge sheets,” like the one I had Kellerman do for me, we’ll discover information that closes that gap.
After I hand Curly Joe’s off to Lucas, I spend hours lost in my work, creating notecards for random tidbits of knowledge. When the floor of Purgatory is covered and I’m exhausted and discouraged, I collapse onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Statistically, murder hits close to home, and we’re taught to look into the victim’s family units, but no one in those units stands out to me at present. Rollins needs to do those interviews tomorrow, I decide. I need to get out into the field and dig for answers. Nathan Allen didn’t work, but he had a gym membership, neighbors, and teachers I can check out. Miller Johnson owned a bar with employees, one of which is apparently an ex-girlfriend. Grayson Kellerman had co-workers and neighbors.
My cellphone rings and I find Andrew on caller ID. I punch the answer button and hear, “You went to Dad’s?” he asks, skipping the greeting. “And waved around an ice pick?! Are you serious, Lilah?”
“I was offering everyone ice. Proper use of an ice pick requires a skilled hand. Ask Sharon Stone from that old movie Basic Instinct. If you haven’t watched it, it’s an excellent study on crazy white bitches.”
“I don’t even want to comment on your skilled hand, or your crazy white bitch status. How did you end up in the middle of another serial killer case?”
“Apparently, it has something to do with me opening my mouth and breathing. Seriously, Andrew, I didn’t ask for this. I solved a couple of big cases, and now I’m a token for political gain.”
“Speaking of, are you going to the rally tomorrow night?”
“I am.”
“That was way too easy. Is Kane?”
“Yes, and he’s bringing his brown skin and oil company so that it may be flashed for all to see. And don’t tell me that’s not what this is. You said so at the diner, just more diplomatically.”
“I’m ignoring this dialogue and moving on.”
“Because you hide when it’s awkward. You’ve always been that way.”
“Moving on. What’s the catch? Why aren’t you fighting me on the rally?”
Inwardly, I sigh with this question because I hate using my brother like I’m about to, and lying to him, but it’s for the greater good. “If Kane allows him to borrow his brown skin and oil mogul status, he expects to be left the fuck alone for the entire four years Dad is in office.”
“You think he’s only going to last four years, do you? Come on, sis. He knows how to seduce a crowd.”