My phone buzzes with a reply from Murphy that reads: Give me ten minutes.
“Any luck?” Kane asks.
I show him the text. He inclines his chin. “He does get things done.”
A little too easily even for him, I think.
A few minutes later, with Kane by my side, I meet Rollins at the rear door of the building. I don’t even bother to introduce the two men. They manage a curt greeting on their own before I get to the point. “The warrant is coming. The building is owned by the same company that owns Curly Joe’s a few blocks down. I’ve confirmed a couple of the victims visited it. Bonnie, the waitress I sent to you to give a statement also works there.”
“You work fast.”
“Not fast enough. As for what’s inside, I already went in and looked around enough to know that there aren’t any dead bodies or shrines to the dead in there. That’s enough.” I show him the picture of the front billboard, and the ticket booth.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs, scrubbing his jaw.
“It’s cobwebs and dust inside. There was no horror event.”
“I didn’t call this in yet,” he says. “I wanted to talk about how we keep it quiet. I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but I think we bring in Jack Cox. He’s a pain in my ass, but understands the horror obsession more than I possibly can. On top of him, maybe four other guys, and some lights. If we do this now, tonight, and from the rear of the building, we’re going to avoid the press.”
“That works,” I say. “Call it in.” He hesitates and eyes Kane. “Man, you can’t be here. There are people who will use your presence to try and disqualify the evidence.”
“I get that,” Kane replies easily. “But I wasn’t leaving her here, in this neighborhood, where the killer clearly feels far more comfortable than she does.” Kane shifts his attention to me. “Walk with me a minute.”
Rollins pats his jacket. “Shit. I left my phone in the car. I’ll grab it and be right back.”
“I’m going to watch the front until you get back,” I say, but he’s already jogging down the alleyway.
I rotate to face Kane, and shiver with the night air. “Okay, now it’s cold.”
He snags his phone and punches in a number. “Bring the vehicle around. Lilah needs her jacket, and I need to run to the apartment.” He disconnects. “I’m leaving Kit and Enrique with you. As you just figured out, I called Jay to come get me.” I open my mouth to argue and he cuts me off. “They’ll stay out of sight, and they’ll make sure they know if anyone is watching you and your team. I have a midnight call with a Saudi prince. You wanted me to attract the killer’s attention, Let’s run with that and hope we catch a killer. The diner’s open twenty-four hours. I’m going to get my work and sit there and wait on you.”
God, I love this man but of course, we won’t get that lucky.
Kane isn’t weak. Monsters prey on the weak.
The SUV pulls up in front of the building, and Jay climbs out and hands me my jacket. I slide it on and Kane opens the back door. “I’ll text you when I get to the diner.” He disappears inside, and my phone pings with another message. I grab my phone and find a message from Murphy: See email.
I switch to email and there’s an email that reads: Requested warrant. Sure enough, it’s here. Murphy made it happen in record time.
I hurry back around the building to find Rollins is present and accounted for, and talking on the phone.
A shiver slides down my spine and I glance to my left, down the surprisingly well-lit alleyway, to find nothing unusual. Rollins ends the call. “Jack is playing detective. He’s at some horror fan meeting a few blocks away. He’ll be right over. I’m having the rest of the team bring his equipment.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “He’s here. A few blocks away.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Does that feel weird to you?”
“He’s not a killer, Lilah. And you’re here.”
Right, I think. I am here, working leads against the clock. I should be thankful Jack is as well, and of course, I know Jack’s obsessed with the case. The problem is, Murphy isn’t the only one who could be said to be obsessed with me, though I doubt that seriously. Jack really does seem to be obsessed with me.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jack arrives on scene ten minutes later.
At this point, we’re set to move in, and waiting on lighting and equipment.
“Did you see the front of the building. ‘Horror Event’?”
“Why are you here, Jack?” I ask.
He lifts a finger at Rollins. “He called me.”
“Why were you already here?”
“I wasn’t here. I was at a fan club.” He messes with his phone, and flips it around to show me a photo. “I took pictures of the signing book. And I made sure I figured out who was who out of the room full of really strange people. Okay, not everyone was strange. I met this woman—”