“All right,” he says, killing the engine and turning to face me. “Then per some books, you’re not normal. First of all, I doubt seriously anyone who wrote those fucking books faced a serial killer who also killed their mother. And if you were normal, beautiful, I wouldn’t be in love with you. And before you tell me how dysfunctional that is, how dysfunctional we are, you are not one of them. I know that’s what you think. That you’re one of the killers you hunt, but you are not one of them.”

“They’re drawn to me. Roger was drawn to me.”

“And therefore, you were able to kill him when someone else would have ended up dead. Do not let that bastard fuck with your head. He was drawn to you because you were a threat. He needed to control you and he failed.”

“Because it takes a killer to catch a killer?” I challenge.

“You’re not a killer, Lilah. You do what’s necessary. You’re willing to kill when necessary. Two different things.”

My cellphone rings and certain it must be Murphy again, I grab it to find my brother calling. “Andrew,” I say. “He must have heard about Pocher.”

Kane’s lips flatten but he says nothing. He exits the car and I do the same, answering the call with, “You heard.”

“I heard. Are you here?”

“We just got to the house. Why?”

“I have a dead body on my hands. I need you.”

“What dead body?” I ask and Kane is instantly in view at the end of the car, watching me. I guess when you buried a body the last time you were here, the words dead body get your attention. “And why do you need me? You have like seventy people on staff,” I add.

“A bride, Lilah. A woman in a wedding dress. I’m sure you can see why that makes me think of you.”

My spine stiffens. “Text me the address,” I say and disconnect, and Kane appears by my side.

“A dead bride, one week after you proposed, and the day we return to the island. The day Pocher reappears. There are no coincidences. This is not a coincidence.”

“No,” he says, handing me the keys. “It is not.”

CHAPTER THREE