Once I’m in the chopper, strapped in my seat, I text Andrew to send the file to Tic Tac and I text Murphy: About to take off for the city via chopper, but I need the HR file for Officer North and Danica Day. Yes, I know that is against the rules, so if you can’t get it for me, I’ll find my own way. And I need to know about an ex-Secretary of State that visited the city a few years back. Anything there that stands out to you? And have you ever heard of a game called Banking the Billionaire? I’ll call you as soon as I can.

He replies right away: We both know you’re avoiding calling me but I’ll get you what you need. Do not have Lucas get it for you. Yes, I know about Lucas. Do call me, Special Agent Love.

Shit.

He knows about Lucas?

How?!

The chopper roars and I put away my phone, and dismiss Murphy, at least for now. My mind is on Emma’s wedding date that I’ve now made mine. If I believed in tempting fate, I’d say I’m tempting fate. But I chose that date for me and Kane without even thinking about Emma. Now that I realize what I did, as far as I’m concerned, two birds one stone. I’m marrying Kane and I’ve given our killer a message. A big fat fuck you.

My move.

Game on.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The chopper lands in New York City, and I bundle up to exit, and then check my cell for a call or text from Kane to find nothing. There is a clawing feeling in my gut I cannot control. Jay and I have just walked into the airport when he says, “I’ll make calls and try to find him.”

My cellphone buzzes in my hand and I glance at the caller ID a bit too eager, to discover Chief Houston calling me. Jay offers me a hopeful look and I give him a negative shake of my head and answer the call. “Where are you?” Houston asks. “I’ve got your Chef Roswell here.”

I stop walking. “I told him I’d call him, that pain in my ass. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Can you get Naomi Wells into the precinct?”

“I tried. She’s not answering any calls.”

Jay motions to the bags and the door and I wave him onward, refocusing on Houston. “That seems off. What about her ex, Emma’s brother?”

“He died of an aneurysm six months ago.”

The phone cuts out—the service is always shitty in this airport. I step into the lobby and sit on the arm of a chair, hoping to secure a better connection as I ask, “How old was he?”

“Forty-seven.”