Page 11 of The Ghost Assassin

Because I sort of did, I think.

I know this earring all too well. I have the other one to the matching set. They belonged to my mother, and I’ve always thought that the one missing earring was strange. My mother was a bit OCD. She had to have equal numbers of all things. Even two napkins at dinner, not one. She would never have kept that one single earring.

Of course, the items could be planted to distract me, but they feel authentic to Murphy’s obsession with my mother. And while yes, she died in a plane crash, the missing earring always felt like the kind of trophy her killer might collect and keep. Some might argue it would be something a lover would keep as well, but unless she died when they were together, it’s creepy. And they were not together the day she died. That photo Kane found says it all.

My mother was with my uncle, who was supposedly testifying against my father. At least, per Murphy’s rendition of events. Maybe Murphy set him up to hand over the information before that flight, which would explain why he was at the airport. I just don’t know that I will ever figure it all out now that Murphy is dead.

The irony of Kane going after his own uncle tonight is that I’ve been so hyper-focused on Murphy and my father, I’ve forgotten the man who died with my mother on that plane—my uncle. I don’t miss the irony of Kane presently going after his uncle, who’s his enemy.

Was my uncle my father’s enemy or my mother’s?

That’s the question I need to ask and ask it quickly because somehow it feels relevant right now.

Chapter Seven

There’s a knock on the door. Jay eyes me and I motion him onward.

With his hand on his weapon, as if we’re about to become the one-apartment apocalypse in the middle of more police officers than you’d find in a donut shop, he yanks open the door and kind of just stands there. I step around him to find DD standing in a black dress with her lips glossed red.

“The cavalry is out there, but I’m here, too,” she says, whisking into the room in a wave of honeysuckle perfume.

“Did you come to date the dead or diagnose his cause of death?”

I smack Jay, who’s blocking her way in while staring at her like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher. He jerks and backs out of the way. DD immediately moves forward and announces, “I was on a dinner date.” She stops not far from the body and gloves up, a bag at her hip not unlike my own field case. “But he was unbearably arrogant, so thanks for saving me.”

“This is why I prefer the dead to the living, and never dated.”

“Aren’t you married?” she asks.

“Yes, but he prefers dead people, too.”

Her eyes lift to Jay, and she waves at him, the rubber glove a real runway model effect. “Hi, there. I’m the ME, DD. That’s not really my name, but that’s what Agent Love calls me. Or Mendez now, I guess.” She’s already focused on Jay again. “Who are you?”

Jay is staring at her, gaping actually. He has a thing for blondes destined to break his heart, and this one’s an ex-model. I’d call him cute right now, but his gaga expression only serves to remind me how out of his element he is every moment he’s with me and Kane. No other man in our circle would go gaga over anyone, at least not obviously.

“I’m Jay,” Jay finally says.

“And I’m the badass bitch about to lose my shit on everyone breathing in this room. Flirt later. Hell, fuck later for all I care, but can we read the crime scene already?”

DD’s eyes go wide. “I wasn’t…I…Agent…” I cross my arms and just stare at her.

She shifts awkwardly and then steps closer to the body, staring down at the man. “It’s an execution.”

“Do you know who it is?” I ask, joining her, now standing by her side.

“No,” she glances over at me. “Who?”

“A deputy director of the FBI.”

She turns to face me, and it’s as if a magic eraser just wiped her rosy cheeks away. “The director?”

“Deputy director, but yes. That’s right. Don’t screw this up and your career is made. It’s an easy report. You’d have to be a real dumb blonde to get it wrong.” I eye the office to my right I ignored when I entered the kitchen earlier. “Get to it,” I say, and turn in that direction.

I start walking toward the office, but DD calls out, “Agent.”

I rotate to face her. “Yes?”

“Why did you call me in on this case? You barely like me.”

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