Page 5 of The Ghost Assassin

“At least you’re not slow on the uptake.”

He bristles. “That’s uncalled for.”

He’s such a chick. “I bet you won’t let Kingsbury get near the body.” I motion to Murphy. “He gets one shot to tell us who did this. Don’t fuck it up for him. In fact,”—I motion behind him—“I want everyone out until after DD does her thing.” I anticipate him being slow and add, “Yes that’s Danica”—before I start over—“After Danica does her thing, I’ll let everyone else back in. “

“That’s highly out of the ordinary.”

“I’m a special girl, Larry. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” I don’t wait for an answer. “Like I said, after DD is done, forensics can do their thing. They won’t find anything, but they can try.”

“That’s insulting to the team.”

“This was a professional hit, Larry. Professionals get paid the big bucks for a reason. They don’t get caught. I need some time alone with my ex-boss.” I raise my voice, “Everyone out! Now.”

It takes a full five minutes, but the room is clear of everyone but me and the dead body, and perhaps a recording device. I dial Kit, who stayed downstairs with Jay. He answers on the first ring. “What the hell is happening?” he asks. “Everyone is antsy and won’t say a damn word.”

“Just come up.”

“I tried. They’re not letting me.”

“Tell them I said—”

“I tried, Lilah.”

“Damn it. I’ll handle it.” I disconnect and text him: Murphy’s dead, execution style. A professional hit. Read between the lines. Warn Kane, and I’ll send someone down to get you and Jay.

Fuck. Yes, got it.

I walk to the door and open it. The tall, thin guy with the Homeland Security jacket is waiting on me. “Agent,” he greets.

“I need my men up here. And I’ve requested Danica Day as the ME. I don’t want anyone but her and my men in the apartment until she’s done her job.”

“Understood,” he says. “If we trusted any of the locals, you wouldn’t be here. Director Ellis will be pleased to know you’ve taken over.”

“Yeah, well, tell your director to go fuck himself, because this clandestine way of bringing me here and communicating through you feels off. Like a game. Usually, serial killers are the ones who play games with me. They end up dead.” The color drains from his face.

Good.

He’ll deliver the message, just as intended.

“Who found the body?” I ask.

“There was an anonymous tip called in. Apparently, the killer thought we were taking too long to find him. When the paramedics saw his badge, the chain of command quickly escalated.”

“Where is his badge now?”

“Bagged and protected.”

“What else was bagged and protected? Because if we can’t protect a director of the FBI, I have a hard time thinking we can protect his badge.”

“Nothing that I know of. Why?”

“That you know of. Those are the words of a fucked-up investigation. Where’s his service weapon?”

His lips press together. “We couldn’t locate it. Reports have been filed.”

“Huh,” I say, though this news doesn’t surprise me. Any killer worth his weight in bullets would claim a weapon he could use later, in all kinds of useful ways. I wave him on. “Go get my men.”

He gives a nod and heads down the hallway.

---