If Mike saw him flinch, he gave no indication. Just the mention of Jill’s name was reminder enough of the argument they’d had about this very topic only a few months ago. She had made her feelings abundantly clear, while seeing Abby with her daughter had only sharpened his desire for kids of his own.
“Some talk. With Jill’s new promotion, she’s in San Jose now more than ever, so the timing isn’t right.”
“Might not want to wait too long, I hear potency tends to drop as you age.” Mike’s jibe was accompanied with a sly smile, and Alex chuckled.
“Well, if you’re any indication, it seems like I have a few good years left in me.”
“That’s enough out of you.” Emma’s elbow dug into her husband’s ribs. “I’m sure Alex is going to hear enough of that from your mother.”
“Hopefully, having one grandchild will be enough to satisfy her familial instincts in the short term.” Alex paused, sipping from his bottle. “With any luck, the kid will take after his mom and not have your ugly mug.”
Mike’s chuckle died away. After a beat of silence, Alex glanced up.
“Hey, Emma, mind if I run something by you? Strictly off the record, of course.”
“Shoot.”
“Does the name Lilith mean anything to you?”
“Lilith Fair? Sure, it’s the name of an all-girl rock-and-roll tour. Sarah McLachlan was the headliner.”
“Huh,” Alex remarked, staring at his beer bottle. Maybe that’s why he knew the name. Maybe the tour had made a stop in Seattle. Maybe Lilith was a music fan whose real name was Sarah.
“There is another famous Lilith, though.”
“Feminists unite,” Mike said, raising his bottle in jest. The remark earned him another jab in the ribs from Emma. After shooting him a disapproving look, she continued.
“There are those who speculate that Lilith was Adam’s first wife, before Eve. Modern feminists view her as an icon for her bold struggle for independence from her mate. In most mythological references, she represents chaos and seduction.”
Emma’s words sent a jolt of recognition through Alex, one that made the very hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He fought to control the expression on his face while his mind transported him back to the University of Washington, and the network-security class he had taken with Jill. The domain name she had used for her network was Lilith. Over coffee, she’d explained that Lilith was a biblical and mythological figure, greatly misunderstood.
It had to be a coincidence.
Emma glanced at the clock on the mantel and stood to her feet.
“The chicken should be ready.”
“I’ll help,” Mike said, also rising.
“No. You stay and keep Alex company. I’m perfectly capable of handling dinner.”
Emma rolled her eyes at Alex, who reclined back into the plush leather chair as she trailed out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen.
“So what’s bugging you?”
The directness of the question shouldn’t have surprised Alex. For the second time that night, he stifled a flinch as he gripped the beer bottle.
“What makes you think there’s something bothering me?”
“You’ve got that tense look on your face. It’s the same one you used to get right before a math test.”
Alex cracked a smile.
“Yeah, well, we won’t talk about you and English Literature.”
“Just because I thought that Jane Eyre was a steaming pile of shit does not mean that English Lit stressed me out.”
“Right. Whatever.” After a theatric roll of Alex’s eyes, Mike laughed, a sound that was close to a chortle. As the laughter died, his face grew serious again.
“Is it Jill?”
Alex was careful to keep his expression neutral as he let the question hang in the air. As much as he loved his brother, Mike was the last person he would talk to about Jill. The first thing he planned to do when he returned to the office would be to check the dates of the San Francisco murders against Jill’s travel schedule. With any luck, that would rule out all possible involvement between her and this case. What kind of freaky coincidence was the Lilith connection anyway? It seemed far-fetched. So why was it still bothering him?
“Jill’s fine.”
“She’s spending a lot of time on the road lately.”
“Yeah, well, that’s part of her job.” Alex tried not to sound defensive, and failed. Mike did little to disguise his attitude toward Jill, and Alex tried to avoid any situation that would endanger it from dipping lower.
“Are you sure that’s it?”
On the surface, Mike’s question sounded innocuous, but Alex knew there was nothing casual about the insinuation. Frankly, he was surprised that Mike had the balls to lay it out there. Blunt. Feeling anger prickle at the back of his neck, he met Mike’s stare head-on.
“Of course I’m sure.” The note of finality in Alex’s voice left little doubt that this conversation was over. Mike looked away, focusing his gaze out the living-room window where the dark night closed in.
“Sorry. Hope I didn’t overstep.”
“Forget it,” Alex said, finishing his beer and setting the empty bottle on the table. Just then Emma appeared, announcing that dinner was served. As if sensing the tension in the room, she looked from Mike’s face to Alex’s and then back again. His reassuring smile did not quite reach his eyes.
“Great. I’m starving.” The lie was well intentioned. While the smell of chicken and rosemary was appetizing, Alex had lost his appetite. All he wanted to do was get back to the office, where he could do some more digging into Lilith’s identity.
Traversing the quiet hallways, Alex heaved a small sigh of relief as he noted that the light was not on in Captain Lewis’s office. Explaining his after-hours presence to Lewis was something he’d rather avoid.
Pushing through the double doors, he saw several team members still working at their computers, eyes fixed to their screens. Kris Thompson had her purse slung over her shoulder, cell phone cradled to her ear, when she caught sight of him. For an instant, she looked like a kid with her hand caught in the candy jar. Then she dipped her head, acknowledging him with a quick nod, and angled the phone away from her mouth.
“I left a fax on your desk.”
“Thanks.” As he passed by, she avoided his gaze.
Was she hiding something? The evasive maneuver suggested deception. Or maybe she was still pissed at him, Alex thought. Wherever she was going, she had taken pains to look her best. Jackson had mentioned a boyfriend, and maybe he was right. Maybe she was the type of girl who didn’t mix business with pleasure.
With a quick wave he ducked into his office.
The thick fax on his desk was from Luka and included more details on the two crimes. Thumbing through the reports, he tallied up the similarities. Both men were married, successful, in their late thirties, and from out of town. Both had been killed by gunshot wounds, same caliber of weapon fired at close range. Both crime scenes were left clean. Both men were missing their wedding rings. Apparently this killer was taking trophies.
He checked the dates of the murders against Jill’s travel schedule and felt a sinking sensation spiral at the pit of his stomach. Jill’s business trips spanned the dates when the murders took place.
The database search on Lilith’s photo was still progressing and would likely continue well into the night. In the meantime, he tried to learn more about Lilith in a way that would not raise any flags on his system. An hour later he was no further ahead. Lilith had carefully covered her tracks, and without opening an official investigation, he couldn’t do much more to drill in on her real identity. And he couldn’t do that until he was reasonably sure that Jill was in no way involved.
How could it be Jill, though? What possible motivation could she have for luring and murdering complete strangers? None of it made any sense. He knew he had no choice but to keep digging.
There were two things he needed to do, and quickly. Alex n
eeded to find out Lilith’s identity, and he needed to rule out any possibility of Jill’s involvement in the San Francisco deaths. But how could he do that? Alex pushed back in his chair, angling his eyes toward the ceiling as he searched for possibilities.
It wouldn’t be hard to design a piece of spyware to place on Jill’s computer, the type of thing that would report on what websites she was visiting, who she sent emails to, her instant messaging activity. The difficult part would be getting it installed on her machine.
Maybe he could design it as a script and embed it in an apparently benign attachment. If he did it right, she could open the attachment without ever realizing that it had triggered the script. He’d also need to implement it in such a way that it would not load when she was inside the ZyraNet domain. Their firewall might set off an alert. It would be tricky, but doable.
Alex tented his long fingers beneath his chin. The thought of bugging Jill’s machine did not sit well with him. It was worse than snooping in her purse, and he felt squeamish at the very thought of invading her privacy. Still, what choice did he have? How else could he truly rule her out as a possible suspect?
As he brushed his fingers lightly against his lips, the solution to his second problem came to him. There was one sure way to learn more about Lilith.
Alex took his time reading the online profiles of both of the victims, looking for commonalities. What had it been about these two guys that had attracted Lilith? On the surface they were very different men.
Casanova was a plaster-it-on-thick sensitive type, his hook to lure in women. Joel Goodsen was different, a no-nonsense get-down-to-it kind of guy. He was attractive in a corporate kind of way that exuded intelligence and power. Not many women would be drawn to both. Finding no obvious connection, he decided to change his approach. He would create a profile that incorporated characteristics of both men.
After all, sometimes catching a predator meant using the right bait.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
“You’re on fire,” Rachel Meyers said. She hung back, letting the crowd filter out of the meeting room. Jill shot Rachel a sly look.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
“Sure, and that slick little maneuver you used to sidestep Barry’s pet project and have it land in Dana’s lap was purely coincidental.” Rachel’s sideways glance was shrewd. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire a deft political play as much as anyone. But I do have to admit that I felt a little sorry for her. She’s way out of her league.”
“Maybe she’ll welcome the challenge.”
“Sure. Or maybe she’s in way over her head, and you just threw her an anchor.”
“You’re such a pessimist,” Jill scoffed. A dry laugh escaped her lips.
Jill had arranged lunch with Rachel but needed to swing by her office in order to grab her purse before they left. Rachel cocked an eyebrow.
Jill flashed an enigmatic smile as she ducked inside the office door. With one hand she set her laptop down on her desk, and with the other she scooped up her oversized purse. “You know what this place is like. You’ve either got to sink or swim, so you could interpret delegating the project to Dana as a valuable lesson. It’s an excellent way to get more visibility.”
“Would that make you her mentor?” The edge in Rachel’s voice was unmistakable.
The flippant response she had formulated died on her lips as she caught sight of a ladder set up in the middle of the hallway just down from Dana’s office. A maintenance worker stood at the bottom looking up. His coworker stood on the third rung from the top. The breath caught in Jill’s throat, and she was unable to prevent her eyes from straying to the corner of Dana’s office, to the ceiling.
“What are they doing?” Jill asked, her voice tight.
“Don’t know. Replacing lights. Why?”
“No reason. I thought they tended to do that stuff after hours.”
The lie was a clumsy one, and she avoided meeting Rachel’s eye. If they went crawling around in Dana’s ceiling, they would find the gun that she had stashed there, the gun that Jill had used to kill two men in the Bay Area in as many months. It was neatly wrapped in a T-shirt that she had taken from Dana’s very own gym bag.
Trying hard not to dwell on the possible consequences of the maintenance work around Dana’s office, she trailed Rachel to the elevators. The afternoon was uncharacteristically cold as they left the ZyraNet offices, and they wasted no time in getting to the Bistro.
Jill’s throat was dry, and she declined the offer of wine, deciding to stick with water. As Rachel perused the menu, Jill picked at her cuticles. She tried to wipe the image of the maintenance workers out of her mind. It was probably nothing, and she’d circle back around Dana’s office when they returned to the building. Maybe they would be gone by then. Maybe she should find another hiding place for the weapon.
“So what are you having?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, a seafood Cobb salad.”
“Always watching your figure.” Rachel clucked her tongue while examining the menu. “Well, I’m going to splurge and have the grilled salmon ciabatta.”
Jill smiled at Rachel, taking a long look at her companion. There was something different about Rachel. She looked younger somehow. It wasn’t her hair. It wasn’t her clothes or her makeup, both of which were perfectly in synch with her contemporary style. It was something about the look in her eyes. She looked happy.
“Are you celebrating something?” Jill asked, her spider sense tingling.
“As the matter of fact, yes.” Rachel’s Cheshire-cat smile heightened Jill’s curiosity.
“Well then, out with it. What are we drinking to?”
“To my divorce. It’s final.”
“Congratulations.” Jill raised her water glass, clinking it against Rachel’s.
Rachel took a sip of the pale golden Chardonnay, her lipstick leaving a pink crescent on the rim of the glass.
“Thank you. I can’t believe you’re the first person I’ve told.”
“It’s good to see you happy for a change.”
“If I’d known I was going to feel this good after the divorce, I would have done it years ago.”
Jill sipped her water. The salty smell of seafood in the air made her feel a little queasy. The waitress set a basket of fresh bread on the table, and Jill took a piece, nibbling on the edge in hopes that it would settle her stomach.
“No kidding. I’ve got to say, I’m surprised that it’s put you in such a good mood. Last time we talked about the ex, you were pretty angry.”
“True.”
“Did Barbie dump him?” Jill used Rachel’s pet name for her ex-husband’s girlfriend, the twenty-something he had met online.
“Better, actually. I’ve met someone.”
“Well, look who’s playing her cards close to her chest. Details, please.”
“He’s in computer software, of course. Forty-nine, divorced with grown kids.”
“And I’ll bet he has a name.”
“Ben.”
“How long have you known him?”
“A few weeks.”
“Well, good for you. That’s terrific news. Can he cook?”
“He can make a pretty mean pancake.”
“Are you sleeping over?”
“Are you my mother? Besides, I’m not the type to kiss and tell.” Rachel’s smile was coy.
“Since when? Seriously, good for you.”
Rachel straightened as the waitress approached with their food. She set the plates down on the table and asked if they needed anything else. Both declined. Rachel picked up the sandwich and took a dainty bite.
Jill’s stomach rolled as she looked at the seafood salad. With a trembling hand, she pushed the plate back, her fingers straying momentarily to her lips. Rachel paused, looking across at the table at Jill, concern etched in the lines around her eyes.
“You okay?”
Much to her dismay, Rachel hovered by Jill’s elbow as they made their w
ay back to the office. Jill took the long way, passing by Dana’s open door. She was relieved to see that the maintenance workers were gone. The gun was safe.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, Mom, I’m fine. I’ve probably got a flu bug. Sorry for ruining your celebratory lunch. Next time, I promise not to vomit. I’ll even spring for champagne.”
“Big spender. In that case, it’s a date,” Rachel said. She took a step toward the door. Then, pausing, she threw a concerned glance back at Jill. “You’re sure you’re not knocked up?”
Jill’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Rachel.
“I can’t believe you even asked that.”
“So, I take it that’s a no,” Rachel asked with a smile.
“That’s a hell no.”
“Okay, okay. I thought it was worth asking. You never know.” With a brief shrug, Rachel left the office. Unfortunately, the briny smell of the grilled salmon ciabatta did not.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
Setting up his online profile for the Hook Up website had been easy. Wading through the list of women pinging him was much harder, Alex mused. Mark Wilson was a producer for a new reality television series, and apparently there were a lot of women who loved show business. In two short days, his in-box overflowed with messages.
Methodically he examined each, searching for any sign of Lilith before hitting the Delete key. He tried hard not to adopt a cynical attitude about the general state of the human condition. But at times like this, it was a little harder than it should be.
Alex sat alone at a scarred table in the Diva coffee shop, just off Greenwood Avenue, waiting for Abby. She had called earlier in the morning to arrange a meeting. He figured she needed to see him to discuss Honeywell’s arrest. Additional details might make the end of the nightmare seem more real. He could have made an excuse. He could have called to cancel. But in truth, he wanted to see her.
Arriving early, Alex used the opportunity to see if Lilith had taken the bait. So far, it didn’t look promising. He ran his fingers across his chin as he read the next message.
“That’s not a happy face,” Abby said, standing beside his chair.
Deadly Lies Page 26
