Final Kill (IKK Crime Series Book 3), page 7
This dinner with Jan Novak could be the step forward we needed to gather the proof to get him. Or it could be my end. He could kill me, and nobody would be able to prove anything.
I wondered if I should mention the dinner to Richter. I already knew he’d be against it. Yet open disagreement with him wouldn’t break trust. Hiding things from him would. Especially after the Night Stalker incident. And Carl Carr.
I didn’t have my phone, which I’d been forced to leave at the entrance of the building—no electronics were allowed. But as soon as I had access to it, I’d text Richter for a meeting tonight. I had a feeling it would be among our most tense ones yet.
Chapter
Twelve
Liam
“No. Absolutely not, no way,” I said in a tone that should have left no room for debate. However, I was talking to Leah. “You can’t meet him for a private dinner at his house. It’s out of the question.”
We were in her study. It was late afternoon, and Rose was late.
Leah sat behind her desk, leaning back in her chair, her eyes drilling into me with a cold, merciless stare. For a long moment, she said nothing, just watched me in silence.
“It’s too dangerous,” I continued when she didn’t respond. “What would stop him from killing you and dropping you in some river like he did with Anna? I wouldn’t know for weeks what happened to you. Maybe months. There has to be another way.”
Another moment of silence stretched between us. It was broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.
“Are you done?” she finally said.
“No.” And I wasn’t. “After everything we’ve been through together. Everything we survived together. You think I’ll just let you get killed over caviar and a bottle of fancy whiskey? Just keep attending those meetings. Something might come up.”
Leah rose. “Something did come up, and I intend to take the chance.”
I stood from my seat across from her desk. “Leah. Be honest with yourself. Don’t you see how dangerous this is? This is madness.”
“Of course I do. But we need to know if Jan Novak is the Train Track Killer. You said you want real evidence. I plan on delivering it to you.”
“But not like this. No,” I countered. I could barely control myself. How could she do this to our mission? To us as a team? Without her, our work to rid the streets of monsters was over.
“Larsen and I hunted the Train Track Killer for years before you came on board,” she said. “With no leads. Nothing. He’s not like you or me. Don’t you understand what we’re dealing with here? Do you want him to continue murdering innocent people? Like Anna. Hundreds and hundreds more of them. Gone.”
This stuck me. Of course I didn’t. Of course I wanted him dead as much as Leah did. But not like this.
“Besides,” she continued. “If Jan Novak wanted us dead, we’d all be dead. Or at least fired. Have you ever asked yourself why he doesn’t just call in a favor and have both you and Rose removed from the FBI altogether? Publish some scandal about me in every news outlet owned by his rich friends?”
“Of course I have,” I shot back. “Many times. And none of it adds up.”
“Then you know we’re running out of time. This might be our only chance to get the evidence we need to prove he’s the Train Track Killer—before he decides we’re no longer fun and wipes us out. We need to move now. If I can confirm he’s the killer, I can finally rid this world of one of the worst monsters ever to walk it.”
The room fell into silence once more. She was right, as always. And I hated that I’d known it all along. But why was it so damn hard to let her go, knowing she might be sacrificing herself?
“Besides, if he kills me, you’ll be able to connect him to the murder. I know you will. You know where I am. If I disappear, you’ll go after him publicly. I’m not Anna. The world will care if I disappear. Jan Novak is powerful, but not even he can make a world-famous pianist disappear without a trace if a hungry FBI agent is on his heels. You’ll get him. If anybody can, it’s you, Richter. I have faith in you.”
A wave of ice-cold dread washed over me, settling deep in my gut. Was this her strategy? Getting herself killed for the greater good of taking down Jan Novak? Sure. In this fucked-up world, it would be an honorable sacrifice. A killer for a killer. One life for saving hundreds. But something deep inside me couldn’t accept this.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, Leah, please don’t do this.”
Her forehead furrowed as she slowly circled the desk, finally stopping in front of me. “Why defy logic, Richter? Is there another angle I fail to see that prevents you from accepting this mission?”
She stared into my eyes. Inches away from me. I could smell her perfume. I wanted to say something but just stood there like an idiot. Lost. The way she laid it out made sense. So why fight it? Had I grown attached to a killer? Was I creating some fucked-up version of Starsky and Hutch after all? But after all we’d been through together, could anyone blame me?
“No, Leah … I can’t sanction this suicide mission.”
Her green eyes narrowed as the air between us became suffocating. For a split second, her hand lifted, reaching for my arm. Instinctively, I stepped back as if her touch might turn me into something else—something from which I could never return. She noticed, of course. Which only made it worse.
A sudden knock on the door shattered the tension, startling us both.
Without a word, Leah crossed the room and opened the door for Rose.
“Sorry I’m late, but I had to write a shit ton of fake interview reports about the shooting at your concert to explain why Richter and I have these meetings at your house.” As they walked into the study, Rose handed a few papers to Leah. “Here are the copies for you to read so our stories about the interviews match.”
Leah accepted the papers and placed them on her desk. The room fell into an awkward silence.
Rose looked between Leah and me, her brows raised. “Did the old married couple fight again?” she joked, though the heavy air quickly smothered her words.
“I’ll drive you so Novak knows I’m not far,” I announced as I walked toward the door. “And that’s what I’ll do no matter what you say.”
“Drive her where?” Rose asked as I walked past her.
“Leah will bring you up to speed. I’m late to pick up Josie for bowling.”
Without glancing back, I left, pulling the heavy door of Leah’s Beacon Hill mansion shut behind me. I made my way to my SUV, which was parked just beyond the gate. The air was still heavy with everything unspoken.
I hated how much this mission messed with me—how it angered me, worried me, made me sick to my stomach. Thoughts of Leah being raped, or drowned in some river, spun through my head. And then there was her stare. Those intense green eyes, just inches from my face.
If he laid even a finger on her—if he so much as pulled a single strand of her hair—I’d shoot him. Literally, I would.
I couldn’t let my mind wander down the path of how she’d get the evidence we needed. It wouldn’t come from small talk. There was only one way to confirm that he had a skin graft, and it involved him taking off his shirt. Which probably meant she’d have to take hers off too. For a monster. Forced to sell herself out like an enslaved prostitute.
My fist pounded against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. Again and again.
“Fuck,” I muttered, tipping my head back against the seat and staring at the roof of my car as helplessness coiled tightly in my chest. I felt sick.
I had to do more. No, I had to do everything. This would be the first and last time Leah would risk her life for this murdering psychopath.
I had to be ready to act the moment she walked out of there alive.
Doubt weighed on me like an anvil. I was nobody compared to Jan Novak. What was I even trying to pull off? Arrest the most powerful man in the nation? It would cost me my job. But if Leah was willing to risk her life to stop this killer, to save more victims like Anna, what kind of coward was I to worry about my career?
No, the moment she had the evidence to tie him to the Train Track Killer, I’d act. No matter the cost.
And there was only one way.
With an army of loyal people. People who weren’t slaves to money like Congress was. People who still gave a damn about the world. Convincing them wouldn’t be easy. It would take a hell of a lot of effort. But if Jan Novak was taken down in broad daylight, that alone would send a message to his allies: cut him loose, make him too dangerous to be associated with.
It was a crazy mission, no doubt. But inside that house was a woman ready to sacrifice her life and her body to make the world a better place.
And I’d do the goddamn same.
First, I needed an ally. Someone who’d proven his loyalty to Leah more than anyone else.
Luckily, the answer was simple.
Luca Domizio.
Chapter
THIRTEEN
Rose
Leah quietly took a seat behind her desk and started reading the papers I’d handed her. I studied her fancy study for a moment. The large fireplace. The antique books on the mahogany bookshelves along the walls. I walked over to one that caught my attention.
The Bible.
I pulled the large book off the shelf and opened it. It was heavy as hell. A handwritten manuscript with ornate illustrations, bound in leather with metal clasps, showcasing exquisite calligraphy and craftsmanship.
“You don’t strike me as religious,” I said, wondering why I was even still here. I should have left with Richter. Instead, I was wandering around as if I were more loyal to her than to him. Which concerned me to the core.
“I’m not religious,” she said. “In fact, I don’t put my faith in anything beyond the immense strength we all possess—the strength to achieve extraordinary things. But as you know all too well, some of those things can descend into pitch-black darkness. That’s the nature of human potential. It’s capable of both brilliance and horror.”
I absorbed the weight of her words, my brow furrowing slightly. “Why have a copy, then?”
“This is a rare version of the Bible that includes the Lost Gospel—possibly one of the oldest fully transcribed copies in existence. There are only two like it. It reads like the most brilliant fiction novel—if you can read Aramaic.”
“What’s the Lost Gospel?” I asked.
“The Lost Gospel is a 1,500-year-old manuscript that was excluded from the conventional Bible. Some interpretations suggest it contains hidden references to Jesus and Mary Magdalene having a child. However, mainstream scholars and the Catholic Church largely regard it as a fictional narrative involving biblical figures rather than a historical account of Jesus’s life.”
“Hmm. Interesting. Well, it would make sense for Jesus to have a child…” I mumbled.
Leah looked up from the papers. “Why is that?” she asked.
“I mean … who’d be a better dad than Jesus?”
To my surprise, Leah smiled. “I never thought about it that way.”
I quietly set the book back in its place and nodded toward the door through which Richter had just walked. “So … what was that all about?”
“I’m going to meet with Jan Novak for dinner this weekend. Richter objects, of course, but at this point, it’s the only way. We might be running out of time. I don’t know how much longer Jan Novak will let us interfere with his life. To be honest, it’s a mystery to me why he’s put up with us for so long.”
I nodded.
Leah lifted an eyebrow. “No objections?”
I shrugged. “It’s the most logical strategy on our end. You can always kill him if he tries anything stupid.”
“Interesting,” Leah said, leaning back in her chair, her eyes still on me.
I was ready for her to ask why I hadn’t told Richter about her and the Night Stalker, but instead, Leah pointed at an empty glass of wine.
“Would you like some?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I only drink on Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“I see.”
Warm memories of better times washed over me. “My mom used to drink wine only on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Every year. It drove my dad crazy when she went to the store and bought the really expensive wine. She told me that alcohol killed more good people than bullets and that this was her rare treat.”
Leah filled herself a glass. “If alcohol kills good people, I have nothing to worry about,” she joked.
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Sounds like your mother was a wise woman, though,” she added.
“She was. She was the kindest and strongest person I knew.”
Had I just opened up to Leah Nachtnebel? The woman who brutally murdered bad guys? I never opened up to anybody. My memories were mine.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sob on you,” I said.
“Not at all,” she responded. “I personally don’t attach myself to memories, those of others or my own, but I enjoy good stories about good people.”
I held her gaze for a moment before looking away. I was beginning to understand why Richter was so drawn to her. There was something about her—something that made you realize, almost instinctively, that she was different. Special.
“So you’re meeting Jan Novak for dinner. Did you consider that men act irrationally when they feel cornered?”
“Yes. But I don’t think Jan Novak feels corn—”
“I wasn’t talking about Jan Novak,” I said. “I was talking about Richter. I think he’s starting to take this whole thing with you personally. Richter’s the kind of man who gets attached—to memories, to people. He’d do anything for those he cares about.”
She fell silent, taking a long sip from her glass. “I doubt Richter would be foolish enough to get attached to me. He doesn’t see me as anything more than what I am.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“Why did you choose him in the first place, if I may ask? From what I’ve gathered, Larsen seemed to get the job done,” I said.
She hesitated. “Larsen … yes, his performance was satisfactory. But there were other issues with him.”
“What kind of issues?”
“He was a killer. Like the ones we hunt. I gave him a chance to prove he’d truly changed, just as he’d tried to convince me. But he failed that test. Miserably. Richter, on the other hand, has qualities that Larsen lacked. Qualities…” She exhaled slowly. “Qualities I lack. And there’s no better judge than someone who truly believes in a better world. Even if that sounds like something from the back of a cereal box.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Just make sure you take into account that Richter’s judgment might be clouded with sentiment.” I turned toward the door. “Thank you for the drink offer.”
She remained silent as I made my way out.
And with that, our plan to take down the Train Track Killer was set in motion.
A genius mind would meet another. A killer would meet another killer.
As I walked back to my car, the sun faded into strong orange hues across the sky. I had no idea how any of this would end. But I’d ride it out. As my brother always said, we only got to see what happens if we didn’t quit.
Chapter
FOURTEEN
Liam
I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Italian restaurant. The warm scent of garlic and herbs welcomed me as I stepped inside. Dim lighting gave the bustling dining area a cozy atmosphere.
The carpet muffled my footsteps as I made my way to the back room.
Looking sharp in a tailored suit, Luca Domizio sat at a round table covered with a white tablecloth. He was eating pasta and sipping red wine across from an older man who was enjoying the same meal.
As I approached, Luca looked up and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a white napkin.
“The FBI seems to be rekindling its old flame for me,” Luca said, his voice smooth but cold. “I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now. I suggest you leave before I call my lawyer and have you fired.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s hardly a spark,” I said. “But you might want to hear what I have to say.”
He looked me over, unimpressed. “I doubt it.”
“We have a mutual acquaintance … who needs help.”
Luca leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment. “Antonio, give us a minute,” he finally said.
“Of course. I’ll get more wine from Luigi.” Antonio stood and cast an arrogant glance my way as he walked past, then closed the door behind him.
“If you think your relationship with our mutual friend will impress me or make us allies, you’re wrong,” Luca said. “I’m aware of her odd fondness for you, but frankly, I neither understand nor share it.”
I sat down across from him. “Good. Because, frankly, I don’t understand or share her fondness for you. But I’m not here for myself. I’m here for her. She’s in serious danger, and the fact that you took out McCourt and secured the shares for her tells me you might be willing to help. So can we cut the bullshit? I don’t have much time.”
Luca sipped his wine. “I deny everything you just said. I had nothing to do with McCourt’s shooting.”
I sighed, fearing this trip would be for nothing.
“But,” he added, “I’ll admit, we do share a very special friend. She asks for favors when it suits her. I don’t worry too much about it. Her judgment has always been exceptional. A true genius. I prefer to stay out of things unless she asks me directly. And when she does, I’ll do whatever is needed.”
“Fair enough. But things have changed a lot in the past few months. A threat has emerged—someone with both the power and the will to harm her. And, as crazy as it sounds, this person might be her equal in every way.”
“You’re speaking of Jan Novak, aren’t you?” Luca said, his voice serious.
“Jan fucking Novak,” I confirmed.
He pressed his lips together, then sighed. “A very powerful and dangerous man indeed. People look at me and think I’m the bad guy. The truth is, there are plenty of men like me out there. But Novak … men like him are rare, maybe one in a generation. It would be wise to stay far away from him. Even people like you and me.”
