Guilt By Degrees

73

Traffic was backed up on the Pacific Coast Highway, but the view of sunlight playing across the water provided a nice distraction from our obnoxiously slow progress.

“I’m on board with the theory that Simon found whatever Zack hid and used it to smoke Lilah out.” Bailey paused and shook her head. “But I don’t get why he didn’t just turn it over to the cops.”

This one was clear to me.

“His parents said he hated the cops after that trial and was more than a little paranoid. He believed the only way to be sure Lilah got punished was to do it himself.” I considered what kind of evidence Zack might’ve found. “So we’re looking for…what? A cell phone, a shoe, glasses…anything else you can think of?”

“I’d guess the original report with names of witnesses-like bartenders who’d served Lilah that night.”

We pondered the question of where Zack might’ve stashed the evidence. At that moment, I knew what we had to do if we were ever going to bring Simon’s killer to justice.

“If Simon could do it, so can we.”

Bailey looked at me, then turned back and stared at the road.

“You mean, we lure her out,” she said.

I nodded. “We already know I’m being followed by either the stabber or someone who works for him, right?”

“Yep. And now we’ve got even more reason to believe that Lilah’s tied in with the stabber-”

“And last but not least, Lilah seems to know a thing or two about me,” I said. My skin again crawled at the thought of her run-in with Graden. “Somebody’s giving her information.”

“You ask me, she seems like the one who’d be giving the orders. She’s the one who’s having us followed.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Now we make it work for us. If we’re right, and she went after Simon because he had the evidence-”

“Then we go looking for the evidence, Lilah follows us-”

“And we have a shot at grabbing her,” I said. “Or whoever’s working for her.”

“If they don’t kill us first,” Bailey pointed out.

There was that, of course. If Lilah had killed Tran Lee and dumped his body, then mutilated her cop husband, then had his brother killed, she wouldn’t mind hastening us to shuffle off this mortal coil.

“But we’re not Simon,” I said. “We should be able to make it a little harder for her.”

“Then we want to make sure Lilah knows we’re looking for the evidence,” Bailey said. “How did Simon let her know he had it?”

How could he have communicated with her?

I gazed out the window at a small inlet of water on the land side of Pacific Coast Highway. A family of ducks was gliding across the water, the mother-or whichever parent-in the lead. I pictured their little webbed feet paddling away. And then it came to me. Here was my chance to make my move, one that’d ensure we got a message to Lilah.

“Easy,” I said. “Her parents.”