Chapter 28 - Kent #2
This is where Lila's performance becomes crucial, where she has to plant suspicion about Shaw without seeming like she's manipulating the conversation.
"There's been someone," she says quietly, glancing at me and Nate as if seeking permission to continue. "A psychologist who was involved in the original investigation. Dr. Evelyn Shaw."
I watch Rivas's pen stop moving across his notepad. "What about Dr. Shaw?"
"She's been…around recently. Asking questions, showing up at places she shouldn't be. My aunt remembered her from my father's funeral, said she seemed wrong somehow. Not like someone who was there to grieve."
"Wrong, how?"
Lila's hands twist together in her lap, the picture of someone forcing herself to voice fears that sound paranoid even to her. "She was watching the other mourners instead of mourning herself. Taking notes, maybe. My aunt said she had this clinical detachment that felt inappropriate for a funeral."
"And she's been in contact with you recently?"
"Not directly. But she's appeared at crime scenes, at professional conferences, asking about my work with violent offenders. Always with some professional excuse, but…." Lila lets her voice trail off, allowing Rivas to fill in the implications.
"But you feel like you're being studied," he finishes.
"Exactly." Relief floods Lila's voice, the sound of someone finally being understood. "Detective, I'm scared. What if the person who killed my father has been watching me all this time? What if these new murders are connected to me somehow?"
The question hangs in the air, loaded with possibilities that make Rivas lean forward with sharpened attention. Because this is what he's been waiting for—a connection, a thread that might finally lead to solving the case that's haunted him for nine years.
"Delilah, I want you to know that we're going to take this seriously," he says, his voice carrying the import of professional commitment. "I'm going to look into Dr. Shaw's recent activities, and I want you to call me immediately if you have any further contact with her."
"Thank you," Lila whispers, genuine gratitude mixing with performance. "I've been so afraid that no one would believe me."
"I believe you," Rivas says firmly. "And I promise you, we're going to figure out what's happening."
Nate chooses that moment to lean forward slightly, injecting himself into the conversation with the kind of smooth authority that commands attention.
"Detective, if I may," he says, "Ms. Jenkins has been through tremendous trauma, both as a child and now with these current events. What kind of protection can the department provide while you investigate these concerns?"
It's exactly the right question, framed in exactly the right way. Not demanding special treatment, but highlighting the vulnerability of someone who deserves protection while acknowledging the department's responsibility to provide it.
"We can increase patrols in your neighborhood," Rivas tells Lila. "I want you to have my direct number, and I'll make sure the responding officers know to prioritize any calls from you. In the meantime, is there somewhere safe you can stay? Family, friends?"
"She's welcome to stay with me," I say, the offer sounding like protective concern rather than strategic positioning. "I have secure locks, good sight lines, and I'm familiar with personal security protocols from my construction background."
Nate nods approvingly. "That's generous of you, Kent. Ms. Jenkins, that would put you close to people who care about your safety."
I catch the way Lila's eyes flick between us, processing the smooth coordination of our responses.
She's recognizing that this is how Nate operates—managing situations through careful orchestration of social dynamics, making suggestions that sound like natural conclusions rather than manipulative guidance.
"That might be good," she agrees softly. "I've been nervous about staying alone."
"Excellent," Rivas says, making another note. "Mr. Shepherd, I assume you're still at the same address we have on file?"
"Same trailer, same park," I confirm. "Nothing fancy, but it's private and secure."
"Good. Delilah, I want you to check in with me daily until we resolve this situation. Call if anything concerns you, no matter how small. And if Dr. Shaw attempts any further contact, you document everything and call me immediately."
Lila nods eagerly, the picture of someone grateful for protection and guidance. "I will. Detective Rivas, thank you for taking this seriously. I know it must sound paranoid—"
"It doesn't sound paranoid at all," he interrupts. "It sounds like someone who's learned to recognize danger. Trust those instincts."
As we prepare to leave, I catch the way Nate and Rivas exchange business cards with the kind of professional courtesy that suggests potential future cooperation.
Nate is already positioning himself as a valuable resource, someone the department might want to cultivate for larger projects or civic initiatives.
In the elevator, none of us speak until we're back in the lobby and out of earshot of any potential surveillance.
"That went perfectly," Nate says quietly, his voice carrying satisfaction and professional pride. "Rivas is completely invested in protecting you now, and he's going to pursue the Shaw angle with exactly the kind of dedication you need."
"He believed every word," Lila agrees, but there's something analytical in her tone that suggests she's still processing the interaction. "Detective Rivas wants to solve this case so badly he's willing to accept my narrative without much scrutiny."
"Guilt is a powerful motivator," Nate observes. "Especially for someone who takes his responsibility to protect people seriously."
We walk toward the parking lot, and I can see Lila studying Nate with the kind of focused attention she brings to analyzing psychological profiles.
"You're not what I expected," she says finally.
Nate grins, the expression transforming his face from serious professional to something more charming, more approachable. "What did you expect?"
"Someone more like Kent. Quiet, methodical, operating from the shadows." She glances at me, then back at Nate. "You're more…visible. More connected to legitimate power structures."
"Different survival strategies," Nate explains easily. "Kent's approach is to avoid attention entirely. Mine is to be so well-connected that questioning me becomes inconvenient for the people who might want to ask difficult questions."
The assessment is accurate and revealing, highlighting the fundamental difference between our approaches to staying safe while operating outside legal boundaries. Where I've chosen invisibility, Nate has chosen integration.
"Both effective," Lila notes, and there's approval in her voice that makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
We reach my truck, and Nate extends his hand to Lila again, this time with genuine warmth rather than professional courtesy.
"Ms. Jenkins, it's been a pleasure meeting you. I can see why Kent considers you worth protecting."
"Call me Lila," she says, accepting his handshake with a smile that's more genuine than anything she showed Detective Rivas. "And thank you for helping today. I know Kent trusts you completely."
"He should," Nate replies, then turns to me with an expression that carries both affection and concern. "Drive carefully, brother. And remember—if this situation escalates beyond what local law enforcement can handle, I have resources that might help."
The offer is carefully phrased, but the implications are clear. Nate's connections extend beyond legitimate business relationships into territories where problems can be solved through means that don't appear in official reports.
"I'll keep that in mind," I tell him, meaning it completely.
As we drive away, Lila settles back in her seat with the kind of satisfied exhaustion that comes from a successful performance.
"Your foster brother is impressive," she says. "Charming, connected, obviously successful. But there's something predatory underneath all that polish."
The observation makes me smile despite the seriousness of our situation. "Nate's always been ambitious. He just figured out how to make ambition look respectable."
"He cares about you, though. That much is genuine."
"We survived the same hell together," I say simply. "That creates bonds that don't break."
Lila is quiet for a moment, processing this information along with everything else she's observed about Nate. When she speaks again, her voice carries the kind of thoughtful analysis I remember from her letters.
"He's dangerous in a completely different way than you are," she says. "You're dangerous because you're willing to act outside the system when justice requires it. Nate's dangerous because he's figured out how to make the system work for him regardless of what justice requires."
The distinction is perceptive and accurate, highlighting something I've always understood about my relationship with Nate without quite articulating it.
"Does that concern you?" I ask.
"On the contrary," Lila says, her voice carrying something that might be appreciation or might be recognition. "It's exactly the kind of resource we're going to need if Shaw escalates this situation beyond conventional law enforcement capabilities."
She's right, of course. Shaw isn't operating within normal criminal frameworks, and stopping her might require resources and methods that exist outside official channels. Having Nate's connections and capabilities available could make the difference between success and disaster.
"Phase one complete," Lila continues, settling deeper into the passenger seat.
"Detective Rivas now sees me as a victim who needs protection rather than a suspect who needs investigation.
And he's going to pursue Shaw with exactly the kind of focused attention that will disrupt whatever long-term experiment she's been conducting. "