Callen looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“We have a judge, right?”
“Yeah, what about her?” Ethan asked.
“What if she touched a case that caused this? If you think about it, this all touches the law one way or another. I’m a fed, she’s a judge, we have women arrested by cops, a cop is being pointed at by the killer…”
They thought about that.
“What if this is about someone getting revenge, and all the people ARE attached, but we aren’t seeing it? What if this killer is playing out HIS story? That’s his art. He’s telling a story with the bodies.”
She pushed her plate away.
“Call Chris. We have to get to the morgue. I want to see the bodies, the victims, and the whole team. Something is up. I just have to figure out what it is.”
“What case did you work when you were here?” he asked. “It was over ten years ago, right?”
She nodded.
“Give or take a year or two.”
“Well?” he asked.
“It was a serial killer case and Michael O’Banion was trying to keep the FBI out of ‘his’ town.”
“What happened?”
“Easy. I caught a killer and eventually, O’Banion got himself blown up. It ended there for him.”
Ethan stared at her. “We know he’s alive.”
She nodded.
“But does this killer? We have to go back into anything that had to do with the mob. We need to pull him apart in order to figure this out.”
“How sure are you?” Ethan asked. “Those files are locked by the US Marshals. I can’t just make them appear.”
“You and Marcus Hunter are close, right?”
He stared at her. “Uh huh.”
“Can you call him and get me a huge favor?” she asked. “I’ll personally owe him one. If he needs my help, I’ll do him a return favor.”
“Baby,” he said, hesitantly.
“Ethan.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
She stared at him. “I’m not. I’d bet my badge on it,” she said, tossing it onto the table. “My gut says I’m right. I’ll bet two decades of my life on this. I’ll bet the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve invested in every case. This is about Boston and me. That means it’s either about this case, which we know it’s not, or the past case. This is just the beginning.”
Ethan picked up his phone and headed outside.
When he was gone, Callen said nothing.
“Do you doubt me too?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, but I am wondering what exactly he’s going to ask as a return favor for letting sealed documents land in our lap,” he said, his voice low, “O’Banion is supposed to be dead. If he’s going to leak that, while he’s in witness protection, this may be one hell of a favor.”
God!
She wished Dakota didn’t quit his job.
This would have been right up his alley. She would trade him Bonnie intel, and he’d paint the Sistine Chapel buck-naked without batting an eye.
When he came back in, he didn’t look happy.
“What?” she asked.
“You got your deal. You’ll have the intel in the morning. Some will be redacted, like his whereabouts, since only two people know that. The US Marshal who put him there, and the man who runs it.”
“If this didn’t matter, Ethan, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this for me.”
He didn’t sit down.
“I’m catching a ride back to the hotel. I’m going to call it a night.”
They both stared at him.
Ethan turned and walked out.
“Uh oh.”
Yeah, he could say that again. Ethan didn’t get mad, but when he was ready to blow, he’d close down.
“What do you want to do now?”
“You’re going to the morgue. I’m going to get Ethan out of his funk.”
“How are you going to do that?” he asked, as she whistled, and Ivan appeared from across the room. He’d been eating with Rory and Heath.
“I have no idea. Get the team on board. We’re going to start working on each and every person and their personal lives, what they’ve done, and hopefully, that gets us somewhere.”
“Elizabeth.”
She stopped. “Yeah?”
“I trust your gut, but when you do this favor, I’ll be joining you. My wife isn’t going to do anyone’s dirty deeds. I’m going to have her back. We have it together.”
She couldn’t love him more.
“Callen James, you know how to sweet talk a lady. Now sashay that handsome self of yours to the morgue. Get those bodies out, get the team together, and I’ll be there in a little while. I need to save a husband.”
She walked out, and all he could think was…
Yeah, but at what cost?
Chapter Seventeen
Captain O’Brien’s
Home
Tuesday Evening
W hen he pulled up to his home, he was beyond done. It was the longest day of his life, and Patty was pissed. He’d gone toe to toe with that skank in the FBI, and he wished he could grab her by the head and twist her skull right off of her shoulders.
Then he’d boot her head down the street and into the gulley.
That would be his happy moment.
In reality, he couldn’t do it. But GOD! What wouldn’t he give to make it happen?
All he wanted was to forget that FBI bitch ever rolled into town. Imagine her thinking he was a killer.
He wasn’t.
Well, he wouldn’t mind ending her.
That was for damn sure, and it would happen. As soon as this case was solved, he was going to sue her, and that rich husband of hers.
Then he was retiring away from Boston.
He’d dedicated his life to that city, and he was DONE.
As he headed in, something caught his eye. He could see a head just above the back of his one chair. The body was obstructed, but he knew who it was.
By the black hair, it was going to be Elizabeth Blackhawk.
The nerve of her!
She’d broken into his home.
She was sitting in his living room.
He was going to confront her, put her in handcuffs, and call the police.
He almost called first, but he wanted to rough her up a bit.
After all, she deserved it.
As he headed in, he pulled his gun so she couldn’t try anything funny. He kept it pointed at her, and as he rounded the chair, it hit him.
It wasn’t her.
It was Suzan Golden’s head on some sick, mutilated creation under a black wig.
He gasped.
At the same time, he spun when there was a sound behind him. What felt like a million volts went through him.
He hit the floor.
His body shook and seizured as death came.
As he stood over the man, he smiled.
“Oh, Patty O’Brien, we meet again. Did you think you’d get away? You liked to pretend you were a straight arrow, but you were as crooked as they come, and now…you’re going to pay for it. You’re about to live forever.”
He grabbed a black morgue bag, one he loved to use, and he pulled him through the house, out the door, and to his trunk.
He had one more stop to make.
She’d betrayed him too.
Then he’d start working.
He had to finish this soon.
While his art was still popular.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Morgue
When Callen got there, the whole team was together. As he headed in, he knew they weren’t going to like anything he was about to say.
“What’s up?” Chris asked.
“Elizabeth is on her way. She wants both victims out, and she wants to see them. Something is up.”
They knew what that meant. It was eight at night, and they were NOT going to be sleeping.
This case had been a fast one. They started it Sunday, and it was already Tuesday night and the boss lady was itching to put an end to it.
To know her meant that she was NOT going to let this runaway train get in her way.
She was going to be all over it.
“Okay,” Chris said, as he and Christina headed toward the coolers.
He pointed at her team. “Where’s the detective?”
“He was beat. He headed home. It is after eight at night. While we owe our souls to the FBI, he doesn’t,” Brody teased.
The man had a point.
“Well, you’re not going to like this,” he offered.
“What?”
“She wants you to stop doing that research. Instead, she doesn’t want you to connect the dead to a person we suspect. She wants you to connect them to HER.”
Johanna stared at him.
“Uh, how are we supposed to connect a college girl, some hookers, a judge, and a waitress to the boss?”
He told them how she believed it had something to do with her original case years ago.
“We’ll pull that case and get down to business.”
Brody rubbed his eyes.
“Is she trying to kill us?”
Johanna gave him a kiss. “You took a pain pill. Go back to the hotel and sleep. I’ll be okay. I’m going to be here for a while.”
He pointed at the table. “I’ll sleep here.”
She stared at him. “Sure, babe, that won’t give me nightmares.”
“Just don’t cover me. We’ll be good.”
Whatever.
Her husband was nutty.
“Let’s start at the beginning. Let’s work with Tajel West,” he said. “Let’s connect the victims to each other, and then see if we can connect them to Elizabeth. It’s going to be one or the other.”
They got down to work as Brody hopped onto the metal table and closed his eyes.
“What do we know about her?” Callen asked, getting them to focus.
“She was studying law.”
“Okay, what else?” asked Callen.
“She was banging a dean,” Brody said, from his place on a morgue table.
“No, let’s pick her life apart. What do we have on her?”
“She was born in Boston, her father is a congressman, and her mother is a stay at home mom and wife.”
Callen thought about it.
He knew when Elizabeth had been here last. She knew around that time frame, something had to go down.
“Let’s look at her when she was a child—not a college kid.”
“Like when she was twelve?” Blue asked.
“Yeah, but not her specifically. What about her family?”
There was typing.
Johanna pulled it up and Chris and Chrissy laid out the dead.
They all stared at it on the screen.
“He was a lawyer at the time, and she was destined to follow in his footsteps.”
Yeah, against her will.
He took that info and dug deeper.
“What kind of law did he practice?” Callen asked, trying to keep being thorough. There had to be something there.
“He was the DA.”
“So he worked for the city doing what?” Chris asked. “I know prosecution, but what cases did he work? Our case went to trial, Michael O’Banion blew himself up, and his cronies bailed. We couldn’t tie it to them in the long run.”
Johanna pulled up a shit load of them. “There are about four hundred over his twenty years as the DA, and half of them used Judge Golden.”
Chris headed their way.
Yeah, it was going to be a long night.
He was up for the challenge.
“So you have an ex-DA, a Judge, a police captain that Elizabeth believes we are being pointed at, and some random people.”
“Yes.”
Callen pointed at the cases. “Maybe Elizabeth was partially right. Maybe it’s not so much about her, but about the past.”
Chris thought about it.
“Go through the ones that they both worked. Better yet, start narrowing them down by police. If this killer is pointing you at a cop, he’s got to be involved.”
“We can’t cross reference it unless we have Detective Chase here to use his log in. We don’t have investigators in these files.”
“Call him,” Callen stated. “Get him back here. There’s no nap on a murder investigation.”
Johanna did just that.
“It’s going to be in there. You have to find the case, find one that relates to all of those people, and you’ll find your killer,” Chris offered.
“So she was right,” Blue said. “It’s going to be revenge.”
Callen couldn’t believe it.
His wife and her gut prevailed again.
“Yeah, and we know why Tajel was killed. It wasn’t about her. It was about her wanting to be a lawyer, and taking a hit at her father.”
Johanna got it.
“He couldn’t touch him, so…”
“He took out who he could.”
“What about the art angle?” Blue asked.
Callen mulled it over.
Then he got it.
“Jesus! ‘The Art of Revenge’. It was a movie about payback and making everyone suffer, who was involved in a crooked deal.”
“We are looking for crooked and revenge?” Blue asked.
“Yes.”
That was all he had to say.
The team got to work. They were going to pull Congressman West’s pre-political life apart—more importantly, his cases.
This was going to be a lot of work.
And they were running out of time.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Hotel
When she got back to the penthouse, she sent Ivan down to his room.
When she was leaving again, she had to call him.
She’d promised.
He was like a freaking mother, following her around and making sure she was okay.
It was irritating.
But that didn’t matter now. Elizabeth knew it had to be done. Bonnie was still out there, and she wasn’t sure she didn’t play into this killer’s game. If she worked a case where he was involved…
Yeah, it was best not to point that out.
As she was searching the penthouse, Ethan was nowhere to be found. Just as she was about to call Ivan to track him, her phone chimed.
It was Callen.
‘I think I got it. Remember that movie we watched? You had the flu, and I got sick too? Ethan was the only one who didn’t, and we said it would be a perfect movie because he likely gave us the germs?’
She thought about it.
What the hell was that movie called?
She sent him back a text.
‘What was it called? I can’t remember the name. I was pretty high on flu meds.’
She waited for his reply.
‘The Art of Revenge.’
That was all he had to say.
She got it.
He was signing them like art. He was seeking revenge. In the movie, the killer was only out to hurt the people who screwed him over. He picked them off one by one.
Jesus!
This dude was a burger short of a Happy Meal.
‘Callen, I’m going to kiss you stupid. I am at the hotel. Give me some time to find Ethan. He’s going to be bitchy. I need to fix his shit first.’
He sent her kisses and two words.
‘Good luck.’
Yeah, she was going to need it.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Gym
Penthouse floor
To say he was cranky would be an understatement. He didn’t like the idea of his wife owing anyone anything in life. More importantly, he didn’t like the idea that someone was going to use her as a hired gun.
Yes, the president did it.
But that was their choice.
They opted
to let Oracle go, and someone had to pay the penance for that huge sin.
If they played the president’s game, they could keep Avalon hidden.
So that he accepted.
But Marcus Hunter…
He could call her out on Bonnie.
He could call her out on a hunt.
The possibilities were endless.
What Ethan feared most was that was exactly what was going to happen.
If that did…
He’d almost lost her the last time, and that didn’t sit well with him. It made him ill. So, he came to the gym to burn off the anger.
When he’d been in therapy…
Correction.
He was still in it.
When he was with Callie, she told him to find an outlet to get rid of the mad.
So here he was.
He was running.
Was he chasing?
Was he hiding?
Was he battling?
He wasn’t sure. All Ethan knew was that these demons were a bitch to fight back, but he had no choice. Ethan was still in recovery, not unlike an alcoholic. He had to do this one day at a time, and his marriage was riding on it.
At that moment, he was having a hard time controlling them.
As he ran on the treadmill, he prayed for control.
He was close to losing it.
He could feel it.
Blackhawk wanted to blow. God help the person who bothered him. If they knew best, they’d run and give him time to get back in control.
For their sake.
And, ultimately, his too.
When she found him, he was in the gym working out like a maniac.
How did she know?
There was a sign hanging on the doorknob.
Discarded by Fate Page 51
