Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3)

by Morgan Kelley

  What lady didn't like watching her husband be one of the important people in town? Just knowing that he held so much in the balance made her all warm and fuzzy. Besides, the man really looked hot in a tuxedo, or anything else for that matter.

  Sue her, but Emma couldn’t help it.

  She was a very lucky girl. She had a husband who loved her, made her crazy, and owned her heart. It appeared coming to Vegas, she had been the big winner.

  It may have all been a gamble, but in the end, they both won or at least she believed so. Everything was on track for their happily ever after.

  Then again, he just stormed past her as if she didn't exist, so possibly that assessment was dead wrong. Deep down, Emma prayed this wasn’t the end of the honeymoon phase.

  Maybe this was just part of marriage- happy exuberance that slid into comfortable existence.

  God, she hoped not. Maybe that was all fine and dandy for other couples, but she had to believe that their marriage was made to be an adventure.

  Outside in the gray sky, she was faced with the press. They were busily snapping photos and asking a million questions. The hurt welled up, even as she tried to fight to keep it buried. Emma took the high road and refused to stare over at Greyson. If she did, it would just add more pressure to his already burdened shoulders. For his sake, she wouldn’t look back as she headed to her Navigator. She wasn’t mad, but she wasn’t happy either.

  The last thing that she ever wanted was to use her feelings and emotions to wound him. For now, Emma would swallow it and deal with it all on her own.

  It was the least she could do to take the pressure off him.

  All Emma could hope was that maybe later, he’d have some time for her, or at least a well-deserved apology.

  Croft stood there in the throng of reporters on the steps of the FBI building, waiting for the media circus to begin. Beside him were two of his agents, and they were going to be handling the majority of the press conference. He was only there to answer questions and give them backup if they needed it. At that moment, he was distracted and trying to gather his thoughts.

  Then, something caught his attention.

  Staring towards the parking lot, he watched his wife with the familiar red ponytail bob away, as she walked towards her SUV. Immediately, there was this pang of guilt and remorse at what he’d just done. Yes, he was frustrated with everyone needing a piece of him, but he absolutely could have handled the entire situation better.

  Could he have been a little ruder to his Emma?

  Shit!

  In his irritation, he didn't even get to give her a kiss. Now, he was sure that was some marriage rule that wasn’t supposed to be broken. He’d managed to blow off his wife in his irritation, making her the one to endure the most of his crankiness.

  Damn it!

  The job was swallowing him whole, and he knew it. This had become a balancing act, and he wasn’t sure if he could pull it off. On top of handling the day to day running of the office, he was forced to deal with the killer and the background issue of someone trying to get him in their pocket. Over the last three months, the FBI had been covertly trying to ferret out the person responsible for offering the last director bribes and kickbacks.

  Who would have thought that the FBI frowned upon that, when the government was full of its own corruption? Now, he was playing bait, waiting for someone to bite.

  The pressure was on and obviously, the cracks were beginning to show. Look at how he just treated Emma. He had blown off their lunch, and Greyson definitely could have handled that much better.

  When he got back inside, he’d try to steal away a few minutes to call her and apologize. For now, his focus had to be on the dead women, the killer, and the mess surrounding him.

  The only highlight to his day was that Croft knew the case was in good hands. He had two competent people running it for him.

  When he first arrived in Vegas, he scanned most of their personnel files, learning what he could. There were key agents who excelled at their job and these two were at the top of the list.

  Tessa Brass was the first to catch his attention in the duo. She was smart and lived for the job. In actuality, she reminded him of a witch whenever he stared at her. He was pretty sure it had everything to do with her eyes. They were this eerie green color that always tracked you and missed nothing. Where his Emma had sparkling emeralds, she had cat-like ones. They were framed by straight black hair, cut in a blunt line across her chin. It made her look tough and unusual at the same time. Her file told the tale, as she’d been an agent for a while and was incredibly good at it.

  Her partner wasn’t a schlub either when it came to doing his job. Agent Paris Archer was easy going and practically a genius. His scores were off the chart, and he was the analytical one on the team. One might even think to use ‘brains’ of the two--not that Tessa wasn’t smart in her own rights, but Paris had been blessed with more brain than most. If there was a puzzle or something that needed sleuthing, he was your man.

  Together, they worked well and seemed to be sturdy partners. Where one lacked, the other excelled. They balanced each other out perfectly in the field. They had an excellent closure record, and that was the reason Croft had wanted them working this case.

  The shouts forced his attention back on the situation at hand.

  “Do we have a serial killer in Vegas?” called out one reporter.

  Special Agent Tessa Brass fielded that one. “From what we know, it’s a possibility. The person who took the lives of these two victims has promised more. That’s why we’re being proactive. Right now, we’re asking anyone who lives around the park where they were found to come forward with any information they may have. Any details may assist in the apprehension of this individual.”

  “Why aren’t the local police handling this one? Why isn’t Queen Croft leading the investigation?”

  Greyson cringed, hoping the nicknames of ‘King and Queen’ had finally been put to bed.

  Obviously, they hadn’t been.

  It was probably a good thing that they didn't see her leaving a few minutes ago, or they would have inundated her. The less attention focused on Emma, the better in his opinion. He didn't relish his wife wearing the media target all because he was the director of the FBI.

  Tessa didn't bat an eye as she gave them the answer. “The police have deflected this one to us. They’ve got their hands full with their caseload, and we were more than happy to help them out.”

  “Is it true that he left a note?” someone else shouted, vying for the attention of the three in front of them.

  Agent Paris Archer fielded this one. “He did, but we’re not divulging anything at this point in time.”

  “I heard it was a Christmas card directed right at the FBI, taunting them.”

  That caught Croft’s attention, causing him to step forward. They didn't tell the media it was a card. In fact, that’s something no one would randomly guess, unless they knew something.

  “Where did you hear that?” Croft inquired, staring at the man. He observed the station letters on his jacket and made a mental note. There was going to be a little visit at some point, and it wasn’t going to be a social call.

  Not for him, anyway.

  “A source.”

  If there was one way to piss off a law enforcement officer and make them hate you, it was to utter those words. It pretty much meant, ‘Screw you! I have no intention of telling you anything helpful’.

  If Greyson made a big deal about it, the media would pounce all over it, knowing there was validity. Instead, he decided to play it nonchalantly. “Okay.”

  The look on the man’s face was priceless.

  He continued, “We’re also not releasing the names at this time. Although their families have been notified, we’re not giving the killer the attention that he’s obviously craving.”

  They asked a few more questions and the agents deflected quite well. As they dismissed the media, the three walked into the building
together.

  “What can you tell me?” he questioned. “Get me up to speed.”

  Tessa began, “He’s bagging up for the sex. Not a single sick, perverted sperm was found. The lab didn't find any hairs or fibers either. The man’s taking precautions to not leave us anything to trace it back to him.”

  “He’s either smart or has done this before,” offered Paris Archer. “To not leave any trace is hard, but to place two bodies and know what would get us to come to him means that he’s studied us. To him, this is nothing more than a game.”

  Croft had an official profiler, but he was well aware that Paris Archer liked to assess his own assignments. So far, he had a clean track record, and that meant something in his book. Those who could get into the minds of a killer were respected in his world.

  In fact, better them than him. He liked sleeping at night, and that meant not taking that path.

  “You’re probably right. What about the victims?” he asked.

  “Our first woman is Jessica Lester. We’re digging into her life right now, but she was tagged as ‘nice’. So far, what we know about her is that she was a dance instructor and volunteered her time at a few retirement facilities to teach dance to the elderly. We also know that she liked teaching the community kids too.”

  Greyson nodded. “So, she was the epitome of ‘nice’.”

  Paris agreed and continued, “She appeared to be. Her financials are spotless. The woman paid her bills, lived clean, and had a decent life without any issues. There’s not so much as a traffic ticket either. By Vegas standards, she was an angel.”

  “By any standards,” added Tessa. “I can’t find anything in her past. The woman went to church on Sundays and volunteered at the local homeless shelter. Who in Vegas does that?”

  Agent Archer laughed. “Not many that’s for sure. If more people did, we’d have to change the city’s nickname from ‘Sin City’ to ‘Holy City’.”

  Croft pushed the button to the elevator. “What about the other woman?”

  “Next on the victim list, we have Trish Lorn. She worked as a casino drink girl. You know--the ones who walk around getting you shitfaced so you spend more money?” Tessa stated. “She was the unfortunate one tagged with ‘naughty’.”

  He needed the insight on her. “What did she do to earn that title?”

  Paris took over on this one. “Where do we even start? She ranged from traffic violations, two pops for prostitution, and an arrest for possession of heroin. She was an on again, off again addict. She’d gone to rehab more than a celebrity and had community service at a shelter down on Eighth Avenue.”

  When the elevator opened, they all paused outside the door.

  “Here’s the kicker, boss,” Tessa began. “With our ‘nice’ victim, she was strangled, and there was no sexual assault or abuse to her body. It was as if the killer saved his aggression.”

  “She didn't suffer like our second victim,” added Paris. “He beat the hell out of her. She had various broken bones in her hands, face, and ribs. She was repeatedly assaulted sexually, and then the ME found multiple strangulation marks around her neck.”

  Croft didn't like where this was all heading. “Explain.”

  Paris glanced over at his partner. “Can I try and kill you, Tess?” he asked, grinning.

  She laughed. “Have at it, Paris. It’s been a long time coming.”

  He faced her and placed his larger body directly in front of hers, while looking at his boss. “The ME believes that he choked her a few times. She had descending rings from what he believes to be hand bruising around her throat.” He placed his hands high up on Tessa’s neck and showed their boss. “He squeezed off the air, causing the marks, but it didn't kill her. When she came back to consciousness, he moved further down her throat.”

  Tessa placed her hands on her partner’s wrists and stared into his eyes. “He probably smacked her around a bit to wake her up before doing it again.”

  Paris agreed. “I’m betting he got off more on watching her die than the act of raping her. If I had to guess, I’m betting he needs that violence to reach orgasm.”

  “Tell me more.” Croft watched his agents. Yeah, there was something brewing between them. He could see it, even if they couldn’t. He hoped this wasn’t going to be an issue down the line. They worked well together without any problems. Keeping them a team was a priority.

  “It’s the power. The man enjoys having control of the situation. The choking and asphyxiation during sex is a way for him to have supremacy over his victims. He’s letting them live or die. He’s obviously judging them, and then carving the words into them.”

  “So, he tortured her for hours.”

  Paris finally dropped his hands from his partner’s throat. He swore she was starting to flush from the contact. “Yes, until he’s used her up.”

  “I want to get a profile. We’ll need it soon.”

  Both of them stared at him, as if there was something they both wanted to add.

  “What?”

  “I’d like to profile this one,” he stated. Paris Archer loved using his brain, and he honestly believed that he could get into the mind of the killer. “It will save us time, since I’m already familiar with the perpetrator and victims.”

  “Okay, but I want it by tomorrow. We don’t have time to not be right on top of this situation. If the killer is going to be sending cards to the media too, we have a big problem.” Croft would give him what he wanted, but he’d cover his bases and get a second opinion too. He was curious to see exactly how accurate his agent would be. If he could pull this one off, he’d let him lead with profiling more cases in the future.

  Agents who specialized in that aspect of the job were always a good thing to have on hand. They tended to burn out fast from living in the twisted brains of the killer. The more trained agents at his fingertips, the better in the long run.

  Tessa was happy that her partner was getting a shot at this. There was no doubt that he could do it. Working with him the last year had shown her what he was capable of pulling off. Paris was very smart and that made working with him rather easy.

  “Thank you, boss,” he answered, getting excited. Ever since his very first profiling class in Quantico, given by Ethan Blackhawk, he’d been enthralled. In fact, the man was his idol. The way he spookily figured it out was amazing, and made Paris want to analyze him.

  He knew who he wanted to be when he grew up. If he ever got to work with the man, it would be the best present ever.

  “Do you think he’s giving the media a heads up?” Tessa inquired.

  Croft stared at her with stormy gray eyes. “I look at it this way. Either we have a killer that’s screwing with us and putting the pressure on by alerting the media, or we have one hell of a leak here in the FBI. There were only a handful of people who knew about our little Christmas card from the nutjob.”

  Both agents stared at their boss.

  “I don’t know about you two, but I personally hope it’s the first probability. The second option pisses me the hell off. Both of you find that reporter and get our answer ASAP!”

  They watched their boss storm away.

  Yeah, they were hoping it was all about the nutjob too.

  * * *

  It wasn’t hard to spot her in the crowd on the street. The woman was heading home from work. She must have had the late night shift at the casino.

  It was perfect.

  He thought back to the woman bound at his place, and the excitement filled him. None of it was directed at the one he had already caught. She was the ‘nice’ one, and he only needed her to balance it all out. It was the ‘naughty’ one who got him off.

  Once he got her back to his place, it would be fun to watch her suffer for everything she did in her life.

  She was easy to pick out of a city of women. When he’d followed her into work the one day, he sat in the casino and let her wait on him.

  The woman was just doing her job, trying to ply him with dri
nks, but it had been hard to not notice the needle marks in her arms.

  She was a junkie.

  He watched her flirt with the male patrons, slipping a few of them her number when she believed no one was looking.

  Well, she’d been wrong. He’d seen it all.

  Now, it was time to grab her and get her back to his place. Later, he would have his fun. As far as the world knew, he was slipping out to pick up a few things, and then he’d be back to work.

  It was all too easy and not necessarily a lie. He was out window-shopping. Only he’d be the one getting the gift later that night.

  Suppressing the laughter, he stayed focused. If he screwed this up now, it would mean another lost day before Christmas to get his last minute wish list fulfilled.

  He followed her at a decent distance, already knowing the route that she would take home to her apartment. There was one alley that she would walk through to cut down on the trek. Already, his car was parked there and waiting for her arrival.

  The art of success was in perfect planning.

  He watched her enter the alley and timed it before he followed. Now would come the most important part of the entire show.

  “Miss,” he called, having her turn around.

  She already looked scared. Excellent.

  “What?”

  He smiled warmly and offered her reassurance. “I was walking behind you and this fell out of your bag. I didn't know if you needed it or not. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  She stared at the envelope.

  He was well aware that before work last night, she had thrown her mail in the large bag.

  There was no doubt that she would bite.

  The lamb was always easy to lure to the slaughter, if you offered up enough of the perfect bait. Once she saw that it was indeed her mail, which he’d stolen from her box, she’d calm down. Then, it was all about striking and loading her into his car that wasn’t far away.

  Flipping it over, he showed her the address label that he knew would allow him to get even closer to her.