“I would, since wives are always right,” she retorted, watching him. “What else is bothering you?”
“When you went missing, he never called.”
Emma knew what direction that was heading. “Pretty darn suspicious, huh?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to think of it.”
Before she could reply, there was a knock at his door. In came his two agents carrying their tablets and coffees.
“We’ll be ready for our meeting in a few. We’re just waiting for Curtis,” he stated, looking at his watch. It was unlike the man not to be on time.
It didn't take long for Curtis to come rushing in completely flustered and out of breath. His face was red and he didn't look happy in the least.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he muttered, staring at anything but his partner.
Croft knew something was very wrong. Happy go lucky Curtis looked like he was emotionally beat down. “You’re not late, so have a seat. Did everything go okay with the messenger?”
Catching his breath, he told him the entire thing, leaving out as many details as possibly, to keep the agents in the dark. Including how Marsha was essentially useless to them. The woman was a clueless ditz, unable to remember anything about that day.
Well, at least they crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s. Croft then focused on the other agents. “What did you find when you ran the victims?”
They began their detailed report with Agent Brass relaying the information. “We did a search on Jessica Lester and found that she’d recently filed a protection from abuse on a man named Kristopher Karson. Apparently, he’s been following her around and stalking her. She reported last month that while she was out taking a walk, he was taking pictures of her.”
“Creepy,” added Emma.
“Yeah it is,” agreed Tessa.
“Did you run the man?” Croft questioned, already pretty sure they did. If anything, his team was efficient and didn't need handholding to do their job.
Agent Archer jumped in, “We did. You’ll be happy to know that our stalker is also a peeping tom. He was busted trying to stare into a high school sports locker room.”
This made Greyson’s day. “I’m assuming you have the address of our pervert?”
“We do.”
“Terrific. Emma and I have a date with a Methadone clinic,” he began, telling them everything that had turned up in the ME’s tox reports. “We’re going to start there and get digging. We all know that when an addict is killed, it’s generally for money or drugs. We want to see if the women knew their killer from there.”
“Can I stay in and do research?” inquired Briggs. His mood to be out in the world was pretty much shot to hell.
Both Emma and Greyson found that odd and stared at him, hoping that he would elaborate.
Croft was willing to cut the man a break. “If you want, I can text you back any runs we need taken care of for us, and so can Paris and Tessa.”
“Great.”
Greyson sent the two agents on their way, hoping to get their friend to discuss what had him all stirred up. There was something eating at his gut, and Croft was worried about him.
“Spill it.”
He stood. “If it’s okay with you, I don’t really feel like it.”
Emma went over to him and gave him a hug. “Okay Curtis, when you’re ready, you can tell us.”
He dropped his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered before pulling away and going off to do his work.
Croft didn't like the looks of this. “That distinctly reeks of woman issues.”
Emma didn't doubt it for a second. Pulling out her phone, she sent Brynn a message, asking her if she was okay.
It only took seconds to get the reply. ‘I’m just great.’
When she showed him, he shook his head. “I’ll bet this is all about them breaking up.”
Emma happened to agree. With Christmas coming, it was pretty shitty timing all around.
It looked like everyone’s good mood was going to be tested that day. Once they tried to walk out of the building, they were met with reporters.
They were in a feeding frenzy as the sharks circled the helpless woman in the water. Croft began texting security inside the building when Emma finally had enough.
One of the great things about her was that she somehow possessed an infinite well of patience. What was the best thing about his wife? When she finally had enough, Croft could sit back and just watch the fallout. Emma may look harmless, but it was all a ruse.
Taking off her sunglasses, she dropped them to the top of her head. Clearly visible was the bruise on her cheek. “Listen up!” she shouted.
Everyone did exactly that.
“I’ve had about enough. It was funny when you all were following me to find out who designed my shoes. It was pretty damn entertaining when you called us the ‘king and queen of crime fighting’, but now my magnanimous attitude is pretty much over. Yes, I was abducted. Yes, I’m back to work but the only problem is, I’m moving on and you all are making my job hard to do. Is it your intention to help the killer run loose in the city? Well, that is what’s happening, because I can’t get to my damn car to do any work.”
No one said a word.
“Head back to your offices and get the hell out of our way. You want to know what color dress I’m wearing to the party? It’s gold. Yes, this is my real hair color. I’ve never been married before the director and my favorite damn food is cupcakes. I’m an open book, but not when I’m working on a case. That is none of your business until it’s closed and wrapped up. Now, unless you want me to toss you all in jail for twenty four hours for being a nuisance, then get the hell away from me. You’re at my home, my place of employment and where I eat. It’s called stalking and unless you all want to sit in jail over Christmas, get lost.”
One reporter stared at her, mouth open.
“What? Do you need to know how to spell magnanimous?”
Emma actually spelled it for him.
Croft started laughing. Good times were had by all when his wife lost it. This was the prime example of when the media pushed their luck.
“Go on! Tomorrow you can snap pictures of me until you’re bored to tears. Then, you can ask me lame questions that no one cares about.”
He took her hand in his, leading her to his car. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time. The part where you spelled for them, that was a nice touch.”
Emma grinned. “I was on my game today. What can I say?”
“I missed my fiery vixen.”
Yeah, so had she. It was good to be back.
Archer and Brass pulled up to the address. It was a little house with nothing but completely dead landscaping. It looked like no one cared for the house or lived there. Honestly, driving past it, they would have assumed it was abandoned.
“Really? This is it?”
Paris nodded. “It looks like someplace a pervert would hang out.”
She had to agree on that one. “I’ll take left,” she said, pointing at the dog house beneath the tree.
“Hey!”
“Payback,” she retorted, laughing. “Don’t get rabies.”
How could he not laugh? Walking towards the small doghouse, he pulled his gun in case there was a rabid mutt inside. As he approached, he could see the end of the chain and let out a sigh of relief.
Now, he could worry about less scary things, like perverted peeping toms.
Moving around the house, he peeked in all the windows, but couldn’t reach one. When his partner rounded the side, he motioned towards her. “Get on,” he stated.
“What?” she looked at him as if he was crazy.
“The window is suspiciously high. You can’t lift me, so let me boost you up to check it out.”
That seemed like a horrible idea. “If you drop me, I’m going to hurt you as soon as I get up off the ground.”
He laughed, lifting her up. It was har
d not to check out her ass, being it was right there. “What do you see?” He was really trying to focus, but failing miserably.
“There’s a room with pictures all over the wall.”
“What kind of pictures?” he asked. “Like artwork or half naked women being restrained? We can get a warrant for one, not the other.”
“Yeah, this is a creep fest. We definitely can call for one,” she finally answered. As she was preparing to drop down, she finally saw it. It was the grossest thing she’d ever seen in her life. Tessa screeched like a girl, losing her balance and falling.
Paris tried to catch her but only ending up beneath her on the ground. “What did you see?”
“Yuck! It was a spider,” she stated as she began to laugh. Then, she realized her body was very close to her partner’s. They were pressed together hip to hip. “Umm, this is awkward.”
Yet, she didn't move.
He wanted to laugh, but he was too busy trying to keep his body from reacting to a beautiful woman lying on top of him. “Yeah, it really is.”
Funny, she’d never noticed how blue his eyes were until she was inches away.
“You better get off of me. This looks really inappropriate,” he finally said, removing his hands from her hips and releasing her.
“Yeah, I better.” Tessa hopped up, offering her partner a hand. She hoped that her face wasn’t flushed. “Sorry, but I hate spiders.”
Really?
All of a sudden, they were his new best friends.
The clinic was in a building housed unsuspectingly in the middle of the suburbs. One would never drive by, thinking that this was the place to get your daily dose of Methadone, and yet here it was.
Getting out of the Challenger, they started towards the door. It was hard to miss the protesters across the street. They were shouting about Jesus being the answer and that Methadone was only a Band-Aid to the problem. As Emma and Greyson moved closer, the man dressed as Santa and holding a giant cross, began urging them to follow him, and he’d make them fishers of men.
“What the hell is he talking about?” Emma asked, confused. They were in the desert. There was no fishing.
Croft laughed, until he noticed she was dead serious. “You weren’t raised Christian were you?”
Emma shook her head. “No, were you and shouldn’t I know that?”
“Yeah, I was Catholic.”
“I don’t believe in religion. I think people should find their own spirituality,” Emma stated, watching his face for any reaction. If that bothered him, he didn't let on.
“Okay,” he finally replied. “Just so you know, if we don’t get our children baptized, they’ll go to hell when they die.”
“WHAT!”
He loved teasing her. “Come on. Let’s go talk to the people who work here.” It was funny to see the outrage and horror on her face.
“Grey! We need to discuss this. If one day we have children, we can’t decide after the fact.”
Ignoring her, he opened the door and walked in. Sitting behind the counter was a man with a mop of curly hair.
“New client? Sign in and leave your insurance card. I’ll get to you when I process it. Who here is the addict?” he pointed at Emma.
“Why do you think I’m the one doing drugs?” she asked, out of pure curiosity.
“You look beat up. One last drug bender, huh?”
Croft had enough of the man. Pulling his badge, he made sure the man saw his gun. Someone was going to get the shit kicked out of him, and it wasn’t going to be either of them.
Emma also took out her badge. “Sorry, but we’re worse than two addicts. He’s a Fed and I’m a detective. We’re here to talk to you about two dead women.”
Immediately, he looked tense.
“I don’t know any dead women.”
“We didn't tell you their names, yet,” Croft stated, pulling out his cell phone. “Do you know a Trish Lorn and Tania Swan?” He showed the man their driver’s license pictures.
“Yeah, I recognize them. She used to come in during the morning and that one was in the afternoon.”
Emma wondered if they could determine a time line. “When was the last time you saw them?”
He reached down below the counter, having both of them reach for their guns.
“Whoa, I’m just grabbing the log book, I swear.”
When he pulled up a binder, they both relaxed. Flipping through the pages, he found the one woman’s name. “Trish stopped coming in a week ago.
Croft did the math in his head. That meant she was in the day she went missing. “How about Tania?”
“The last time she came in was about three days ago.”
That was the day she was abducted.
Emma had to ask. “What’s with the man dressed as Santa out front protesting?”
The man rolled his eyes. “He thinks his church can save people from addiction. He’s trying to poach the weak and weary away from the evil Methadone and into God’s loving arms,” he replied sarcastically.
Apparently, there was no love lost. “What’s your name?” she questioned, pulling out her phone.
“Why?”
“Because when a cop asks your name, you need to comply, but also because you could be the last person to see two women who were murdered. We’re going to run your name and see what falls out of your past,” Croft answered grinning.
The man looked ill. “Bill Turner, but I didn't touch them!”
Emma shrugged. “Then, you have nothing to worry about.” She pulled out her phone, sending Curtis a message, requesting a run on him too.
Once outside, Emma stared over at the protesters. “Do you find it odd that we have a killer calling himself Kris Kringle, a minister dressed like Santa, and a killer judging people good and bad?”
“Honestly, I find everything in Vegas to be pretty bizarre lately. I spend most of my day thinking that I walked into some weird dimension. Want to go talk to him?” he asked grinning.
“Maybe, he saw the victims.”
Both of them crossed the parking lot and headed towards the Santa promoting Jesus. When he saw them coming, it stirred him up. He began yelling louder and louder, praising his God and putting on a show.
It was irritating to say the least.
Emma approached, and when he lunged for her and grabbed her arm, she jumped as he startled her. She wasn’t expecting him to put his hands on her.
Greyson was on the man super-fast and knocked him to the ground. “Don’t touch her ever again!” he growled.
The man looked up at him nervously. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I was just going to bless her with the spirit of Jesus and thank her for leaving the evil of that building. She doesn’t need Methadone, all she needs is God.”
Again, someone took her for an addict. Well hell, this made her day even shittier.
Croft wasn’t amused.
Staying behind her husband, she placed her hand on his lower back. “I’m okay, Grey,” she reassured him, softly.
Stepping back, he moved beside her. “Stand up, before I decide to drag you in for assault.” The idea of anyone putting their hands on Emma pushed him towards the edge, but when she physically jumped in fear, that sent him over.
He pulled up the two pictures and showed them to the man. “Have you ever seen these two women before?”
He studied them and finally shook his head. “They don’t look familiar. I run God’s Salvation Church,” he introduced himself. “I’m Reverend Thomas Corey. You should stop in and see us. You won’t find Jesus in there,” he pointed at the woman.
Emma was getting pissed. “Do I look that bad, Grey? Everyone keeps thinking I’m some strung out druggie.” Again, she lifted her jacket. “I’m with homicide.”
Recognition suddenly dawned. “You’re that woman who was taken. It was God’s will that you were returned. Come to church on Christmas and thank him.”
Yeah, this is why she shunned religion. It was way too pushy. Emma liked everything t
o be more laid back, with the exception of her husband. “No thank you. I don’t believe in God.”
They all gasped at her admission. “Blasphemy! Without God, you would be dead.”
Yeah, if these people had to witness everything that she had over the years, they’d question a higher power too.
Croft took his wife by the hand and led her away. “Remember what I said about our kids, hell, and religion?”
“Yeah?”
“Forget it. I think they have a better shot without it.”
With this, Emma couldn’t agree more.
Heading to Tania Swan’s apartment, they hoped to find something inside that would give them an idea of who may have taken her. At this point, it could be anyone. All they really needed was a tiny shred of evidence to get them on the right track.
Once they pulled up to the double house with the porch, they checked the address again. It was the half on the left. So, they went right. Maybe the neighbor could clue them in on the dead woman.
Knocking on the door, they were met with an older resident dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater that Emma had ever seen in her life. Holy shit, she hoped her mind stayed intact when she got older. The sweater had to be a joke. There were reindeer, jingle bells and the nose of Rudolph lit up. Emma swore she’d rather go naked than wear a travesty like that. This is exactly why she liked vintage things. You never saw the gorgeous women of the nineteen fifties wearing light up sweaters that played ‘Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer’ for a reason.
It was called class.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know the woman who lives next door? I believe her name is Tania Swan?”
“Yeah, she’s my tenant.”
Just when Emma was ready to call the fashion police for a minor infraction, the woman lit up a cigarette and held it between her teeth. The worst part was it was entering her mouth through the missing bottom tooth. She was actually using it to hold it in place. They just went from a style misdemeanor to a couth-less felony.
She could see by the look on her husband’s face, he was thinking the same thing. Then, he looked at her and rolled his eyes, trying not to break into a laugh.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 18
