“Ma’am, when did you see her last?” Emma asked.
“Not in a couple days. But that’s not unusual. Tania is a sex bunny. She likes to go out and grab a few johns and party the night away.” Then it must have occurred to her to ask who they were. “Are you the cops?”
They both nodded.
“Damn, I have a big mouth. Are you going to arrest her? She’s really a nice girl. Tania just doesn’t have any redeeming skills other than lying on her back and…”
Emma cut her off. “Stop please. We don’t care about her sexual habits. We’re here because she was the victim of a homicide. We need to look in her place. Has anyone been here lately?”
Croft glanced over at his wife. It wasn’t like her to break the news with very little empathy.
“No one comes here. Is she really dead?”
“Yes.”
“Oh no, what happened?” she asked, reaching in for her keys and walking next door.
Croft took over. “We can’t discuss it, but we’re sorry for your loss.”
The woman nodded, opening the door for them. “Lock up when you leave. I’m going to go call her friends. That poor girl.”
They watched her walk away.
“Are you okay?” he asked, touching her cheek.
Emma was on emotional overload. The last few days had been stressful. What she wanted to say was ‘let’s go home, lock ourselves away and have nonstop sex’, but what she needed to do outweighed it.
“I’m tired and hungry.”
“And?” Greyson knew there was more.
She smiled up at him. “I’m on tacky Vegas overload. If I have to see one more light up sweater, flamingo or palm tree with Christmas lights I may weep. What ever happened to class, grace, and dignity?”
He shrugged. “It died when Elvis was abducted by aliens,” he replied, keeping a straight face.
Emma laughed. “Thank you, I needed that.”
Entering the apartment, they started to look around. For a prostitute, the woman was very neat. Emma took the kitchen, while her husband searched the living room.
Nothing seemed to be out of place.
“Anything?” he called from the other room.
“Babe, she alphabetized her soup cans,” Emma replied. “She was more OCD than you.”
He peeked in from the doorway. “I never thought to do that. I only rotate them due to expiry date. I’ll work on that when I have a day off.”
She stared at him. “Are you serious?” Emma wouldn’t put it past him.
Croft began laughing. “Come explore the bedroom with me. I get weirded out when I dig through another woman’s panty drawers without you. It makes me feel like I’m having an affair.”
Now she was laughing with him. “I’m glad you have a conscience.”
They each took a side of the bed and hit up the nightstands first. “I’m betting we find sex toys,” she said, pulling her drawer and looking triumphant.
“Uh, she was a prostitute. What were you expecting, a bible?”
Croft pulled his drawer and began laughing. “I take that back. I have the bible. So, do you think she screwed lots of men, and then prayed for salvation?”
Emma shrugged as he flipped through the pages. When a flyer fell out, she picked it up.
“What is it?” he asked, coming around to read over her shoulder.
“It looks like the holy Reverend Thomas Corey is full of shit. Our girl has one of his church flyers in her bible,” Emma replied.
“I guess we’ll be revisiting the God’s Salvation Church again.”
“Oh, you better believe it.” And she couldn’t wait.
* * *
They waited there in the Denali until the rest of the team arrived with the rushed search warrant. They didn't know who the director called to get it expedited, but he made it happen.
Now, they could get their first look inside the house.
They knocked, when no one answered, they decided to take down the door.
Bracing themselves, Paris did the honors, going in high and his partner taking his back. He enjoyed working with Tessa for a few reasons. She was funny, her gut was rarely wrong and if he had to be honest, she was sexy. It was something about the way she smelled and her eyes.
Right now, he trusted her to keep his back cleared, as they walked into the unknown.
Moving down the hall, he could feel her hand on his lower back, just below the Kevlar. It was making his body tingle, and he was having a hard time focusing. Every time her hand slid a little lower, he prayed it would stay there longer. Since having her pressed against him, his mind had been on less than puritanical thoughts when it came to her. Sue him, he was a man, and she was hot.
Clearing the rest of the rooms, he finally found the one that they’d stared into from the outside. At the top of the door was a padlock. “I knew that window was suspiciously high.”
He called for the bolt cutters, and as an agent clipped them, they drew their guns, unsure what else they’d find. On three, he hit the door with his shoulder and popped it open. Tessa went in sweeping and finally just standing there with her mouth open.
“Holy shit, this guy’s psycho,” he said, staring at the faces all over the walls. It was a ceiling to floor stalking fest.
Tessa walked over to the desk and stared at the clippings. “Uh, you better call the boss.”
“Why? What do you have?”
Then, he saw it and needed no more explanation on the matter. “I’ll call right now.”
Yeah, Croft was about to lose his mind twice in one week.
* * *
At first, they drove back by the Methadone clinic, searching for the reverend and his flock of protesters. None were there, and they figured it was time to make a little trip to their home base and look around while asking questions.
Neither was big on church. Come to think of it, this wasn’t exactly what they wanted to be doing for the afternoon, but before they could grab something to eat, they needed to cross the reverend off the list.
Getting out of their vehicle, they walked to the door that said ‘office’. It always entertained him that in Vegas, there were churches everywhere. With the larger pool of sin, you probably needed a bigger chance of salvation.
The other thing that entertained him was there were neon signs on almost every chapel. He assumed that it was just in case you missed the bells and crosses, the flashing pink sign screaming ‘Jesus is here’ with an arrow would keep you from getting lost looking for the entrance.
They pulled on the door handle, having it open easily. That was good news. It meant someone was there. Walking down the hall, they could hear music coming from the inner sanctum. It was Christmas hymns for what was likely their Christmas concert.
Walking in, they found the Reverend Thomas Corey sitting in the back pew with another man, as they observed with looks of pure delight.
When Croft tapped him on the arm, he glanced back, confused until recognition dawned.
Motioning them to follow, he led them to his office beside the main hall. Inside, he closed the door and offered them both a seat.
“What can I do for you both?” he asked grinning. “Oh, where are my manners? This is the deacon of our church, Trent Simpson. He’s my back up man for when I need a day off.”
Croft shook his hand, making their introductions.
“I hear there were some murders,” stated Trent Simpson. “That’s such a travesty. What is this world coming to? God must be coming back soon to cleanse the unrighteous from his sight.”
Reverend Thomas Corey gave an amen.
Emma just shook her head.
“We don’t know about the end of the world, but we can attest that some women have come to the conclusion of their lives.”
Immediately, Trent Simpson’s demeanor changed. “Are you accusing us of something?”
“No, we’re here to revisit our previous conversation with the reverend and nothing more,” Greyson said, pulling out his phone
.
“Listen, I’m sorry for grabbing you,” Thomas Corey stated, sheepishly, directing it at Emma. “I didn't mean to frighten you. When we’re out there trying to get people to come to our church, I get a little over enthusiastic. I can’t help it. I love God that much.”
“He loves his job, and we love him for it!” added Trent. “The reverend is our shepherd to the Lord.”
Emma didn't mind the enthusiasm. Her big concern now was in a whole other area of questioning.
“Are you sure you don’t recognize these women,” Croft asked, one more time, showing each man the photographs.
The men took his phone and stared at them at the same time.
“I’m sorry. They just don’t look familiar to me. I don’t believe they’re members of our flock. I get to know each person quite well, as I council them to the Lord.” He glanced over at Trent Simpson. “How about you, Deacon?”
“I’m horrible with faces. Sorry, but I’m of no help.”
She was beginning to wonder if that’s all he was doing with them. He wouldn’t be the first ‘Godly’ man who went astray. Just because they ran a church didn't mean they didn't want to touch the women who went there.
“Here’s our problem,” Croft began. “We search Tania Swan’s apartment just now, and we found something that says otherwise.” Croft pulled out the flyer that was sealed in plastic. “Do you hand these out?”
The deacon took it and showed the reverend.
The man stared down at the mint green paper. “We do, but I don’t always give them out personally. They’re at the door when you come in and my parishioners also pass them around. I’m not saying that the woman didn't get it here. I just don’t recall seeing her or giving it to her personally.”
Emma wanted to look around. “Can we talk to some of the people in your church? Maybe the ones practicing for the Christmas show?”
Trent had a way to lure more people in, and it involved the people in front of him. They were always on the news. “On one condition--you come here for the Christmas service.”
Croft started laughing. “You want me to have this church flooded with agents so there isn’t a service?”
The men shook their heads.
“Don’t bargain with the devil. You may be peddling God, but I’m in charge of the law here in Vegas. Cooperate and stop trying to get us in here to worship.”
Emma took his hand. “We’re not really church people. Sorry,” she added grinning.
Wasn’t that the truth?
They talked to almost every single person in the main room. Everyone said the exact same thing. No one recognized any of the four women. They’d hope to find some connection to the church, but it was all a bust.
“That was useless,” Emma said, walking out to the Denali.
“Yeah, I think you may be right.”
She didn't really buy into the whole ‘coincidence’ thing, so it was nagging at her brain. “There has to be a connection.”
Croft shrugged. “If there is, I don’t see it.”
Walking out, it was hard to miss the men watching them. Trent was whispering in the other man’s ear.
One thing was for sure, neither man looked happy.
* * *
Emma was starving.
Rarely did she force her husband to stop and get her food, but today she was suddenly in the mood. They contemplated trying their favorite bistro, but they knew there wouldn’t be any peace. The media was once again following them and making their lives uncomfortable. So, the solution was to eat inside at a place that didn't have windows all around it.
Since they just did their visit to God’s Salvation Church, they picked a really nice place less than a block away. It served Italian, and didn't have peeping paparazzi.
“You look off today,” he said, finally. “What’s going on?”
Emma didn't know if she should tell him or not.
“Honey, you can share anything with me and not worry that I’ll comment. Get it off your chest.”
“It’s going to sound petty and silly. But I’m a girl and it matters to me.”
Croft sipped his iced tea. “Okay, so sound silly, but share it with me. It’s what couples do.”
Emma nodded. “Twice today, I was mistaken for a junkie. Do I look that bad? How am I supposed to pull off this party tomorrow if everyone thinks I’m on heroin?”
He wanted to laugh, but knew she was really upset. Emma was a girly-girl under the badge. She liked pedicures, got her hair done and had a drawer full of makeup. It was sexy having a wife who took the time to primp and tweeze just for him.
So, this was her big fear for tomorrow, and why he contacted Randall Mason.
“What if I told you that I have a solution, but you can’t ask me about it until tomorrow afternoon?”
She stared at him as if he was crazy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head. “I have a surprise and if I say more it’s ruined. Do you trust me?”
Of course she did. “You know I do, with all my heart, Greyson.”
“Then, I promise that you don’t need to worry, and for the record, you don’t look like a junkie. You look like a cop that got sucker punched.”
She laughed. “By a junkie?”
He glanced over as a man approached. Immediately, his whole demeanor changed and he went on alert.
“Good day! Welcome to my establishment. I’m the owner here, and when I saw you both across the dining room, I had to stop at your table and tell you that I saw you on the news, Mrs. Croft. I’m glad you were returned safely.”
Emma didn't expect that. “Thank you.”
“My name’s Richard Porter, and it’s a pleasure to have you in my establishment. I’d like to offer you lunch on me, thanking you for your service to our city.”
Croft shook his head. “We can’t, I’m sorry. We aren’t permitted to accept free things from businesses, it skirts the rules, but we appreciate the offer. We’re just glad to get away from the media for a little while.”
“I’ll make sure you aren’t bothered by them or the patrons while you eat. I saw the news reports this morning, and they’re being pretty harsh.”
Emma almost didn't want to know. “What now?”
He tried to reassure her. “It’s the usual. Cops are incompetent and there’s a smarter criminal finally in Vegas, and that the dynamic duo is out of their league. You know how they like to sensationalize the entire thing and say anything to get a story.”
Croft shook his head. “I hate the media.”
Richard laughed. “That’s why I don’t put televisions in my restaurant. They suck out the soul.”
At that moment, their lunch came.
“I’ll let you eat. Please feel free to come back for dinner and I’ll make sure we have a seat open for you, if that’s not breaking any laws.”
Greyson appreciated it. “No, that’s fine.”
He bowed and walked away.
Emma took a bite of her salad and thought about it. “I like it here. The nosey journalists can’t watch me eat.”
Croft was with her on that one. “I think we found a safe place to hide out.”
“Yay! We can drink on the job now too,” she teased, getting him to laugh.
“I wouldn’t go that far, sweet stuff. I need to bring home a paycheck if we want a roof over our heads.”
Emma smiled at him. “God, you’re such a stickler for the rules, love muffin. You would think that you’d throw caution to the wind.”
“You’re funny. Eat your lunch.”
“I can’t,” she said, grinning.
That had his attention. “Why? What’s wrong with your salad?” Now, he was concerned.
“It’s a little lonely on this side of the table. Maybe you want to join me and keep me company?”
She didn't have to ask him twice. Immediately, Greyson moved his chair, and then plate. “How’s this?” he inquired, leaning over to drop a kiss on her cheek.
“Tha
t is so much better,” she replied, leaning against him.
“Good, now eat your lunch.”
Emma ran her hand up and down his leg. “Yes, Grey.”
They’d just finished their lunch when his phone began ringing. Glancing down at the ID, he answered. “Croft.”
“Director, it’s Agent Archer. We executed the search warrant, and we need you to get over here.”
There was something in his voice that made him feel completely unsettled about the entire thing. “Send the directions. We’ll be right there.”
Emma didn't like the urgency in his voice as he pulled them from the restaurant. It was reinforced when out in his car he raced through the streets like a maniac. “Do we have another set of bodies already?”
Croft shook his head. “No, but Paris and Tessa did a search on that peeping tom, and they found something that they insisted we needed to see.”
“Oh boy,” she answered. Greyson’s agents were fairly self-sufficient. In the almost three months, rarely did he ever get called to a scene to observe a finding.
Pulling up to the address, he slammed his car to a stop and raced towards the house with Emma at his side.
Inside, there were Feds cataloging and pulling the place apart. Croft searched for the two agents in charge and waited for them to tell him the bad news.
“I’m sorry to make you come here, but we have a problem.”
Greyson didn't mind. If there was something big coming, he needed to be in on it from the beginning, so he could have control of the situation.
“Follow us.”
They walked behind Archer and Brass, into a room that was filled with pictures.
Emma didn't know what to say. “Holy shit, look at all this.”
Croft stared at the walls in revulsion. “Please tell me you found the pictures of our victims here,” he said.
Tessa shrugged. “We’re still looking, but as of yet we don’t have anything, sir.”
Greyson glanced over. There was something definitely brewing there that neither agent wanted to tell him. If they both looked that worried, it meant one thing.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 19
