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

by Morgan Kelley

  What he really wanted was a manual on women. Someone should hand every male one when they turned sixteen. It would give you time to memorize it and study the fine details that could keep you out of trouble. It should list all the things never to do or say. There should be a whole chapter on what to do after sex, and what to not ever think of doing.

  When to run for your life.

  What kind of presents to give them.

  Just about everything should be in that book…

  In fact, there should be a woman code, with a special chapter on apologies. Shit, he really made this a horrible mess with his blatant woman ignorance. He should probably try to fix this, since he broke it.

  “Tessa, I’m really sorry. Tell me how to make this right with us. I hate having you hurt like this,” he practically pleaded. “We’re partners and that should mean something.”

  She nearly laughed at him, and not in a good way, either. Didn't she know that it should have meant something? That she should have mattered enough that he knew better than to say what he said.

  Didn't he see how hurtful his words were? Who spent the night making love to a woman, only to call it a mistake to her face the next day?

  Right now, she couldn’t do this. “We have work to do for the boss. There’s nothing to discuss. Your mistake was easily fixed and forgotten. I’m history.”

  With that, she was gone, rushing off to the building.

  Paris laid his head on the steering wheel and prayed for divine intervention, or at least someone to step in and give him a clue.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday Afternoon

  When Curtis Briggs called to give them the okay on Captain Ford, he really hoped that the man was indeed clean. It had taken him thirty-one minutes to do a fast search, and by his standards, it was subpar. Yet, when the boss said hustle, one got a move on it.

  As he was given his next part of the assignment, he kept thinking back to Brynn Westmore. It appeared that she too, was willing to take the high ground and was trying to be pleasant.

  He wasn’t exactly happy with that. What he hoped for, deep down, was that she’d rush up to him, throw her arms around him and apologize for hurting him.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t hold his breath on that one.

  He knew better than that.

  For now, he was relegated to just sitting by and waiting to see what was going to happen between them. He was now a prisoner of fate.

  It sucked, but what could he do?

  On one hand, he missed her companionship, but on the other he was aware it wasn’t what Greyson and Emma had either.

  Damn! Why did life have to be difficult?

  As he pulled up to the homeless shelter, he prayed that he would find something that tied the victim to the church. If he could, maybe then he could make his boss happy.

  He laughed getting out of the Denali. Yeah, nothing was going to make Greyson Croft happy until they found the person who took his wife and dropped him in a very deep hole.

  Preferably after he was dead.

  As they headed towards the Captain’s office, Croft pulled his wife under his arm. He scanned the many smiling faces and some scowling ones for looks of guilt.

  It pissed him off that someone in that building could be the person who could have put their hands on his wife.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried not to focus on that, but on the big wall that they needed to climb up ahead.

  The imposing structure had a name, and he hated the FBI with his cold little heart.

  Greyson didn't have a problem with the man, but he couldn’t say the same for Ford’s feelings towards him. Lately, it had been a little bit better, but there was still masculine pride involved. On the day he first met him, they didn't exactly hit it off.

  Maybe that was his fault, but when another man talks down to your woman, it’s your job to step in and handle the situation.

  Well he did.

  Now, he needed a favor, and it could all come back to bite him in the ass.

  “Captain, can we come in?” Emma asked from the doorway.

  The man was at his desk, with his feet up on the corner and dressed down, since he was off duty. He was in a t-shirt and jeans and didn't look nearly as cranky, which in itself was a miracle.

  “Sure. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” he inquired. Not that he was doing anything at home. He’d done the Christmas Eve thing with his parents and siblings, and since he wasn’t married, he was on his own for the day. One could only watch that stupid holiday BB gun movie so many times before becoming suicidal or homicidal.

  Croft closed the door and locked it.

  “Well, that’s always a bad sign. Have a seat, Emma.” He stared over at the other man. “Are you here to give the bad news or be the one who keeps me from losing my mind?”

  “Both.”

  “Good to know. Okay, let me hear it. What do you need?”

  Croft began by telling him about the dealer brought in for an arrest. He rolled into the part about the man claiming there was a dumped body, and wrapped it up with what they knew about Emma and her abductor. Not once did the man flinch or show any outward sign of emotion.

  Ford was almost as good as Croft at being cool and collected. You could tell that he had the patina of years of being on the street.

  “So, you actually believe that a cop grabbed you?”

  Emma sighed. When he said it that way, she already knew where it was heading.

  Her husband jumped in for her. “The person who grabbed her isn’t on a single camera. Why? He knew where they were. Then there was the little part about how he knew where she’d park her car.”

  “Well, it isn’t exactly hard to miss a big black Lincoln Navigator with blacked out windows in the middle of a police parking lot,” he stated. “It’s a luxury vehicle mixed in with those of the blue collar working stiffs.”

  “Wait,” Emma thought about it. “I wasn’t parked where I usually park,” she stated.

  Both men looked over at her.

  “I came back from meeting you for lunch, and when I did, my spot was taken.”

  Christopher Ford leaned forward. “It shouldn’t have been. We all have numbered spots.”

  Croft knelt beside her and stared into her eyes. “What kind of car was it, honey?”

  Emma replayed that day in her head over and over, trying to recall that one little detail.

  She drove into the lot.

  Looked at her spot.

  And there it was…

  “It was a white Toyota.” When she looked up at her husband, they shared a look, knowing what that meant. The person who grabbed her parked Kristopher Karson’s car in her spot so she’d have to park at the back of the lot. She’d be easier to grab away from the cameras, until he could return later to move it.

  “We need that car, Captain. I doubt the person who did this is driving around in it. It had to be dumped somewhere.”

  He picked up his phone. “Do you have a plate number?” he questioned, calling the impound lot.

  Croft scrolled through his phone to the details. When he found it, he read it off and listened to the man bark orders into the phone.

  When they put him on hold, he glanced over. “They have a car that matches that description. It was picked up outside a strip mall, abandoned by a dumpster.”

  The person who did this was smart. He didn't think the cops would look right under their own noses for the car. Getting it impounded was ingenious.

  Ford hung up the phone. “We have it.”

  Croft dialed his phone. “I’ll have my team head there to sweep it for prints and any evidence that they can find.”

  “Do you really think I have someone in house that did this?” he asked, needing an honest answer.

  Croft had no doubt. “Yeah, you have a rat.”

  Again, he picked up his phone and dialed the vice-captain. The first few minutes were pleasant chitchat, and then he followed up with the request. If anythin
g, he knew how to play the game. You needed honey to catch prey, not vinegar.

  The man on the other end gave him the details and his okay for a questioning by the Feds. Ford promptly began dialing the lockdown sergeant. They would get the man transported back down to interrogation as soon as possible. It was Christmas, so it wasn’t likely that it would happen any time today.

  Ford made the request, and then paused. “When?”

  There was more silence, and Emma and Greyson didn't like the way the energy in the room changed. That generally meant bad news.

  “How’d it happen?”

  The man stared at the Fed.

  “Okay, well thank you,” he said, hanging up the phone. “The situation just got a little bit more suspicious.”

  “What happened?” Emma was almost afraid to ask.

  “The perp that vice brought in was shanked this morning in the shower. They found him in his own blood and no one saw anything.”

  Croft let out a tirade of profanity worthy a sailor at sea. “Come on! You have to be kidding me!”

  “So, we have a cop who is on the take and is willing to abduct one of his own, and a perp that mysteriously was killed in lockup and no one saw it?” Emma couldn’t believe it.

  “He was screaming that it was a cop, and I’d bet my badge that the person, who is dirty, made sure he stopped singing,” Croft replied. “That was our best shot of finding the person who grabbed my wife.”

  Ford felt bad for the man. “Director, we’ll work around it, okay?”

  “Only someone in-house would know the man was making a deal. We need to keep this quiet and work under the cop’s radar,” Croft stated.

  “What if I’m the cop?” he asked, out of curiosity.

  “We already ran you, and you’re not.”

  He didn't look happy. “Well, what did you find out?”

  Croft grinned. “You're eating habits are shitty, you should cut back on take out, and you have an ulcer that is getting worse.”

  Emma laughed. “Don’t forget to pick up your meds.”

  The man just stared. “I really hate the Feds sometimes, and the woman married to him is pushing her luck too.”

  Funny, that wasn’t the first time Greyson had heard that, and knowing them, it was likely not the last.

  The two agents stared silently at the map on the table. They were already doing a run on the Reverend Thomas Corey and his family. Since everything seemed to be happening around him, he seemed a logical suspect.

  Paris wasn’t really focused on the map. He was too busy watching the woman in front of him. It was hard to believe that just last night, everything had been fine.

  No, it was so much better than fine.

  It had been amazing.

  When he’d been with her, everything in the world seemed more vivid, the stress vanished, and all that mattered was them. His heart skipped in his chest at the memory of what happened between them.

  Then reality sunk in.

  “You look perplexed,” he said softly.

  She nodded, the creases forming in her brow. “This doesn’t look right,” she said, turning the map.

  “Where you live, do you have a mailman, or do you have to go to the post office?” she asked him.

  “I have a mailman. Why?”

  “Me too, and that has me thinking. Wouldn’t these streets all be connected? I know my mail guy doesn’t work a grid pattern. He takes one long street all the way around town. It cuts down on stops and gas. He isn’t driving back and forth then.”

  He thought about it. “Mine too. I think there’s a different person on the street above me.”

  She took the ruler and marked off the streets. If there weren’t side streets, this would all be one long route. Wouldn’t it?”

  He saw what she was saying. “We’d have to check with the post office.”

  “Strike one and two. It’s Sunday and a holiday. Good luck getting a call back from a federal employee.”

  He knew they wouldn’t get a response, but he also knew who would. “I bet the boss could get an answer.”

  “Yeah, he probably could.”

  “This might not be random. I’ll give him a call.”

  Tessa watched her partner. “Good.” Maybe after this, she could retreat home. All she really wanted was this day to end.

  * * *

  Briggs stood in the epicenter of the saddest thing that he had ever seen in his entire life. The homeless shelter on Christmas was a place he never thought he’d see, and he was never going to forget it for as long as he lived.

  Sitting around were people, desolate, broken and heart achingly sad. The worst part was there were kids. Even though he’d grown up alone, Curtis had his grandmother. They managed to scrape by, but never had he been this destitute. They at least had a roof over their head.

  Here, the people weren’t as lucky. When the kids sat together playing with whatever they could find, he wanted to run out and buy them things, or better yet bring them all home.

  Uh, maybe, he shouldn’t do that. Stealing people’s kids and hiding them in luxury condos probably was a horrible idea all around, especially when you didn't own the place.

  Walking around the corner, he saw a little kid playing with sticks and some rocks. The child was cautiously using them to build tiny little buildings. Curtis was torn between sadness and interest as he admired the skillfully constructed structures.

  “Hello” he said, cheerfully. “Merry Christmas.”

  Okay, he wanted to weep more. “Hi, I’m Curtis. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Willie.”

  “Can you tell me where to find the person in charge?” he asked.

  “Right over there,” he replied, pointing to a doorway.

  “Thank you,” he answered, remembering the candy bar he shoved in his pocket with the intent to eat later as a snack. “Do you like chocolate?”

  The kid grinned. “Yeah, who doesn’t? We don’t get a lot of it here. When there is some, it goes pretty fast.”

  Okay, this was a lesson--he was sure. The powers that be wanted him to get something out of this. Like his life wasn’t so damn bad after all.

  Pulling it out, he handed it to the kid. “Maybe I’ll drop more off this week, Willie.”

  The kid grinned. “I’m going to go share it with my sister,” he said, running away. Then, he stopped, only to come back. “Thank you, Curtis,” he said, hugging him and taking off again.

  “Life changing, isn’t it?” asked a voice from behind him.

  When he turned around, he saw the woman standing in the doorway to the office. “Yeah, that’s hard to take, and then toss in Christmas. It makes it really brutal.”

  She patted him on the shoulder and understood. “That was sweet of you to give him your candy and treat him like he was a human being.”

  Briggs understood, maybe more than he let on in his life. “I’m with the FBI, and I need to ask you a couple questions if you don’t mind.”

  She nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  He pulled out his tablet and flipped to the picture of Julia Montgomery before she was brutalized by the killer. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  She stared down into her face. “Oh, Julia. What have you done now?” she asked. “Is she under arrest?”

  Curtis shook his head. “No, I’m afraid she’s been murdered.”

  “Oh no! That’s terrible. What happened?”

  He didn't go into too much detail. In this case, it was best to not share the horror behind her death. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you anything more since the assignment is ongoing. When did you see her last?”

  “It had to be about five last night.”

  “Where did she go?”

  The woman sighed. “Life on the streets isn’t good. Julia had been living on her own for quite a few years. She had picked up some bad habits.”

  “You mean like pickpocketing?”

  The woman nodded. “She wasn’t a bad person. She was a li
ttle like Robin Hood. She’d steal, and then give it away to the people here.”

  That made it even worse. The woman had been tagged ‘naughty’, when she was just trying to survive. “Did she have any possessions?”

  The woman shook her head. “No one here really does. It’s tough times. We use all our funding to buy food. Every day, one more person shows up, and I can’t turn them away.”

  “Where do you get your funding?”

  “Churches and private donations from other businesses,” she replied. “Why?”

  This might be the link he was looking for. “Do you get money from God’s Salvation Church?”

  She thought about it. “We do. They give us supplies, and their choir was here three days ago to sing Christmas songs and drop off cookies.”

  There was the connection.

  Briggs stood. “I have to go, but thank you,” he said, then stopped at the door. “What do you need most right now?”

  She thought about it. “We had at one time hoped to finish working on one of the back rooms to make it a place for the kids to go play. The streets aren’t a good idea anymore, but our contractor backed out, and we had to use the donations for some repairs to the water system, why?”

  “Right now, I’m working on this assignment, but when it’s over. I’ll be back,” he paused. “I’ll finish the room for you.”

  She stared at him. “Really? Why?”

  Curtis thought about it. “Because I was a lot like Willie once too, except I at least had a roof over my head. I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  The woman watched him leave, and she smiled. Maybe there were such a things as Christmas miracles.

  Outside, he pulled out his phone and dialed Croft. This might just make his boss’s day yet.

  When Croft answered the phone, he found his partner on the other line, and his voice didn't sound right. “Curtis, are you all right?” he asked, having Emma glance over rather quickly.

  “Yeah, I found your connection to the church. You need to get down here. I’ll meet you there.”