Stalked by the Past: An FBI Flashback Novel. (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 17)

by Morgan Kelley

  Tony stared at them. “I hope there isn’t a next victim.”

  “We do too, Doctor, but in the case of serial killers, there is always a chance the killer will take someone before we can stop him. It’s the downside of our jobs.”

  He looked upset.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He’d lied to her. Elizabeth didn’t know why, but she could tell from his eyes that he was hiding something. There was a point where she’d step in, but on day one? Yeah, that wasn’t it. When Tony wanted to talk, he would.

  Or so she hoped.

  Back to the missing face and eyes.

  She’d have to ponder this later. Was the killer escalating or screwing with them?

  This wasn’t going to be easy.

  It was time to get the fun underway.

  “I need you two gentlemen to strip them down. I want Tony to go over them, specifically number one, Wyanet, with a fine toothcomb. Give the beetles a snack.”

  Tony was excited.

  He hugged her.

  When he set her free, she was staring at him. “Uh, what was that?”

  “I love my job. I think I may love you too.”

  Chris dropped a tray and stared at the man. “Really? Day one? Kick his ass already. He deserves it.”

  He couldn’t help it.

  He didn’t like other men poaching his Elizabeth.

  She stated laughing as she patted him on the shoulder. “Take it down a notch, Doc. It’s all good. As for Tony,” she said, focusing on him. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure Gabe will be too. Now, get your ass to work, bug man. I need bones. I’ll be back in tomorrow for your assessment. Find out if victim one was part of this.”

  Oh, he would.

  “Honey, dinner?” Chris asked, getting her attention. Maybe he was also signaling to Tony that this territory was already taken.

  She glanced over. “Yeah, that works for me. I may be late. I’m going to head to their homes to dig around. Can we say eight?” she asked.

  “I’ll get us our usual and meet you at my place.”

  It worked for her. “Do I need to bring anything?” she asked, thinking about her whiteboard.

  “No, Lyzee, I have everything you need.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Dig me up something, Doc. I’ll see you then.”

  She headed out.

  When she was gone, Tony moved closer. “So, are you two a couple? I couldn’t help but notice the cute little nicknames, and the way you two act around each other.”

  Chris only wished.

  He wanted to be honest, but he’d seen the other doctor checking out her ass. He knew that look. He was sure his face said it all.

  “That’s personal, and this is work.”

  “You lucky dog,” Tony said, punching him in the arm. “She’s really hot. I can’t believe she doesn’t like people to tell her she’s pretty.”

  Yeah, Chris was aware.

  And that was the damn problem.

  To him, she was more than pretty. She was the woman of his dreams.

  Literally…or she could be.

  * * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *

  Elizabeth liked being out in the field alone. It was nice to have silence as she worked it all out in her head. There was so much to manage when you were working a case, and when you were working it alone, it was even more chaos. When she worked with a partner, yes, it was nice to have input, but sometimes it muddled her thinking.

  This was her running a case her way.

  At that moment, she was plotting her day, watching her back, and thinking about the three dead women on the morgue slabs.

  When chasing a killer, it was best to get the background on the victims. Yeah, this was going to be a lot of work, but she could handle it.

  Pulling out her copies of the files, she scanned the information on her second victim. Naima Abad lived in a quiet section of DC not far from the hustle and bustle. The address on her one arrest report was all she had to go on, and she really hoped it was right.

  If not, she was going to have to head down to central booking and dig for information. Yes, it was the onset of the digital age, and technology was picking up, but police precincts were the last to go high tech.

  They didn’t have the budget.

  Getting out of her ride, she headed toward the building. Outside, sitting on the step was some guy. Elizabeth wasn’t worried. He really didn’t look dangerous. In fact, he was smoking and having a cup of coffee.

  She made a mental note to grab some caffeine at her nearest convenience. It was going to be a long day, and dinner was hours away. She was going to need it.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m looking for Naima Abad’s place,” she stated, checking him out. He was tall, pretty attractive, and wearing some messy clothes. She was betting mechanic, or someone who fixed things for a living.

  He wasn’t clean cut.

  “You don’t look like a client.”

  Elizabeth pulled off her glasses and stared at him. “I’m not a client, but I am a Fed.” She tugged back her blazer and showed him the badge. It was sitting right beside her Glock.

  It did the job.

  He stared at it.

  “Um, yeah, well, she gave great massages.”

  “Did she?” Elizabeth asked. She wondered how much this man knew about Naima. There were certainly more than massages going on in her life if she’d been popped for prostitution.

  “Yeah, she did.”

  Elizabeth needed to get this one under control. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Terry Buckley. I’m the building manager here. Has she done something? I haven’t seen Naima in a couple days. She works all day long, and doesn’t spend much time here at night.”

  Yeah, hookers had to hook for a living.

  “What does she do in the way of a job?” Elizabeth asked, trying to get anything she could from the man.

  “She’s a massage therapist.”

  Yeah, that was code in DC for hooker.

  They were ALL massage therapists. In a way, they were. She’d give you a backrub, dick massage, and then a really happy ending right before you slipped her a C note.

  “And at night?”

  “I think she worked at a club or something. She’d go out all dressed up and in heels. That girl worked nonstop to pay her rent. You know how it is now a days.”

  It was more likely she was out trying to pay her pimp. In DC, you were either a street girl with a pimp daddy, or you were a call girl with a madam. Here, money bought just about anything, including pussy.

  “Did she hang out with any men?”

  He thought about it. “Well, there was this one guy who kept coming around.”

  “Name?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, that I can’t give you. I don’t get into the tenants’ business. I can tell you what he looked like, and that’s about it.”

  She’d take what she could get at this point. “Sure, spill it.”

  “Blonde, blue eyes, and he drove a really nice BMW. It had sick rims and a super awesome exhaust.”

  She made notes. “License plate?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  She started up the stairs. “Where are you going?” he asked. “You can’t just barge in there.”

  “You’re right. Open the door for me.”

  “No way!”

  “She’s dead, Terry. Someone took her life. If you don’t open it, I’ll boot it in, and you’ll have to explain to whoever owns this building why it happened. In fact, I may call the media and slip them some of the sick details from this case.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that, so he followed her. “Geez, this town is getting bad.”

  Yeah, she was aware. She’d hate to see it in a decade or two. It would be one hell of a mess.

  “And you can’t tell me if anyone was bothering her?”

  He shook his head. “I’d hear her
come home around five in the morning. I figured she was out having fun. She was a young single girl. You know what that’s like, right?”

  Yeah, she didn’t.

  Elizabeth went home to an empty brownstone or to Chris’s at night. She didn’t have anyone to curl up with when she was done with work.

  It sucked.

  She began wondering. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Right?” he asked again.

  “Yeah, it’s awesome being young.”

  “I live below her, and she had an active social life.”

  Oh, if he only knew the half of it. Someone was definitely getting her social on, but not with friends—instead with paying clients.

  “Great. Open her door.”

  He obeyed, and Elizabeth headed in. When he tried to join her, she stopped him.

  “You can’t come in. Sit in the hall and wait if you feel the need to check my pockets when I leave.”

  She knew what he was thinking.

  Most people were predictable.

  When she closed the door, she pulled on a pair of gloves. From the fingerprint dust all over the place, she knew Metro had already been there. This was more about getting into the mind of the victim, and less about who had been there.

  As she walked the small place, she noticed a few things. It was pretty tidy, and it was likely pricy. This place had to have been expensive. Elizabeth lived in Georgetown, and that was one hell of a monetary burden.

  This close to the main hub…

  Yeah, someone was making big money as a hooker. Maybe she should rethink her career choice. At least it would blow the cobwebs off her girly parts.

  Elizabeth couldn’t remember the last time she rolled around in the sack with the opposite sex.

  Yeah, it had been that damn long.

  What the hell was wrong with her? There were men all around her, and she wasn’t partaking in the opposite sex.

  She’d have to figure that out later. For now, it was about the dead hooker.

  Walking through the place, she found the woman’s stash of condoms, lube, and other fun things. There were edible undies, and Elizabeth didn’t think they were part of the job. She couldn’t recall many hookers being busted in FBI stings carrying those in their bags.

  So, Naima was getting her groove on for fun too. This was proof that someone liked sex, and she had a personal sex life outside of hooking.

  Had a John gotten too close?

  Had Naima let someone into her life and had it gotten her killed?

  There were so many options at this point.

  As she kept searching, she found the woman’s closet to be very interesting. There was a shitload of shoes in there.

  Don’t get her wrong. Elizabeth loved shoes. She loved heels, boots, flats, and even the five different pairs of running shoes she owned.

  But there was one thing bothering her.

  The shoes were on the floor, but there was a single shoebox buried beneath them. It looked like the shoes had been stacked all over the top of it to hide something.

  That was odd.

  That didn’t feel right.

  Elizabeth knew with her own closet, she took the shoes out, placed them where she could see them, and then tossed the boxes.

  In Naima’s closet, there were fifty pairs of heels and no boxes—except for a pair of sneakers. On top of that, there were no sneakers to be found.

  Reaching into the jumble of shoes, she grabbed the box to investigate further. Taking a seat on the closet floor, Elizabeth opened it up.

  That’s when she saw it.

  Pay dirt!

  Inside, there were rolls of cash.

  Someone was making some bigtime money. This was going to have to go in as evidence.

  Then she noticed something else.

  There was the start of a list. On it were two names.

  Robert Donaldson

  Arnold Knox

  Beside the names, she had tallies and numbers. It looked like someone was keeping track, but of what?

  She was going to have to dig.

  Closing the box, she looked around the room. Out of the corner of her eye, from a vent, something caught her eye. There was a sporadically blinking light.

  That was definitely out of place.

  Pulling out a pocket knife, Elizabeth jimmied open the vent to find a video recorder set up to monitor the bedroom.

  What the hell?

  Was the hooker videotaping Johns while she got her sex on with them? Really?

  Elizabeth stared at the pieces to the puzzle. She had a dead hooker, killed outside her home in an alley. She had a box of money, hidden inside a closet, and then she had a list with two men’s names on it.

  Interesting.

  Add in a man in a souped up BMW making regular visits. To her, it only meant one thing, and it made perfect sense.

  Someone was being blackmailed.

  In DC, it was common.

  Popping out the tape, she looked around for more of them. When she stopped in front of a shelf, she wanted to laugh. There sat a shitload of Disney videos.

  In a hooker’s place?

  Really?

  How had Metro missed any of this shit? Someone had either been a newbie or way off their game. Why would a hooker have kid’s videos in her bedroom?

  It was funny.

  It looked like she and Chris were going to be watching some porn tonight. Elizabeth hoped he didn’t mind.

  Who was she kidding?

  He’d offer to make popcorn. That was why he was her best friend.

  Birds of a feather flocked together.

  Grabbing a laundry basket from the one corner, she dumped each and every tape that wasn’t labeled into the basket. Naima had some secrets—more so than just being a hooker.

  Someone was stirring the pot, and Elizabeth was going to get to the bottom of it.

  Soon.

  * * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *

  Chris was trying to work.

  Only, it wasn’t easy.

  In the morgue, today, there was an additional distraction to his already chaotic thoughts. Chris normally thought about his best friend, but today, he was forced to remain in the jealousy zone.

  Why?

  Tony was talking nonstop, and it was starting to irritate him. No, there was a reason it was bugging him. The man was talking about Elizabeth.

  Asking if she was smart.

  If she was in a relationship?

  Was she hard to work with?

  He just wouldn’t stop.

  Normally, Chris could get lost in his work, and that helped a great deal, but today…nope.

  It was all day Elizabeth. That irritated him because it made his body rock-hard with visions of what he’d fantasized about in his shower.

  And the guilt.

  He was wracked with it.

  Chris was about to kick Tony’s ass out of the morgue to get some peace and quiet. Then, he said something, and for the first time in an hour, that piqued his interest.

  He was talking about this thing called ‘online dating’. Chris was intrigued. He’d never realized you could hook up with women online, have them meet you for drinks, and call it a date.

  He grew up with a single mother, and she would shit a brick if she even heard he was doing something like that—or contemplating it.

  “It’s damn hard to meet people anymore,” Tony stated. “When you work weird hours or spend copious amounts of time locked in an office, it puts a damper on dating.”

  Yeah, Chris was aware.

  He was the posterchild for celibacy and constant masturbation.

  “You really do this ‘online dating’ thing?” Chris asked. He needed to gauge the man’s expertise on it.

  “I’ve had about four dates. They were pretty great.”

  “Why four?”

  Chris needed more information. He was processing everything the man said.

  “I’m not into settling down right now,” he admitted. That was the
furthest thing from what he wanted in life.

  Tony was still searching for the answers to his mother’s disappearance, and he needed to focus. “I’m just meeting them to have fun. I’m sick of looking at dead bodies. I want to check out some live ones.”

  “So, basically, this ‘online dating’ thing is all about the sex?” Chris asked.

  Tony glanced up from the plexi-glass box with the body and beetles. “Well, yeah, it can lead to that if you’re really lucky.”

  “Has it? Have you been really lucky?”.

  Tony wasn’t sure if he should answer. After all, he’d just met the guy. He liked him, but what if it ended up getting him sent to HR?

  “Uh, that’s personal,” he offered.

  Chris knew he had to open up if he wanted the man to do the same. “I’ll share if you share.”

  That had him smiling. “Okay. Deal.”

  “What was it like?” Chris asked.

  Tony pulled over two stools and they sat down. He needed to keep his voice down. “It was pretty awesome. I met these ladies, and they were really pretty.”

  Chris was intrigued.

  He didn’t want to meet anyone for anything long term. This might just be the answer to his problem. If he could hook up, then he could get sex off his mind. Then he wouldn’t be thinking about his best friend as if she was a mattress he wanted to bounce on non-stop.

  “Tell me more.”

  “Well, we met for drinks to break the ice. I liked them immediately.”

  “Did it end up in sex?” Chris asked, lowering his voice. The last thing he wanted was his techs to think he was out trolling for women.

  This was about taking some of the pressure off. He needed to distract himself with something.

  Tony nodded. “Yes, I had sex with two of the four. The other two didn’t do it for me. People lie online—a lot. They were all really attractive, but two of them weren’t really smart. I like women who challenge me.”

  Chris did the math.

  That was fifty percent.

  He was okay with those kinds of odds. It just might keep him busy enough to forget how much he wanted Elizabeth.

  Maybe.