“How about this man?” Brynn asked, pointing at Phillip Cahill.
“He had a torn rotor cuff. I had to clear him before he was eligible to go back to work. He was given a prescription for pain meds, and then sent on his merry way.”
Brynn moved on. Even though they didn't have the lab’s blood work back on their newly murdered agent, she went for it. “How about her? This is Agent Jane Pepper, and she’s the latest victim.”
He pulled up her name in the system. “I had given her a prescription for Xanax. She told me after her last assignment, she was edgy. I prescribed them for her.”
Again, Curtis spoke up, “Did you report it?”
He nodded. “I sent it upstairs. My receptionist was given the forms and told to handle it. If you’re implying that they never got there, you’d have to talk to her. Once I pass them off, I don’t keep track of them. I see about one hundred fifty patients a week, and that doesn’t include the FBI agents who get tossed into the mix.”
Curtis made a note to do just that. The FBI frowned on any of their agents taking meds for anxiety, depression, or anything else that could affect their performance in the field.
“We appreciate your help, Doctor Havers,” Brynn said, standing up.
The man pulled his card from his pocket and scribbled his number on the back. “If you change your mind, Detective, I’d love to still have dinner with you. I’m free most nights after six.”
Brynn took the card and smiled. There was no point in being rude, but she wasn’t going to be using it.
Curtis’s heart sank. Here he’d waited, and the babe who he was still crazy about was slipping away.
Damn it!
Once out at the reception desk, he fought to focus on the job at hand, not what was bouncing around in his brain. All he could see was Brynn on a date with the doctor, and it made him insane.
“Yes?” the woman asked, as they approached.
“We need to confirm something.” Briggs explained the situation, and then asked her if she had indeed taken the paperwork upstairs.
“I did. I was leaving work for the night and called the person in charge of that sort of thing. She met me outside the elevators, since we can’t access that part of the building. It’s for Feds only.”
He smiled. “Can you tell me who picked it up?”
“Yes, I can, actually. Her name is Linda Kelleher.”
Briggs looked over at his partner. The name rang bells for both of them, because that was the boss man’s secretary. To their knowledge, they never had issues with Linda making mistakes before.
The blonde was generally on top of everything.
“We appreciate it,” he said, leading them out.
“I think we got a few good leads to chase,” Brynn said, as they reached the elevators. Suddenly, she could feel the tension in him.
“Yeah, we did.”
The tone in his voice said it all. Brynn knew she needed to get him talking, and fast. “You wanted to ask me something?” she inquired.
“Are you going to go out to dinner with him?” he blurted, not exactly sure what possessed him to do it. It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask at all.
In fact, he was terrified to know her answer.
Brynn looked surprised. “No, I’m not. I’m interested in someone else,” she offered, handing him the business card as proof of her intentions.
He took it, and immediately felt better. “Will you go to the auction with me tomorrow? I know it’s short notice, and I’ll be working on protection detail, but I’d love for you to be there at my side.”
She was touched. “I’d love to.”
He couldn’t believe it. As they entered the elevator, he wanted to jump around like an idiot.
“Is this a date, Curtis?” she asked, needing to know. Could she be getting this lucky?
He glanced over at her. “Yeah, and this time we’re not going to make the same mistake twice.”
Brynn’s heart skipped in her chest. “And that was?”
“Going too fast. This time, we’re going to move slow.”
In her book, there was nothing wrong with that. It only meant that her second chance was staring her in the face.
“I’m very okay with that.”
Yeah, he was glad.
~ Chapter Twelve ~
Paris was lost in thought as he sat in the room which had been allocated for him. It wasn’t a bad place to work, since there were windows and he had a decent view. Even the lighting was decent.
He would be able to see the sun rise and set.
That’s how long he expected to be in there.
It looked like someone was going to be working extra-long hours, and around the clock. It didn't exactly please him, since he really wanted to sleep in his own bed with Tessa, but that was life.
Whenever he wasn’t near her, he found it hard to focus. She gave him an inner peace that allowed him to keep moving forward. Without her, he was truly lost.
As if she had heard his thoughts, by some miracle, she appeared at the door. In Tessa’s hand was her bag and tablet. How she knew he was thinking about her astounded him.
“Hey,” she said, walking in.
“What are you doing?” he asked, as she dropped her things on a chair.
She sat beside him. “We’re going to start working on your profile,” she stated, logging into her tablet.
“We?” It caught him off guard. One of the worst things about being a profiler was meandering through the minds of the insane alone. It was desolate work.
“Yep, you heard that right. I may not be as educated as you, or as adept at thinking like a crazy person, but I do know you and your mind. You can bounce things off me. Sometimes, it helps to say them out loud.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, forgetting where they were for a brief moment.
“Paris,” she whispered, pulling away. Immediately, her fingertips went to her lips, as she stared at him, aghast at what he had just done.
“I know, but I needed to do that. Words wouldn’t have been enough.”
Honestly, she didn't mind. Tessa would go out to the bullpen and tell everyone there that she was in a relationship with the most amazing man in the world.
In a heartbeat.
“I’ll try and behave,” he teased, enjoying the horrified look on her face. He knew he shouldn’t have risked it, but what she was offering him outweighed anything else. Tessa knew it was going to be a long night ahead, and she was making a huge sacrifice.
“We should get to work.”
He agreed. Sliding half the papers over, he explained what he was thinking. “This is all connected. I don’t buy for a second that the shooter is randomly killing people. While I dig into this, can you start trying to tie it all together for me?” he asked, pointing at the pile in front of her.
Paris hated to do it to her, but they worked well together. In the back of his mind, there was the constant reminder that there was only a matter of time before the killer struck again. If anyone could help him decipher this mess, it was Tessa.
“Then, let’s get to it,” she said, taking the first folder. “Tell me what to look for.”
He broke it down for her.
“We have this, Paris. We’re an unstoppable team.”
There was no doubt, and that’s why he was fighting so hard to keep her with him.
He couldn’t lose Tessa.
If he did, he was screwed.
* * *
Since they were there anyway, the stop in autopsy was the easiest part of their day. That alone spoke volumes. When the happiest moment in your work hours was a dead woman with her head half gone, it was a pretty crappy day.
Before heading down, Greyson had taken a few minutes to calm Emma down. The captain had her more than riled up. It wasn’t like his wife to be this angry at anyone. Out of the two of them, she was more even tempered and patient. Apparently, Patty Stout was going to push all her buttons.
Sitting in the break room, he waited f
or her to speak.
“She makes me nuts!”
Croft just listened, letting her get it off her chest.
“I don’t understand how she thinks that a bunch of adults, who get shot at sometimes daily and walk through blood, need more aggravation. Is it so wrong that I want to come to work, find killers, and then go home to have kinky sex with my husband?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “When does that start exactly? I don’t want to miss it.”
Emma started laughing. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Is it working?” he asked, holding out his hand. When her fingers closed around his, it was clear that the storm had passed.
“Yeah, it is. Thank you, Grey.”
“My bill will be in the mail,” he teased. “It’ll be an invoice for kinkery. It’s payable in installments if you like.”
She loved him more than life. “Absolutely, babe.”
That was a win-win kind of deal.
“Wow,” Emma said, staring at the status of the autopsy suite. It wasn’t so much the messy lab tables, but the man in charge.
Steele Bentley looked worse than before.
In fact, half the dead in the coolers looked better. Emma had a few hangovers in her life, but this had to be the mother of them all. When the man began purging in a garbage can, she didn't know what to say.
Croft stared at the ME, wondering what the hell he was thinking. They were working a huge case, and here the man was getting shitfaced at night. This made him worry even more.
Emma took one for the team, heading to his side. As she approached, all his techs stared. Grabbing a handful of tissues, she rubbed her hand across his back until he was done.
“You going to be okay, Steele?” she asked, unsure what else to say. While they had opted to swim, who was she to judge his avenue of relaxation?
“I swear to God, and anyone else who’s listening, that I’ll never drink again,” he muttered, taking the tissues.
Croft laughed. “Yeah, he doesn’t buy it. We all know it’s bullshit. In fact, anyone who says they never made that promise is a liar.”
Emma lowered her voice. “What’s the deal, Doc? It’s not like you to show up hung over, and now puking in autopsy. Is everything okay? Is work getting to you? You can always come to me and talk if you need to.” It wasn’t as if Emma blamed him. If she had to do this day in and out, she’d be a mess too. Standing over the dead was bad enough, but digging in them... yuck.
He nodded. “Yeah, I just got a little carried away. I’m not a drinker, and when I reached my limit of one, I should have had the sense to stop. Unfortunately, I got carried away and had six too many.”
“And today you pay,” Croft added, laughing. “We’ve all been there.”
“Tequila is not my friend.”
“It’s no one’s friend, Doc,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Anything that acts as a suspension liquid for a dead worm is probably a bad idea.”
“Amen,” he said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Thank you, Emma. I appreciate your concern.” He took a deep breath and reached into the dead agent’s body to pull out her spleen.
Croft had to give him credit for still being able to do his job while being under the weather.
“Was it a date?” asked Emma teasingly, unwilling to let this go. Friends cared and teased equally. It was an unwritten rule.
He glanced up. “Really, Detective?”
“Come on, you can tell me. I know you’re not getting drunk on a work night without it being a big deal. If you tell me, I won’t tell the world you were tossing your cookies.”
He stared at her. “You used to be my favorite cop,” he muttered.
Emma sweetened the deal. “I’ll give you my coffee, and I’ll even hold it for you so you can keep working.”
That had merit and held his attention.
“Swear?”
She nodded. “Yes. Now, spill it.”
As she wiggled the cup, Steele knew he was screwed. He was that desperate to have the caffeine. When doing the autopsy, he couldn’t drink from a cup and stay gloved up. It would make it a biohazard with all those body fluids.
Who knew what microbes the body carried?
“Deal.”
Croft observed the interaction between the two, and he was still uneasy about it. Any man around his wife made him cranky, but with Steele Bentley, it didn't feel right. He couldn’t gauge the man’s intentions. Then, he tried to remember his wife loved him and wouldn’t hurt him.
Because of that trust, he’d relax.
For now…
Emma held the cup to his lips, and he gratefully drank the coffee.
“I could kiss you,” he said, closing his eyes. When Croft cleared his throat, he laughed. “Nothing says sexy like making out after purging.”
Emma wasn’t going to let him distract her. She was well aware he was stalling. “Spill it.”
He sighed. “I had a date. Okay?”
She grabbed some more tissues off the counter and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow. He had the booze sweats. “Are we talking a date or a DATE?”
When she finished, his green eyes met hers. “That’s all you get, Detective. My personal life is off limits, even to someone I call a friend. You know how work place fodder can make or break any relationship.”
She laughed. “Testy testy.” It didn't matter, since that response said it all.
Croft wanted to get this over with. The woman lying on the table was one of his people, and he felt personally responsible.
“What can you tell us?”
He sipped more coffee from the cup Emma was holding. “I can tell you that it was the same caliber bullet, that it entered here,” he said, pointing to his own temple, just below where his black hair ended. “It was indeed one shot, and she never felt it.”
At least there was some good news in all this mess.
“So, it’s the same MO?”
“Yes,” he replied, digging around in her stomach cavity. “As for the rest of her, Jane Pepper was a healthy woman. I took her tox and blood samples and forwarded them to your office.”
“I appreciate it.”
“You know, the FBI could probably get their own ME on staff, and it would save you time,” he offered. “Instead of having to ship everything back and forth, making you come here for updates.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Croft asked. It was the truth. They could get their own ME, but they had use of the city’s coroner. If he had to pay one, that had to come out of their budget. It would take careful allocation and planning.
“Never, Director,” he replied.
“I didn't think so.”
He focused on Emma. “I hear that you’re headlining tonight at the charity auction.”
She stared down at the waste of life before her. She understood why her husband was so edgy. This could have been him, or someone else she loved dearly. Before long, she realized he was speaking to her. “I’m sorry, what?”
He repeated his question.
“Yeah, I am.”
“I’ll be there tonight. I’ll be honest. I can’t wait to hear you play.”
Croft lifted a brow. “You got an invite?”
He nodded, as he pulled out the victim’s stomach. “My family has been involved with a few of the charities that are being sponsored. So, I have an invite. I don’t often go, only because I’m more an ME than a social butterfly.”
Well, at least it was more people who Emma would be safe with. “Good, keep your eyes on her. She needs a babysitter.”
“Greyson!”
He didn't care. If he could, the entire building would be filled with FBI agents. Only, he was scared shitless that one of them was marked by the killer, and Emma would be in the line of fire.
“I’ll be feeling better by then. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
She stared at the men. “Seriously?”
Croft headed to the door, ignoring her outrage. His body ached, his head was pounding, and
the stress was getting to him. Emma’s indignation was the least of his concerns.
For now.
On the way out, she followed him. “You know we’re going to have a little talk about this, right?” Emma warned.
Turning fast, he shocked her. When she found herself pressed against a corridor wall with his body pinning her there, she gasped.
“Emma, I’m at the end of my rope. Someone’s killing my employees, and you’re at risk. You don’t really have any choice when it comes to having a little protection tonight. Are we clear?” he muttered, trying to keep the anger in.
Now, he was furious with himself for scaring his wife. He’d seen the startled look on her face, and Croft was well aware that he was handling this completely wrong.
But still. It was his heart at risk tonight, and he was scared.
Emma wanted to offer him reassurance. Gently, she ran her fingers down the scar on his cheek, before laying a soft kiss on his lips. “I understand, Greyson. You’re right.”
He rested his forehead against hers, some of the fire ebbing away as his control returned. “Thank you for that, honey.”
Wrapping her arms around his waist, she offered him that single moment to get refocused for what lie ahead. “I have you, babe,” she said, hugging him tight.
He didn't doubt it.
Now, if only he could make that same exact promise to her.
Unfortunately, if he did, it could end up one big lie.
Back at the FBI building, Greyson had just entered the elevator when his cell phone began ringing. From the tone, he could tell who it was.
Well, his mother had heard the news.
Emma knew the ring, and she began laughing. Oh, her sexy husband was about to get a rude, bossy awakening. She was glad that she was there to see it happen. Since no one on the earth could tell Greyson what to do, this was going to be entertaining. One would think he got his bossiness from his father, but that was false. His mother was the culprit, and now they were going to go head to head.
He contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but that would just make it worse. “Hello, Mom,” he said, grateful they were alone in the elevator.
Love is Bleeding (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 4) Page 28
