Then he stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?” Riley asked.
“Her tongue is removable.”
“What?” he asked, moving closer.
“I was wiggling it and thought it was defrosted. It’s not. It’s not her tongue. The frenulum doesn’t line up.”
“WHAT?”
He explained.
“That’s the membrane that holds the tongue to the bottom of the mouth. It doesn’t line up. The tongue is too wide.”
Riley recalled something from the last ME’s report on the other victim they didn’t have a name on.
He pulled it up.
And showed him.
“The other bag victim, the one we haven’t ID’d yet, had her tongue cut out. She was missing it.”
He took the phone and opened the pictures. As Virgil flipped through them, Riley waited.
“He switched tongues. Why?”
That was what he wanted to know.
“So you’re saying that this tongue, the only one with the identifying marks that our killer missed, was cut out, placed in another mouth, and then frozen?”
He nodded.
“It looks like.”
That was…crazy.
“Why would a killer do that?” Virgil asked.
Riley was beginning to believe that the killer was screwing with them. He wanted to mix up the identities.
WHY?
Why screw with the time frame?
With all of the cases he’d ever worked, when the timeline was hidden, there was a reason. The killer didn’t want you to figure something out.
Now he needed help with that.
“I’ll take her in, Detectives. I’ll have the autopsy report to you tomorrow. I have a full house. I’ll try to figure this out for you. Your first victim, the one missing the tongue went missing eighteen months ago, and this is likely hers.”
Yeah, he was aware.
Yeah, Vegas was all stirred up.
They didn’t doubt that.
Riley knew he needed to make a phone call.
Greyson needed to know this.
He excused himself from his partner and headed to a quiet spot to make a call.
This had to be important.
His gut told him so.
* * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *
Harold Cline’s
Home
When they got there, they were ready to take care of business. Greyson had made sure Dimitri was calmer, as Heath took the long way there.
The last thing they needed was the man losing it.
Dimitri, instead, was silently sitting beside him, working on his phone.
Oh, he knew why.
What was eating away at him was that his business had been compromised.
Dimitri didn’t like shit like that.
At all.
The fact that someone he had trusted had abused that trust…it would put him over the edge every time.
EACH.
AND.
EVERY.
TIME.
Greyson wanted to make sure his friend was ready for the interview. If he wanted to hang in the car, Greyson was pretty sure he was safe with Nikita and Heath.
They were, after all, killers.
“What are you working on?” he asked, as they parked the vehicle down the street from the house, but within eyesight of it.
“I need to find someone to take over for Nate Collins. I was thinking about moving Marie, but she has her hands full with Aquarius. I can’t ask her to take on that big job and then throw Neptune at her. She already works around the clock.”
He was aware.
They had a joke that Marie was staying upstairs in the hotel so she didn’t have to commute.
Greyson understood why he was so worried.
That was his other baby.
So, he had a solution.
“Why don’t you call Dante?”
He looked over, slightly confused as to why he was throwing out that solution.
“Why?”
“Dante can work out of anywhere. We’re not being targeted, to my knowledge, so why not stick him there? He’s really good with managing, and he wouldn't mind. Mermaids? Come on. Think of the fun he can have with that. As a gay man, that’s his dream job.”
He laughed.
“Are you sure he won’t mind?”
It was time to be straight with him.
“I know you. If you can’t find someone, you’re going to park your suit-clad ass there. We can’t let that happen.”
He was aware.
That was why he was stressed.
If he was there, he wasn’t with Greyson or Poppy. Greyson needed full-time escorts, and while he trusted Heath, and Nikita—a little—he knew that he could keep him safe better than anyone.
Or he liked to think that.
“You’re right.”
“You don’t want to be there all-night while Poppy is at our building. Let Dante help you. He might even know someone who could take the job.”
He really appreciated that.
No.
HE REALLY DID.
Greyson did a lot for Dimitri, just by knowing how he was going to react to something. When Dimitri thought he was sinking, and he was running out of options, he knew who he could count on.
Greyson.
His best friend.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. That’s why I’m here. I like to take the heat off of you.”
And it hit him.
He’d done that today too.
Dimitri thought about how he’d pointed Jeffrey Raye at himself, even when it was HE who wanted to end him.
Well, Christ.
If that wasn’t the epitome of best friend and brother, he didn’t know what was.
Greyson always had his back, and Dimitri was appreciative.
In fact…
He hugged him.
Greyson was caught off guard, but he hugged him back—unsure if his suggestion was really hug-worthy. It was more about the survival of their family.
“Wow. Someone really loves Dante.”
He laughed.
“You pointed Jeffrey Raye at yourself for me.”
Greyson stared at him.
“Come again?”
“You wanted him angry with you—not Poppy. You knew he’d double down and come at you, leaving her alone. You were buying her time.”
Okay, that had been his plan. Apparently, he was as transparent as he hoped to be.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he stated, lying his ass off to protect his friend’s heart.
Dimitri felt horrible.
“I hit you the other day, and I’ve dumped my emotional baggage all over you. I’m so sorry, Grey. I’m so damn sorry.”
He understood.
“It’s okay, Dimitri. I’m not mad. We got past this already. You have to stop living in the past, and let things go.”
That wasn’t going to be the obstacle for either man.
“Mrs. Croft is not going to be happy,” Heath stated. “When she finds out that you pointed a nut job at yourself, she’s going to tear you a new one.”
“Not unless she never finds out,” he stated.
Heath actually tsked him.
Like he was a child.
WHAT?
“Maybe my security could just be security for the time being, and not lecture me as to what the hell I need to tell my wife!”
Heath laughed.
“Well, someone is testy when the obvious is pointed out,” Heath offered.
Yes, yes, he was.
It was then, before they could get out, that his phone rang. Greyson knew who it was before he even answered.
It was Emma.
Oh, hell.
It was like she had eyes and ears on all of them. In fact, he looked at the dash to make sure the monitor wasn’t engaged, and that he hadn’t ratted himself out all by himself.
It wasn’t.
A part of him wanted to n
ot answer, but Greyson knew his wife was a month away from childbirth, and that meant she could be in labor at any time.
So, he took the call.
“Hello, honey.”
He held his breath.
“My sexy pirate. I miss you. Where are you?” Emma asked, worried about him. She hadn’t heard from him in a while. That always worried her.
She liked her husband, or someone, to check-in periodically. While no one was gunning for them, she liked all her chicks in the basket.
“I’m at Harold Cline’s place. We’re about to interview him. How are you feeling?”
How was she feeling?
Caged in.
Anxious.
Emma was feeling off, and that was exactly why she’d called her husband. Instead of burdening him, she went with the truth.
“I’m good, Greyson. I miss you. I saw your little text message exchange with Chris.”
“He’s mean.”
She laughed at how her big, strong husband was going to play that card. It was amusing.
“You can hold your own, Mr. Croft. I’m not worried about that. I know you.”
She had a point.
“Did you need something?” he asked, needing to get this interview done. He was twitchy and edgy. His gut was off, and something didn’t work for him about this whole case.
“I wish I was out there with you. That’s all,” she offered.
Greyson heard it in her voice. Someone was getting bored with the lockdown. While he wished he could offer up something exciting, as long as the baby was on board, she was staying inside where it was safe.
He didn’t trust Vegas, and he certainly didn’t trust this case. It was off.
“Soon, kitten.”
“Want a blowjob when you get home? We can kick them all out and I can rock your Crofty world.”
He smiled.
Oh, it was time to torment some of his friends, meaning Dimitri and Heath.
“A blowjob, you say.”
Dimitri rolled his eyes.
Yeah, there were only two things he got that happy for in his life.
Illicit carbs.
Illicit Emma.
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, kitten. Maybe we can cuddle on the couch and have some fun.”
Heath groaned the second he heard that.
“I nap on that couch. That’s like picturing your parents doing it. That’s just nasty.”
He laughed.
“Gee. Thanks.”
“If it’s any consolation, Chris looks horrified, too, and he should for being a dick,” Emma offered. “He knows better than to tease my husband.”
With that, he agreed.
“Good. He deserves it for being mean to me,” Greyson teased.
He could hear Chris objecting with his own colorful adjectives.
“He does,” she said. “Will you be safe my sexy pirate?” Emma asked, hoping that he wasn’t in danger. Emma didn’t like how quiet it had been.
“Argh,” he said, mimicking a pirate for her. Greyson knew she loved it. “You know I will be. I’ll be home before you know it. Warm up the couch for me, kitten.”
Yeah, he would get lucky, unless she found out what he’d done. Pointing Jeffrey Raye at himself was going to blowup in his face if she heard about it.
Hopefully, the men and Nikita could keep their traps shut.
If not…?
He was dead.
Greyson knew his wife. She would not be amused, even if he saw it as a necessary evil.
“Okay, Grey.”
“Miss me, Emma.”
Oh, she did, but she was better now. She heard his voice. Emma was having Braxton Hicks contractions all day, and she really wished he was home with her. Emma was beginning to panic.
Motherhood was coming.
“See you later, Croftigator.”
He would.
That was for damn sure.
Hanging up, he was ready to go, but first, he had to deal with the three people staring at him.
Yeah, his wife made him mushy.
Sue him.
“First person to comment gets shot—Dimitri included. When the kitten is this pregnant and purring, you take the booty call and run with it.”
They all laughed.
Yeah, they imagined so.
“Let’s get this done.”
Heading out, they moved toward the man’s home. At his car, Heath touched it with the top of his hand.
It was ice-cold.
“He’s home.”
Good.
“Nikita, stand watch. Heath, with us.”
They headed toward the door. Once there, they got into position. That was Heath standing in front of Greyson like he was trying to hide him.
“I think I can do this.”
“Nope. Your kitten is purring, and I want to keep her from killing me,” he teased.
Greyson shook his head. Clearly, he was working with nuts, and they were out of control. As he knocked, they listened for anything that might tell them someone was home.
Nada.
Maybe he was asleep since his car was there in the driveway.
Greyson rang the doorbell this time, and they waited for any response.
Again, there was nothing.
Greyson whistled for Nikita.
“Can you check the side and back with Heath? If he saw us coming, he might have snuck out.”
They both were more than happy to handle it and they headed off.
With the toe of his boot, Dimitri kicked the kickplate of the door—all of the while, keeping an eye on Greyson.
Nothing.
It was when Nikita stuck her head around the left side of the house, that they knew they had problems.
“Blood.”
“Where?”
“All over. I’m going to say we have a bleeder.”
They followed her around, and in that moment, Greyson knew three things.
They likely weren’t going to be able to interview the man.
They were going to have to call the cops.
And that someone was cleaning up loose ends.
Who was next?
Chapter Thirteen
Mid-Day Break
Wednesday
Afternoon
R iley had been ready to call Greyson when he’d gotten the mysterious text asking him to meet him nearby for a quick impromptu meeting. Since it was past lunchtime, and he was hungry, he managed to find the time to do it.
Heading to the taco place, he saw him sitting beside Dimitri with Heath and Nikita not far away.
As he approached, he plopped down at the same table, and couldn’t help but be grateful that he was able to still be a cop, and hang out with the people he genuinely liked.
This made his life easier.
Hopefully, going forward, it would stay exactly like that. His life was complex enough without him having to sneak around to talk to his family.
“I was going to call you,” Riley offered, as he got comfortable. “Great minds think alike,” he teased.
“Yeah, well, before you even go there, we have an issue that’s come up.”
What a coincidence.
Riley did too.
“Well, that’s why I was going to call. What’s yours?” he asked, not liking how that sounded at all. In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to hate every second of this. Riley was beginning to think this wasn’t going to be a working lunch.
There were no tacos.
There were no chips and salsa.
What there would be was a shitfest. He could tell by the look on Greyson’s face. He was all serious, and so was Dimitri.
“We went to interview Harold Cline.”
“Who is that?” he asked. “Catch me up-to-date on it, if you don’t mind. I have bodies in a bag and no clue where you are on your half of the case.”
“He’s Zachary Lipton’s muscle. He’s the guy who has been trolling for call girls for his boss. We’ve tied him to a down a
nd dirty motel and to a club Dimitri owns.” He didn’t bring up the car that picked up Candice French since they couldn’t be sure that was him.
“He’s been busy,” Riley stated.
He told him everything else they had, and how they suspected that it was all tied to the fact that Poppy had pulled the cases a few months ago.
Riley listened, as he was clued in on how they suspected that Lipton was the mass killer behind the bags, and how Harold was his pickup man.
He caught him up with how they’d been using the one motel, picking up women there, and possibly trying to implicate Dimitri, working out of Neptune.
He blinked.
“Okay, and what do you need me to do? I can bring him in and talk to him if that’s what you want,” he offered as they ordered some food. “I don’t know how much I can get out of him.”
Yeah, that would be damn hard.
“He’s dead. We just found him.”
Yep, this wouldn’t be a working lunch for Riley—unless he counted being served up some extra workload.
The Crofts were finding bodies too.
“WHAT?” he asked, not believing what he was hearing. That was NOT a good thing. They’d stumbled onto a body of a man they were trying to take down.
Then it hit him.
“You didn’t go into his house, did you?”
Greyson was appalled that the man even asked him that. This wasn’t his first day at being an ex-cop. He knew the protocol.
“Hell, no! We saw the blood from a window, and it’s way too much to be just that of an accidental cut. We’re talking pool of blood. No brains.”
Dimitri said nothing, wondering if the man would get it. They’d been discussing it before Riley arrived.
His club.
Hookers.
Poppy.
It was all starting to get a little close to home for all of their liking.
“Riley, we think his throat was cut.”
“Oh,” he said, hoping they’d explain a little bit further. He was missing something.
Dimitri lowered his voice.
“Killers have a method,” he offered. “That is how I normally handle business,” Dimitri stated, keeping his voice low. “I don’t shoot. I’m a slicer.”
Well…
That was horrifying to hear out loud, and it gave him goosebumps.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That Zachary Lipton knows we are onto him. I need to know when Harold Cline died, so I can figure out who tipped him off. We’ve been talking to hotel people, hookers, mermaids…”
No Justice_A Croft Mob Family Book Page 43
