All the King's Henchmen

by Morgan Kelley

  He understood her frustration. What she needed now was for him to get down to business.

  “Did you touch her?”

  “Yeah, I poked at her and placed her in that hideous outfit for shits and giggles. You know me. I like to know when the carpets don’t match the drapes.”

  He actually laughed at her sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last.

  “God! I am a masochist for working with you all these years. I actually get off on it.”

  “I wouldn’t say that in this building. It’s filthy with hookers who’d love to take a doctor for a ride and ‘get you off’.”

  He winked at her.

  Oh, he’d fantasized about Miss Kitty long before anyone knew how hot it was.

  Been there.

  Done that.

  Repeatedly.

  Elizabeth focused on his tag team partner in this mission. She was right behind him, checking out his ass.

  Well, somethings never changed.

  “Doctor Duncan, thank you for joining us in this fun fest. It’s going to be a long one. I hope neither of you has made plans for tonight. I have a feeling you’re going to be busy.”

  He laughed.

  “Yeah, the story of my life.”

  She wanted to send him home, but if she brought it up here, she’d have to explain why she didn’t want him tired. That would out him to the new ME.

  So, she kept her mouth closed.

  “What do we have, Doc?” she asked, doing the dance as he barely had his kit open.

  Why break with tradition?

  “Sweetness, we have a hooker. We all know you are familiar with them. Try harder.”

  “Entertain me, Doc. You know what I like.”

  Oh, he did.

  He grinned to himself as he got his gear ready. All the while, he knew how to make her smile. Without looking up, he posed a question.

  “Elizabeth, what do you call a kid born in a hooker’s apartment?” he asked, pulling out his liver probe.

  She didn’t understand where he was taking this.

  “What?”

  “A brothel sprout.”

  She stared at him.

  Then she shook her head.

  “Here it is. Today is the day where I can write on my calendar that Doctor Christopher Leonard finally lost his mind and told me a hooker joke while standing over a dead hooker.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m tired. Sue me.”

  Well, since she’d been thinking that, and he was admitting it openly, that now became her focus and issue.

  “Doctor Duncan, can you go get a kit out of the vehicle to collect samples? I need to speak to chuckles, the joke teller, alone.”

  Dalia headed out without questioning it.

  When she was gone, she touched his forehead.

  “Are you sick?” she whispered. “Do you need to go home?” she asked.

  “These meds wear me down,” he admitted. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but can she wait until morning? We know COD is blunt force trauma. We know she’s only been dead a short time—she’s not fixed and there’s no lividity. We know who likely killed her, thanks to the pillowcase.”

  She had a choice.

  Push this and wear him down, send him home and let Dalia handle it, or have them work it in tandem tomorrow.

  Yeah, that was a no-brainer.

  “Drop her off and head home. Have Dalia put her in the cooler and regroup tomorrow. You’ve been going since before six this morning. It’s ten hours already, and I don’t want you worn down.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “About?”

  “What if I can’t do this?” he asked. “These meds…the antivirals are killer.”

  She took his face in her hands.

  In his eyes, she saw that fear.

  “Don’t worry, Christopher. I have your back. I’ll do what I can to make it easier. Have Dalia log her in, and you can start in the morning. I’m going to be running a marathon to try to find the other hooker.”

  He couldn’t help but be freaked-out.

  “Lyzee, I’m worried that this might be too much for me. I can’t lose my job.”

  She gave him a kiss and hugged him.

  “You can cut out. I’ll cover for you. No one will know. Let me handle this, okay? I’ve got you, Doc. I will always have you.”

  He rested his forehead against hers.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Give us ten more minutes, and then we’ll get you and our dead hooker out of here.”

  “Thank you, sweetness,” he said, glad that he could rely on her. It was nice to have someone in his life who understood that he couldn’t run the marathon anymore.

  Chris couldn’t help but think about the doctor appointment and how his numbers were good. They had to stay that way, so in order to make that happen, he had to make concessions.

  Work had to come second for the first time in his life, and that was damn hard for him.

  Thankfully, the people he loved had his back and didn’t hold it against him.

  She heard footsteps.

  Immediately, she took a step back as Dalia came in carrying the kit with the body bag.

  “Where’s Callen and my babysitter?” she asked.

  “Director Whitefox is in the hall asking people about our victim. I didn’t see your ‘babysitter’. He is cute though,” she offered.

  “And engaged to be married this Christmas to someone on our team. Don’t go there. It makes it incredibly awkward,” she warned.

  Dalia got it.

  She sighed.

  “All the cute ones are taken,” she said, still trying to figure out if Doctor Leonard was one of the taken ones. He was smart, sexy, but always focused on Elizabeth.

  If the rumors were true, she was fascinated. Things like that always made her curious.

  Elizabeth opted to take the bull by the horns.

  “Change of plans for tonight, my happy MEs,” she said, glancing down at her watch. “Chris, you and the doctor have both put in almost eleven hours. Take our dead hooker back to the FBI building and place her on ice. You can do the autopsy tomorrow. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, playing along. “I can…”

  She stopped him.

  “Are you questioning me, Doctor? What is it today with the people on this team? I will kick your ass.”

  It took everything he had not to laugh.

  Yeah, bullshit.

  “No, ma’am. Your wish is my command. One hooker-cicle coming up.”

  He unrolled the bag.

  Elizabeth helped them place the woman in the bag and zip her up. When she was done, Chris and Doctor Duncan carried her out, down the stairs, and to the van.

  Fortunately, it was done without a lot of hoopla, and that made their lives a little easier.

  She couldn't help but feel bad for the dead woman. She likely didn’t have any family, and she was gone. No one would even miss her, except for Carla, her ‘shoe shopping’ partner.

  When Elizabeth heard footsteps, she turned. It was Callen, and he didn’t look happy.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “There are no cameras. No one saw anything, and I even offered up cash. Everyone knew she was doing a sugar daddy, but she never spilled the beans as to who it was. She never uttered a word about the president.”

  Well, this sucked.

  If she didn’t spill it, that meant they couldn’t get the story by way of another source. That meant, they needed Black Magica.

  Soon.

  “Back to the morgue while Chris does the autopsy?” he asked.

  “No, I want to search her apartment, and then we’re done here. Chris isn’t doing the autopsy until tomorrow.”

  He stared at her.

  Was she possessed?

  Who was this woman?

  Callen actually tapped the face of his watch to make sure it was running.

  “Pardon?”r />
  “I said…”

  “I heard you. He’s not doing an autopsy? It’s only after four. What’s wrong?”

  “He said he’s tired, and not sure if he can do it. Who am I to push?”

  He heard it.

  She was worried. It was just one more weight on her shoulders, and he wished he could find a way to take it from her. His wife was stressed to the max.

  “Meds?”

  “Yeah, we told him to tell us if he was tired, and he told me. So, tomorrow, we’ll have him begin. We don’t have any other bodies, so…”

  He stared at her in horror.

  “Bite your tongue!”

  She laughed.

  “Well, someone killed this hooker, so Black Magica isn’t safe. I have a feeling that we had better catch Lala before the killer does, or we are going to have one hell of a mess.”

  Yeah, he could see that.

  There was a knock on the doorframe. When they looked, it was Ivan, needing to talk to them.

  “No cameras anywhere on the block. It’s a dumpy neighborhood. The old man on the steps across the street is as blind as a bat.”

  Great.

  That was useless, and it left them fending for themselves. Somehow, she didn’t doubt the person behind this was well aware of the surroundings.

  “Watch the door for us. We are going to search a hooker’s home. We might get lucky.”

  “Or you might get syphilis.”

  “Yeah, how did you get your case cleared up?” she asked, not missing a beat.

  He laughed.

  “Hopes and prayers.”

  She rolled her eyes as they headed into the woman’s main living area. Elizabeth needed to clear her mind and do her thing.

  “She came to the door,” Elizabeth stated. “You can see that the door is intact, so she likely opened it.”

  Callen agreed and let her talk as he made notes for her for later when she wanted to review them.

  Elizabeth kept going.

  “She was facing the door,” she said, walking backward from the entrance of the apartment as she pretended there was an assailant.

  Callen watched her.

  “She was surprised,” she said, pointing at a few things that were knocked over. The lamp was on the floor, and so was a wastepaper basket.

  “It went down like this,” she said, as she stumbled back, showing Callen how she thought it happened. Elizabeth used her hip and bumped into all of the places where the woman likely hit.

  Callen said nothing, letting her do her own thing. This was her process.

  “You think she opened the door, and immediately, the attack happened over there?”

  She nodded.

  “The first strike was here,” she said, pointing at the wall. There were droplets of blood. “Then she fell back, and she hit here,” she said, taking a black Sharpie from her pocket and making an X at each location.

  Callen followed.

  “Then she landed here,” she said, pointing at where the body landed. “She was down for the count enough for the killer to put a pillowcase over her head.”

  They looked around.

  “I don’t think he went and grabbed one, do you?” she asked. “That would give her time to escape. She could likely ID the person killing her. That pillowcase came with the intruder.”

  Callen made a note for Chrissy to focus on it.

  “What’s missing from the room?” he asked, knowing she’d need a murder weapon. “She was beaten with something, but what?”

  They looked around.

  Honestly, nothing big enough to do that kind of damage was missing. The lamps were all small and round. No one would use one to bash in someone’s face.

  Plus, they’d shatter on impact.

  “I have no freaking clue,” she stated, normally able to figure it out. Only, they sent the body and MEs away. This question was going to go unanswered.

  For now.

  “I’m going to say that the killer took it when he or she left. We need that autopsy tomorrow, and then we will be able to figure it out.”

  He agreed.

  “Let’s hope our ME can work a miracle and pull the answers out of his hat.”

  Yeah, she was aware.

  Because they would be the ONLY answers they had.

  * * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *

  The letter was typed, and it was dropped in the mail slot of the woman’s home. This would cause enough pandemonium to keep the investigators from finding that rat bastard.

  It should do the damage.

  Or at least slow them down.

  The sealed envelope was enough to make waves, and that was the hope.

  They were moving fast.

  The FBI was causing serious issues.

  And now the truth couldn’t come out.

  It simply couldn’t.

  Too many people would be hurt when it should only be the dead man who suffered.

  May he rot in Hell.

  * * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *

  Tuesday

  Eight P.M.

  They wrapped up at the scene, and when Chrissy had managed to pack everything up, sneaking in after the fact, they knew it was time to call it a day.

  It took hours for the four of them to collect all of the samples, and they had already logged a very long day. Fortunately, Ivan had been kind enough to help and was willing to learn on the fly.

  Now that all of the trace was safely on the way back to the lab, where Christina was willing to pull an all-nighter, they could call it a night.

  Finally.

  Still, in the back of her mind, she was worried. With very little else to go on, Elizabeth needed that trace to give them something. They needed something that would point them in the right direction. All they had now were two bodies, and no clue of who was behind it.

  Her face must have said it all.

  “She’ll find something,” Callen offered.

  God.

  She hoped he was right.

  “I know,” she stated, letting it go at that.

  “Home?” Callen asked.

  That sounded like music to her ears. What she wanted was something to eat, and to decompress before she slept. It had been one hell of a day.

  “Are we picking Ethan up and heading home?” Elizabeth asked, rolling her neck.

  He knew it was time to tell her what Ethan had told him. The whole time they were working, Callen kept it to himself—and his worries about it. She was under enough stress, and he didn’t want to push her over the edge.

  Well, now he had no choice. It wasn’t like he could pretend his brother wasn’t missing. Elizabeth would notice.

  “He’s not coming home,” Callen offered, waiting for her to lose it like he had.

  “What?” she asked, focusing on him. “What do you mean he’s not coming home?”

  Yeah, her voice went up an octave. That said it all.

  “He told me he’s staying at a hotel tonight after your little tiff. He doesn’t want to come home.”

  Okay, that wasn’t the truth, but if Callen wanted them to fix this, someone had to be upset, and strong enough, to make that first step. It would have to be her.

  Well, he’d nailed that one.

  Her face said it all.

  Elizabeth was horrified.

  “He’s not coming home?” she repeated, hoping Callen was yanking her chain. “Why not? Is he busy with work?” she asked hoping that was it.

  Callen shook his head and told her again.

  “He didn’t want to fight with you.”

  Well, this was bad.

  Wasn’t it a sign that there were marital issues when your husband stayed at a hotel when you had a huge house?

  He was avoiding her.

  Elizabeth took a second to breathe. Even Ivan, who was driving, wasn’t saying a word. Normally, he’d bust her ass. He was keeping his trap shut.

  That set the tone.

  “Oh, I don’t need this freak
-out,” she stated, trying to breathe through it.

  Callen didn’t want her upset, but he couldn’t let her ignore this issue either. When a spouse was willing to give up, that was a problem.

  Fight, yes.

  Run…no.

  “Don’t read into it. He’s not doing anything. He’s just…he’s sulking. It’s that or yelling, and he knows you’re screwed over this case.”

  “Yeah, and he wasn’t helping.”

  Callen knew he had to play mediator, so he turned in the passenger seat and stared back at her.

  “Yeah, you’re right. He’s not helpful or anything. You know when you ask for him to make a call or whip up a profile when he’s already buried in a million things. He never does it. Ethan is a selfish human being who ignores your needs.”

  That sat there.

  Elizabeth hadn’t expected it. Callen saw the impact that his words had on her, and they weren’t gentle. She was rocked by what he’d stated, and that was a good thing.

  Sometimes, when you were so self-absorbed in your job, you missed things.

  Well, she’d missed herself overstepping a line.

  She swallowed.

  “Callen.”

  “Think about what he does for you. Does he always have your back when you’re in the field?” he asked.

  Shit!

  Yeah, he did.

  He always did.

  “I mean, it wasn’t shitty how you told him you’d get a new profiler who wasn’t being difficult.”

  She blinked.

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s not like he has feelings, right, Elizabeth? It’s not like Ethan is a human being who hurts when his wife takes really shitty shots at him before storming out like a child.”

  She dropped her head onto the back of the seat and felt like an asshole. She didn’t want to hurt Ethan—ever.

  She just got…

  Bitchy.

  “I crossed a line, didn’t I?”

  “Yep.”

  “I have to fix this, don’t I?” she asked.

  “Oh, you could say that.”

  “I’m a bad wife, aren’t I?”

  “Nope. You’re a damn good wife, but when wife meets crazy chaser, anything goes. This is the proof. Maybe ask him what the issue is. He simply asked for a favor—like you do all of the time—if you recall. Ethan, can you call the vice president? Ethan, can you give me a profile? I need it today. Ethan, can you…?”