“We got lost,” he clarified. “I’m not from around here,” he said, thickening his drawl.
“Yes, I’ve noticed. Anyway, she died around eleven last night.”
“COD?” Kane asked, already knowing what the cop at the tape told them.
“I don’t normally give that out until the autopsy, but you have a weird one here.”
They both lifted a brow.
“Roll her.”
The techs rolled her onto a black tarp.
“Look at the base of her skull. She was stabbed right there where the skull meets the spinal cord. It was fast, it was intended to kill, and it ended her in one second, as soon as the cord was severed.”
Well, that was an interesting one.
Not many victims bought it that way. It was specific, and it was odd.
That might make this easier to work in the grand scheme of it.
Hopefully.
“I also have her work badge,” he stated, pulling it out from the woman’s purse. “She worked at a local business,” he said. “She must have had to scan into a time clock.”
Well, at least they had her name and ID. That was always the easiest way to start a case for any investigator. The more you had in the first forty-eight hours, the better off you were when you tried to solve the case.
Quinn looked around to see if there was anything they’d be able to use in the surrounding location.
Sadly, that was a no.
“Well, it looks like we’re out of luck on cameras and possible security. Well, we know why she was ambushed in this spot.”
“How do you know she was ambushed?” the ME asked, glancing over at the man.
“She is missing some nails. Look at the right hand. Her acrylics pulled off and are somewhere.”
He was right.
“They might have DNA under them,” Quinn stated. He was amused that the man thought this was his third day on the job.
Maybe here in DC…
Not as a cop.
He ate, drank, and slept his badge, and he was likely going to have to prove it since everyone thought he was some backwoods hick.
“Find them,” Vanbrunt stated to his team. “He’s right. They may give them something.”
The techs got to work.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about her?” Kane asked.
“Roll her back,” he stated. “Then lift her shirt.”
They did.
“See that?”
“Yeah,” Quinn said, staring at it. “Is that the letter ‘C’? Did our killer sign her?” he asked incredulously.
What was the world coming to when sickos started doing that in pride?
They used to want to remain unknown. Of course he and Kane were going to get the Picasso of killers.
Kane whistled, checking out the injuries to her torso. It was definitely a letter.
“Well, it looks like he did.”
Yeah, that was…weird.
Since her name had no c’s in it, that narrowed it down. Was he calling her something that started with ‘C’ or was his name the reason?
It looked like they were going to have to start working this case to find out.
Kane knew there were more things to ask, and he figured he should go with the one no investigator liked asking. It was time to get it over with.
“Was she sexually assaulted?” Kane asked.
“Yes. She’s bare underneath her skirt, and she has bruising and tearing. There’s fluid on her leg. We haven’t found her undergarments, so that must mean he took them with him.”
Yeah, that somehow made it worse.
They had a collector. The man was killing and then stealing panties.
Great.
How could that go wrong?
It looked like it just got even more twisted than a few minutes ago, and that was saying a hell of a lot.
Kane went with the positive on this one. He had to because he knew what his partner was thinking.
“So, this might be a plus on our side. We might have DNA on the person who did this?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“Uh, Doctor Vanbrunt,” one of the techs said, getting the man’s attention.
“Yes?”
“Before we bag her, I thought you’d like to know that there’s something in her mouth.”
The man pulled his flashlight and forceps from his bag and opened her mouth. It wasn’t easy, thanks to rigor, but he managed to pull it off.
“What is it?” Kane asked as he and Quinn crouched down to get a better view.
The man worked on getting it out. Despite the tiny corner that the tech had spotted, sticking out of her mouth, it was rather large.
“Paper,” he said, pulling it out with the utmost of care. They’d need it for evidence.
“It looks like it was jammed in there.”
“It was. Which one of you would like to do the honors?” he asked.
Kane pulled on a pair of gloves and took the paper from the man. Gently, he opened it over a clear bag that a tech held open in case something fell out of it.
“What does it say?” Quinn asked.
Kane proceeded to read it for his partner, and as he did, there was that wave of awareness that something wasn’t right.
Something wasn’t adding up.
‘I’m coming for you, Mikey O’Banion. Your number is up. I know where you are.
‘C.’
Kane looked up.
His gaze met his partner’s, and they both had that worried look on their faces.
This was bad.
Quinn broke his silence first, and his tone said it all.
“Well, that’s definitely not good for us,” he stated, shaking his head. Yeah, this was three days past bad.
Kane agreed.
Doctor Vanbrunt didn’t get it. He definitely looked puzzled over the message.
“What am I missing?” he asked. “Who is Mikey O’Banion, and why should he be afraid of this ‘C’ person?”
Quinn wasn’t surprised.
The whole thing was big on the news, but he knew that the ME likely didn’t spend much time in the land of the living. To be a coroner, you had to be a certain kind of person.
So, he clued him in.
“About two decades ago—there was this wannabe badass in Boston. He ran the Irish mob. He was bad news.”
Doctor Vanbrunt gave the order to bag up the victim, and then he listened to the tale the detective was sharing with him.
“Okay, and?”
“He died in an explosion years ago.”
Vanbrunt was even more confused.
“Then why is this person ‘C’ calling him out? If he’s already dead…”
Yeah, and that was the bad part.
Kane clearly didn’t have all the information that he had. While his partner knew about O’Banion, as did almost every cop in the country, he didn’t know EVERYTHING.
Callista, his wife, was privy to certain information that the Blackhawks were working on, and his wife had been doing some profiles for Elizabeth.
On O’Banion.
He’d seen the paper she was working on—inadvertently. Actually, he peeked.
Sue him.
Curiosity killed the cop.
“Well, Doc, we have someone a might touched in the head,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “We have a wannabe,” he stated.
Kane was staring at him.
How could his partner know that?
“Great. I hate the crazies,” Vanbrunt offered. “I’ll get her back and get started. See you in-house,” he offered.
Quinn pulled his partner aside and tried to get them some privacy. He knew shit that Kane didn’t.
Clearly, his wife worked at home on paperwork and Kane’s did not.
“Care to explain?” Kane asked.
“If you repeat this, I’ll beat your ass.”
Kane stared at him.
“Pardon?”
“I have outside intel on this case.”
&nb
sp; That made him lift a brow.
“What are you even talking about? I feel like everything was good, and now I’m staring down the hole at crazy. What do you know that I don’t?”
“I was at the Blackhawks for a New Year’s party. You and Christina opted out because she wasn’t feeling well that day.”
He was aware.
Honestly, he didn’t want to leave the house, and Chrissy had come up with an excuse, so they could eat cookie dough and watch the ball drop in the comfort of their own home.
“Okay, and?”
“While we were having crab dip and appetizers, my wife was talking to Elizabeth, and she asked inadvertently, how the hunt for O’Banion was going.”
That piqued his interest.
Then he told him about the profile he saw her working on.
“So, he’s not dead?” Kane asked.
He shook his head.
“Later, I asked my wife what was up with that, and she clammed up. Callie doesn’t clam up about anything but patient information and top-secret Fed shit. She gave me a blowjob and changed the subject really fast. Until just now, I figured she wanted to really put her mouth on my dick.”
Kane laughed.
“Novice.”
Yeah, he was aware.
His wife had a top-secret clearance since she worked with Ethan Blackhawk. Who knew what she was privy to?
Kane pulled out his phone.
“Wait! What are you doing?” he asked.
Kane had a surefire way to find out what they needed to know, and it would be easy.
“Let’s get a second opinion. I know who to ask.”
God!
He hoped it wasn’t going to be a Blackhawk. They didn’t need to go there—yet.
Kane dialed and waited. When she answered the call, she was ready for him.
“Hello, my sexy Kane-y-kins. Do you miss me?” Chrissy asked, purring into the phone.
“Always, Chrissy. Always. How are you, my sweet little scientist?”
“Hungry. Always. Hungry,” she stated and then laughed. “This baby is an eating machine. I don’t know if we have a girl or a boy.”
Kane either.
“I’ll bring you some food if you want me to. Quinn is buying. He lost the bet.”
He didn’t have to tell her what bet. They didn’t keep any secrets between them.
NONE.
That’s not how their marriage rolled.
“I knew I loved you,” she stated.
Quinn elbowed him.
The phone was on speaker and they had other issues to worry about. This could wait for a later time when they didn’t have an O’Banion freak-out on the horizon.
That was bad news.
The dude was an asshole.
If he wasn’t dead…
Yeah, that would blow.
“I have one question. I just need a yes or no. It’s off the record between you and your husband, not a cop and a Fed.”
“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good at all, Kane. What happened?”
He crossed his fingers.
“Quinn and I just got a case. We found a woman, and she’s been shanked in the back of the skull.”
“Uh, unpleasant, but I don’t know how I can possibly help you with that. If it’s a body, I can ask Chris to give you a call.”
He continued to give her the news.
“There’s a note that we pulled out of her pie hole. Is Michael O’Banion dead or alive?”
There was a pause.
“Chrissy?”
“Oh, my other line is ringing. I have to go, Kane. I’ll talk to you later!”
He stopped her.
Unlike his partner, dealing with a shrink, he knew his wife, and she was a mere lab rat. This wasn’t a blowjob, but it was classic Christina evasion one-oh-one.
“Chrissy, don’t hang up. Your husband needs a yes or a no. Is he dead?”
He could hear heels, and then a door close. Then he swore she flushed a toilet to cover what she was going to say.
“Are you in a bathroom?”
“Yes, because this can’t get out.”
“So, he is.”
That was all he needed to know.
“Kane, you know I can’t tell you anything that’s FBI privilege. If I do, my ass is grass. Elizabeth is NOT one to screw with things like that, and that goes triple for anything that’s tagged Michael O’Banion.”
That he got.
“Baby, the note is threatening him. He’s alive and well, isn’t he?”
Again, more of a pause.
She was in a bad spot. Christina was loyal to a fault. She was always going to side with Elizabeth, but now it would be against her own husband.
This sucked.
“Talk to me.”
“You should go see the Blackhawks. They are going to want to hear this—especially Ethan. Start there first. That’s all I can tell you, Kane. I’m sorry. You’re my husband, but this is HUGE.”
She hoped he got it.
She hoped he stopped trying to plumb this well of information because it was dry.
Marriage only got you so far.
Loyalty mattered.
She was a Fed, and she didn’t want to lose her job. When she came back to her job, life returned, and she was given a big fat raise. They had a cushy gig there, and she wanted to keep it.
Would Elizabeth fire her?
No.
Would she feel like shit for letting the cat out of the bag?
Yes.
“You told me all I need to know, baby. I’ll bring you food. Hang in there. I’m going to be heading to the Hoover building and I’ll drop it off in the lab.”
“Be safe, Kane.”
How did she say this?
“IF Michael O’Banion, is alive…it’s a shitmess that you don’t want to deal with at all. Leave it to the Feds.”
“That bad?” he asked.
“IF it were happening, let’s just say that it is Elizabeth’s ONLY focus at the moment. She’s pushed off all her cases to work this one specific thing, and that says it all. She has her team working cases, and when have you ever seen her not take a case before passing it off to her people?”
Never.
That confirmed his suspicions and Quinton’s too.
He still smiled, since his wife had ended up telling him more than she likely thought she would.
“Thank you, baby.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said.
“Me too,” Quinn added, busting his partner’s ass.
“OH SHIT! KANE! You didn’t tell me that you had me on freaking speakerphone!”
He sputtered, giving his partner the look.
Quinn just broke the ‘Bro Code’, and he’d got him busted by his girl.
Shit!
Later, there would be husband hell to pay, and that really sucked.
“KANE! Answer me!”
Instead, he laughed.
Then he pulled one of her tricks out of the book and handed it right back to his wife.
Turnabout was fair play.
“Uh, oh, look at that! My other line is ringing! I’ll see you later, Chrissy!”
“KANE! Don’t you dare…!”
He hung up.
“Gee, thanks for screwing me over there,” he joked to his partner. “I’m not getting sex for a good month, and it’s all your fault!”
Quinn grinned.
“And that’s my payback for riding my vernacular ass.”
Kane looked disgusted.
“That put really vile pictures in my head, and I don’t think I…”
Quinn punched him in the arm.
“Shut it, partner. We have other things to worry about right now.”
Yeah, they did.
“Bad winds are blowing, my friend,” Kane stated.
Quinn agreed.
“This just got ugly. How much are you willing to bet that this case isn’t going to be ours for long?” Quinn asked. “I’m
going to say the FBI wants this kept quiet, and they’re going to make sure it stays off the record.”
He thought about it.
That put them in a position—an uncomfortable one.
“Do we keep it to ourselves, or do we take one for the cop team and head to the Hoover building?” Kane asked.
Quinn sighed.
“I think you know the answer to that,” he offered.
“Grab that note,” Kane stated. “We’ll take it with us. Take some pictures too. We don’t have time to wait for the crime techs. We have a date with a Blackhawk.”
“I hope Elizabeth is busy,” Quinn stated. “I want to talk to the calmer Blackhawk.”
Kane too.
And in this case, that was all kinds of ironic.
Ethan was a man-eater.
And they were about to offer him one hell of a juicy lead.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
FBI Building
Thursday Morning
Ethan Blackhawk’s
Office
As he stood outside the man’s office, he wanted to be sick over what he was about to do. Chris knew there were only a few things left in his power, and this was the logical one.
It was time to say goodbye.
His whole life was over, and there was nothing left but ashes and remorse of his burned-out career. It was finished, and he couldn’t go back. If he had those results, so did Gabriel Rothschild, and he wouldn’t let him stay.
The man had been gunning for him for years, and that was why he ran his morgue above the rules. He didn’t have the big man on his side.
Now…
He was screwed.
Chris was going to be removed from his position, so there was only one thing he could do.
He had to walk away with his dignity intact.
While being HIV positive was a death sentence to him, it was also one to everyone around him.
If he cut himself, he could contaminate the team, and he knew his job was over.
The FBI had protocols.
The FBI had strict rules.
He wouldn’t be permitted to work in the lab doing autopsies. They’d bump his ass to some pencil pusher job, and he’d lose his fieldwork.
He’d lose everything he’d ever become because of a simple mistake.
Chris, with one accident, had lost it all. He’d lost his life, his future, and a job he loved. Now he was going to leave his family, too, because he couldn’t bear to see this all fall apart.
Dead are Forgotten Page 4
