Great.
“So, are you saying that he won’t know his trainee is dipping his stick in a victim?”
“Likely no. If he does, the only reason he’s letting it happen is because it will hang his helper and give him more protection against anyone tying him to it. ‘I didn’t rape her, it was him’ defense.”
He was right.
“Thanks, Ethan,” she said.
“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could give you more, but you don’t have anything for me to work with,” he stated. “I can only profile on what you give me, and this case is stripped pretty bare as it’s being staged by your killer.”
Oh, she was aware.
“I have semen,” Chris stated.
“Good for you, Doc, and with a penis and all too. Who would have thought.”
He laughed.
“Not my own, smart ass, but someone else’s.”
Christina giggled and swabbed.
“I already know what you’re going to say, boss. Get it run ASAP. I’ll have a tech take it back and work on it right now while I get the scene handled.”
“Thank you, Chrissy.”
“We may have a shot,” she told her husband on the phone.
“I hope so. Be safe, baby. I love you.”
“I plan on hitting a biker tattoo shop and a bar. What could possibly happen?”
He started speaking, and she hung up.
“That was for rubbing in that he got to sleep an extra hour,” she said grouchily.
Callen laughed.
“You’re vicious.”
“It’s hot,” Chris stated, directing it at her. “It always was, so you can stop staring at me like you’re surprised. We had the best sex after you messed with the minions.”
She sputtered.
“I’m with him,” Callen stated.
Elizabeth was about to say something snarky when Christina cut her off. She was going to save Callen and Chris in one fell swoop.
“Do you want her address?” Chrissy asked.
Elizabeth focused.
“Yeah, she’s wearing an engagement ring. So, let’s go break some man’s heart.”
“Your job sucks,” Chris said.
Oh, she was aware.
She said that every damn day for almost two decades, but she kept coming back for more.
That said a lot about her mental status.
“Where’s the note, Christopher?” she asked before she walked away.
He pointed at her body. “I have to dig it out. You’ll get it in-house. If it’s coated in semen, you don’t want me to destroy it.”
“Did he sign her?” she asked.
Chris lifted her shirt and nodded.
Yeah, that said it all.
“Your job sucks just as much as mine does,” she stated. “Maybe even more.”
Chris was aware.
It was the story of his life.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
The White House
War Room
One Hour Later
When the president called you out, there were only two things you could do. You could comment and lose your job, or you had to swallow it and hate him in the privacy of your own head.
Well, Ethan opted to take the latter of the two choices most of the time, and today was no different.
God knew he had to do that a lot when he came to the White House. The man was a douchebag, and if Ethan could put a bullet in his head, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
He degraded people.
He hit on Elizabeth.
He rode all of their asses.
Yeah, there was no love lost there. No one, in their right mind, liked the man.
He was the most hated person in the room.
As the president ripped him, and Gabe, a new one, he took it like a seasoned vet.
It was about the mess in Vegas.
The trouble in Damascus, and the issue happening right there in DC. Nothing was off limits.
Nothing.
“I want it handled!”
Ethan didn’t flinch.
He knew better. With an asshole like this, if you showed any weakness, he’d prey on it. Ethan had watched him devour countless federal employees like a fat kid eating cake on his birthday.
It wasn’t pretty.
“Did you hear me, boy?”
He stared at the man.
Did he just call him ‘boy’?
Ethan’s face must have given him away.
“Oh, someone’s a badass. He thinks I won’t go there,” the president said, glaring at him. “You have a mess, boy, but why am I not surprised? I’ve seen a few reservations in my past. We put the riffraff there for a reason all those years ago!”
Even Gabe cringed beside him.
Oh.
No.
He.
Didn’t.
Ethan knew he’d heard him right as everyone at the table looked uncomfortable by the ignorant, bigoted comment directed at the only non-white person in the room.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” the president asked.
“Oh, I heard you, only you’re going to have to back the fuck off and watch what the hell you say to me, with respect, sir,” he said, adding the last part with his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Gabe closed his eyes.
They were dead.
D.
E.
A.
D.
Blackhawk was going off the reservation on this one.
“I’m doing my job, and whether you like it or not, things are moving smoother than they were before. I’m heading to Vegas to end this mess, and I will fix it. Then I’m heading to FBI West to replace Miles Lane. When I get back, I will be more than happy to address the issues, boy. I’ll handle YOUR riffraff. I do believe you wanted Miles Lane in that post—not me. I knew better, but hey, you know us Indians. We have no clue…oh, wait. I know more than you do.”
“Watch your mouth,” the president stated.
Ethan pulled the spoon out of his coffee cup and slid it across the table. “Your silver spoon, sir.”
Gabe choked on his water. It looked like someone had learned the fine art of flipping someone off without actually flipping them off.
Yeah, this was definitely Elizabeth’s husband.
Ethan grabbed his papers and stood.
“I, unlike the other bootlickers in this room, am too busy for this nonsense. I’ll go do my damn job and do it right the first time. Sir, have a good day.”
With that, he walked out.
When he got into the hall, he was red. Wilcox was waiting for him as he leaned against the wall.
“Director, you look downright ready to blow.”
“Take me to my wife. Find her, get me there, and stop for coffee first.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ethan had about enough.
If they were lucky, someone would shut the president up for good.
The end of his term couldn’t come fast enough.
At all.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Mariah Hart’s
Home
When they knocked on the door, it was just after seven in the morning, and they knew that the person inside was going to know the second he saw them at his door.
They always did.
ALWAYS.
So, when he opened, his hair disheveled and his eyes were bleary with sleep, she gave him a second.
That was all it took.
“Oh no.”
The second he said it, she knew it was time to destroy his world, and she hated every single second of it.
“I’m Director Elizabeth Blackhawk and this is my partner Director Callen Whitefox. We’re from the FBI. Can we talk to you for a few minutes?”
He swallowed, nodded, and stepped back.
The man couldn’t be any older than twenty-six years old, and his life was about to change.
And not for the good.
“Are you Mariah Hart’s fiancé?” she asked.
He nodded.
It took him a second, but he regained his ability to speak.
“What happened to her? She’s not in bed. I thought you were her, and she got locked out.”
Yeah, she’d answer all of that after she found out if this was actually her fiancé.
“Your name please?” she asked, as they stood in the cramped foyer of the small apartment.
It was clear they were just starting out.
They were bringing their lives together to form one, and this was the end.
For her.
For him.
He would continue on the journey on his own, and without the woman that he wanted to marry.
It was sad.
Senseless.
Painful.
“I’m Andre Nolan.”
“Mr. Nolan, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Mariah was killed last night around eleven. We’re working on the case, and we need to talk to you about it.”
He looked sick.
He looked like he was going to pass out.
Callen sat him down on the floor beside the mountain bike and the skate blades. He pushed his head between his knees, as the man began hyperventilating.
“Breathe slow,” Callen said, holding his head down so he didn’t pass out.
They got this a lot.
“Jesus! No,” he whispered as he began crying. “Not Mariah,” he whispered over and over again. “This can’t be real,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nolan, but it’s very real. I’ll get you some water,” Elizabeth stated, heading into the apartment.
It looked like a happy couple lived there.
There was a big worn couch, some pretty girly pillows, and the place was clean. They were athletic, they liked the outdoors, and they loved each other.
She could tell by all the photos.
“What happened?” he asked, as she handed him some water and crouched down in front of him.
“We don’t know yet, but she was assaulted.”
He choked on his tears.
“No. Not my baby. Why?” he asked, trying to understand all of this.
Callen hated notifies.
With each one, he put himself in the person’s place. He pictured someone telling him his wife was dead, and he’d be just like this man.
Worse.
He knew it.
“Was there anyone bothering her, Andre?” she asked. “Anything you can tell us might help. It might help us find who hurt her.”
She didn’t tell him about the killer.
The mob connection.
How she was likely just a means to an end for Carl Fitzpatrick.
“Did she suffer?” he asked.
Of course they both lied.
“No, it was fast.”
The tears kept coming.
“Again, did Mariah say anyone was bothering her?” Elizabeth asked. “Anyone at work?”
“She mentioned the bar, as of late, was getting a little rough. It was getting a little handsy.”
She listened.
“I told her to quit, but she loved the tips. We were paying for our wedding, and she loved having that money. God! I lost my best friend.”
She let him mourn and talk.
“We were friends first. We did everything together, and then one day, I asked her out. I got the nerve to do it, and she said yes. We’ve been together ever since. That friendship was our foundation, and I’ve lost her forever.”
Callen handed him some balled up toilet paper from the bathroom that was right there.
“Anyone else bothering her?” she asked.
“You’d have to ask the bartender. He normally watches out for the girls. He hits on them, but he walks them to their cars. Her shift was up at eleven, and she shouldn’t have been alone. I should have been there. What kind of man lets his girl walk out there alone?” he whispered. “This is my fault. I let her walk alone.”
Callen patted his shoulder.
Well, it looked like they were definitely heading to a bar too.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Andre. I really am,” she said, feeling nothing but pain for this man.
“Can I see her?”
And here was the bad part. She hated when they asked her questions like this.
There was NO way he’d want to see her broken in half like nothing more than trash.
“The method of killing has to be matched to the other victims.”
“There were more?”
Unfortunately.
“Yes, we believe so, and that’s why we need her. She’s going to help us find the person who hurt her.”
“She’d want that,” he admitted. “Mariah would want you to do whatever you had to do to find the person who hurt her.”
Oh, and she would.
“We’d watch TV, and when you were on it, she was fascinated with you. She said the world gave you shit because you were a woman, and that you were probably ten times better at your job than a man.”
Callen knew she wouldn’t say that was true, but he would.
“Elizabeth will get her justice. She is damn good at her job, and I promise that she’ll find the person who did this and Mariah will have that.”
That seemed to help him.
“Then do what you have to do. All I want back is her ring. Did she still have her engagement ring? I’ll wear it and never forget her.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can, Andre.”
“When can I have her back? I want to give her a funeral. She had lots of friends. We will say goodbye.”
Here was the resilience of the human being.
He was knocked down and got right back up again to push on. It was the human spirit, and it was damn strong.
“As soon as we can release her, we will, but she won’t look the same. Look at those pictures of her and you skiing, living life, and remember her that way. She wouldn't want you to remember her like this.”
He nodded and wiped his eyes.
“Can we call someone to be here for you?”
He nodded more.
“My best friend Russel. His number is in my phone. Can you call him?”
“Sure,” she said, grabbing his phone and making the call. Russel answered right away, and she explained.
When she hung up, she told him he’d be there soon.
While they were staying there with him, he told them all kinds of amazing things about Mariah. They listened as he began the process of healing. It was small things that would get him through the hard moments.
Her laughter.
Her love of potato chips and ketchup.
They were the things she wanted him to focus on because they would heal him one day. One day, he’d wake up, the pain would stop, and he would find someone else—a Sally, or a Susie, or a Sandra. Someone new would walk into his life, and he would go on.
He would survive.
Andre told them they could leave, but they didn’t for a few reasons. First, because it was the right thing to do for him, and for Mariah. They couldn’t save her, but they could help the man she loved. Secondly, they needed to give Chris and the team time. They needed to get that DNA, and they needed to find a killer.
And fast.
Fifteen minutes later, after Andre told them everything they could possibly need to know about Mariah, Russel showed up.
Callen let him in, and he made the introductions.
The blonde man looked like he’d rolled right out of bed too.
“I’m Russel Baird. Thank you for calling me. I have him now.”
She nodded and headed out, leaving the two younger men there to deal with the sorrow.
If there were things she hated about her job, this was the top of the list.
It sucked.
Notifies blew seven ways past Sunday.
“I really don’t like Carl and his helper,” Elizabeth said as they stood in the morning air. I
t was crisp, it wisped from their mouths with each breath.
“I’m not a fan either,” Callen admitted.
Elizabeth was about to tell him their next move when, as they stood there, a big, black, tricked-out ride headed their way, and it had government plates.
“What the hell?” Elizabeth said as it stopped, and Ethan hopped out to head their way.
“Uh, are you lost?” she asked, giving him a kiss.
“No, but I was thinking about something on my way over here.”
“What?”
“This killer is going to have one hell of an ego. Play to it. You need to play it up, and that’s how you’ll catch him.”
She lifted a brow.
“Uh, how would you like me to do that? Invite him over to dinner and clap for him?”
He jerked his finger over his shoulder and pointed at the media keeping their distance.
“Maybe it’s time for a press conference. The killer will think you have absolutely nothing because you’re chasing a ghost.”
She had news for him.
“Uh, I have absolutely nothing. In fact, I’ve had nothing but Brian, and he’s on the run.”
“Let’s use that. We’ll post his face, Carl’s face, and talk about the ineptitude of his helper getting his sperm all over the victim.”
She thought about it.
“That could work.”
He was well aware. This had been his thing long before he’d donned the title of deputy director.
“Then let me spin it for you, my lovely, delicate flower. I’ll help you catch a crazy.”
She stared at him.
Something was going on. He’d told her he was tied up all day in meetings, and he was going to be so busy that he’d never see their bed again.
And yet here he was…
Something had happened.
“What did you do, Ethan Jackson Blackhawk?” she asked.
Yeah, Callen was thinking the same thing. This was way off from his normal day. Granted, he didn’t mind having his brother there, but still…
“I just told the President of the United States to fuck off. I may not have a job after Vegas if it’s not handled. The clock is ticking on my career.”
“What?” she asked.
He told her.
It resulted in the response he expected.
Dead are Forgotten Page 48
