Dead are Forgotten

by Morgan Kelley

  They all waited for her to blow.

  Only, it didn’t happen.

  “Uh, why are you calm?” Chris asked. “That should have made you lose it.”

  Oh, she knew why.

  She was chasing a ghost, and it looked like she was going to have to lean more on her contingency plan than she’d wanted to at the beginning.

  This case wasn’t going to be made in the evidence.

  It was going to be made by her gut instinct. Very few times in her career did her gut and the evidence not line up. This looked to be one of those isolated incidents.

  And she’d go with it.

  “When you’re locked in a cage, what do you have time to do?” she asked.

  They all looked at her.

  “That wasn’t rhetorical. Help a girl out.”

  “You read,” Ivan stated.

  “You watch TV,” Tony offered. “If you have one in your cell, you watch a lot of TV.”

  She waited for them to put it together.

  “You think the killer studied you and then passed it on to his minion?” Callen stated.

  Oh, she was thinking something like that.

  “We’ll find something,” Callen reassured.

  Honestly, she knew they would. It was only a matter of time. With this case, she was staying calm and letting the killer call the shots.

  For now.

  Her time would come.

  When the doors opened, Ethan walked in with Blue beside him.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, fixing his red silk tie.

  “I will be in a moment. I need to torment my other employees,” she stated.

  “What do we have on the bones?” she asked Tony.

  “We are progressing. I will say victims one through seven are done. They all have the same nicks in the vertebrae from a similar knife. I’d say a Bowie knife. It’s big, it’s sharp, and it does the job. We’re processing the last body now, and Jaxon is working on the face.”

  She gasped and stood up.

  Tony nearly shit himself.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her hands went to her belly and she leaned over.

  “Is it time?” he asked, running around like he was going to lose his mind.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, as Chris headed her way. He’d pulled off his gloves and protective gear and grabbed a stethoscope from his medical bag.

  Gently, he placed it on her belly and listened. His face said it all. It wasn’t time.

  “Braxton Hicks?” Elizabeth asked.

  There was no way she wanted to see a baby born in the morgue.

  No.

  Freaking.

  Way.

  That was just all kinds of gross.

  “Yeah, the baby is good. There’s no elevation in heart rate, and baby Magnus is calming down.”

  Tony relaxed and was able to breathe again.

  “Maybe we should take you to the hospital just in case. Maybe we should be with some doctors…”

  Chris stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “Seriously? I went to medical school, and I delivered my own child, and Callen’s last one. I think I could handle another baby.”

  It took him a second to think it through.

  Then he laughed.

  “That’s right, we have a doctor here,” he said. “I sometimes forget that.”

  Chris was aware.

  Jaxon sat back down.

  “My water hasn’t broken. I’m good,” she said. “Sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth. Carry on.”

  Elizabeth was still concerned. She knew that when the Braxton Hicks got to that point, where you’d jump and screech like that, it was close.

  “When are you due?” she asked Jaxon.

  “Tomorrow.”

  That said it all.

  “I want you to go home.”

  She looked over at Elizabeth.

  “I need to finish this skull. Then I’ll go. I need to finish this. I need to find the person after my father. I can’t forgive him for all he’s done, but I have to help save a life. That’s what we do,” she stated.

  Oh, the irony there.

  Elizabeth lied because she had no intention of letting the O’Banion cat out of the FBI bag.

  “Yes, that’s what we do.”

  “She’ll go home after it’s done,” Blue stated. “I’ll drive her since Tony is busy with the remains.”

  He appreciated that.

  Christina squealed and a more than a few people jumped at the sound of her shrill shriek.

  They all turned and stared at her.

  “Sorry! I FOUND SOMETHING!”

  Elizabeth headed her way.

  “What?”

  “Under her clothes, I found some pubic hair. It was lodged in her body.”

  Elizabeth didn’t get it.

  “And? We have his DNA, and it’s not in the system. How is that supposed to help me?” she asked.

  “I can give you hair color. That’s one less unknown variable.”

  Yeah, except, they knew that too. Again, this killer was making it as hard as possible—like he’d studied her.

  Elizabeth reminded Christina of what they already knew.

  “The cab driver, Carson Gallagher, said he was with some blonde kid.”

  She stared at her.

  “Nope. This hair is black. It’s dark black, and it has the same DNA. It had a root and I tied it to him.”

  Really?

  “So maybe he’s not a natural blonde?” Callen asked. “Maybe the drapes didn’t match the carpet,” he offered.

  Callen had a point. People dyed their hair all the time.

  Ethan tapped his watch.

  “Baby, we have to get this show on the road. We need to make sure we get this press conference underway.”

  Yeah, she was aware.

  “Jaxon, finish, and then you’re heading home until you have this baby. While Chris can deliver your child, I’m sure you’re going to want drugs.”

  “Oh, yeah! Lots of them.”

  She didn’t blame her.

  “Christina, work that trace. See if you can find anything else. I appreciate the hard work.”

  “Pizza.”

  “What?”

  “Say it with pizza.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Really? All you found was one hair and semen without an owner. I don’t know if that’s pizza worthy.”

  She pouted.

  “We’re going to be here all day. I know you don’t want to starve my poor Native baby.”

  Ethan laughed.

  “Fine. Pizza. It’ll be here for lunch and a salad for Chris. I’m getting too nice in my old age,” she muttered.

  NO ONE believed that.

  The doors to the morgue opened again, and in came the two agents and the detective.

  “I’m going to transmit the information I gather back here. If I find something at the tattoo shop or bar, be ready. If not, I need you to keep checking everyone I’ve interviewed, and anyone in their family. Brothers, cousins, uncles…there’s got to be a tie.”

  They sat.

  “We’ll keep working,” Alex offered. “We’ll find something, Elizabeth.”

  Good.

  She needed them to do just that.

  “Uh, Detective, have you considered my offer?” Elizabeth asked, waiting for him to answer.

  That had everyone’s attention.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Girls like flowers,” she reminded him.

  Callen lifted a brow.

  “I hope you’re not talking about you. I’ll have to hurt the man.”

  She laughed.

  “Please. He was saved by a US Marshall, and I think a thank you is in order. Again, she digs pink—beneath that Kevlar beats the heart of a girly-girl.”

  Callen knew where this was heading. Someone had out her Cupid wings, and she was stringing up the bow.

  God help the man.

  “Do the right th
ing,” she stated as they headed out.

  Max sat there, mulling over what she’d said to him, and he was struggling with it.

  That drew, even more, speculation from the two men beside him.

  “What offer?” Alex asked.

  “I was offered a job,” Max stated. “Elizabeth offered me a position here in DC on her Violent Crimes Unit.”

  Noah grinned.

  “Me too! I’m back in the field and on Elizabeth’s team. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

  Only, someone wasn’t happy about that.

  No, Alex wasn’t amused.

  “Uh, I wasn’t offered a job. Why did you two get offered one and not me?”

  “Oh,” Noah stated.

  Max shrugged.

  Alex wasn’t happy about this. He wanted out of the cybercrimes unit in the worst way, and now two people around him were getting the ultimate prize. The list to get into Elizabeth’s unit was a mile long.

  And it looked like he was at the end of the list.

  But why?

  “Are you taking it?” Chris asked, from his place beside the body.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Max said, and he hadn’t.

  They all stared at him like he was insane.

  “What?” he asked when he noticed that the rest of the team was staring at him funny.

  “Do you know how many people applied to work the Violent Crimes Division under Elizabeth?” Noah asked. He knew because he had the HR paperwork at his disposal.

  “Uh, no.”

  “Tons,” Christina stated. “She only takes the people she sees something in or the best of the best. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

  He was aware, but his mom was in Boston, and his career was as a cop. Then, he thought about the US Marshal and the thrill of being in the FBI.

  The scale was equal.

  He had a lot to gain and lose.

  “People wait years to work with her,” Noah stated. “She runs the one division people will sell their own mommas to get into. If you have the chance, do it. I know I am,” Noah stated. “I can’t ride a desk anymore.”

  He listened.

  The man was likely right.

  “Does anyone know where I can find a florist?” he asked, willing to take a chance.

  “Yes,” Chris said, working on the Y-incision. “I can give you the number of the one that Callen and Ethan use.”

  “Good. I need to order some flowers.”

  It looked like Maximus Chase was moving to DC.

  He hoped it wasn’t a huge mistake.

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

  Across DC

  He was sitting on his couch as he enjoyed the morning news. Yes, he watched every single day after his little apprentice made a kill.

  At the rate the FBI was going, they’d never figure this out and find the genius behind this whole thing.

  He was proud.

  Prouder than anything he’d ever accomplished in his life because the FBI was running in circles.

  It wasn’t easy keeping everyone on their toes, and this just proved he’d earned his reputation.

  As he flipped through the channels, he saw the press conference, and he saw the setup. The news was running the information ahead of Elizabeth Blackhawk speaking.

  That’s when he saw it.

  They were showing everyone the prison mug shots.

  Priceless.

  Then they were releasing details of the latest murder of his chosen victim.

  There was a garbage can.

  That was funny.

  In an alley.

  That was perfect.

  Brutal rape?

  WHAT?

  Those two words caught him off guard. Was his apprentice insane? You didn’t rape the people you killed. That was giving the authorities a free pass at you. That was the one way of tying yourself to the victims. While he didn’t care if the man went to prison for life, he wasn’t getting caught in that trap.

  He was not going to the cage.

  Back when he was big time, the bodies were buried and that was it. You did it right, and you didn’t leave a way to be found.

  DNA wasn’t huge back then.

  NOW?

  Jesus.

  He crossed himself.

  This was bad. It was crystal clear that his apprentice had not listened, and he’d gone off the rails with this one. Why the hell did he think he knew better?

  He’d taught him all of this.

  What was he thinking?

  This sucked.

  And it just might get them caught.

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

  Press Conference

  Nine A.M

  Sunday

  It was the perfect time to do this, and she knew it. Sundays were days meant to start slow, spend time with the family, and catch the news.

  Hell.

  It was a time to read the paper.

  This press conference would loop over and over again—she was sure, and someone might see something that would help her. At this point, she wasn’t above offering a reward.

  If someone didn’t come forward, she’d be forced to go with her gut on this one, and that was tricky.

  She could be wrong.

  It had happened before.

  Here was her last good hope, and she really needed it to pan out for her and the team. The media would spread the word to the masses.

  She was about to use the people she loathed to do her dirty work. She was going to use them to bait a trap.

  It was going to catch a big rat.

  Elizabeth hoped this worked. She was not thrilled to be up there as some suit-wearing spectacle.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Ethan stated, beginning his spiel.

  Elizabeth let him drive the bus.

  “We asked you here for your help. We have a serial killer in town, and we need you to give us any tips you possibly can.”

  They began asking questions.

  He shut them down.

  “We have distributed a picture for you and some details from the ongoing investigation. We are on the hunt for Carl Fitzpatrick. He was previously incarcerated and now we believe he’s behind the recent killings of Beverly Sampson, Mary Waver, and just last evening, Mariah Hart.”

  “How were they killed?” one reporter asked.

  “One puncture wound to the back of the neck,” Elizabeth stated, taking over for Ethan.

  This was her show, and she was going to run with it.

  “We know for a fact that Carl Fitzpatrick is running with someone he’s training. He’s calling the shots, and his apprentice is helping him out.”

  This felt totally wrong to her. Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel like this was way off.

  Still, she kept going.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “Why is he here in DC?” someone asked.

  This was the delicate balance.

  She couldn’t come right out and tell them that he was after Michael O’Banion.

  That was the opposite of what Gabe wanted her to do.

  “Revenge.”

  “Against who?”

  Here’s where she did the dance.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you,” she said, lying her ass off so they could just get through this. “All I do know is we found a mass grave with eight bodies, we dug it up, and the wounds are consistent with Carl Fitzpatrick’s MO.”

  “Then how do you know he isn’t working alone?” some woman asked.

  “We know thanks to a little thing called forensic evidence. You should try it. It’s fun.”

  That shut the woman down. They knew her. One wrong move and she’d end this funfest.

  They kept firing questions at her, making sure to keep them about the case and not her personal life.

  Callen stood by her side, offering as much support as he possibly could. He hated this kind of thing.

  The only person who hate
d it more was his wife.

  She continued with the details.

  “All of the victims were raped, and our killer has left a sample of his DNA behind. We’ve run it, and we’re running it as we speak.”

  Again, she was going to scare the killers, who she knew would be watching her.

  Ethan stated that they would have to feed their egos, so here it went.

  “We know the apprentice is younger, black hair, and strong. We know that he likes drugs, is of below average intelligence, and is following the instructions of his teacher. He’s not smart enough to do this alone, so he’s having to be hand fed how to be a killer.”

  Ouch.

  That was going to sting.

  Well, here went the cuckoo train. It was pulling out of the station, and it was about to either work toward their favor or blow up and be a big mess.

  It could go either way.

  The media kept asking questions.

  God!

  She hoped Christina was right about that hair because it was the only leverage they had.

  It was a long shot.

  If it was wrong, she just told Carl and his helper that she was bluffing big time.

  That would suck.

  Ethan stood beside his wife, his hand on her lower back as he connected them as a unified team.

  The entire time, he was watching the crowd for anyone who would fit his profile.

  Young.

  Black hair.

  White.

  Out of place.

  He knew that this person would be curious about what was being said.

  The beauty of being followed by the media all day long meant that you could spot the newbies in the crowd. There were generally the same reporters, day in and day out.

  There were a couple who fit his profile.

  Elizabeth continued, “If you’ve seen Carl, or know where he’s located, we would like to talk to you. Give us a call. I’ll come to you.”

  The reporters began talking a mile a minute as she and Ethan headed back into the FBI building.

  She was done.

  They’d completed what they’d set out to do. It was time to wait and see what fell out of the tree they’d just shaken.

  They would likely freak someone out with what they knew, and she was hoping Carl would make a mistake.

  They needed something, and soon, before time ran out for one more woman.

  “What’s your plan?” Ethan asked as all three of them rode upstairs in the elevator reserved for only him and Gabe.