“You’re mean. Now you’re rubbing it in.”
Then she pulled out a third and handed it to him.
On it was his name.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, standing up.
She laughed.
“I just didn’t get any time alone with you, and for the record, I was three days past pretty, and I happened to make some amazing babies, Kreskin.”
He ran around the desk and pulled her up. Then he swung her around.
“GOD! I totally love you! I could kiss you!”
His timing was bad.
As always.
Ethan and Callen were right there in her doorway.
She laughed her ass off as he actually ducked behind her to keep alive.
“I just told him he’s on the team.”
Callen growled.
The man swallowed.
“Down boy?”
Callen began laughing.
“Welcome to the team,” he said, holding out his hand. As soon as Alex took it, he squeezed it without breaking a sweat.
“I don’t want to know why you told her she was pretty or why you were talking about my babies.”
“LaRue, help?” he asked.
“Blackhawk,” she stated. “Let him go. Alex, get back to work. I’m a bitch to work with, and you’re screwed.”
Callen set him free and he took off.
Elizabeth was amused.
“To what do I owe both of you in here?” she asked, going back to her whiteboard.
Ethan looked exhausted, and she knew he’d likely had his ass chewed regarding his little verbal altercation with the president. The man held a wicked grudge.
“Can we help you with anything?” Ethan asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he took a seat in the chair Alex had vacated.
“I’m just going over suspects.”
“Talk it out, baby,” he stated.
She headed toward the whiteboard and pointed at the names she’d written there.
Landon Turner
Shamus McDeclan
Marc Blanchard
Brian Montany
Riley Welch
Cameron Montgomery
“What are you thinking?” Callen asked, knowing if she could talk it out, something might pop.
“Well, we know it’s not Landon Turner. He may be the ex, but he’s been incarcerated. That was the first thing I checked when I came up here. He was denied bail. Thank you, Ethan,” she said, knowing he had something to do with that.
He simply grinned.
“Shamus McDeclan was in contact with both the victim from the post office he supervised and O’Banion. Maybe he recognized him.”
They let her continue.
“Marc Blanchard is up next, and he hates O’Banion—I mean Howard. He has the dark hair, as does Shamus, and Landon.”
“He’s messing with you,” Ethan stated.
“Yeah, I know. Whoever is behind this is making sure I chase my tail. We had a blonde, and I chased it. We had Brian, and I chased it. Only, the timelines were slightly off,” she admitted.
“Brian was your clue, wasn’t it?” Ethan asked, studying her. Coming up with a profile was only one way to help her. He was learning about how she was processing it, hoping to catch anything she might miss.
“At first, no. I was excited and on him like tan on Native, only, the screw up was the body dump. It was timed too close. The person behind this didn’t know we’d be kicking in a door with the US Marshals. Had we not, he would still be my prime suspect.”
“Go on,” Callen stated.
“Riley Welch found the last victim in the garbage can,” she said, going back to her list. “At that point, I’d become paranoid.”
“So, you thought it was him?” Ethan asked.
“A young guy, working on the dock, driving a sports car? It felt off because the killer wanted me to feel off. He’s jerking me around, and nothing is going to fit.”
Ethan was going to listen before he said something. She needed to figure this out.
“Then there was Cameron Montgomery, the lecherous bartender who worked with Mariah. It was an easy one. Of course there’s going to be an asshole to point me at. Only, there are things he can’t control.”
“Like?” Callen asked.
“What if it’s none of these people?” she asked.
Callen opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Talk it out,” Ethan stated.
She would, and hopefully, it would lead to something more than a freaking headache.
“Through all of this, there’s only one thing I don’t know. I have no idea where this has leaked from. It has to have come from somewhere. That’s the ONLY way Carl would have found O’Banion.”
“Where do you think it came from?” Ethan asked.
“Well, there were only four people who knew about this. Gabe, the DA working for the Justice Department, Thomas Jones, the head of the Marshals, Lewis Jefferson, and Gabe’s boss at the time.”
He listened.
“Gabe swears it was never him. The file was in your office, Ethan. The old Director who Gabe replaced is dead. He didn’t tell anyone.”
She marked him off her mental list.
“Marcus Hunter is running the marshals now. What happened to his predecessor?” she asked.
“Lewis Jefferson died. Cancer I believe.”
“How long ago?”
“Two years? Marcus got his post as a director right before I got this one as deputy director.”
“What about the justice department?” she asked.
“Thomas Jones is dead too. I checked when I heard about this deal from hell the FBI made to cage O’Banion. He died right after the deal was made. It was a car accident—drunk driver.”
She went to the board and began scribbling.
“The only logical people left are Gabe and Lewis Jefferson. He died two years ago, but maybe he told someone before that. Everyone else has been dead a lot longer. That’s the only way this evidence is turning. If we’re to believe that someone is gunning for O’Banion, and he didn’t tell anyone, and Gabe didn’t tell anyone…”
“The marshals have an issue.”
She nodded.
If the evidence was right.
“I’m hell on details, and this is pointing in that direction after it’s taken about twenty loops to get there.”
He glances at his watch.
“Let me see what I can do. I’ll go to my office and start digging around. You have something, and I’ll chase that lead for you for now. You have to focus on that stakeout.”
“Thank you.”
Ethan stood and headed her way.
“Don’t thank me. You’re my partner. O’Banion is without a babysitter and the clock is ticking for him. Go and do your thing, and let me chase the marshals. If Marcus knows anything, he’ll tell me.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Now she was feeling guilty.
While the evidence was going that way, her gut…it was still pointing another way. She was withholding her gut feelings about all of this.
“Sure, baby.”
He gave her a kiss and then headed out, pulling out his phone as he headed away.
She went over and closed the door.
“Why do you look like you’re upset?” Callen asked.
“Has your gut ever told you that something was up?” she asked.
“Hell yeah. All the time.”
She pointed at hers.
“Suit up and grab Heath. I have a feeling something bad is heading our way. Put on Kevlar.”
“Oh, shit. That kind of gut feeling?” he asked.
She nodded.
The only thing that was saving her was that her contingency plan was in place.
And she hoped she didn’t have to use it.
Only, her options were running out.
And fast.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Stakeout
Apartment
Seven P.M.
While Ethan was chasing possible leaks at the US Marshals, Elizabeth was cozied up with her other husband and Heath. The big man was behind the wheel, and Callen was beside him.
Elizabeth was in the back, and she was working.
She was going back over every little piece of information, and she was going to make sure they didn’t miss anything.
As the men watched, she read.
And read.
And read.
It was monotonous.
“Anything?” Callen asked as he watched the building with his binoculars. They had the camera attached to the rearview mirror, facing out, and they were recording everyone who was coming or going from that street. Instead of a blacked-out ride, she’d insisted on the most unlikely car they could find.
Callen scored them up a red minivan.
Anyone watching O’Banion’s place would NEVER think they would be a federal vehicle.
Never.
Elizabeth was upping her game.
“I’m still waiting on Tony and Chris to send me anything regarding that eighth body. Christina checked in, and there’s nothing new.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Mrs. B, would you like some coffee?” Heath offered, holding up the thermos. “It’s got a little something special to keep you warm.”
She looked up.
“Heath, you’re not drinking, are you?” she asked.
“Hell no! I meant some freshly grated cinnamon and nutmeg.”
Callen started laughing.
“You put nutmeg in your coffee?” he asked, glancing over at the big man. There weren’t many people bigger than him, but this man…he was it.
“Yes, is that a problem?”
“Nope. You’ll make a fine wife someday,” he teased.
Heath laughed. “My momma says the same thing to me all the time. I make a mean lasagna.”
“Pass,” she said.
Elizabeth proceeded to ignore them both and went back to work.
She must have been scanning documents for a full ninety minutes before she glanced up again.
“Where’s Callen?” she asked Heath, when she realized they were one person short.
How did she miss him leaving?
“He’s in the alley. I don’t think I need to tell you why,” he said, pointing at the coffee.
She laughed.
“Good. I need to stretch my legs. I’m calling shotgun,” she said, crawling over the seat and into his old spot.
She sat and watched the city around her.
Nothing looked out of place.
This was a needle in a haystack, and she knew it. Her gut was telling her to stay, but her brain was calling her crazy.
“Why are you frowning, Mrs. B?” Heath asked, passing her a cup of coffee.
She took a sip.
It was pretty damn good.
“This case.”
He handed her a cookie.
“It’s not matching up in my head,” she said.
“You’ll figure it out,” he admitted.
“You think?” she asked, glancing up.
“You’re one of those special people,” he offered.
That had her attention.
“Uh, Heath, in my world, special isn’t a term of endearment.”
“I meant one of those people who are here to do good. They give everything, and the powers that be are on their side. You’ll figure it out.”
“Don’t let Wilcox taint you. I like you how you are,” she said, eating her cookie.
He laughed.
“You’ll solve this.”
She was beginning to doubt that.
Until she saw it.
There was that one aberration that didn’t fit the whole scenario, and it was unfolding in front of her. It was the one thing in the surrounding area that didn’t belong.
That was her big clue.
She grabbed the binoculars and watched the man heading from O’Banion’s building to his car.
Callen tapped on the window.
“Get in. Hurry!”
He practically dove into the back of the minivan.
“What?”
“Look!”
She handed him the binoculars.
“What’s he doing here?” Callen asked, seeing the man that she was pointing out.
This didn’t fit.
“Heath, follow him,” she said, as he turned on the van. “You can NOT lose him. I don’t want him to see us, but you can’t let him get away.”
He grinned.
“I won’t. Buckle up. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
She glanced at the clock. It was heading toward ten, and that meant that if this was the person doing the killing, he was on his way to a location to scope out the next victim.
“This can’t be a coincidence,” Callen stated.
Oh, she was aware.
It looked like perseverance did pay off.
For her.
Not for him.
Carson Gallagher, the cabbie, had just come out of O’Banion’s apartment building.
“Callen, I need a list of tenants. Call Harmony. She’ll pull it for me. It’ll take us too long to go through channels. I need to see how long he’s been living in that apartment. The marshals will have it on file. They would have researched it to keep him safe.”
He got it.
“You think that Carl planted him in there?”
“Well, he was the one who told us Carl picked up a blonde. He was the one who sent me on that wild goose chase, and now he’s coming out of the building?”
Yeah, that wasn’t good.
Callen began making calls.
“Don’t lose him,” she warned, “or there will never be cookies again.”
“Awww, Mrs. B, don’t break my heart.”
She held on.
When they went around a corner, she watched as Carson pulled over, got out, and began heading down the street.
“Go past him, and then we’ll park on the other side—facing him,” she stated, watching him as they drove past.
He was in a hurry.
Down the road, Heath made a U-turn and he pulled into a parking lot. They began watching the man heading their way. He stopped not far away and looked at a building.
It was one of those late-night clinics that kept their doors open to help people who couldn’t get in to see their doctors during the day.
“Video is running,” Heath said, as he pushed the button on the camera he placed on their dash.
She watched him.
“He’s looking for cameras,” she said. “He’s checking to see where they all are, and he’s going to scope the place out.”
Yeah, this made him look bad.
Perfect.
Callen hung up the phone.
“Harmony said you owe her.”
“Yeah, well, what did she dig up?”
He handed her a paper he’d scribbled information on while she read it off to him.
Elizabeth scanned the names and the dates.
“They kept good records,” she stated. “The marshals have Carson tagged as moving in three months ago.”
Yeah, that was right after Carl was released.
This was more evidence.
It looked like they found their rat who was doing the dirty work. Now they just had to find the head rat.
They watched him break out a street light.
“Callen, I need you to make another call.”
“What?”
“Call the cab company and give them the last three dates when the women were killed. I want to know if Carson was working, or when he got off.”
He pulled his phone out again and searched for the company.
“He’s going to grab someone coming out of that clinic,” she stated.
Shit!
Then she looked over at Heath.
“
What?” he asked.
“I need a huge favor.”
“What, Mrs. B?”
“I need you to go in there, hand them my badge, and get them to go out the back door.”
She looked at the clinic sign.
They closed at ten, and that was rapidly approaching.
It didn’t fit the man’s killing schedule, but she couldn't take any chances. There was a life on the line.
“Okay, and?”
“I need you to make sure NO ONE comes this way. If we call the police, he’ll bolt, and we don’t have anything on him to bring him in for questioning other than he lives in O’Banion’s building.”
The man got it.
“I won’t let you down.”
She handed him her badge.
“You keep them safe. If you can keep them there, do it. That’s safer.”
He hesitated.
“If I leave you…”
She patted his big meat hook that was his hand.
“I’m with Callen. He’s got my back. I need them to be safe so I can figure out how to catch this guy.”
He finally agreed.
Heath handed her the keys and headed out. She watched him mosey down the street and toward the clinic. Carson spotted him, but he didn’t think anything of it.
Yeah, because he’d never seen her shadows.
That’s how you caught a ghost.
You used a ghost.
Carson went back to his planning, ignoring Heath entering the building.
Callen hung up.
“I spoke to his boss,” he said, climbing over the seat to get behind the wheel.
“And?”
“He was on until midnight all three of those days.”
She thought about it.
“How much do you want to bet that he was ‘working’ when he killed them? He drove a cab. For Christ’s sake, who is going to think twice about seeing one?”
She had a point.
He grabbed the laptop and queued up the footage from ‘Tattoo Hell’. On it, he wound it back an hour before Mariah was killed.
A cab was circling the location.
“It’s his cab,” Callen stated. “The numbers match from the day we interviewed him.”
She grinned.
“Step one. Catch the killer, and then use him to catch the puppet master behind this.”
That statement was ironic since Joey, her last criminal, had been making marionettes.
Dead are Forgotten Page 57
