“Okay, well at least we know two things,” Emma said, as the men watched each other. “We have a timeline and a type. That’s as good a place to start out.”
“Did you get any tox back?” Croft asked.
Steele was trying to play nice, but the man in front of him was going to be the catalyst that made or broke his relationship. It was hard not to resent the man for that. Normally, he wasn’t intimidated by anyone, because you couldn’t be if you were a professional gay man, but now he was.
Dante’s brother hated his guts.
“Yes, on the first autopsy. I can tell you that she was clean of disease, drugs, and anything else that usually turns up in our victims.”
“So, we don’t have a prostitute?” she asked.
He shook his head. “These women weren’t ladies of the night. I didn't find any callouses on their feet from prolonged wearing of heels, there were no track marks from drugs, and they were disease free. It looks like your killer isn't into hookers.”
“Yeah, yet,” Emma said, staring at their pictures. The next step would be to find out if these women had anything in common, and where their paths had crossed. Once they did, they’d have a good shot at pinning down their killer.
“Thank you, Doctor,” stated Croft, as he focused on his wife. “His rate of abductions and killings are escalating.”
Emma had noticed. At this rate, he could be delivering another body any day now.
That didn't bode well for the next victim or the LVPD. They were going to get heat on this once the media picked it up. Already, Emma was hoping that the crime beat reporters would be kind.
“What about our set of bones? What do we have on him?” Emma asked.
Croft immediately tensed. There was no way he was going to let his wife handle that case. He’d already taken precautions. While he couldn’t control this man, he could close rank on Max, his head tech. The second the FBI got this case, he’d told them the cops were blocked off. When the big boss threw down the rules, his minions were not going to risk his wrath, especially if it involved endangering Emma.
Yet, there was some regret on his behalf.
It wasn’t that he didn't believe that his wife could handle the job. It was that she absolutely could. He didn't need Emma mixed up in mob mess. He had people to handle that--ones who could watch their backs a little more efficiently. Once out in the field, Emma was a sitting target for a man like Dominic Marianna.
Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
“He was definitely missing his kneecaps. I could tell they were pried out, thanks to the bone scrapings that were left behind. The person who did it wasn’t using any kind of finesse either.”
Emma laughed. “Yeah, I can’t see many thugs doing it delicately. It’s more like a smash and grab. Get in, and then get out.”
It unnerved Croft that his wife was giving this any thought. He hoped that he could keep her off the trail.
“If you were to guess our mystery man’s COD, Steele, what would it be?” she asked, knowing that her husband was getting increasingly edgy beside her. His body was tense, and he was giving off that bad energy.
“It was blunt force trauma to the face. There had to have been massive bleeding. There may have been brain damage, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure on that.”
Emma knew that with each question, she was pushing her luck with Greyson. Yet, she kept going. “How long was he in the ground?”
“I’m going to say easily a decade, but possibly more. I think the FBI is going to have to pursue that avenue further.”
Croft rode out her storm of questions, hoping it would end. Oh, he would check in with his people as they worked on getting an ID, but Emma wouldn’t be privy.
He’d keep what was his safe.
Greyson had to.
Look at how his world fell apart without her.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Emma stated, shaking his hand. She hoped it offered him a little reassurance.
“If you need anything, let me know, Emma. Have a good day, Director,” he said, walking away with no more than a casual glance.
Out in the corridor, Emma stared over at her husband. “You could’ve tried to not look so scary,” she stated, “or at least you might have tried to carry on a conversation.”
Croft grinned at her. “Oh yeah, maybe you’re right. We could have bonded over our one common interest. It would have gone something like this--‘Hey Doctor! How’s the sex with my brother?’. That would have had excellent outcome for both of us.”
She laughed. “You’re not helping, Greyson.”
He was well aware, but this was one shitty mess, and he didn't have a clue how to navigate it.
* * *
Paris had arrived and was ready to get to work. The distance between him and Tessa was both helpful and destructive at the same time. He missed her, but watching her moving on with her life was painful. Just the idea that he’d been replaced with another partner was killing him.
At first, the reason he wouldn’t marry her was because he didn't want their team split up, and here it happened anyway. The universe hated him.
It sucked.
A few minutes earlier, Curtis Briggs and Detective Brynn Westmore had joined him. They greeted Paris warmly, and he was grateful. Whenever the twosome was around, Paris felt at ease. It was hard not to like the cop and Fed, especially since they had helped him get through this mess.
When he needed furniture moved, they kept their word and did it. As he found things that needed tweaking with his home, the people he now added to his family had been there for him. Paris was glad he had them as friends. It was surprising how easily they fit into his life, especially since he’d never been able to make lasting connections with other people.
He was a geek. Not a social butterfly.
While watching the two, it was hard not to notice that their relationship was going well.
“When are you getting married?” Brynn asked.
“Tessa wants to tie the knot right after I pass qualifications. We’re thinking about a small ceremony somewhere.”
“I bet you’re excited.”
He was and wasn’t. With each day, he tied Tessa to him more, and that was a double-edged sword.
“Yes, I am.” The lie rolled off his tongue with very little effort. After all, he’d used it a lot lately.
“It must be so much fun,” Brynn offered. While she had no plans to get hitched, it was still every little girl’s dream at some point. She’d been no different.
“Planning a wedding is scary,” Paris admitted. “There are so many details. I never want to do it again. There are flowers, music, food, and crazy things I never thought of before.”
Curtis snorted. “I can’t see myself doing any of that.”
Brynn was glad he felt that way. One day, she’d love to start a family, but as of right now she was more interested in seeing if the man beside her was ‘the one’.
Marriage was a permanent thing and shouldn’t be gone into lightly. Well, that’s how she felt. Her parents, before her father’s death, had a great union.
Before he could add more to the conversation, Paris heard her heading into the conference room. It confused the hell out of him as to why she was at the police station. Then, he realized that his boss must have pulled her and the new partner to help work this case.
Well, shit!
While he was happy to work with Tessa, he wasn’t in the least bit entertained to meet the man who had now taken his place.
When she entered, Tessa was laughing at something the man said. Then she saw him.
“Paris? Are we working together?” Tessa asked, a huge smile covering her face.
“Yes, Tessie, we are.”
Immediately, she went to his side, leaning down to give him a kiss. It was warm, welcoming, and Paris felt horrible for even wishing he wasn’t working with her.
He missed this.
When she broke away, Tessa stared into his eyes. “I’m so happy now
,” she admitted. “This is the best day ever!”
Paris nodded, saying nothing.
What could he add to that?
“Wow! I didn't know you liked to randomly kiss strangers,” the man who entered with her stated jokingly.
Tessa laughed at his comment. “This isn't a stranger, this is my fiancé,” she stated, her hand sitting territorially on Paris’s shoulder. “Special Agent Joe Longfellow, these awesome people are the team. This is Detective Brynn Westmore, Special Agent Curtis Briggs, and the love of my life, Doctor Paris Archer.”
The man shook everyone’s hands. “It’s nice to meet you all,” he stated. “I’m glad I could be part of the team.”
It didn't take a genius to notice Paris was less than enthused. Curtis could understand why. If he was in the man’s position, he’d be edgy too.
“It’s a pleasure,” stated Paris, pointing at the chairs.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Joe replied.
When the agent pulled out Tessa’s chair for her, Paris wanted to pull his gun and shoot him in his smiling face. It was something he did often for the woman. Now, being locked into a chair of his own, he couldn’t go there.
“Thanks, Joe, but I’ll sit over here. I don’t get to work with Paris all that often,” she said, taking a seat at his side.
Once in her chair, Paris noticed two things. The first was that Tessa’s hand found his in his lap, and that Joe Longfellow didn't look happy that she was beside him.
The look on the man’s face was very telling.
There was a sneaky fox in the sexy Tessa Brass hen house, that was for sure.
Yeah, this was going to be ugly. Paris could see it coming. Immediately, he began studying the man. “So, Joe, tell us about you,” he offered, trying to sound friendly.
It was all a big fat lie.
He hated the man’s fucking guts.
Maybe it was small of him, but as a profiler, he saw things that others didn't. The man before him was interested in the raven haired woman at his side. He’d bet what was left of his relationship on it.
“I’m originally out of the Harrisburg office,” he stated, leaning back in his chair. “I needed a change of scenery, and Vegas sounded like the place,” he stated. “Plus, I heard that working with Greyson Croft was fun.”
Everyone began laughing at that.
This man had some sick distorted ideas about what fun really was. While Croft was awesome, you worked your ass off or he ate you alive.
“So, how tough is he?” he asked, timing it just right.
“I’ll be your worst nightmare most of the day. When you stop worrying about me, I’ll pop up and show you that, like God, I’m everywhere,” Croft said, walking into the conference room.
The man went red and Paris wanted to dance in some sick, perverse glee. The way Joe was staring at Tessa like she was a snack, he would enjoy Greyson chewing the man up and spitting him out.
It was going to be fun.
“I didn't mean anything by it, sir,” he offered.
Emma started laughing. “Yeah, neither did he because it’s probably true.”
“Amen,” stated Curtis. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had his size fifteen dress shoe up your…”
“Agent,” Croft stated, cutting him off. “Don’t make me show the man.”
Briggs hid his smile behind his coffee mug. He loved to torment his boss. It was his second favorite pastime.
Greyson continued, “Joe, this is my wife, Detective Emma Croft. She’s heading up this investigation and is now your other boss.”
He eyeballed the redhead. The first thing he noticed was that she was standing fairly close to the director. Then, Joe saw his large hand possessively on her hip.
It was a sign and warning all at once.
Yeah, she was off limits.
Joe made note to dial back the charm.
After introductions were made, they all got down to work.
“We have the three victims’ names, and we’re ready to kick this off. All we need to handle right now is the basic search on them. I need to know what these women did,” Emma said, remaining on her feet. She was going to write the information on the whiteboard for the team.
They knew what was coming, so everyone who had worked with the Crofts before, pulled out a tablet.
Joe just sat there watching Paris and Tessa share one. That one action spoke volumes.
And irritated him.
“Our first victim was Polly Anderson,” Croft stated, watching his wife tape her photo to the board. Immediately, there was a barrage of quickly typing fingers as they each began their search.
“She’s married to a Douglas Anderson, both age thirty six and residents of Las Vegas,” stated Paris. “She was a teacher at a local high school.”
“Thank you,” Emma stated, putting the information on the board. Glancing at the name on the missing person report, it all added up. “It looks like the person who called in the MPR was her husband. What does he do for a living?”
Paris glanced down at Tessa’s hand on his thigh, and he desperately wished that he could feel her touch. It was an odd experience to see someone touching you, but not feel it happening. He could see her fingers stroking his leg, but nada.
“He’s a real estate agent,” Tessa stated.
Croft spoke up, pointing at the pictures, “Paris, he likes brunettes with blue eyes. Add that to your profile.”
The director’s comment pulled him back into the here and now. “Yes, sir. I’ve already begun working on it.”
Greyson wasn’t surprised. His profiler worked damn hard.
“Next we have a Candice Campbell,” Croft said, and again there was a flurry of typing.
“Candice wasn’t married. She lived in Vegas, and IRS records show that she’s in the retail business. She works as a sales associate at a local boutique,” Curtis offered.
Joe was amused at the little game they were playing. It was like they had a competition going on who could find the information fastest.
“She’s been there a while,” Brynn stated.
Emma wrote down all the information.
Paris spoke up, “I ran the person who called in the report, and his name is Albert Butler. His address is the same as hers, so possibly he’s a boyfriend.”
“Or just a roommate,” stated Joe. “Rent here is high. Maybe she just lives with him.”
Paris stared at the man, knowing what he was doing. Not once had his eyes left Tessa. Paris wanted to be sick. Here he was, facing down the man who would try to steal her from him.
There was no doubt in his mind.
“Could be,” Croft said. “What’s he do for a living?” he asked.
Paris hit a few more keys--his fingers adeptly sliding over the tablet. “He works as a customer service rep for the local telephone company.”
“Awesome,” Emma said, making notes.
They were on their last victim. “What about Zara Harris?” Croft asked.
Paris found the information. He may be a profiler, but this used to be what he was damn good at. “Zara Harris and her husband Jordan are residents of Vegas. He works as a chef at a local casino, and the victim was a dance instructor.”
Emma scribbled information on the whiteboard. “He called in the missing person report less than a week ago,” she stated.
Croft stared over at Paris. “Son, you’ve had an advanced look at the details. What can you tell us about the killer?”
Paris considered the information. “Just from what I’ve seen, I can tell you that the killer has a compulsion to do this. You can tell he’s trapped in the madness by analyzing the women he chose as his victims.”
They all listened to him.
“He’s obviously attracted to brunettes with blue eyes, and it’s going to be sexual. Since the ME states that all these women had sex before they died, this is likely part of his killing process. Anyone can grab a woman and kill her. He’s taking the time to have sex prior.”
&nb
sp; “Someone left us some swimmers.”
Paris thought about it. “It won’t be him. If he didn't leave any with the first two victims, he won’t now. His pattern isn't going to change all that much until he’s totally out of control.”
“I never bought into this psych mumbo jumbo,” stated Joe Longfellow. “Why can’t crazy just be crazy? There doesn’t have to be anything behind it.”
Paris was used to being questioned, but he knew why this man was doing it. It made him want to roll over to him and knock him on his ass.
Tess spoke up, “Don’t dismiss what Paris is saying,” she stated. “One of the best parts about working with him is how he’s really good at reading a killer.”
Joe snorted. “I’ll take street smarts any day.”
Croft watched the interplay. Already, he could see issues on the horizon. The man was short sighted when it came to his willingness to see the full picture.
Yeah, and he was provoking Paris on purpose.
That meant his profiler was going to be taking a lot of pressure. While Greyson wanted to jump in and save him, he couldn’t. This was part of the job. A good agent was going to question everything.
“I’m not saying he’s wrong,” Joe said, leaning forward. “I’m saying that he’s not telling us anything useful. There has to be a million brunettes in this city. Now, if he could tell us the guy’s name, I’ll be impressed.”
One of the things Croft liked about Paris Archer was that he was always calm.
“Well, if I did that, Agent, then there’d be no use for you, right?” Paris replied. “I guess you should be thanking me.”
Croft wanted to smile. His profiler had grown a backbone because fate had forced his hand.
“Okay, children,” stated Emma, not happy to see Paris getting picked on. He was part of the team and their family. “We have three victims, three sets of partners, and three interviews. “Greyson and I will take Polly Anderson’s husband, Curtis and Brynn, you get Albert Butler, and that leaves Tessa and Joe to take the final husband, Jordan Harris. We’ll do interviews and meet back here to update Paris. He’s going to need all the information we have to do his job.”
Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5) Page 10
