Maybe using the motel twice was a bad idea.
Could it lead them to him?
Was he hidden well enough?
The fear coated him as that fine sheen of sweat beaded on his upper lip.
He was scared.
Deep down, he could tell that something was coming. He feared it would be the end, and that wouldn’t make him happy. The rational part of his brain was telling him that it was time to move on. All the while, the lust and need were screaming the opposite. He had a job to do.
Leaving wasn’t an option.
Not yet.
He still needed to fulfil that one fantasy. Leaving would mean letting the dream go. She was waiting for him.
The pinnacle.
The best.
The one.
Although she didn't have a face yet, she would. They always did. When they pleaded for him to make them happy, they were giving him permission.
Now, he needed to find her.
The last one was done out of anger, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
The next one would be fun.
He made that promise.
Then, when he had his fix, he’d leave.
But he had to apologize.
His mom would forgive him. He’d made one hell of a mess.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered, before getting into his car. “So very sorry.”
* * *
Entering the dead woman’s home, they weren’t surprised to find it a chaotic mess. There were high heel shoes all over the place, a counter full of papers, and then more chaos in the kitchen. It was apparent that Nia Howard just stayed there.
Her life was her work.
Along the one wall, she had stories posted.
Creepily enough, they were about them.
“That’s weird,” Emma stated. “The woman was either stalking us or doing research.”
He hoped the latter. Then again, she was dead so they should be safe.
Well, sort of.
“She was married to her job,” Croft said, looking around. There wasn’t a single stitch of proof that a man lived there. On the mantle, there were writing awards and photo frames full of her own accolades.
Nia Howard loved herself.
That was about it.
“We need to take all her papers and laptop,” Emma stated.
Croft looked around. “I don’t see any electronics. Where could they be?”
Emma thought about it.
“They have to be at work. They weren’t found in her car or motel room.”
“Let’s check her room,” he stated, leading his wife there. Once inside, they began digging through the woman’s life to see what she was like.”
Emma found some erotic books. “No devices,” she stated, referring to sexual aids.
“None here either,” he offered. “No lube, no condoms, and no sexy lingerie. Wow! She was pretty boring.”
Emma laughed. “What’s in our nightstands?” she asked.
“Handcuffs and our guns.”
She waited for him to start laughing. Her husband was well aware that they had a pretty exciting sex life, and they didn't have any props either.
“You made your point, Emma.”
Now she did giggle. “We should head back in. I hate leaving the team alone for too long. You never know what kind of trouble they can get into.”
He glanced over. “That’s not why you want to go in.”
He was right.
Damn him!
“Yeah, I’m worried about Curtis. He didn't look good after I suggested making Brynn bait.”
Croft shook his head. “It was my idea, not yours.”
Emma went to say something, but he stopped her. “Let me take the heat on this one. If he’s going to get pissy with one of us, let it be me. Then I can bust him back to probee.”
She sighed. “Yes, Grey.”
Already, he could feel something bad brewing with his team, and he wouldn’t let his wife bear the brunt of it. This was on him, and he would carry it.
No matter how far.
He’d handle the end results.
* * *
When he finished doing the research on Nia Howard, he knew it was time. Curtis had to take care of setting up Brynn’s bogus account.
It pained him.
He was so worried about keeping his new wife safe. If anything happened to her, he’d die inside. For now, Curtis had to trust his partner. He knew Greyson. While he’d take the risk, he’d make sure his people stayed safe.
Yet, it still made him sick to type in the perverse fantasies, which would lure a killer.
Paris sat beside him. “I know it’s hard, Curtis. Whenever Tessa goes out, I can’t breathe.”
He nodded. “What do I need to add?”
“That Brynn likes rough sex, being tied up, and bondage,” Paris stated, analyzing the photos the team was sending back for him. From the status of Nia Howard, the killer was escalating into more brutal methodology. His latest victim had been bound, abused, and then raped.
“Anything else?”
“I’m sorry,” he stated, before going there. “You need to put down that she is into rape fantasies.”
He glanced over at Brynn, and their eyes met. He wanted to apologize to her. Someone should be for using her as bait for this sicko. In his heart, he believed the FBI was taking one hell of a risk.
“It’s okay, Curtis. I’m good. I trust my partner,” she reassured.
They were the hardest words yet. Curtis thought about the sicko even thinking about his Brynn like that, and a rage filled him, threatening to bubble over.
“Next, you need to send the messages,” stated Brynn. “You can do this, Curtis,” she reassured.
“I can go in and cover the ISP trail to plant the messages in his in box, but when he replies, you’ll have to answer from Tessa’s tablet. He might get suspicious, and we don’t know how smart this asshole is,” Curtis stated, focusing on the message.
It made him sick.
She dug through her purse, but couldn’t find it. “Shit. I must have left it at home. I was scanning the profiles last night,” she offered.
“You’ll have to go get it,” Curtis stated, glancing down at his watch.”
“We only live five minutes away. When he replies, if he does, then I’ll go pick it up,” she offered.
At that moment, Brynn didn't want to leave his side. She could tell that he was hurting. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, before leaving a kiss on his cheek.
He closed his eyes before hitting send. Once he did, Brynn was officially bait.
What the hell kind of man was he?
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. This went against everything he believed in. The second his finger touched the key, his heart dropped. “It’s done.”
She smiled. “Now we wait. I bet we catch ourselves a big pervert,” she teased, trying to get him to cheer up. He was beating himself up for no reason.
This was her job.
Their job.
“What’s next?” she asked.
Paris slid a file over. “Now we keep digging into Nia Howard’s life. The director is going to want us to figure out what made this woman a victim.”
They got to work.
Curtis hoped that he could focus on something other than Brynn being bait. If not, it was going to be a long, miserable day.
~ Chapter Nineteen ~
Tuesday Early Afternoon
Walking into the news station was like jumping into a pool of hungry sharks. As soon as they hit the front door, the blood was in the water and they began circling.
Greyson had to growl at them a few times when they actually got too close to his wife, invading her personal space. He knew that because of him, they had gained this curse of notoriety. It bothered him on some masculine level that his wife was being inconvenienced by all this.
There were days he wished they never came to Vegas.
As he approached the mai
n desk, he stared at the woman there. “Get me the boss.”
Usually, people argued. Yet in this den of piranhas, they raced to do his bidding. It was obvious they knew how lucky they were. The story just came to them.
The editor came forward, his hand outstretched. “I’m John Bishop. I’m in charge here.”
“Can we go somewhere private?” he asked, as the people around him moved closer.
“Certainly!”
They followed him to the office. Once the door was closed, he began firing questions at them.
God!
Croft hated reporters.
“Stop,” he said. “I’m not here to talk about the case. I am here to ask you questions, so you can zip it right now.”
The man did exactly as he was told.
“What can you tell me about Nia Howard?”
He thought about it. “She was a good reporter and was always chasing that story. Nia was like a pit bull until she got her way.”
“Was she working on anything?” Emma asked, making notes.
“You.”
They looked at each other. Yeah, they were well aware. The photos taped all over that wall in her home were proof that the woman didn't give up easy.
“Why us?” Greyson asked.
The man actually laughed. “Are you kidding me? We have the king and queen of Vegas in our midst. People are enthralled with the legacy you’re building in our fine city. Look at Mrs. Croft,” he said, pointing at her. “She’s beautiful, smart, and tough. Then we have you, Director. You drive the women wild.”
Emma lifted a brow. “Yeah, well he makes me crazy too. There are days I want to take a cliff.”
Croft laughed. “We’re normal people. There’s nothing special about us as a couple.”
“You two have the power to make or break this town. You hang out with criminals, yet it appears that you’re both dedicated cops. You’re an enigma to just about everyone. Are they good? Maybe a little bad? No one can answer that. It’s that mystique that sells papers.”
“We like privacy.”
“Nia wanted into your life. She saw how you let Keith Powell in, and that drove her crazy. She wanted to own the police beat, and the only way to do that was to get your attention.”
Well, she’d succeeded there.
Only, it was a dead end--for her.
“What was her relationship with Keith Powell like?” Emma asked.
“Strained. She was pissed that you hand picked him. Nia was a better writer, and that I’ll agree on.”
“I didn't pick him, he picked me,” Croft stated. “Besides, he was the only reporter who wasn’t rude. My wife and I live under your magnifying glass. He was the only piranha without teeth. Sometimes, you do get more flies with honey, Bishop.”
The man shrugged. “This is a brutal business. You’re the celebrity, and we’re the people who feed the mere mortals the news.”
Emma rolled her eyes. They weren’t celebrities.
They were working stiffs.
Every day they headed out, placing a bull’s-eye on their backs. There was nothing newsworthy about that, at least not to them.
“She didn't take it well that Keith was getting the bylines, and she was getting the scraps. Nia was desperate to get anything that he didn't have on you. She was digging deep to find any little golden nugget for a story.”
“We need her laptop and anything she was working on.”
“Do you think this got her killed?” John Bishop asked.
They could see the glint in his eyes. Already, he was beginning to work up a story in his head. This was more proof that reporters were sick individuals.
“Possibly.”
“Care to add more?” Bishop asked.
They both shook their heads. There was no way in hell they were going to help the media to make this into one big clusterfuck. The piranhas did a good job of that on their own.
“Fine. Follow me,” he stated, leading them out to Nia’s desk.
Once there, Emma pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and began rifling through the woman’s things. Under a pile of papers, she found a small laptop. “We’re taking it all,” she stated, not wanting to stand there. Already, the reporters were moving closer.
It was like some horror movie where you were being stalked by zombies. The reporters were just about as hungry and desperate.
“Good idea,” stated Greyson. He helped his wife pack everything up. “Thank you for your help,” he stated, heading out with Emma.
There were questions, calls after them, and inquires that they had no intention of answering.
In the Navigator, Emma buckled in. “When this is over, I say we distance ourselves from the media. I really hate them.”
He agreed. “I have bad news for Keith Powell. His days of a scoop are about to end.”
Emma was glad.
She liked her privacy.
The Vegas media was way too much.
Even for a seasoned cop like Emma Croft.
* * *
As he used the free Wi-Fi in the park, he noticed that someone had sent him a message.
Well, that was a first. Maybe some lucky fantasy-hunting woman would get her dreams come true.
Why not let them come to him.
When he opened the message, he began laughing.
Did they think he was an idiot?
Was this their best shot at tricking him? If so, they had a lot to learn. He’d studied them to make sure he knew the people who wanted to stop him from living out his fantasies.
Not to mention the media put her face on the TV a few times too. Emma Croft’s partner may not be as recognizable as she was, but really…
Did they think he was a fool?
Now, he was going to let them play their game, only it would be on his terms. If they wanted to play with fire, who was he to stop them from getting burned.
They wanted a trap?
Well, bring it on.
This was going to be the most fun he’d ever had.
Flipping through her profile, he studied her further. While part of him knew she was nothing but bait, he couldn’t help but admire her. The detective was definitely pretty. Something about that wispy flip of chestnut hair called to him.
She fit his requirements.
The picture of her poolside in a bikini was a nice touch too. She smiled playfully, almost coquettishly at him from the picture. Blue eyes twinkled, beckoning him in. Yes, her body was perfect, and he could definitely get off with her.
He wondered what her secret fantasy was.
Studying what she liked, he began planning their night together. As far as bait went, she’d be perfect. It was risky, but he liked a little bit of a challenge. After all, he’d taken Nia because he enjoyed a little risk.
With that came big reward.
Already, he felt his body react to her. Yes, she would do. If the Crofts were offering up a woman, who was he to rudely say no? Now, he had the who, the where, but still needed the how.
In her profile, it said she liked rough sex, bondage, and rape.
He wondered if that was true or part of the game.
Did it matter?
Hardly.
While they found this account, there were so many more they didn't find yet. They couldn’t catch him if they tried. For now, he would give the detective her fantasy, and then he would get out of town.
They obviously had no clue, or they’d know the truth. He was going to use that to his advantage. The cops couldn’t stop him. They didn't know how.
Plus, he was too smart.
The need filled him as the opportunity was there before him. It looked like it was time to give another woman what she desired.
Here came his new fantasy.
It was time to make it very real.
* * *
Back in-house, they brought the team something to eat. It was just about lunch time, and they needed to fuel up.
Dropping four boxes of pizza on the table, they sat. “Okay, be
fore anyone gets food, we get details.”
Emma knew how to run her shop. If you wanted to motivate a cop, dangle food in front of them.
“We ran Nia Howard,” began Paris. “She definitely had an account on the dating website, the only thing is, she never contacted anyone.”
Emma made notes on the whiteboard. “Okay, what else?”
Curtis picked up there, “She wasn’t on the site long. We’re talking days, and she didn't log in much. She was still in her free trial.”
“When did she start it?” Emma asked.
“The day the boss first visited the ‘Perfect Indiscretions’ warehouse.”
They knew what that meant.
“She was a stalker,” Croft stated. “When we visited her house, we found evidence that she was watching us.”
It made sense. “So, she found out more about the business and joined up,” Emma added.
“Do we know what she found?” Tessa asked.
Paris shook his head. “Here’s the kicker. Her profile wasn’t complete. She filled in the basics, and then did searches, but not for men. She was researching the victims.”
“She got whiff of this case,” stated Greyson. “She wanted to outdo Keith Powell.”
They shared all the details with them about their rivalry in the newsroom.
“Makes sense,” Curtis said. “She has no fetishes.”
Emma continued, “Plus, we checked her house. A nun had more sex.”
The point was made.
Emma pulled out the mess from Nia Howard’s desk. “Here’s her laptop and papers. We’re going to sit down, start going through each sheet, and have some pizza. Hopefully, there’s something in this chaos. If we get lucky, our last victim might have found something for us.”
Before Curtis could grab the laptop, his tablet beeped. Regretfully, he gave them the news. “We have a reply from one of the accounts we think belongs to the killer,” he stated.
Croft was up and staring over his shoulder. “What does it say?”
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