“We best not, Lyzee. Your newspaper guy is across the street with his camera, taking our picture. If he catches you sitting, imagine the headline:
‘Lazy sheriff takes coffee break during serial killings’
Elizabeth wanted to flip Forbes off, but knew that would be a far worse headline. It took all her control to not just do it out of pure satisfaction.
“Don’t Lyzee,” he warned laughing, already knowing her intent. He wanted to join her and that would be bad for both of them. Worms like Forbes were all over the place, and it wouldn’t stop the next one from just coming out and doing the same thing. He was used to it. “How about we walk to the morgue, finish our coffee and talk along the way.”
“Deal.”
“What’s your gut feeling on Argot?” he asked, wanting to see her thought process in action. She knew him better. Elizabeth was an insider, and he wasn’t.
“I think he’s a useless jackass, but I don’t think he’s our nutbag. If he is the killer, he’s either a genius by leaving the body on his property or a complete idiot. I lean towards egregious idiot.”
“Same assessment here, besides he doesn’t fit my profile. I place the killer in the twenties, maybe early thirties. He’s too old for me. Plus, he isn’t really in shape to carry these women around, and dispose of the bodies. I just can’t see him luring in all these young girls, he’s not exactly studly. What do you think?”
Elizabeth stared at him and then laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I sure as hell don’t think he’s the sexiest man on the planet,” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “He’s not really my type. I like big, strong, and exotic.” Yeah, it was blatant flirting, and she was screwed. “A man has to be mysterious, or I have no interest.”
Blackhawk nearly choked on his coffee and prayed Native was exotic enough. “I meant more the ‘fit the profile’ not so much if he was your type, Lyzee.” God, he hoped he wasn’t turning red.
“Then we agree.”
Blackhawk nodded to Christopher Santana, as he opened the ME office door for Elizabeth. “Come on, let’s get this over with, and then we can regroup back at the station.”
“I want to interview Sheila, so I can alibi the mayor and cross him off the list or keep him on it.”
“Works for me,” he replied, hitting the elevator button.
When they arrived in the morgue, Doc Trudeaux was waiting for them. He had yet to glove up, and she knew that he was about to happen.
Well hell!
“Take it off, Lyzee,” he ordered, pointing at her shirt.
“Really, Doc? Come on. I have more important things to worry about than my shoulder,” Elizabeth gave him a look, trying to get him to understand that she didn't want to do this in front of the FBI agent, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Want me to have Mr. Blackhawk wait outside?” He wasn’t taking no for an answer.
She looked at the agent, considering her options. The smirk was almost a dare, and she took dares very serious. “No, he can stay. Not like it matters. I have male deputies and a brother,” she said, putting her coffee cup on the desk, unbuckling her belt, and pulling her shirt over her head.
Blackhawk scrutinized the woman in front of him. She was tough, but he noticed she winced as she lifted her arm over her head. He tried to keep it to only that, and not let his eyes roam anywhere else but her face, but he was far from a saint. The sheriff had an amazing body. There were curves and silky pale skin he just wanted to touch. When Elizabeth turned her back to him, he let out the breath he was holding. Now she wouldn’t see his response to her body. This had to be the longest day of his life.
Yeah, he needed desperately to be considered exotic.
Then his focus was pulled to the tell-tale sign that she’d been shot. There was the dimpling in the skin, right below her shoulder blade. He felt the overwhelming need to protect her, like he promised in his dreams.
“Roll your shoulder for me,” said Doc, as he pushed into the blade. When she winced, he released her.
“Christ, Doc! Take it easy, I need that shoulder!”
“Ice it tonight and then heat. Try not to use it too much, until it’s less enflamed. Oh and here’s a thought, Elizabeth. Don’t try to stop two hundred pound men with it either.”
“Great, well, as long as I don’t have to carry anything, or shoot my gun then I should be fine,” she quipped, sarcastically.
He kissed her on the forehead, like a father would. “Doctor’s orders,” he stated, starting to suit up for the autopsy.
“I always wanted to be partially naked in autopsy, now I can cross it off my bucket list,” Elizabeth mumbled, sarcastically, catching her shirt that Blackhawk tossed to her. Her body heated, knowing he had been watching her, and still was. Great, he saw her in her bra and in the morgue; this was one hell of a bad week, and it just kept coming.
Blackhawk leaned against an exam table, saying nothing. He appreciated the female form on many an occasion, but he could honestly say, she won the award. Elizabeth LaRue was gutsy and gorgeous, and made it hard for him to concentrate. Taking her shirt off in autopsy, while he stood there, showed she wasn’t afraid of much. And for now he wouldn’t ask about the gun shot. Eventually he would get information from her or Gabe, and soon.
“I’m ready,” said Doc, as his lab tech wheeled in the body. He looked down at the dead girl and then at the living in the morgue. “Ready?” he asked.
Elizabeth finished tucking in her shirt, and buckling her belt. When she looked over at Blackhawk, he held her coffee, his expression saying nothing. She knew he wasn’t going to let it go, because she wouldn’t if it was reversed. Elizabeth would need to see what kind of liability she was dealing with, and expected no less from him.
“Later Lyzee,” was all he said, as he handed her the cup. It came across as a promise, not a threat.
One of the things Elizabeth loved about Doc, other than the fact he reminded her of her father was that he always gave the dead dignity. He delicately checked her body, looking for injection sites and anywhere she could have been struck. He took his job serious as he was looking for the tiniest trace evidence that may help them solve a murder. He called her by her name, and she wasn’t just a body to him. Kathy Cory was a human being that had once been alive and was given respect in death.
Doc spoke into the microphone hanging over his head, “Our victim has wrist abrasions. She had struggled at one point, while being restrained. Rope is standard multi-strand twist, and I see no sign of injection. If she was drugged, it wasn’t by needle.”
The Y incision was made, and he pulled the flaps of skin back, to show the ribcage. “She was definitely crushed; there are micro fissures across the chest area, as if large weighted objects crushed her. It confirms the set up at the crime scene.”
Blackhawk stepped back, so the tech could snap some pictures. There were times he was disgusted by the things man could do to man, and this was one of those times. This had to be a horrible way to die, and his heart broke for the woman and her family.
Doc cut through the breast plate with large snips, and removed the lungs and heart. He inspected them closely, and then scribbled something on her chart. When he lifted the lids of her eyes, Elizabeth had to look away, so she faced the FBI agent. She had a thing about that. “Sorry, dead eyes freak me out,” and they had since the day she watched Ray die.
“You’re clear,” Blackhawk said, when Doc was done.
Tubes of blood were taken, samples of tissue, and then she was slowly stitched back up, with the utmost care.
“She suffocated,” he said, not needing to say more. He knew both of them knew how horrible it had to have been. “I’ll ship off the tox samples to Quantico. We should have them back tomorrow mid-morning, they tend to be fast.”
“Thank you, Doctor Trudeaux,” said Blackhawk.
“Please, call me Doc. Any friend of our Lyzee gets the privilege.”
Elizabeth prayed she didn’t just blush, especially since Doc was sta
ring at her questioningly. It was the same look a father would give his child, and it unnerved her. Add to it, she had just stood in her bra facing the agent.
“Thanks, Doc,” he said, holding out his hand, after the man ungloved.
“Lyzee, my girl, remember to ice and then heat on your shoulder. Plus take it easy, okay?” he pleaded, pointing at her with a serious look on his face.
Elizabeth saluted with her uninjured arm, and drawled, smiling, “Yes, sir! Call me if you find anything, okay?” Elizabeth said, walking to the door.
“Promise, now go find the killer,” Doc replied. When she was gone he added to the powers that be, “And keep yourself safe.”
When they hit the street, the sun was beginning its descent behind the trees, and the air was starting to get a bit less stagnant. Elizabeth looked over at Blackhawk, and knew he was waiting for her to offer up the information.
“I got shot. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“I can see you got shot, but when and how bad is it?”
Elizabeth rolled her shoulder. “The day Ray got himself killed, this was my parting gift.” She didn’t want to discuss that day. She didn’t want the truth to come out. It died that day with Ray, and it was better that way.
“How bad is it, Lyzee?”
“I took one round. It embedded in my shoulder blade, splintering some bone, damaging the tendon surrounding it. It has its good days, and its bad days. Today landing on it made it a bad day. Really, that’s all.”
“How did it happen?”
Elizabeth tensed up, she didn’t want to have the discussion, and it really wouldn’t change anything.
“You know you can trust me, right?” Ethan reassured, looking at her, his face very serious.
“I believe that I can, Ethan. I’m just not ready to discuss it. It has nothing to do with trust or you. It has to do with me not being able to yet.”
“I see.”
Elizabeth wondered if he did see, or if that was the standard line. She paused, lifting her sunglasses from her face, so he could read her eyes. “Ray played fast and loose that day. He went cowboy- if you will, and it cost him his life and me nearly mine.”
“Is it in the report?” Blackhawk inquired softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. If she said yes, he would have a copy by morning.
“No. I let them assume and follow standard line.”
“Is that why you ran, Lyzee?” This time he touched her cheek. He didn’t care if the newspaper man was watching.
“Yes.” It was the first time she admitted it out loud. It was as if the burden was finally lifted off her shoulder, and replaced with a new one. She just told a stranger what she didn’t trust Gabe, or anyone else, with. Now she needed to figure out why she trusted this man so much.
“Thank you for the truth,” Ethan replied, lowering his glasses as he didn't want her to read his eyes. If she only knew what her sharing the truth did to him, it was certain she’d bolt.
Elizabeth nodded, unsure what to say. Part of her hoped she didn’t make a mistake, as she began trusting someone again.
Blackhawk was surprised she admitted it. He truly believed she would deny it all, and pretend to tell him the truth. When she said yes, his chest tightened. She trusted him with her biggest demon, and that meant something to him. Buried deep within him were secrets, and he knew the burden of carrying them alone.
It gave him hope.
“I think I see her. Sheila is sitting on the park bench,” she interrupted his thoughts, and then recognized the man beside her. “Damn it! It’s Forbes,” she growled, ready to kill the man.
“We better break up this party,” suggested Blackhawk, as they strode towards the two.
Forbes didn’t see them coming, and it was probably a good thing, because he had just asked Sheila about Elizabeth and her background. Had he seen the look on her face he would have run home screaming.
“If you want to know my past, why don’t you ask me?” Elizabeth said, ready to kill him.
It played out like a scene in a movie. His head turned slowly and Sheila gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
“I’m pretty sure, Sheila, that giving this man any information that is housed in my personnel file is illegal.” She watched the woman pale. “Worse yet, it borders on offensive. So I’m sure you were just about to tell him no, and decline whatever bribe he just offered you,” she drawled.
When she said the magic word, Sheila looked sick. Her face actually turned a shade of gray.
Blackhawk stepped towards him his body tense. “Why don’t you beat it, Forbes, before I let the sheriff kick your ass, and I hold you down for her,” said Blackhawk, glaring at the man, menacingly.
Forbes had the common sense to run for it, but not before shooting her a dirty look.
Elizabeth sat on one side of the woman and Blackhawk on the other. When Forbes had crossed the square, the sheriff broke the silence. “What did he offer you?”
Sheila stuttered, trying to come up with a good lie.
“Seriously, what did the weasel offer you to sell me out? I only ask because I’m wondering the going rate on betrayal.”
“He offered me two hundred bucks.”
“Well hell, aren’t I just cheap,” Elizabeth glanced at Blackhawk, enjoying the slight curl to his lips. “I expected it to be more substantial. I am the sheriff.”
Blackhawk sat forward. “It’s very illegal to bribe and accept a bribe if you are a state, local official, or work for one. We’re talking jail time illegal, Sheila, not community service illegal.”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it.”
Elizabeth believed they scared her enough. “Where were you last night, Sheila? We want the truth and not the made up shit the mayor told you to tell us. I will find out if you’re lying to me. The big guy here is my bullshit detector.”
Sheila looked panicked again.
“We went out for drinks, and he dropped me at home at midnight.”
Blackhawk lifted a brow. It was funny how the mayor said he was out until one. Here was their first discrepancy. “How long did he stay?”
She looked scared. “He didn’t. I’m...” she paused, “married.”
The ugly just got uglier. So not only had he lied, but he was having a fling with a married woman who worked under him
Elizabeth patted her knee. There wouldn’t be judgment from her. After all, she had done the same thing, unwittingly, but it was still essentially the same sin. “Why? You're a pretty woman and young. Why are you having an affair with Argot?”
Sheila started crying. “He told me that I would lose my job like the last secretary if I didn’t, and I need my job.”
Elizabeth took her hand in hers, and tried to be sympathetic. “Who was the last secretary?”
“Her name was Melody something or other.”
“Thank you, Sheila. Now go back to work and stop worrying, it’ll all be okay,” she said, standing. “If anything happens, give me a call.” Elizabeth was feeling that little wave of awareness, the one she always got when a big piece of the puzzle was about to fall into place. When they were out of earshot, she turned to Blackhawk. “Do you think it’s a coincidence one of our victims was named Melody and a secretary?”
“I don’t like coincidences. They usually mean the shit is about to hit the fan.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but agree.
For now it looked like the mayor was back on their suspect list.
In fact, he was the only one.
~ Chapter Six ~
Friday Night
Sitting in the conference room, Elizabeth blocked everything out, with the exception of the report sitting in her lap from Tyrell. He had been given the job of researching Melody Howe and did a damn fine job.
Once back, Ethan Blackhawk had excused himself and ran off to make some calls and check in with his partner. As Elizabeth flipped through the pages of Melody Howe’s life, she found it just too coincidental th
at her employment before death was working for the mayor. In police work, coincidence usually meant substance. Something was there, if it smoldered enough to draw their attention.
The girl’s life was pretty basic. Melody had a decent job as a secretary working for the mayor. Then she was found dead. Their big question was if she was fired before she hung herself. Was the mayor covering his ass to make it look like the girl was indeed distraught over losing her job? She was willing to bet he had forged the paperwork to make it look that way, whether he was the killer or not.
As she stared at the list of woman and their murders, something just didn’t seem right, and it was bothering her. She was about to start making notes when Tony entered the conference room, Blackhawk right behind him.
“Lyzee, we’re going to grab dinner. You want to join us at ‘The Barrel’?” Tony inquired from her doorway.
“Are you off the clock, Deputy?” she asked, not even looking up.
“Yes,” he said, grinning at the FBI agent. “Told you she gets riled up when you use her nickname.” He liked their little game, that’s why he tormented her so much.
Blackhawk could have told the man he’d been using it all day and she hadn’t said a word, but why rub it in and gloat. She must have known what he was thinking, since she glanced up and right into his eyes, like they were sharing a secret.
“Then I won’t kick your ass for calling me Lyzee,” she added, pausing and wondering why she wasn’t bothered by him using her nickname at work. “As for dinner, I’m heading home.”
“Alone?” asked Tony, surprised. He looked over at Blackhawk, and he shrugged when she didn’t offer a reply.
“Have fun,” she said softly, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, as she went back to work.
When Tony left, Blackhawk sat beside her. “Your shoulder hurt?” he asked, waiting to meet her eyes again.
“Yeah, it does a little,” she answered honestly. “That and I keep thinking I’m missing something, and it’s driving me insane. I won’t be good company tonight, Ethan. I know how I am. I’ve been called borderline obsessive with a dash of pit-bull thrown into the mix.”
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 12
