Hell Is Burning

by Morgan Kelley

  “Is there any way you’re mistaken?” he asked Emma.

  She doubted it. “I don’t think so, Steele, but there is one way to find out. She has that scar on the right side of her chest from being shot last year. If that’s there, then my visual is going to hold.”

  He unzipped the bag. Steele noticed that as he did it, Greyson Croft immediately moved to his wife’s side as if that would shield her from what was inside the bag.

  It wouldn’t help.

  They all knew it.

  As of yet, Emma was holding up, but this had to take a toll on her. This victim, at one time, had been her partner and friend. This sucked all around.

  When Steele opened the bag, he took a deep breath before unbuttoning the woman’s shirt. He was careful not to uncover her face. In his job, he didn't like to use the face for ID right off the bat. Death distorted people. Tattoos and scars never changed after life was stolen from a victim.

  He also wasn’t ready to see her. He liked Brynn, and this was a horrible way for her life to end.

  For anyone’s to end.

  Emma held her breath.

  Greyson prayed it was a mistake.

  Even Mace had his fingers crossed.

  “Recorder on,” he said, having the light start to flash. “Victim is female, and there is a scar across the right side of her chest. The puckering around the entry wound shows that it’s from a bullet wound.”

  Emma’s eyes filled with tears.

  Greyson dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

  “You don’t have to stay for this,” Steele offered. “I’ll do it, and lock her in the cooler.”

  She shook her head. While they weren’t friends anymore, she still loved the woman. Plus, she loved Curtis like he was one of their own. There was no way she could turn her back on a victim, and there was definitely no possibility that she’d run from this.

  They all waited for her to speak.

  “I’ll stand. She deserves to have someone here while you do this. We worked with her. We’ll be the family she needs right now in her last moments.”

  He understood.

  While frail looking on the outside, Emma Croft had a heart of gold. She was tough, and she’d never allow her friend to be autopsied without someone there to stand for her. This was one of the reasons he respected her as a cop, and family.

  Mace turned. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can do this,” he stated. He genuinely liked Brynn. She was sweet. He could still see her big blue eyes, and smile.

  It hurt his heart.

  Greyson patted him on the arm.

  “You can head into my office,” he offered. Steele pointed to the small room off the autopsy suite.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry, Emma, but I just can’t.”

  She hugged him. “I’ll get you when it’s over. There’s no reason to say sorry, Mace. This is personal. You make the calls, and I’ll watch the autopsy.”

  “Thanks, Em.”

  With that, he headed out.

  “Do it,” she stated. She was ready. Well, as ready as she’d ever be. This was one of those things that wasn’t going to go away, so there was no point stalling.

  With reverence, Steele pulled the hood off Brynn’s head. He probably shouldn’t be doing the autopsy either, but she was a friend, and he’d stand for her too. With gentle fingers, he lowered her battered head to the block on the table. It braced her skull for examination.

  Emma sobbed, fighting to hold it in.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Greyson said, pulling her against his chest. His arms went around her to offer his wife strength in her time of mourning.

  “I can do this,” she whispered. “It’s for Curtis and Brynn.”

  The tears fell as she pulled away from her husband to move closer to the table.

  No one judged her weakness in the moment.

  In that room, there were only people she loved, and she wasn’t afraid to be herself. “Oh, Brynn, what happened to you?” she asked, staring her down.

  Greyson kept his hand on her shoulder, and all the while, he was thinking about the man this was going to destroy.

  Gently, Steele swabbed her skin, and as quickly as possible, he did the trace, cutting away all the clothes to bag them. The process took some time, but eventually, he finished.

  There was Steele talking into the recorder, their breathing, and the ominous ticking of the clock.

  After taking some pictures, he was ready to begin.

  “Emma.”

  “Just do it, Steele.”

  As he picked up his scalpel, he stared a Greyson. The man looked just as upset, and that spoke volumes.

  Before the blade could touch her throat, Emma moved closer. Gently, she picked up her hand and held it. “I’m sorry, Brynn. I’ll stay with you until this is over.”

  Steele’s hand shook, but he pressed on. “I have to pretend she’s a nameless, faceless person,” he stated, apologizing in advance. “If I’m going to be objective, I have to pretend I don’t know her.”

  They got it.

  They understood.

  “I can call in another ME,” Greyson offered.

  “No. She was my friend too. Emma and I will stand for her. We’ll do our jobs because she shouldn’t die in vain.”

  Greyson got it.

  Cops were a stubborn bunch.

  He’d do the same thing.

  “From the ligature marks around her throat, there’s perimortem bruising. She was alive at the time of death.”

  It was all he had to say.

  They all knew what that meant.

  Brynn suffered.

  A tear slipped down Emma’s cheek, but she didn't let go of the woman’s hand. Her gloved one held the dead cold one with love and reverence.

  With respect.

  With adoration.

  “She has some abrasions on her face. It looks like she took a few shots.”

  Greyson took notes for his wife. The tears were now streaming down her cheeks.

  Steele glanced up as he prepared to do the Y-incision. There was no doubt in his mind what he had to do. So, he stopped. “I won’t do this while you’re here, Emma. I’m sorry. We both have to be objective now, and if you see what I have to do to her, you’re going to think about that.”

  “I’m staying.”

  He put the scalpel down. “I’m asking, as your family, to let me have time alone with her. Let me pretend she’s a stranger, so I can give you all you need to find the animal who did this to her.”

  She stared at him.

  Emma was torn.

  “Honey,” her husband began, “let him have this one.”

  Maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe she was too close to the fire on this one and he was right. Maybe…

  “Okay, Steele.” Emma gave in.

  There was no doubt in her mind why he wanted her out of there. He was throwing her a bone on this one, and she was going to take it. At that moment, Emma wanted to throw up. This was a horrible way to begin her day, and she knew it was only bound to get worse.

  “Let’s go, Emma,” Greyson said, taking her other hand.

  Before she could leave, she rounded the table to get to Steele’s side. Going up on her toes, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for that. You’re a horrible liar, and I hope you do a better job of bullshitting your boyfriend.”

  He didn't say a word.

  Instead, he stared into his boss’s silvery eyes. They had to keep Emma safe, and if this was the only way he could do it, so be it.

  Heading to the morgue office door, they signaled to Mace that they were leaving. He looked thrilled that they wouldn’t be remaining.

  At the main door, Greyson keyed in the code to get them out. Once on the other side, he locked it down. There was no way anyone was going to stumble into the morgue and find out who they had in the cooler.

  “We need to get our plan set,” Emma said. “This has the potential to be a shit mess of epic proportions.”

 
They agreed with her there.

  “What do you need me to do?” Greyson asked his wife. “I’ve cleared my work log. I’m yours until we wrap this mess.”

  “Thank you, Greyson,” she offered. It was handy having a husband who ran the FBI. She could call up his services anytime she needed him.

  Like now.

  She thought about it for a second. “I have to tell Captain Ford about this. Since you’re going to be assisting in this, now that we have a full blown serial killer, can you handle him?”

  He didn't mind.

  He and Chris were becoming close. They’d had a few cigars, dinner, and drinks over the last few weeks. They were both cavemen and understood the code. It was so much easier when you spoke the same language.

  “Yes, I’ll talk to him.”

  “What else can I do?” Greyson asked.

  “We need to borrow your office. It’s secure upstairs. Once this gets out, the precinct is going to be a mess. People are going to be out for blood and that’s going to add the pressure. You know how cops are, and this is going to be on our shoulders. Mace and I are going to be under the microscope on this one.”

  Mace laughed sardonically. “Great. We’re going to be the headline.”

  “Cops hate the FBI,” Emma stated. “The second they see that I’m using my husband, they’re going to demand I get pulled. I need to stay on this, Grey.”

  He understood. Emma and her husband, who they all thought were dirty, were going to be investigating the murder of a fellow cop. There was going to be many a protest over it from disgruntled officers.

  It was going to be messy.

  It was going to be shitty.

  “I’ll handle your boss, Emma. I want you to stop worrying about what will happen to me. I’m not afraid of a bunch of cops. I have far scarier things to deal with right now.”

  Yeah, like telling Curtis, a man who hated him, that his wife was dead. This was going to be a non-stop party.

  “I know, babe. We just have to do this perfectly. We can’t have the media all over this one. That’s all I need to make this a mess. Brynn’s face all over the news, and her tied to us. There will be conspiracy theories left and right. Who knows what the media will come up with?”

  He understood.

  “We’ll start working in your office while you’re with Captain Ford,” Mace said, knowing that they were going to have a lot of paperwork. “Emma’s right. The less time we’re out there and the more in here working, the better for the team.”

  “I’ll tell Curtis,” he said, before she could even put that out there. He knew his wife, and the last thing she needed to be doing was taking this one on. The second the agent heard, he was going to need a target, and that was going to be him.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “It’s like I’ve forgotten how to…she was just… now she’s…”

  He understood.

  “Steele will do a methodical job. That means I have about three hours to get Ford on board, handle Curtis, and meet you back here at the office. The second he hears about Brynn, he’s going to want to see her. Right now, he’s upstairs. I have to get him out of the building.”

  Emma didn't know how he was going to pull that off. “What’s your plan?”

  He pulled out his cell phone and called for backup. When Tessa Brass answered, he gave her his instructions. “Tessa, we have a mess and it centers around your partner. I need a favor.”

  “Okay,” she stated, watching the man across the desk from her. Often, the boss would call to check in on Curtis, so she knew to play it cool.

  “I need you to get him out of the building until I text you. Can you do that? Work a case, tell him it’s wedding related, or just go have some coffee and lock your keys in the car for a few hours. I need him as far from here and the TV as possible.”

  She glanced down at her watch. This had to be big. “Yes, I can.”

  “Perfect. This is bad. Later, I’ll let you in on it. You’re going to be helping Emma out. I’ll have your casework bumped to other agents, but don’t say a word to Curtis. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Great. Head out.”

  With that, he hung up. “Okay, part of the problem is done. Give them ten minutes, and you should be able to walk right through the office to mine without running into Curtis.”

  Emma was glad.

  Once she saw him, she was going to cry. How could she not? Her heart was breaking for what was coming.

  “I’ll get you help,” Greyson offered.

  “We need it,” Emma stated.

  Next, Greyson dialed his profiler and waited for him to answer the phone. “Paris?”

  “Yes, boss?”

  “You have an assignment. My wife needs your help. She’s going to be heading into my office in ten minutes. Meet her there. We have to keep this one quiet, so say nothing. Tessa will be joining us later today. This one is strictly need to know, and no one in the bullpen needs to know. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With that, he hung up. “Get your files on the other victims to Paris, and he’ll start breaking them down with you. I’ll notify my secretary to cancel all my meetings for the next few days. She’ll be your secretary now, and whatever you need--just ask.”

  Emma went up on her toes to kiss him. “Thank you.” And she didn't mean because of the use of his office. He was taking control when she wasn’t quite ready to be in charge. Her husband was a very astute man, and she was lucky to be his wife.

  “No problem. Now, I’m going to head over to the LVPD to drop this little bomb in your boss’s lap. I hope he’s ready for it.”

  Greyson gave her a kiss and patted Mace on the shoulder before walking away. Emma watched as he fixed his tie in the reflection of the elevator doors. Her husband was going off to battle, and she only prayed that they’d all make it through this intact.

  From the way she felt, she wasn’t quite so sure.

  The shit was about to hit the fan, and there was no doubt who was in the line of fire.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  LVPD

  Arriving at Ford’s office, he was met with the customary media attention, dying for him to make a comment. They swarmed his vehicle before he could even get out.

  It was enough to make him irate, but he managed to keep his cool. He had to. Since Randall Mason screwed them by making them rich, everything had intensified. The slightest slip, and he’d be on the nightly news.

  There was no way in hell, that he was going to let that happen. So, he plastered a smile on his face, despite the ridiculousness of their questions.

  Greyson got why Emma wanted to punch or shoot them. He was beginning to feel that way too.

  As they closed in on him, circling like sharks in the water, they began their litany of lunacy.

  The questions were mostly regarding what he and his wife would be wearing to the commissioner’s charity ball. At least they didn't have a clue why he was really there.

  That lightened the load. He wasn’t ready to talk to the media about Brynn, and he suspected that Emma wasn’t either. For now, silence was best.

  Once inside the door, there could be no sigh of relief. Here came the true ugliness.

  The cops all stopped what they were doing to stare at him like he was public enemy number one.

  They hated him and his wife, and for very bogus reasons. They weren’t dirty, but how did you convince them? Emma and Greyson had their judgment set in the court of public opinion. There was no ‘innocent until proven guilty’ here.

  They were the bad guys.

  How Emma came to work every day was beyond him. As he moved further into the building, the place actually quieted down, which, in itself, was a miracle. This was Vegas, and nothing stopped the mayhem.

  Even the prostitutes chained to the bench stared over at him like Satan himself had made an appearance.

  Jesus!

  What a mess!

  He wanted to kil
l Randall Mason.

  As he approached the sergeant’s desk, he waited for the ugliness to continue. As of late, he avoided coming here. Not because he gave a shit what they all thought, but because he didn't want his wife abused any more than he already suspected she was.

  “Name and why you’re here?”

  The game continued. There was no way the man behind the counter didn't know who he was. This was the same guy that watched him enter with his wife a million times in the past.

  This was totally bogus, and he knew it.

  “Director Greyson Croft, and I’m here to speak to Captain Ford regarding a work issue.”

  The man glanced up and actually started to laugh. “Oh, that’s too bad. You wasted your time driving over. Next time call, and he can meet you someplace else. Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

  “My kind?”

  “Yeah, crooked Feds.”

  Greyson kept his cool. How? He wasn’t quite sure. “How about you just call his office? He’ll see me.”

  “I’m sure he’s busy. You know how we cops are. All that crime, all those criminals who need to go to jail.”

  He wasn’t going to have a verbal sparring match. Instead, Greyson simply turned toward the bullpen. “Then I’ll find out for myself.”

  As he started walking away, the man stood. “Hey! You can’t just stroll in there!”

  Yeah, watch him.

  Even as he approached the homicide division, he was amused that while some officers followed, they didn't touch him. Now, whether that was out of fear, or some residual respect for Emma, he’d never know.

  At the commotion, the man he needed to see stepped out of his office.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he asked when he saw the man surrounded by officers. A few had their hands on the butts of their guns.

  Talk about overkill.

  Pointing, he growled angrily. “He doesn’t need a reason to see me! When the head of the FBI shows up here, you show him some damn respect! Got it?”

  They dissipated pretty fast, none looking back.

  Greyson headed toward the man, and once there, he shook his hand. “I’m sorry for the spectacle, but we have a huge problem.”