Hell Is Burning

by Morgan Kelley

“Yes, I would, and that’s a very good question that we’re going to have to ask Curtis in interview. We all know that the person married to the victim, or in a relationship with them, is generally the one we look at first. Like it or not, we’re running this investigation by the books. Until we can eliminate him…”

  “Curtis couldn’t have!” Emma objected, cutting him off. “He wouldn’t, Grey.”

  “We have to ask it, Emma,” Greyson stated. He knew she was protective of the boy, but this was a mess. He’d already once lied to keep him safe. This case had to be run by the letter of the law. If not, they’d all swing--not only from their bosses, but in the court of public opinion.

  “I found a few things that were odd,” Steele stated. “I wouldn’t say odd, more like they deviated from the first two murders.”

  That had Paris’s attention. This was something he needed in order to profile. “What?”

  “I’m not talking autopsy results, but initial findings.”

  “Spill it, Doc,” Emma stated.

  “Well, the rope was different. On victims one and two, it was a standard braided rope. On Brynn, it was industrial nylon cord. It’s more durable and dug deeper into her flesh. That’s why she bled more. It ripped into her carotid, and she bled out as she asphyxiated.”

  Emma would never be able to get that picture out of her mind for as long as she lived. So, she tried to focus on anything else. “What other anomalies are there?”

  “She was the only one struck in the back of the head. I haven’t opened the other two up yet, and tox isn't done, but they don’t appear to have been subdued the same way.”

  They all made notes.

  “That’s all I really have for you. I’m going to get started on victim number one as soon as you leave.”

  Croft glanced up. “I need for you to hold off for a bit, Doc. I’m going to text Tessa to get Curtis back in-house. The minute I tell him what’s happened to his wife, he’s going to want to see her.”

  There was no doubt in his mind that was going to happen. If someone told him Emma was dead, he’d need the proof. Then, and only then, would he fall apart. Greyson was ready for what was destined to land in his lap.

  Anger.

  Hate.

  Bitterness.

  Curtis was going to have a rough time coming to grips with the truth, and there was no doubt that he was going to need to focus it somewhere.

  “No problem, Director. I can do that for him,” Steele offered. “I’ll make sure she’s cleaned up and ready for a viewing.”

  “I want all the autopsies forwarded only to me. Passcode them, so I’m the ONLY person, beside you, who sees them. I’ll give them to the team tomorrow when we start working, but until then, we don’t need these getting out. Our luck, the media will obtain a copy, and we’ll be screwed.”

  “I got it.”

  Croft headed out. Outside the morgue, he waited for the rest of his wife’s team. “I want you to head to my office. I’ll take care of this.”

  “I should go with you, Grey,” Emma stated. “He’s going to need someone to lean on.”

  Oh, he was well aware, but he knew the man. Curtis was going to erupt first, and there was no way that he was going to let his wife be privy to that.

  It wasn’t happening.

  He kissed her on the forehead before pulling Emma into the protective frame of his body. “No, you can’t be there, Em. This is going to be bad. He’s going to need you to be the good guy when this is all over. Right now, I’m up to bat.”

  Emma hated that Greyson had relegated himself to role of bad guy. He was anything but. She loathed that he was going to take the brunt of Curtis’s anger once again.

  It was a shitty predicament all around.

  When he did it the last time, even when the plan was hers, she could see how hurt he was. No one liked to be verbally slashed at by someone you loved.

  That included her husband.

  Greyson Croft wasn’t as icy as they all thought. He had a soft heart when it came to his family.

  “If you need me…”

  He lovingly patted her cheek in reassurance. He’d already been hurt by the man coming to get his bad news. There was nothing he could say that would make it worse.

  Now it was about being there for Curtis.

  “Just get to work on whatever you can, honey. I’ll handle Special Agent Briggs. Tessa will be on her way up to the office as soon as they arrive. You three will have to brief her. She’ll jump in and help.”

  Reluctantly, Emma pulled away. “Okay, babe. See you in a bit.”

  He watched the team head into the elevator. Instead of joining them, he pulled out his phone and sent the text.

  It was time to do the job.

  There was nothing good about it, but he couldn’t pass this off. Greyson Croft was a good boss. That was his gold standard. If his people needed him, he was there.

  Now, it was time to stand up and take on the oncoming storm. It was time to have the anger dumped all over him--like a good friend would.

  Well, a good friend or a masochist.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  Tuesday Afternoon

  Tessa was glad when they got the text. It was getting hard to keep Curtis out of the office. The man was wallowing in some sort of pity, and honestly, he was being a downer. When he asked when they were getting married, she went to answer--only to be told don’t do it.

  He then rattled off a list of reasons why it was a bad idea. Yeah, that wasn’t like him. Her partner was normally pretty upbeat, despite the war going on between him and the boss man.

  Granted, he and Brynn eloped on a bender, and that was a dumb thing to do, but Curtis rarely disparaged it. Today, he was all over it. This was a bad sign. Obviously, there was trouble in paradise.

  “You know, Curtis, everything is fixable,” she stated, “even whatever is bothering you.”

  He laughed more. “Yeah, right.”

  “What’s going on, Curtis? You can tell me. We’re partners, and that’s what we do. If you need me to carry some of the baggage, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

  Curtis was well aware. “I’m just having wife troubles.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. Trust me. I’m not a proponent to marriage anymore. While it works for Greyson and Emma, it didn't work for me. Some people shouldn’t get married, and I’m beginning to think I was one of them.”

  Well, that set the tone.

  At least now she understood what was eating away at him. It looked like there was a major hurricane brewing in paradise.

  “Are you two fighting?”

  “Yes, and no. We don’t talk enough to fight, but we’re totally out of sync. Have you ever looked at Paris and thought, ‘what the hell am I doing’?”

  “Honestly, no. I want to get married. We just can’t find a day to do it where everyone is available.”

  “I thought you were eloping,” he asked.

  “We are, but Emma and Greyson are our witnesses, and they’ve been busy lately.”

  He wouldn’t know. There was zero personal communication between them. Yes, he still reported to the man, but there was nothing but professionalism there. Greyson asked for a case update, and he nodded.

  Nothing more.

  Nothing less.

  To Curtis, that said it all.

  It looked like the man, he once called brother, had moved on. Could he really blame him? Curtis said some pretty horrible things in his tirade filled outbursts.

  No--that wasn’t true.

  They were beyond horrible. His words had crossed the line, and he knew it.

  Had he known Brynn was going to emotionally bail on him, he wouldn’t have put his neck on the line for their relationship. He missed having people who cared about him. Again, that was bullshit.

  He missed them.

  The idea that they’d moved on without batting an eyelash stung. Deep down, he hoped they’d feel the same pain he was feeling.

  Curtis wa
nted them to miss him.

  “Well, I’m sure it’ll be a nice wedding. I don’t recall mine. Apparently, tequila, a drunken woman, and no common sense make a horrible mix when it comes to getting hitched.”

  She patted him on the arm. “You can fix it, Curtis. When Paris was upset over me having a new partner, we fought, I cried, but then we fixed it. If you want to make it better, you can, just like you can always make it worse. It’s a matter of choice.”

  She had a point.

  All he had to decide was what he wanted.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to talk to Brynn tonight. We’ll try and work it out.”

  A part of him didn't buy it, but it was nice to have his partner give him the benefit of the doubt. Tessa Brass was a good person, and he was grateful she was his partner.

  She smiled at him. “I knew you would. My money’s on you, Curtis. You’re badass.”

  As they headed back in, he finally asked where they were going.

  “The boss wants to see us.”

  Curtis tensed. “Can’t you handle him? I don’t want to deal with Croft right now.”

  Since Greyson advised her that it was top priority, Tessa wasn’t going to let him out of the meeting. She was convinced that if they sat down, hashed it out, or even had a brawl, it would be better.

  When she and Paris fought, they always talked about it. It was about getting it off your chest.

  “He said both of us. You know he’s avoiding you as much as you’re avoiding him, so this has to be important.”

  Curtis felt bad.

  He didn't want to avoid the man. What he wanted was to be back in the family. Now that Brynn was bailing on him, he was all alone.

  “Yeah, I hear you. Maybe you’re right.”

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  Once at the office, she led him through the throngs of media to the door. At one time, Curtis was someone they’d swarm, trying to get the inside scoop. When he was part of Emma and Greyson’s lives, he was also in the media spotlight.

  Now he was ignored.

  That spoke louder than words, and Curtis found it incredibly painful. Even the media had cut him out of their lives. It was sad, and made him want to do something he swore he’d never do.

  For the first time in a long while, Curtis wanted to apologize. Unfortunately, he truly believed that boat had sailed. Everything that had happened the last two months was entirely his fault.

  It wasn’t the Crofts he hated. No, even though he was angry and blamed them for a killer’s actions, he knew who was at fault.

  It was him.

  Shit!

  With his luck, Greyson was going to get rid of him, and it would serve him right. He was losing his wife, he already lost a man he considered a big brother or father, and now his job was in jeopardy too.

  Great.

  Tessa led Curtis to a conference room. Inside, Greyson sat at the head of the table, and he looked…troubled.

  Uh oh.

  This didn't bode well. He must have been right. Curtis was about to get shit-canned.

  “Come in, Special Agent Briggs.”

  His tone said it all.

  “Tessa, can you head to my office? Paris and the team are waiting for you. They’re already starting to work. You have a new case. They’ll brief you.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” she said, closing the door behind her. If Curtis wasn’t with her, she would have asked if he was okay. Instead, she knew it was best to escape.

  “We need to talk,” Croft stated.

  Curtis crossed his arms defensively. He was waiting for this day. The man before him had been avoiding him, and he knew it wouldn’t last forever. Curtis was a realist. There would only be so much leeway given, and he’d worn out his welcome under the man. It wouldn’t surprise him if he was transferred to the outer reaches of Mongolia on some shitty assignment.

  Payback was a bitch.

  “Please have a seat. This isn't going to be easy, Curtis.”

  He sat, but the entire time his eyes never left Croft’s.

  “What do you want, Director?” he asked. “Have you decided to transfer me?”

  Greyson only wished it was that easy. This was going to be brutal. In all honesty, Croft didn't know how to do this. Yes, he was a pro at delivering bad news. Hell, he could do it in his sleep, but what he was about to tell this man was going to forever change his life. He tried to put himself in Curtis’s shoes.

  “No, son. I’m not.”

  Curtis flinched at the term of endearment. At one time, he was his son. At one time, he had been loved by this man, and now it was all cold and dead, just like Greyson Croft’s icy stare.

  God!

  He missed his family.

  “Emma pulled a case the other day, and today something bad has happened.”

  Curtis leaned forward. “Is Emma hurt?” he asked, his eyes filled with emotion. “Oh, no!” He loved the woman, and always would, despite the anger between the men. She was everything sweet and gentle in the world, and once his life.

  Shit!

  Greyson wished the man was cold about it. Then he wouldn’t feel so bad about stabbing him in the heart with the bad news. Right now, he could use some of Curtis’s anger and hate. It would make it that much easier to deliver the crushing blow.

  “No, she’s fine, but she and Mace pulled a new victim. I was notified this morning, and that’s why you’re here.”

  He waited, unsure where this was going.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, Curtis. I wish I did, but this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.”

  He didn't understand. “Just say it. It can’t be that bad.”

  “Brynn’s dead.”

  He dropped the bomb because it was better not to pussyfoot around it. If it were him, this is how he’d want to know.

  Cold.

  Fast.

  No one spoke.

  Then the change happened. There was a metamorphosis across Curtis’s face. Gone was the worry about Emma, and in its place was nothing more than hate.

  Anger.

  Rage.

  Curtis stood. “Take that back!”

  Greyson wearily got to his feet.

  Here it came.

  This was what he’d expected, and he wasn’t going to fight the man. He couldn’t. He’d already hurt him enough. What happened from here on out, he’d carry too.

  “I can’t, son. As much as I want to do just that, Brynn was found this morning. We have her downstairs in the morgue.”

  Curtis couldn’t breathe.

  He couldn’t think.

  The entire world just fell out from under him. There was this sick feeling of freefalling as his stomach bottomed out. This couldn’t be true!

  Yes, he was pissed at Brynn, but this?

  NO!

  He couldn't believe it. This was Greyson’s way of getting back at him. This was his sick and twisted way of breaking him for what he’d done.

  “Fuck you!”

  The second the words were out of his mouth, he charged the man. Curtis swung out, his fist meeting its mark. When Greyson stumbled back, slamming into the wall, Curtis kept wailing on him. It was shot after shot to his body as the wounded man tried to make someone pay.

  Finally, Greyson stopped him. When his ribs ached, and he couldn’t take another shot, he had to end it.

  Forcing him to the table, Greyson overtook the man and pinned him beneath his larger frame. As blood dripped from his nose, he spoke, “Curtis, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

  At the tone of his voice, and how he let him strike him, Curtis was getting sick.

  Surely, he couldn’t be serious.

  “It’s not her.”

  “I’m sorry, Curtis, but it is.”

  “You’ve made a mistake. Grey, you made a mistake. Please say it. You have to say it.”

  Again, he wished that was true. Here was the typical response from the family of a victim. Greyson had heard it many times b
efore, and here it was again.

  He couldn’t blame the man.

  “Get off me!”

  When he set him free, he grabbed a tissue to stop his nose from bleeding. Croft hoped it wasn’t broken. The media would pick up on it, and somehow, it would be about Emma and him on the skids. He didn't doubt it.

  There was a sob.

  Greyson looked up. He saw a man he cared about as he broke in front of him. All that was holding him together was that last hope that they were all wrong.

  He saw it in Curtis’s eyes.

  He’d seen this before too.

  It never ended well.

  “I want to see her. Take me to my wife! I’m going to prove to you that you’re wrong. Then I’ll never speak to you again for this stunt. You were dead to me before, but this is worse!”

  Greyson didn't speak. Deep down, he wasn’t worried. He knew what was coming. He’d vowed to be this man’s punching bag, and so be it.

  He’d follow through.

  There was nothing he could say that would ease the man’s pain, or keep him from dying inside. In five minutes, life, as he knew it, was about to end.

  He was going to be a widower.

  “You’re lying! You want to make me bleed!”

  If the man thought he was capable of this, it was probably a good thing they weren’t friends or family anymore. Greyson wouldn’t inflict this pain on his worst enemy, let alone a man he loved.

  “She’s downstairs,” he offered.

  “You’re a dick for doing this!”

  The man sounded like a child, and he couldn’t blame him. This was where he’d rally against anyone to not have to be privy to the truth.

  His wife was gone.

  She wasn’t coming back.

  Curtis needed to face that.

  “Let’s go,” he stated, striding toward the door. When he pulled it open, he glared at the man. “I hate you.”

  Yeah, well it was too late.

  Curtis would have to take a number because he hated himself too. No one enjoyed breaking someone, and if they did, they deserved a trip right to hell for being cold.

  There was silence as they headed down to the morgue. Outside the door, Greyson keyed in the code, and that should have been Curtis’s first clue that something was definitely going on.