Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2)

by Morgan Kelley

  It was clear she’d been crying by herself in the shower.

  “Come on, honey, I have you,” he said, pulling her to her feet and removing the destroyed silk from her body. He released it, and as it hit the ground it made a sick ‘plop’.

  Greyson wrapped the towel around her and with the other one, he began to dry her hair.

  Still, Emma said nothing and that worried him.

  Leading her back to the bench, he helped her into her clothes. Once done, he pulled her into his arms. “I have you, Em.”

  She nodded as she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’ll be okay now that you’re here.”

  That comforted him and scared him all at the same time. All he’d ever wanted was a woman who understood, loved, and needed him. His Emma was all three, but he’d trade the last one to have her not look so broken.

  “What time is it?” she asked as she still refused to release her hold on him.

  “It’s either way too late or incredibly early. I do know that I need a few hours of sleep.”

  “Want to catch some downtime in the lounge before I interrogate Nick Quinn?” Emma suggested.

  He didn't plan on leaving her side. “Absolutely.”

  Emma slipped on her running shoes. “I wish I had my phone and gun. Next time, I’m bringing both,” she admitted.

  At least she wasn’t running scared.

  “I don’t have your phone, but I have a gun,” he pulled out Briggs’s Glock and the hip holster he’d grabbed back at the office. “Will this work?” he offered, holding it out in his hand.

  “Yeah, it will.” Emma clipped it on her hip, picked up her badge, and closed her locker. Taking her husband’s hand, she led him to the lounge.

  Inside there were couches and no one was around. “It’s not a condo in the sky, but it’ll work,” she quipped.

  He turned Emma and lifted her chin to make her look in his eyes. “You can be hurt and scared with me. I’ll keep you safe. The fake happy isn’t needed.”

  “I’m not doing it for you,” she answered. “I’m doing it for me, because I have to hold together right now. When we get home, I’ll fall apart, but for now, I have a job to do.”

  That’s all he needed to hear. There was nothing but complete honesty in her voice. “Okay, honey. I’ll help hold you up.”

  Emma picked a spot, only to find her husband again at her side. “Uh, there are two couches, Grey. You know- one for each of us.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, but I like sleeping with my wife, so she’s going to have to entertain my crazy whims.” Croft swept her up in his arms, and settled into the cushions, allowing Emma to curl against him.

  She nuzzled him as her hand slid under his t-shirt to the spot on his chest it always rested. Slowly, her fingers drew the customary swirls. The familiarity offered them both comfort and before long not only did she drift off, but so did he.

  * * *

  Emma walked through the blood, and it was getting deeper and deeper. She watched it slowly creep up her body. Glancing around, she couldn’t recognize the location. Something about the place was familiar, as she fought to focus on the surroundings and not the red liquid seeping up her legs.

  Then, she saw her.

  It was the first victim, and she was sitting on a dumpster in the corner. Her ears were gone and her eye sockets stared blankly at her as they somehow tracked Emma’s motions. Then there was her mouth. All that escaped were muffled words that Emma couldn’t understand. The woman reminded her of a grotesquely mutilated doll. Her gestures were stiff and choppy. She looked as if she had been played with too roughly and then tossed aside.

  A sound caught her attention.

  Turning her head, the second victim sat on a separate crate in a shadowy corner. She too was in the same state and watched Emma blindly as the hollow sockets hauntingly followed her every move.

  Ahead, another woman stood as she too waded in the blood. Her hand moved to her mouth and tugged at one of the crudely done stitches to pull them free. The lips slowly became reanimated. As she opened her mouth, two eyeballs were revealed. Her lips began to move grotesquely, acting like blinking eyelids as they tried to spit out the words.

  Emma wanted to escape, but the blood was now up to her chest. Staring at the victim, she watched as the corpse reached into her mouth to remove the eyes before speaking.

  “There will be more,” she said, and then without warning she began shrieking.

  Emma jumped in response. Her body was shaking and heart pounding as she was pulled from sleep. Croft still held her in his arms, only now, he was squeezing her tightly against his chest.

  “Shhhh, Emma. You had a bad dream, honey. Are you okay?”

  She shook her head and stared down at her arms and legs. There wasn’t any blood and that was a good thing. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive.”

  He was beginning to regret forcing her to move to Vegas. A part of him was carrying tremendous guilt that he caused her to live through all this again. They could have stayed in Celestia and she would have had peace.

  Before Greyson could apologize, he realized they weren’t alone.

  “Your shooter’s in interview,” Ford stated, watching his detective closely. She looked like hell had warmed over. “After this, I want you to head home. You're running on fumes and you’re going to crash.”

  Emma didn't say anything. She simply stood from her husband’s lap and knew that it was time to get the job done. This was her duty, and she’d hold up under all the pressure.

  “We’ve got the man. You can take the day off.”

  Neither of them believed that.

  “He’s not the killer,” she finally said. “He may have wanted to kill Randall Mason, but I’ll bet my job he’s not the one killing the showgirls.”

  The man looked doubtful. “You need down time, Detective. After a few hours of sleep, you’ll see that we have the man who did this.”

  Emma started walking out. “Not until I find the killer.”

  Her husband was right behind her.

  Ford grabbed his arm to stop him. “Make her take down time after the interview. She’s over thinking it. The killer is caught, and we can close this one down.”

  Croft shook his head. “We have a shooter, but not a serial killer. I wish she was wrong, but I’m with her on this.” He pulled his arm free to go out to watch his wife find the truth.

  Emma entered the interrogation room with the file in her hand, as she was ready to do battle. In life, she was very laid back, just look at her marriage. Yet, when it came to this part of her, she wasn’t. In this room she became an entirely different person. In here, Emma was less caring, harder to break and ready to do what it took to find the truth.

  She walked over to the table and kicked the leg hard to scare the handcuffed man. “You think you get to nap after shooting a cop?” she snarled, going to her chair and spinning it, so she could straddle it.

  The man stared at her, his eyes red from the drug high he was still riding. “I don’t have to talk to you.”

  She stood leaning across the table. “Listen up you piece of shit. I don’t care if you talk to me or not. We have a dozen witnesses swearing that you pulled the trigger.”

  He shrugged. “That bastard deserved it.”

  Emma was getting angry. “You're an idiot. You didn't kill Randall Mason. You’re a cop killer. You took out my partner.”

  He stared at her, unsure if she was lying.

  “Yeah, you’re a piss poor shot. You took out a cop. Know what that means in this state? You’re going to the chair, and I’m going to be the one who pulls the switch!”

  “Wait! I meant to shoot Mason!”

  Croft watched from behind the glass. When Nick confessed, he began to laugh. She just got him to admit to the shooting by deflecting his focus. He was so in love with his wife at that moment.

  Emma continued. “It doesn’t matter what you meant to do. You took down a woman. You’re a slimy bastard just like Randall Mason, exc
ept he’s not a cop killer.”

  His eyes filled with tears.

  “I want to know one thing, Nick. Just one thing before I watch the officers drag you away to begin processing you.”

  “What?” he asked as he looked terrified.

  “Why did you do this?” She pulled out the autopsy photos and placed them in front of him. When she got to the one with the eyeballs in the mouth, he started to gag. Emma grabbed the waste paper can and held it for him. When he was finished, she handed him a tissue.

  Nick Quinn struggled to wipe his mouth as his hands were still cuffed to the table.

  “Why Nick? I can see you hating Mason, but I never took you as a mutilator or cop killer. What did those women ever do to you?”

  He shook his head fervently. “I tried to shoot Mason. I wanted him dead, but I don’t do women. I get a cut and I throw up,” Nick stated, nodding to the vomit in the can.

  Yeah, she was already well aware.

  Ford watched through the one way glass as he stood beside Greyson Croft. “She has him on attempted homicide of a cop and premeditated murder.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “She’s good at her job.”

  Croft didn't doubt it for a second. “I’m well aware. It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, Captain, but the size of the fight in the dog.”

  Greyson settled in to watch the rest unfold and couldn’t be more proud.

  “Look at me,” she yelled, grabbing the back of his chair as she turned it to face her. “You’re a sick mess if you think I don’t know you cut those women to pieces.”

  Again, he shook his head. “I didn't do it. I swear. Let me give you an alibi, something. I didn't kill them. I love women and admire them. I didn't mean to kill the cop. I have sisters and I respect the ladies!”

  Emma read off the dates and glanced over at the glass. She hoped her husband got the message. She needed him to verify the times and alibis as fast as possible.

  “That second one, I was at work.”

  Emma kicked the table again, scaring him. “Bullshit! You told me you couldn’t find a damn job. Now one magically appears? I’ve been doing this too damn long, Nick.”

  “No, really! I do some temp work, and I was called to do a warehouse stocking job. I went in at eight at night for a twelve hour shift.”

  Croft searched for the name of the business on the tablet and made a call. As his wife continued to scare the hell out of the man, he checked his story.

  Hanging up the phone, he knocked twice and wondered if Emma would get it.

  Emma caught the signal and knew she was done. “You’re going back to your cell, and if my partner dies while on that operating table, I’m going to make sure you pay with your own life, Nick. Cop killers go to federal lock up with the big dogs. You’re about to be some scary man’s bitch.”

  “She’s not dead?” he sobbed.

  “No, and you better pray she doesn’t die. It’s the difference between life in prison and the chair.”

  Nick stared up at her, unsure what to say.

  Emma grabbed her papers and knocked on the door. When it opened, she headed to observation. Once inside, she could already read the mood in the room. “So, he has an alibi?”

  Croft nodded. “Yep and it’s for the second killing. If he is the killer, he either had help or he’s in the clear.”

  She already knew the truth. “He didn't do those women. I showed him the photos, and as soon as we got to the eyeballs, he tossed his cookies. If Nick Quinn was the killer, he would have known it was coming. He would have started prepping to make himself puke on demand. The first two, he was staring openmouthed and shocked.”

  “I’m with Emma on this.”

  Ford crossed his arms. “Then, we have a huge issue on our hands here.”

  Croft agreed with that too.

  Emma knew what it all meant. “Yeah, our killer is still out there and someone else is going to die.”

  * * *

  They dug in and worked for the rest of the morning after hearing from Agent Briggs. Detective Westmore pulled through the surgery, and he wanted permission to stay by her side.

  Emma was glad Curtis was with her, because right now, she didn't have the time to swing by and visit. She was buried in work.

  “You need to eat,” he said. The compulsion to feed her was overwhelming him. She’d been silent the last hour as she re-read every single piece of evidence to find what she’d missed.

  “I’ll be fine. I have coffee.”

  Obviously, he was approaching it wrong. “I need to eat.”

  That had her attention. “Okay, we can take a break. What do you want?” And then she added, “You aren’t eating out of the vending machine. You had bacon, cheese, a burger and cigars in the last two days. I’m not letting this train get out of control.”

  He started laughing. “There’s a breakfast place around the corner. If I promise to eat egg whites and no butter, will you go with me?”

  She really wasn’t hungry, but Greyson had never stopped working for a food break, ever. Her husband would run himself into the ground before complaining. While they worked, he was electronically transferring paperwork for his job at the FBI. The poor man needed a break.

  “You’re buying,” she stated. “I left my cash at home with my boots, gun, phone, sanity…”

  “Well, since all of our money goes into one account, I don’t think it matters. Unless you’re admitting that you have a secret account somewhere.”

  She snorted as he escorted her out. “Please, I’m married to J Edgar Hoover. Where would I hide that account?”

  Croft laughed as he led her across the squad room. They stopped at Ford’s office to give him a heads up. “We’re going to get something to eat. We’ll be at the place around the corner if something comes up.” He pulled out his ID and took out a card. “Here’s my number if you need us. Emma’s phone is at our condo.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Croft led Emma out into the sun. It took a few minutes to adjust to the blast of brightness. As they walked down the block, he took her hand in his. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted.

  There was no response from her.

  Again, it was time to try a new tactic. “I hope you don’t hate me for making you come here. I don’t give a shit about the job, and if being here is going to burn you out, I’ll quit.”

  She looked up at him surprised by his words. “I never said I hated you, Grey.”

  Ah, her reply was very telling. “You could always be a kept woman and available for my every whim,” he teased. Maybe, if she thought it was a joke, she’d consider it.

  Emma knew what he was doing. “I’d go crazy sitting around and doing nothing all day as I waited for you to come home.”

  “We could have kids. Motherhood is very time consuming, or so I hear.” Croft assumed having children would be... interesting. “We could even sell the condo and buy a house near the golf course like Tom and Trudy.” That broke his heart, but he’d swallow it for Emma.

  She stopped and stared at him as if he was nuts. “Okay, I know I’m asleep, because my husband wouldn’t be trying to talk me into getting fat, popping out kids, moving next to a woman I don’t like to play golf. Who in their right mind likes that sport? I must be sleeping or in a coma to be hearing this.”

  That didn't go well. He continued walking, until they got to the breakfast place. Inside, they took a seat. There was dead silence until after they ordered.

  “So, this all comes down to you not trusting me.”

  He stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “What?” he said as he lowered his voice. Not that it would matter, because the TV was playing loudly as everyone was watching the news.

  “You’re trying to talk me out of my job, so you either think I suck at it, or you believe I’m not mentally capable to handle it.”

  She had him in the wife trap. Anything he said after this point was a minefield, and he was a blind man trying to navigate
a straight line through it.

  Well shit!

  “I just want you to know that you can walk away.”

  “So, now I’m a quitter?”

  Great, it just got worse. Croft was beginning to realize a few things. He sucked at being calm when it came to Emma and that he had a propensity to say the worst things to her when he was flustered.

  “I’m adjusting to it. I’ve only been back a month, Grey. I’m sorry if me leaning on you when I’m struggling is a sign of weakness, I won’t do it anymore.”

  That made him sick to his stomach. He loved when she came to him. It made him feel wanted. “I didn't mean to make you feel that way.”

  “I’ll do my damn job, and I won’t ask for your help. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I’m incapable.”

  His anger was rising. “Emma, you’re crossing the line.”

  She didn't care. It was a shitty day and this little talk put her in a worse mood. “I’ll find someone else that doesn’t mind me being pathetic and weak.”

  The line was officially crossed. That threat didn't sit well with him at all. “Take it back,” he hissed, staring at her. “I was worried about my wife! She’s having nightmares and running herself into the ground. I’m allowed to care.”

  “Okay, you’re looking tired too. Pack up and we’ll head out. You’re too stressed to be a director for the FBI.”

  The words hurt that she didn't believe in him. Then again, he just said them to her too.

  “Time out.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “I want a time out before this goes nuclear. I don’t want to fight with you. I want to wrap you up and keep you safe. I’m new at this husband and relationship thing too. We’ve been a couple less than two months. I’m trying to figure it out and failing at it.”