Dead Shall Speak (An FBI/Romance Thriller Book 10) (11 page)

In fact, they were staring at him as if he was an interloper in their part of the world.

Other than the sharp angular cheekbones, the tan skin kissed by genetics—
not the sun
—and his blue-black eyes, Ethan believed he fit in.

From the looks on their faces, he didn't.

Old worries surfaced.

Maybe they were just checking out his really expensive suit. There was always the possibility that he’d overdressed. Ethan was often one to dress to impress.

“What can we get for you, boy?”

With the nasty tone in the one deputy’s voice, he could tell that he’d been way off.

Yeah, so much for it being about his suit. That was totally a pipe dream.

This was going to be a test of his patience.

As Ethan approached the counter, it was hard to miss that the one deputy’s hand rested on the butt of his gun. That made him lean more toward worry than just paranoia. This was a small town, and he didn't doubt that any Natives had packed their shit and headed out a long time ago—for a very good reason.

“My name in Director Ethan Blackhawk, and I work for the FBI. I’m here to talk to Sheriff Douglas Carlton.”

There were murmurs, and he could swear he heard the word
‘Indian’
tossed around, and not in a complementary way. It was a good thing that his wife wasn’t with him, despite the need for her reassurance. Elizabeth would have vaulted the counter and kicked the shit out of each and every one of them.

In a matter of seconds, they’d found and pushed what would have been her one hot button.

“Why do you need him?” asked the one deputy suspiciously. “Are you in trouble?”

It was hard to miss the good ol’ boy twang in his voice. It sang of prejudice and redneck tendencies. Obviously, as they stared at him, they weren’t paying attention to that three lettered word that should open all doors—
FBI.

“Well, boy?”

God!

He fucking loved the south like a hooker liked an STD.

“That’s something that needs to be discussed privately, I’m afraid. If you wouldn’t mind, please get your boss,” Ethan stated authoritatively.

Until that point, Ethan had remained incredibly calm, but he didn't think that the odds were in his favor. This was the south, and while not all white men there were hillbilly rednecks, the ones who were, liked to be front and center.

Like now.

There were more hillbillies than not in that room. It was like a damn convention. Had they not been armed, he might find this little adventure amusing. Thank God he made Callen stay at the dig site.

Finally, a redheaded deputy popped up from his desk to offer Ethan some help.

He was incredibly grateful.

“I’ll get him for you, sir,” he offered, knocking on the one closed door.

Ethan couldn’t hear what he said when he stuck his head in, but he did see the deputy glance back over his shoulder. There was more whispering and a pause before anyone spoke.

“You can come in, Director. Would you like some coffee?”

While he would, Ethan wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be spit in or poisoned. The reception was chilly enough, and he wasn’t crazy enough to risk it. He’d rather eat scorpions than go there.

“No thank you, Deputy, but I appreciate your offer.”

After entering the room, he took a seat when the man behind the desk pointed. He was definitely younger than quite a few of the men out in his bullpen. Blackhawk wondered if that would help or hinder the FBI. It made Ethan wonder what kind of lawman he would be.

Would he be fair or a dick?

“What can I do for you, Director of the FBI?”

Ethan reintroduced himself.

“Okay, and?”

Yeah, it was chilly in the office. “We’ve been called in to work on the excavation site by the university,” he began.

Immediately, the man relaxed. If anything, Ethan was good at picking up the subtle nuances in people. Sheriff Carlton’s body lost most of the stiffness.

“Oh! I heard that the university dug up a treasure trove of bodies. Why didn't you just say so?”

Uh, Ethan tried—a couple of times.

Unfortunately, hillbilly-palooza had gotten in the way.

“We were told the university was having it handled quietly, so what do you need my help for?”

Ethan had played this game long enough to know the right and wrong way to approach it. He wasn’t a fool. He could tell right away that the man before him hadn’t found out about the newest victims, or he wouldn’t be asking that question.

Blackhawk was going to work that angle.

Hopefully, he could pull it off.

“We need a location to call our home base. It has to be somewhere that has a cooler to hold the bodies.” If the man asked about them, he’d be forced to admit the truth. If Sheriff Carlton didn’t, he’d ride it out until the man figured it out on his own. The fact that he asked for a chiller should have been a dead giveaway that these weren’t just bones.

Ethan crossed his fingers.

Two could play the uncooperative asshole game.

“Oh, are you talking about something like a morgue?”

Ethan smiled, knowing that he could catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so he laid it on thick. “Yes. The university isn't able to house my team, and we need to pull forensics from each skeleton. You came highly recommended as being accommodating and friendly.” Ethan thought back to the accolades the concierge handed out regarding the sheriff.

Douglas Carlton sat back. “We do have a morgue that’s shared with the fine folks in the next town over. There’s one ME, and he pops back and forth between them, depending on the situation. We didn’t have a whole lot of death here in town, until the bodies were discovered. Belleville is a pretty quiet place. Mostly, I’m babysitting drunken college kids and dealing with petty crimes.”

Yeah, if the man only knew he had something far more sinister stalking them, he wouldn’t be so damn calm.

“We have an ME and some anthropologists, so we just need the facility to house the victims.” Again, he didn't say what corpses were going there. Most of the original victims were already on their way to FBI West. Let the sheriff assume all he wanted.

The man picked up his phone, buzzing the redheaded deputy. It didn't take long for him to run in. “Yes, sir?”

“We need the keys to the morgue. Director Blackhawk is going to be renting it from us.”

Ethan lifted a brow.

Before he could speak, the man continued, “The price of rental is sharing of information. Is it a deal? I’m not asking to get in your face while you work, but I want open and honest communication.”

Putting him on the spot, Ethan had noticed that he’d misjudged his adversary. Then again, two could play at that game.

“Certainly, but I’ll only release it as the details are cleared. This is an ongoing case. When we wrap it up, you can have it all. Agreed?”

They shook hands, working out a minor issue. Once the man found out the truth, the shit was going to hit the fan.

Big time!

“Deputy Weatherly, get the keys and directions for the director. He’s going need good ones, since the morgue is outside the town and more in the back woods of Belleville.”

His maniacal laughter put Ethan on edge.

Great.

He was heading into the redneck haven. There was no way this could be construed as good. In his head, he pictured their team running loose in a hillbilly morgue.

This was going to be a mess.

Once out of the office, Ethan was glad it was over. He’d survived one more journey into the lion’s den, and now could get down to doing what he did best.

Profiling.

As he followed the deputy to his vehicle, Ethan could feel his sense of calm returning.

“Sorry about all hating in there, sir. The boss isn't big on Feds,” the deputy stated. “In fact, he’s not real keen on anyone outside this town.”

Yeah, Ethan could tell.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Again, more lies. He’d grown accustom to his wife keeping him safe.

“Where is this place, Deputy? Is it really in the middle of the woods?”

At that point, all Ethan really wanted was a place where they could avoid the sheriff and any uncomfortable conversations that might come up.

The morgue would offer them a safe place to regroup, and a place for Ethan and Callen to do most of their work.

He held out his hand before answering the questions. “I’m Davvy, sir. We’re not big on formal around here either. As for the morgue location, the sheriff wasn’t yanking your chain. It’s this tiny building in the middle of some trees. It’s a might creepy, if I do say so myself. I’d rather get caught skinny dipping with the mayor’s daughter than be stuck out there. All those dead people are some scary shit.”

Yeah, tell him about it.

It wasn’t like it mattered. In a concrete box, in the ground, or zipped up in a body bag, the dead were something that could make or break you.

At this point, Ethan would take what he could get. He’d rather hang out with the dead than a bunch of bigoted cops with weapons.

The dead couldn’t hurt you, but the living sure as hell could.

After the friendly handshake, Davvy proceeded to give him instructions, all the while smiling. At the blank look on the man’s face, he changed his mind. “On second thought, I’ll take you out there, Director. I’m about to go on patrol, so it’s no big deal. I wouldn’t want you to get lost around here. Belleville is a nice town, but not if you don’t fit in.”

Deputy Davvy Weatherly didn't have to say anything more. Ethan got the hint.

He and Callen were going to standout like two sore thumbs.

It looked like the Blackhawk boys were going to have a bit of trouble in Kentucky. He doubted it was going to have anything to do with the killers, and everything to do with their heritage.

Well, shit!

“Are you ready, sir?” asked Davvy.

God, he really hoped so.

Where was his wife when he needed her?

This mess was right up her alley.

~ Chapter Three ~

If anything, the FBI tech team was efficient. It didn't take them long to get the bodies out of the clay and housed safely in the black body bags. While they hustled about, avoiding the interference from the university dig team, Callen could see that Tony Magnus was going to have his hands full.

If the attitude of the academic staff was any indicator, the man would be settling ruffled feathers for a while.

When he approached, Callen lowered his voice. “Can I make a suggestion, Doctor?”

Tony was up for anything at that point. He could tell that the people working the site were edgy and anxious. “Sure, Director,” he replied.

“Close down the dig for today and give your people a night off. I can tell they’re jumpy and riled up. There’s no point having them here working. You know how it is when you’re not focused. You’re more prone to miss things.”

Thinking about it, Tony weighed his options.

Callen knew how to convince him.

“The killer is going to hear about this or stumble back here. Do you really want Jaxon here as a sitting duck?” Callen asked, lowering his voice.

The man looked worried. “Good point.”

“The safest place for her,”
and you
, he thought, “is with the FBI. If you shut it down for the day, and possibly tomorrow, you can help the FBI when Ethan procures us a lab.”

Tony liked that idea. Jaxon would be safe, and he could be back in the lab with Chris, doing what they did best.

Raising some hell.

“You’re good at this mediation thing, Callen. You easily manipulated me into doing what you wanted,” Tony stated, laughing.

“I try. I think Elizabeth and Ethan are rubbing off on me.” It made Callen proud that he was learning from the two people he thought were awesome at their job.

He’d come a long way.

Just then, Callen’s phone began chirping. He knew who it was without looking. “What’s up, bro?”

“Cal, we have the morgue, but it’s in the middle of nowhere. I need you to load up the team and head to the highway. I’ll meet you at the turnoff, and we’ll arrive at the location together. Without meeting me, you’ll never find this place. We’re so far back woods that Wyler couldn’t find this place.”

Callen laughed.

It had to be bad since their father could track a flea through a forest.

“I’ll get them ready to roll. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

Disconnecting the call, Callen gave a shrill whistle. When he did it, his heart quivered. It reminded him of his girl. “Load up our new victims, team. We have a location and Director Blackhawk is going to meet us there.”

The ants began scattering, anticipating a new hive to call their own. As they worked frantically to be out of there in the time allotted, Tony headed over to his own team.

They were watching him cautiously. When he first arrived on the site, he’d had to earn their trust. They didn't want someone from the FBI. Initially, they wanted someone who was deeply entrenched in academia.

That was definitely not him.

The first few weeks had been a hard fight, as he struggled to find a way for him and Jaxon to fit in.

Now, he was going to be battling even more. His allegiance would be split between the university staff and the FBI. In the end, he was a Fed to the core.

“You’re all off duty for tonight and tomorrow.”

There were groans.

Tony expected nothing less. They were damn close to wrapping this up, but now they had to wait. With these anthropologists and students roaming around, they were going to get in the FBI’s way.

“You’re kidding!” blurted Jeffery Whilton. “We’re just about done. Now we’re going to have to sit around and wait? I need this in order to graduate in a couple weeks.”

It wasn’t like he didn't know what that felt like. Tony had done a few digs in his time. He was well aware that the man wanted out of there. Jeffery Whilton was a spoiled rich kid who wouldn’t ever step foot into a dusty, dirty grave ever again. He was destined for tenure and to sit in a hallowed university hall. Tony would bet money on that. Jeffery’s father would make sure of it.

He’d seen their types.

That’s why Tony went the opposite way.

“Think of it this way, Jeffery,” Jaxon said, stepping in to take some of the heat off her fiancé. “You can hang out in your nice air conditioned apartment and relax for the next two days. All the beer and babes will keep you busy.”

Her words cheered him up. 

“Good point. Want to come over, Doctor?”

Tony’s body went tense. Yeah, he wanted to slap the piss out of the man-child.

“Thanks, but I’m busy.”

“I can help the FBI out,” offered one of the team members.

Tony glanced over at Donald Hooper. He was a smart young man who reminded Tony of himself at that age. Donald was serious about his education. He was ambitious, and wanted to do something with his life.

He was the ideal student.

“I’ll pass that on to the director and let you know.”

As the team disbursed, one of the doctors remained behind to talk to them.

“Tony, can I talk to you?” asked Doctor Bridget Seston.

“Sure. Jax, honey, I’ll be right there.” He waited until his fiancée was walking off. He knew that there was tension between the two, and part of his duties over the last few weeks, was to keep them apart.

Whoever said a chic fight was hot, obviously never had to deal with the ramifications after the fact. Tony was cutting this one off at the pass.

“I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” she practically purred. “What can I do for you?”

Tony had become a pro at avoiding the woman’s advances. It started on day one and was still ongoing. That was just one more reason to keep Jaxon far away.

He didn't want to hurt her.

Unfortunately for him, he had bigger issues. At that moment, he couldn’t get rid of the other doctor.

“We’re good. I’ll tell the director you’re interested in helping us with the details. I wouldn’t hold your breath. To work in the FBI lab, you have to have clearance.”

“Can you get it for me?” she asked, moving closer to his body. When her fingers trailed down his chest, Tony didn't even flinch. He had news for the woman. He was really good at accepting or deflecting passes. Before Jaxon, he was the self-proclaimed king of one night stands.

“I don’t think that will be possible.”

She moved even closer still. “I’d do anything you asked.”

Tony knew what she was talking about, and he wasn’t having anything to do with it. He’d found the woman meant to be his wife. There was no way in hell he was falling down this hole.

“Thanks for the offer. At this time, it’s best if you just head back to your place and wait for the next assignment.”

Tony hoped that the tone in his voice conveyed it all. It lacked warmth and willingness to humor her. Maybe she’d get the picture.

Bridget wasn’t giving up quite yet.

“Sure thing, Doctor. I’ll see you later.”

With that, Tony watched her strut away, and he couldn’t wait until this entire dig was done and over with. It was getting to be a pain in his ass. Tony wanted to head home and back to his real job.

God!

He missed the FBI in the worst way!

                               *    *    *

On the ride there, Callen and Tony were silent. Jaxon sat in the back of the vehicle watching them both. Neither man had said a word since they left the dig site, and it was making her nervous as hell.

Something was going on.

She was sure of it.

Generally, Tony was warm, affectionate, and loving. Now, he was more troubled than anything else. Even Callen had the same worried look on his face.

Callen spoke, interrupting her thoughts, “There’s Ethan. We’re not far from the site,” he offered, watching his brother pull back onto the road as they headed deep into the thick lushness of the backwoods.

“Holy shit! It’s in the middle of nowhere!” Tony declared, staring out his window.

Yeah, Callen was well aware.

After a five minute drive down windy roads, they stopped at a decent sized cinderblock building.

There was no sign informing them what it was. It was bland and very non-descript.

There was no doubt that the builders wanted it that way for a good reason. This was a morgue, and it housed the dead.

Out here in the middle of nowhere, it was damn creepy, They probably didn't want people nosing around.

Yeah, that was something Callen would never, ever do.

He could bet his life on it.

Callen was the first out of the Denali, and when he saw his brother, suit jacket removed and FBI vest over his dress shirt, the hairs on the back of his neck stood.

“What’s with the gear?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low. There were frown lines on his forehead, and that meant one thing.

Ethan Blackhawk was all stirred up.

“I’ll tell you once we’re inside,” he offered, grabbing some gear to make the transfer even quicker.

It made Callen even more edgy. It was rare that one of the directors would carry things into a site. They were generally too busy coordinating everything.

Ethan looked… impatient.

Freaked out.

Maybe even a little scared.

Yeah, this couldn’t be good.

Callen already hated this case. Maybe being at home and missing their woman wasn’t a bad thing.

It didn't take long to get everything taken care of. Once all the equipment was in, they looked around, checking out their surroundings.

Chris Leonard took inventory of the equipment they had at their disposal, the tools, and the overall quality of the facility.

“Well, it’s not FBI West, but we can make it work. At least it’s clean and sanitary.”

That was what would matter most to him.

Yeah, and Ethan was glad there was one hell of a bolt on the front door. His people would be safe.

“Okay, everyone, here’s the situation,” he began, giving them all the bad news. “Upon meeting with the sheriff, I may, or may not, have given him all the details. He assumes that we’re housing the original remains here. When I got there, I wasn’t comfortable with sharing everything.”

No one questioned it.

They never would. Ethan Blackhawk was their boss and a damn good one at that.

“Why the vest, Director?” Merry asked, knowing that he was usually only in one when Elizabeth pushed the issue.

He paused, trying to find the right words. Finally, he opted to go with the truth. “I’m going to say this, and it’s not meant to offend or point out anything other than the truth.”

They all looked around.

“When I walked into the sheriff’s office, I got the impression that we were walking into a very bad situation.”

“Because we’re the FBI?” asked Agent Seaton.

Ethan focused on him. “That’s part of it. We’re deep in the woods here, and there’s another issue that may trump the killer being the biggest problem we encounter.”

Jaxon got it immediately, but didn't want to point it out. She was the last person who wanted to throw out anything derogatory. She hadn’t worked with Ethan and Callen long enough to feel comfortable with pointing out the obvious.

Chris Leonard, on the other hand, went there. “Is yours and Callen’s heritage going to be an issue on this case?”

Blackhawk wanted to grin. He could hear the anger in the man’s voice, and rightfully so.

Ethan was pissed too.

“Yes. Callen and I are going to be the focus of everyone here who isn't a minority. The team should be safe, but just in case, I want everyone here to suit up the second you plan on leaving this building. I know I sound like Elizabeth, but your vest will save your life. Put them under your clothes and wear them like you would your gun and badge. We’re sitting ducks here.”

He left out that he had a really bad feeling. It was reminiscent of the ones he used to get when the shit was about to hit the fan.

They all got it, and there were murmurs of discontent, only not because of the mandatory vests, but because they all loved their bosses. Ethan and Callen were great to work for, and being Native American didn't even matter to them.

They’d follow them into hell and back.

It was a testament to their leadership skills.

“If I may, Director?” Tony asked. “I have my own personal assessment to add.”

Blackhawk gave him the opportunity to say what was on his mind.

“We’re deep in hillbilly land here,” Tony stated. Where his boss wouldn’t say it, he would. “Don’t wander the woods. Don’t touch anything outside this building, and don’t start a confrontation with anyone named Bubba. The inhabitants here are fond of moonshining, and they get plenty pissed off when their stills are found. In fact, they can be pushed toward violence. If you piss Bubba off, he and his family will come lookin’ for you,” he said, in his best southern accent.