Hell Is Burning (26 page)

He patted them on the shoulders before heading in. Chris Ford happened to like, and respect, the Crofts. He also liked riling them up.

Outside the door, Emma was trying to calm down.

“Are you going to be okay?” Greyson asked, knowing how she felt. It took a lot to piss his wife off, but one sure fire way was to go after the people she loved.

“Yeah, I will.”

He kissed her. When he wouldn’t release her head from the palms of his hands, she stared up at him.

“Greyson,” she protested, right before his mouth found hers again.

Honestly, he didn't care what she was thinking or for that matter, protesting. Croft didn't give a shit as his agents walked past them, staring at the two people locked in a kiss.

This was his woman.

She was his world.

Plus, it befuddled the people who worked under him. They didn't understand how the ‘Ice King’ got a smoking hot babe to be his.

It befuddled them almost as much as to why she didn't leave after getting Mason’s inheritance. He knew what they were thinking, and it amused him to no end.

When he broke away, she wasn’t angry.

“I needed that, babe. Thank you.”

And here was why she was his wife. He could get all caveman-like, and she never protested. This was what Curtis needed to find.

“We should see how the team did in the field. Here comes Paris and Tessa now.”

As the duo headed toward them, Paris was laughing, and Tessa was staring down at him like he was the next coming of Christ.

There was love.

It was a beautiful thing that they struggled but made it through the fire to the other side. Nothing would break them now that they worked it out.

“Hey, bosses!” Tessa said, following Paris into the room.

“I hope everyone got their jobs done,” Croft said. “I hate to beat people this early in a case.”

Emma laughed. “You love doing that.”

“I know. It’s my gift.”

Everyone laughed because they knew it wasn’t true. Greyson Croft was pretty laid back once you got past the prickly, icy exterior. There were boundaries, and you just had to know where they were. After that, it was a cake walk. He took care of his team.

“Mace, how about you start us off?”

Before he began, Emma explained to the team how the media was all stirred up when they arrived.

No one was surprised.

“You can say that again,” Detective Bristol stated. “There was one reporter in particular, and he was asking a lot of questions--ones that he shouldn’t have any a clue about.”

“Like?”

“I’m talking about the details like the pillowcase, the rope that was used, and why the women all looked the same.”

That didn't make any of them happy.

Those were things that shouldn’t be out there for the public to know. That was how they pinned down their suspect, and broke the case wide open. All the fine details were important when the case went to trial.

“What else did you hear?” Croft asked.

“He’s a cocky dick too. He was bragging to the other reporters that he has a secret source.”

There was nothing a cop hated more than hearing that. A source was likely someone on the inside who had a bone to pick with the lead detective.

It happened all the time.

Loose lips sunk investigations, and it appeared that someone had it in for Emma.

Great.

“We can add that to our list of things to follow-up on,” Emma stated. “It looks like we have to charm a reporter out of a name or locate a copy of the email he received.”

That was going to be a colossal waste of their time, and they all knew it. Reporters didn't like giving up confidential informants, and they often used their Constitutional rights as a way around it.

Well, shit!

“Next?” Emma said, motioning toward Greyson’s profiler and agent. They were sitting side by side, and she could tell that Tessa’s hand was on Paris’s leg. It was something Emma did all the time when she was sitting by Greyson.

“We spoke to Marleen Web. She didn't give us anything that we didn't already have,” Tessa offered. “She was able to nail down the first victim’s timeline.”

“Great. Break it down for us.”

Tessa continued, “The victim was supposed to meet her at the gym for their evening workout. When she didn't show, Marleen panicked. She began tracing her steps until she found her car with purse inside. Long story short, her opinion is that cops suck, she played detective, and our first vic made it to the gym but never checked in.”

“Could that be our ground zero?” asked Emma.

No one knew for sure.

“We’ll have to work on that. For all we know, the killer used her vehicle. If we have a watcher, he’d know her routine,” stated Paris.

He had a very valid point.

“And Noah Smith?” Croft asked.

Both Tessa and Paris began laughing at the mere mention of his name.

“What?” Emma asked. “What’s so funny?”

Tessa hated the man. “Well, he was useless and claims to be at work the night she went missing.” She told them the rest, especially about the woman being a little over the top when it came to reality.

“They weren’t engaged?” Mace asked. “So she made it all up?”

“Honestly, you can’t buy anything you see on social media. People tend to lie to impress their peers,” Paris stated. “You’d be amazed by the studies on this topic. Even people who never lie are more apt to do so when it comes to a public forum like social media.”

Tessa continued, “What Noah was most interested in were women. In fact, you came up in the conversation, boss,” she said, grinning.

Emma lifted a brow. “How? I don’t know him.”

When Tessa told them about the conversation, Greyson Croft looked like he was going to climb the walls.

Paris laughed. “While you’re mean when men hit on you, Emma, from your husband’s response, Noah Smith has just been marked for death.”

It made Emma laugh. If there was a man on the planet that Greyson didn't give the hairy eyeball to, that would be impressive.

Greyson growled.

It was time to press on before Croft had a stroke.

“Now that we started the legwork, I need you to take our victims and run their financials. Since both were single, we need to know how the killer crossed their paths. This lunatic is picking them from somewhere.”

“And Brynn?” Ford asked. “How do you want to play that one? I did Curtis’s interview, but locking down that he didn't come in contact with these women will give him a better defense.”

They agreed.

“Since Brynn was married, by state law, we can access all of their financials if Curtis okays it,” Greyson stated. There was no way they weren’t going to get his permission first. He might have been a Fed, but he refused to stomp all over his rights.

Tessa raised her hand. “I’ll go ask him. Since he’s my partner, it might be less confrontational if it comes from me. We don’t need this stirred up more than it already is.”

She was right.

Emma was glad that Tessa had volunteered. Now she could cross one more thing off her list.

“What’s next, lead Detective?” asked Greyson. “This is your show.”

They didn't have a lot to work with, so there was really only one thing they could do.

“We’re going to head down to autopsy,” Emma stated. “I know Steele won’t be done, but that’s even better. I can catch him off guard, and maybe get some details before the report is issued. If we have a leak, I want to know if there are any scary surprises before I’m alerted in tomorrow’s paper.”

They all understood her concern. A reporter leaking details was a bitch.

Ford stood. “I have to check in with my office. If I’m out of there for too long, shit hits the fan. The detectives are like children. They’ll forget to work and burn the place down. Someone has to babysit them.”

Emma laughed and so did Mace.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, lifting a brow as he scowled.

“They won’t start a fire,” she reassured. “They’ll be tossing your desk to find anything you don’t want them to find.”

“I locked my door. They aren’t getting in there.”

They laughed harder.

“Why is that so damn funny?” he demanded.

“You have a room full of curious people, and Detective Spencer can pick anything with two paperclips. He may, or may not, have done it before. By the way, you look cute in a Hawaiian shirt.”

It took a second, but then Ford got it. He had pictures in his desk.

“Shit!” he muttered before rushing out.

Greyson led Emma to the elevator. “You riled him up for nothing.”

She shook her head. “No, not for nothing, babe. That was for Curtis. I like to play fair.”

Croft waited until the doors closed, and he kissed her. When they broke apart and she grinned, Greyson fell even more in love with his wife.

“You’re trouble, Mrs. Croft.”

Oh, he had no idea.

       
         
* * *
  Croft & Croft  * * *

FBI Morgue

Downstairs, they weren’t greeted with cheers or smiles. Instead, Doctor Steele Bentley simply glanced up when he heard them approached and muttered only one, single, solitary word.

“No.”

Emma started laughing. This was something she missed not working with him at the LVPD morgue. They had built a repartee over the last year.

They were a family built by the cold, callousness of death.

Emma knew how to get him going, so she played along. “You don’t want to ride with us to the commissioner’s charity ball? Okay. We had plenty of room in the limo for you and Dante.”

Steele wasn’t falling for it. “You and I both know you didn't come down here for that, so nice try. We’ve done this dance before, Detective. You can’t make me talk.”

Emma pulled on a pair of gloves. “I came to ask you if you needed help. I can hold a spleen or kidney for you.”

Steele stared at her. “You’re lucky your husband is sexy, or I’d be irritated with the company.”

“Hey! I’m not some cheap piece of ass you can ogle,” Greyson replied.

All the female techs looked up at that one sentence. Greyson felt the flush up his skin.

Maybe he was.

Steele finally gave up. “You win. At first, she was manually strangled, and then strung up. Her hyoid isn't broken, which fits with the original method of strangulation. The killer was way too high up on her throat. Brynn’s hyoid was broken, and that’s just one more thing that sets this apart. The method of strangulation was different. Brynn was the only one alive at the time. The rope did the job, not someone’s hands.”

Emma was thinking about what he had said, so Greyson spoke for her, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. As to her external injuries, her face was pummeled with something, but we don’t know quite what. The team swept the area, and they didn't find anything that our killer could have used.”

“Could it have been his fists?” she asked, staring down at the woman’s battered face.

“Maybe, but if that’s the case, then he was likely wearing thick gloves, since we didn't find any DNA that wasn’t hers in the wounds.”

“What about her jewelry?”

“Gone. Again, just like the first two victims.”

Emma read the log to see what was left behind. What caught her attention were the clothes. She was wearing running gear.

She handed the clipboard to her husband for him to scan it too.

“From this list, it looks like she was exercising. Maybe he swiped her off the street,” Emma stated.

“Good possibility. We discussed the TOD, and everything else is still on hold until I finish the autopsy.”

“Any bumps on the head?” Emma asked, pushing for more. Yes, he said he was done, but ME’s always held back something.

It was like a game.

“Feel for yourself,” he offered, wondering if she’d actually do it.

When Emma reached out to touch the victim, he shook his head and laughed. It never ceased to amaze him that out of all the detectives, and agents, he worked with, Emma was the least squeamish with the dead. There was no doubt that she’d hold a spleen if he asked.

Both men watched as Emma ran her hands over the dead woman’s scalp.

When she couldn’t feel anything, there was a look of disappointment on her face. “Could there be a head trauma but no bump?”

“Yes.”

“How will you find out?”

“I have to take the top of her skull off and dig around in her brain to find a hematoma. Want to watch?”