Hell Is Burning (50 page)

“I saw the show nine times.”

Croft whistled. “You must really be a fan of ‘Sexcapade’,” he stated.

Emma got it. “That’s how he had sex with her. He’d tell his girlfriend he was going to a show, and he’d sneak in with Carrie when he could.”

He looked guilty as sin. “It was always after the show. She liked to be horny during the production. Carrie said it made the act more believable if she was hopped up on horniness.”

Emma shook her head. “We are definitely canceling that show.”

Greyson was beginning to agree. Don’t get him wrong. He was discovering that he liked some kink with his sex, but not on a stage where people were paying to watch.

Vegas was a pit of sin.

“I didn't kill her. I was getting the best sex of my life. I just didn't want to lose Kelly, so we had to keep it quiet.”

“Thus the made up story about swinging with the lead actress telling you she didn't really want Kelly involved.”

“Yes.”

“She wanted you all to herself.”

“I guess.”

“And that didn't send up red flags?” Croft asked. “Son, you’re an idiot.”

The man didn't respond.

Well, so much for sweet and loving friend to all. Carrie Corwell was skanking it up with her friend’s partner. That painted a whole other picture of the woman.

“Did Kelly know?”

He shook his head.

“At first, when Kelly went missing, I thought there was a chance that Carrie had hurt her. I really did, but now that she’s dead, I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“Well, it’s going to get worse, Liam.”

“How?”

“Someone beat in Kelly’s face, and then raped Carrie. That just screams disgruntled man who is boning both babes,” Greyson stated. “Maybe they both called it off, and you were left satisfying your own needs.”

“Oh God! NO!”

“Yeah, start praying. Now’s a good time to confess your sins.”

“Do I need a lawyer?” he asked.

Emma wanted to be sarcastic, but she held back. This man was a big enough idiot. “I’d call one as soon as we leave. You have no alibi, you were working at the gym with all these women, and you were screwing two of them. If anymore turn up dead, you better pray you have one hell of an airtight alibi for their disappearances. You’re sinking fast.”

He swallowed.

“My techs will be stopping by to get your DNA. Are you going to make me jump through hoops to get it, or are you going to cooperate with us?”

“You can have it. I won’t stop you. I didn't do this. I swear! I didn't kill them. I loved them.”

Emma stood. She wanted to smack the man in the head. “Well, if you loved Kelly, you had a funny way of showing it.”

He started sobbing.

Emma didn't feel bad for him.

Honestly, he deserved it.

Chapter Fifteen 

When Mace arrived at the vehicle, he was ready for just about anything. When the BOLO had come in, stating there was a body in their missing car, he could only imagine what he would find.

With the way this case was going, anything was possible. For all he knew, it could be more dead women that the killer didn't get to string up.

He wouldn’t be surprised.

As he approached the blocked off trees, he noticed that the passenger door was open, and he could see the blood splatter on the driver’s side window.

It was crystal clear what had happened.

This wasn’t going to be a suicide. Someone had been in the passenger’s seat and done the deed. Brain blowback was the telltale clue.

“Detective,” a cop called. “The partial plates match what Detective Croft called in. I believe we have the same Caddy.”

“Has anyone touched it yet?”

He shook his head, pointing behind Mace at the tech van just pulling up. “This is exactly how we found it. It looks like whoever did this was hoping some wild desert scavenger would climb in and screw with the body before we got here.”

Thank God that didn't happen.

Mace was hoping they’d find something. This case was causing them to chase their tails.

“Thanks for finding it so fast,” Mace offered.

“No problem. This one came across as priority one. It must be nice to be banging the head Fed. Emma Croft gets some primo treatment. I guess money talks.”

Mace cut him off before he could further insult his partner. “Get over to the tape and make sure no one crosses it. As for Detective Croft, don’t make me kick your ass for insulting my partner.”

The cop laughed as he walked away. “Whatever. She’s crooked, and we all know it.”

Mace ignored him.

If he didn't, he’d kick the man’s teeth in. He was well aware that the Crofts were as straight as arrows, and he only hoped one day they’d be vindicated. With each passing week, more cops began believing the hype.

He only hoped it didn't get Emma hurt.

Heading toward the vehicle, he approached from the passenger side. Staring in, he saw a familiar sight. There was a dead body with one shot dead center to the forehead.

Someone had gone out like Thomas Booker, the dirty cop who abducted Emma, and Lana Dumas.

Their corruptor had struck again.

It looked like someone was tying up loose ends in Vegas after all.

As Max approached, he pointed at the body. “Focus on the car, not him. If the shooter was right here, he didn't touch him. I want you to find me anything, and you have less than five hours to do it.”

Max stared at him but before he could complain, Mace pulled his phone. “Do you need me to call your boss? I’m sure he’s going to want this escalated. This is the main suspect who tried to put a full round of bullets into Emma and Special Agent Briggs. It’s top priority.”

Max rolled his shoulders. “Detective, we have another body and about six thousand pieces of trace to process from this case alone. We’re going as fast as we can.”

Mace didn't wait for him to start. At that moment, he had five bodies and nothing to work with. His shit mess trumped Max’s.

He headed toward the trunk.

“Pop it,” he stated to the cop who was planning on busting out the lock. The keys were in the ignition, but they didn't want to screw with any trace.

When it was opened, Mace pulled out a case. In it, he found an automatic weapon.

“This is likely what was used to shoot at Curtis Briggs,” he admitted. “Run it for trace too.”

Mace pulled out his phone and sent out a text to Greyson Croft. He would want to know that the shooter was dead, and likely they’d bought themselves some time.

That might work in their favor.

When he was done, he grabbed his keys from his pocket. “I’m heading back in. Start transmitting the data as soon as you get it, Max. We have to find this person.”

He watched the cop leave and rolled his eyes.

Yeah, like they haven’t been trying to do just that.

       
                           
* * *
  Croft & Croft  * * *

As soon as he got the text from Mace regarding the dead shooter, he was both relieved and worried. The detective was likely right.

They may have a little window of time to relax.

If the corruptor had shown him anything, it was that he liked to stick to patterns. Whenever a hired gun showed up, and was then killed, there was a lull in the storm.

It gave him hope that he and Emma would be okay for another day. He was scared shitless about the charity event in a few hours.

There would be over two hundred people there, and he didn't know who the hell to trust.

“Who was it?” Emma asked, as they headed toward the address they had for Fred Dyson.

“Our shooter is dead.”

Emma looked over as she drove. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “He was found in the front seat, one gunshot to the center of the forehead. Sound familiar?”

Emma sighed. “Well, that’s not really surprising that he’s dead,” she offered. “That had to piss someone off when he failed to take Curtis out. When Lana was killed, it was right after I killed the last hired gun. Someone likes keeping the hired help in line.”

He didn't like any of this.

The killer was getting closer and closer. With each hired gun, there was one more chance one of them would die. The odds weren’t in their favor. At some point, Lady Luck was going to laugh in their face.

That made him sick.

Croft began praying that if one of them had to go, it wasn’t Emma. He didn't want to die, but he knew the truth.

It was selfish, but she was stronger than he was, and Greyson couldn’t live without his Emma.

He knew it.

“He lives just up ahead,” Emma said, changing the subject. Greyson had that look on his face, and it usually meant an epic meltdown at her expense. Now that he had the fortress, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d try and lock her away in a tower.

Well, that wouldn’t happen. Someone had to watch his back.

“Okay.”

Pulling up to the curb, they checked out the apartment building.

“He lives on the top floor,” Greyson stated. “We can hit the front door. He won’t jump out that window.”

Emma hoped not. Then again, maybe she did. If he was the killer, that would end this mess once and for all, and they could focus on who was after Greyson. The last few months, their attention was so divided, that she couldn’t help but feel like they were missing something right under their nose.

They really needed a break.

“Let’s go.”

She was out of the vehicle and running up the stairs, her husband chasing behind. Fred Dyson would have the vantage point from high, so they needed to move fast. He could take the elevator down while they headed up if he saw them.

Finally to his floor, they framed the door with their bodies before knocking. In position to defend themselves, Greyson knocked.

When it opened, they each had their guns pulled--just in case it went bad.

The man stood there, shocked to have two nine millimeters pointed at him.

“Fred Dyson?”

He kept his hands up and nodded.

“We need to talk to you. Back into your apartment and don’t make any sudden moves. If you do, it won’t end well for you.”

He did as Croft asked.

“What’s this about?”

Emma holstered her weapon to pull up the pictures of the dead women on her phone. “Do you know any of these women?”

He pointed at Blanca. “Her.”

Emma kept scrolling. “I saw her in a show,” he stated, pointing at Carrie.

“What about the rest?”

“I saw them at the gym.”

“Is this the facility you no longer belong to?” Greyson asked, showing the man a
‘Body and Soul’
business card.

He nodded. “What’s this about?”

“You had an altercation with Blanca, right?”

He shrugged. “It was more a spat. We had sex a few times, and I invited her over again. She freaked out and slapped me. She liked drama, and it ended up getting us both boosted from the gym. Why? Did she say I did something to her?”

They stared at him. “Haven’t you seen the news or read a paper?”

Fred shook his head. “I really haven’t. I don’t own a TV, and I rarely leave home. I really only went out to the gym and the bakery for my coffee and their muffins.”

So far, he wasn’t lying.

“Where were you last night?” Emma asked, taking a seat. The place was incredibly clean, and screamed neat freak. She should know…she was married to one.

“I was here. I like to read,” he stated, pointing at his bookshelf.

“Do you have a job?”

He shook his head. “I was laid off two weeks ago. I’m working on my resume while I try to find a new one. Really, I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“They’re all dead.”

It took a second to register, but then he looked horrified. “And you think because I had sex with a couple of them that I killed them?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I didn't. I got kicked out of my gym, but that was okay. I didn't need to spend the money on it now that finances are tight. It was a blessing in disguise. I didn't have to pay the cancelation fee.”

They waited.

“Listen, I talked to Shirley all the time, but I didn't have sex with her. She was into babes, and I respect that. So, I didn't pursue that avenue, if you know what I mean.”

Greyson checked the man out. He was pretty big, and he must have spent a great deal of time in the gym. Well, that and pounding steroids. He could tell by the man’s bare feet that he was shooting up between his toes. They were red and infected.

“How about Kelly Granger?”

He thought about it. “She’s the pretty brunette in the yoga class. Yeah, I hit on her at the juice bar, but she shot me down. She was hooked up with the instructor. I saw them making out in their car.”

“And Carrie Corwell?”

He started laughing. “She was a hot piece of ass.” Fred glanced over at Emma. “Just like you, baby.”

Greyson crossed his arms. “Down, Fido, or I’ll have you neutered with an ax.”

“I did have sex with her. She invited me to see her show. Afterward, she gave me the personal tour, if you know what I mean.”

Oh, they got the picture.

Carrie Cowell was a walking sex fest and letting just about anyone dip their dick in her.

“So, as you can see, I’ve been honest with you.”

Greyson leaned forward. “I think the steroids made you do it. You know what I mean, Fred. Roid rage is a big problem.”

He shook his head. “I do shoot up, but that’s all. I don’t hurt the ladies, I love them. I’m more of a lover than a fighter. Ask anyone.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She was shocked he could still get it up, since steroids killed the libido.

“We want a sample of your DNA,” she stated.

“You can sample me all you want, baby,” he teased. “Where would you like me to make the deposit?”

Greyson had about enough. Standing, he grabbed Fred by the collar. While the guy may be using, he wasn’t as big and scary as a pissed off husband.

“Great. Our team is on the way. You’re going to give them what they want.”

He went to speak, but Croft slammed him into the wall, head first.

“Greyson!” Emma gasped.

“He should watch where he’s going,” he stated.

Emma shook her head as he called in a team. While he was busy, her phone began ringing.

“Hello?”

“Detective Croft?” came the freaked out voice.

“Yes?”

“It’s Detective McGuire. I need to see you.”

“Why?” she asked.

He hesitated. “You’re not going to believe this, but Brynn’s car is outside my house. I just woke up, went to grab the paper, and saw it there.”

She couldn’t believe it.

“It wasn’t there last night when I got home from work. I think someone’s trying to make me look bad. I wanted to come to you to prove that I’m not hiding anything.”

“You stay inside, and we’ll be right there,” she stated, hanging up the phone.

When she glanced over, Greyson was watching her. “What?”

She told him what the detective had said on the phone. Immediately, his face showed all the emotions rushing through him.