Past Will Haunt (10 page)

Livy laughed. “Yes, it was. You don’t think it was a compliment?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Uh, no.”

Livy patted her on the back. “Don’t take it personally. I didn't mean it like that.”

“You told me I think like a killer. How am I supposed to let that one slide?”

“I didn't say you were a killer. There’s a huge difference. You get into their minds and root around. It’s why you can solve these cases. You have a special skill, don’t you think?”

She had a point.

“Where to now?” Livy asked. “We raided this woman’s panty drawer, and there really wasn’t anything to find.”

Elizabeth glanced out the woman’s window at the surrounding buildings. “There are a lot of mourners out there. Maybe we should talk to them.”

“That works for me. Want to play divide and conquer?” Livy asked.

Elizabeth nodded before tugging off her gloves. “Good luck. I’ll meet you back on the porch in a couple of hours. Then we’ll see what we dug up in the canvas.”

“Deal.”

With that, they headed out.

Hopefully, they found something they could work with. If not, they were batting a big fat zero.

Still.

       
         
* * *
  B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x   * * *

J. Edgar Hoover

Building

Gabe was in his office working on a file when Ethan Blackhawk knocked on his door.

When he glanced up, he motioned for the man to enter. “Come on in, Ethan.”

“Hey, boss, I just went over those two files. The agent in charge did a pretty thorough job of laying the groundwork, so Jay and I should be able to wrap it up soon. She had a good sense of direction in the case.”

“Yeah, she’s got gut instinct you can bet money on. It’s kind of like yours.”

He took a seat.

Gabe stared at him. “Is something else going on?” he asked, knowing the man before him didn't usually like to talk.

“No, I’m just checking on you. You looked stressed earlier. What are you working on? You’ve had your nose in the book all day.”

Gabe leaned back in his chair. “I’m stressed, since I’m buried in the
‘Irish Butcher’
case.”

Blackhawk whistled. “I caught it on the news. Is it the same guy from Boston?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s here hunting, and the director isn’t really happy about it.”

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “What can I do? The director has picked the team. He wants me to use one of our newbies as bait.”

Ethan stared at him, his midnight blue eyes going wide. “Wow. He’s hard up to close it if he’s willing to risk someone’s life.”

“Yeah, this maniac escaped the Boston bureau. He’s on a mission to nail this bastard down. It’s all political, and as I keep getting promoted, I see it more clearly.”

“That sucks.”

“I know. Once upon a time, I was a damn good field agent, and then I began pushing papers. Don’t let it happen to you, Ethan. Stay in the field as long as you can.”

“I plan on it.”

Well, sort of. Ethan wanted to move up, but he would make sure it wasn’t political with him. It was going to be about running a tight ship.

“Do you need any help with the case?” Ethan asked.

Gabe turned the file around so Blackhawk could see it. “Sure. Here it is. What do you think?”

He studied it. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Yeah, have at it.”

He watched his agent. The man’s serious face creased with focus as his cheek actually twitched. He was hitting it up hardcore.

Finally, he glanced up.

“He’s going to be a bitch to catch. Even when you nail him down, he’s likely not going to spend a day in jail.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s dissecting women alive, spreading them out, and then leaving by the front door. He’s not going to have any fear. If you do get him, he’s not getting the chair. He’s crazy.”

“Is that your professional assessment?”

“Oh yeah, it really is. Whoever you have as bait, keep your eyes on her. If he gets her, by the time you get there, he’s going to have her cut apart. This guy is getting better and better with each case. He’s improving his skill. That makes him incredibly dangerous.”

Shit!

Shit!

Shit!

This wasn’t good.

Gabe’s heart dropped in his chest at Ethan’s words. Granted, he couldn’t have a relationship with Livy, but it didn't mean he didn't care.

“Tell me a little about the man we’re hunting.”

Ethan was more than happy to help. “He feels older, and he’s skilled like someone more your age, but he’s also scouring bars. That’s risky. Just that slight element of danger makes me think he’s not all that old. He’s also calculated, smart, and he’s a craftsman.”

“What?”

“Look at how close to the bone he’s getting. He’s handled meat before. He’s not seeing her as a person. He’s taking her apart for a reason.”

“So that means?”

“I would look for a butcher, restaurant owner, chef, or teacher of culinary arts. Someone had to teach him those skills, and he didn't pick them up on the street. If he’s not one of those trades, someone in his family is. You don’t just pick up a knife and then kill someone like this.”

Ethan had a point.

“I’d also go back to where it all started. Wander the area, and get a feel for him. I’m willing to bet that he didn't just pick Boston and run with it. He’s picking Irish victims. Boston is home to the Irish mob and a large immigrant population. He’s going to have grown up there.”

He didn't think of that.

“If he’s from there, he’s going to have left his mark somewhere.”

That was perfect.

His agent was damn good at profiling.

Now his head wasn’t spinning. There was a point to focus on, and at tonight’s meeting, he was going to tell Elizabeth and Livy exactly what Ethan had given them.

“You should profile for a living.”

He laughed. “What? This little skill? I’d miss the field too much. Maybe one day, when I get old and I don’t want to get shot at anymore, then I’ll settle down and deal with the crazies on a full time business.”

“I hope you do. I see potential in you.”

Ethan was glad someone did. When he looked in the mirror, all he saw was his past. The man staring back was nothing more than some Indian carrying more ink and emotional baggage then he ever should have.

He hid it, yes, but his biggest fear was someone would see beneath the veneer. When that day came, he wasn’t sure how he’d deal with it.

“Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? I’m meeting with the two agents who are working this case. You can tell them about your profile.”

Ethan shook his head. “I can’t, Gabe. I have to take care of those two files you passed to me. My partner is off tonight. He’s got a date.”

Gabe leaned back in his chair. “Well at least one of you does.”

Blackhawk grinned.

“When are you going to have a date?” Gabe asked, pushing the issue. He wanted to have well rounded agents working for him, and the man in front of him wasn’t one. He loved work a little too much. In fact, he was on a one way trip to burning out. If something didn't give, Ethan Blackhawk would take that wrong path. Gabe could already see it.

Ethan laughed at that. “Yeah, there are plenty of women and time, boss. I figure if I’m ever meant to settle down, fate will slap me with the cold hard reality of it. If not, I’ll just keep on keeping on.”

Gabe got it. The conversation was over.

“Hey! It’s not my circus and not my monkeys. You have to live your own life.”

“Truth.”

“Well, thank you, Ethan. Call me if you need anything,” he offered. “I'm heading into a meeting with the director.”

“Don’t get your ass chewed out too much.”

He laughed. “From your mouth to God’s ears, Blackhawk. If I had a dollar for every time he grumbled your name...”

Ethan took that as his key to escape.

So he did.

Gabe watched the agent walk away. The man was a handful, but he was a damn good investigator. Between him and Elizabeth, Gabe had his hands full. Blackhawk might be good with profiling, but he couldn’t see the forest through the trees.

His life was a mess.

In a way, Gabe felt bad.

But that wasn’t his job. His agents’ personal lives were just that.

Personal.

       
         
* * *
  B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x   * * *

Three Hours Later

They each took half of the neighborhood. Some of the people were more than happy to help, some not so much. You’d be surprised how freaked out people could get when the FBI knocked on their door.

The second they saw the badge and the questioning began, you’d think J. Edgar Hoover had appeared. People were damn paranoid.

They apologized for the craziest things.

Parking tickets.

Playing their music too loud.

It was like they thought they gave a damn.

Honestly, Elizabeth and Livy didn't care if you were in your pajamas at two in the afternoon or if you were growing pot in your grandmother’s bathroom. That wasn’t their gig.

They had bigger fish to fry—mainly, the ‘Irish Butcher’. He was the one they needed to find. They were concerned with the carved up woman down the block, not the crazy going on in private apartments.

There were priorities.

As they asked around, no one saw anything. For a bunch of people setting up a memorial with bears, candles, and flowers, you’d think they’d have known the person who died a little better.

One man didn't even know her name.

When he was asked by Livy about Stephanie O’Malley, he simply shrugged and didn't have much to offer. Apparently, the only reason he was there was because Seamus O’Brien knew her to see her. At the local pub, he mentioned that she served beer and was a good egg.

Yeah, great. 

They already knew that.

Livy thanked him, and then headed on her merry way. Hopefully, Elizabeth had better luck with the canvas. She was batting a big fat zero.

Only, she didn't. When they met up, she, too, had gotten nowhere.

As the day wore on, they were faced by the cold hard facts. No one saw jack shit. They were going to start fresh in the morning, and all they could hope was the killer didn't take another woman tonight.

Luck wasn’t on their side, but there could always be a miracle.

Yeah, right.

Somehow, they knew that wouldn’t be happening. When it came to this job, luck wasn’t your friend, and fate liked to screw with you.

When they met back up in front of the dead woman’s home, the media was filming and shouting questions at them. They were asking everything that the public wanted to know, only Livy and Elizabeth didn't have the answers.

So, they weren’t going there.

There was no way that either woman was going to give a sound byte to the media without Gabe’s permission. They’d seen him tear agents apart for sharing too much with the vultures.

Yeah, it was professional suicide.

So, instead, they moved further away to compare notes.

“What did you get?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Not a hell of a lot. The older woman next door said she didn't hear anything at all last night. In fact, she was pretty sure there was no way Stephanie could have been killed in her home. We know that’s total bullshit because the blood splatter tells us otherwise.”

“Is she saying there was no screaming?” Livy asked. “This sicko mutilated her. Someone had to hear something. There’s not enough gag material in the world to block that out.”

Elizabeth agreed.

“Well, grandma said we’re chasing our tails on this one.”

Livy shook her head.

“When granny wasn’t looking, I peeked around her kitchen. She had a shitload of pills on her counter. I’m willing to bet that someone takes them with booze, and then she sleeps like the dead. It’s the only explanation.”