The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) (16 page)

It was that little connection that offered peace and calm, Elizabeth had seen it done before
. It was a technique she had used herself many times. It was the healing power of human touch, and letting the families know that they weren’t alone in all this.

“Okay, by then I’ll have told the family.”

“We’re going to have the deputy bring you home. I don’t want you driving anywhere this upset, is that okay with you, Mr. Cory?”

“Yeah,” he answered, completely defeated. “I
need a drink.”

Blackhawk stood
. “Tony, can you take Mr. Cory home, and make sure no one bothers him. Maybe sit outside his house a while just to ward off the media?”

Tony Morel looked over at his boss for confirmation.

Elizabeth nodded, acknowledging that she agreed. “Thanks, Tony.”

The sheriff and Blackhawk watched him escort the man out. “I’ll leave the last two deputies here, to keep an eye on the media and crime scene.”

“Where to now, Sheriff? You’re my ride,” he said, putting on his sunglasses. Deep down, he wanted to know why she was favoring her shoulder, but he knew she wouldn’t discuss it unless she wanted to. Apparently, she was going to be stubborn. Before, he never liked a challenge when it came to women, but suddenly he found it very appealing.

“I need to swing by the mayor’s office, and t
hen I want to be at the autopsy. Are you okay with that?” she asked, looking up at him, her own eyes blocked by her sunglasses. She swore his gaze was burrowing right through her. He was deep in thought, yet able to watch her completely.

“I was thinking about this last victim.” It was as if he had heard her thoughts.

Elizabeth buckled her seatbelt, glancing over at him. “What were you thinking specifically? Was it the fact that she would lie perfectly still while the killer piled rocks on top of her? I know if I was being murdered, I’d fight hard to live.”

“There’s that, and then th
ere’s the method of the killing. Something about it is bothering me. I want to go back to the conference room at some point and look at the white board. I have a theory, but I just can’t wrap my mind around it completely yet.”

She didn’t push
him; she let him keep it to himself. When he worked it all out, she would be the first person he told. She liked that he wasn’t being a hard ass to work with at all. It made the FBI stereotype seem silly. They weren’t always the ones who rushed in and took over, he was obviously a team player and she liked that about him.

Well,
that and a lot more. He was a mystery to her, a big one. Ethan Blackhawk was a sexy puzzle that she felt the need to solve.

“Now you're thinking.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement to let her know he was aware of her, even lost in his own thoughts.

“Yes, I am.”

He waited and then added, “Is it about me?”

She must have looked surprised.

“I figured as much.
Had it been about the killings you would have just said it, but since you didn’t share, I have to assume it’s about me.” Blackhawk grinned, “Should I be happy or terrified, that you're dwelling on me as a topic?”

Elizabeth continued to drive and avoid
ed his eyes, but she had to laugh. Ethan Blackhawk saw everything. “I was just thinking about your lip, and hoped it was okay.” It wasn’t a complete lie, she was thinking about his lips and the kiss earlier.

“Sheriff
LaRue, that wasn’t exactly the truth,” he shot back, grinning. Something in him was pleased that she was thinking about him. He enjoyed being in her thoughts, he almost wanted to admit she was constantly in his.

She laughed.
“I was thinking that you’re an enigma, Ethan, and that’s the truth.”  Elizabeth parked the Jeep in her reserved spot.

Blackhawk smiled, and pain shot through his split lip. “Damn it,” he muttered, touching it with his fingertips, hoping it didn’t start to bleed again.

Elizabeth touched his cheek, running her thumb over the cut, gently. “It’s not bleeding. I think you’ll live, Cowboy.”

“I’m sure I will,” he spoke quietly, everything
in him tightened at the action. He thought back to the last dream, where she did the same thing, and his heart pounded.

“Want to help me kick the mayor around a little bit?” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Hell yeah, Sheriff LaRue. A forceful woman is such a turn on,” he said, laughing as he followed her from the Jeep. Especially this woman, and that was the complete truth.

Inside the mayor’s office, the press was milling around. There was Henry Forbes, the weasel newspaper reporter, and then a TV station anchorwoman. Once she walked in the room, all focus was on her and Blackhawk. The mayor didn’t look happy that she was stealing his air time and ripping away his free limelight.

“Sher
iff! Sheriff LaRue!” Henry Forbes shouted, to get her attention over the TV reporter.

“Forbes, what do you want?” she snarled, pulling of
f her sunglasses and giving him the most menacing look in her arsenal. It must have worked since he stepped back.

“I want a one on one with you for tomorrow’s edition,” he said
, moving back towards her.

“No,” she
replied simply, and then pointed at the TV camera. “Out!”

The reporter was about to protest and whip out the
standard amendment rights blabber, but she cut her off at the pass. “If you ever want another news story that has anything to do with crime, or my department you won’t test me on this. Now, out!”

The reporter and the TV camera left.
              Blackhawk couldn’t help but laugh. Elizabeth LaRue certainly had a way with the media and people in general.

As Elizabeth pushed past Forbes, he grabbed her arm and she winced in pain,
as he yanked on her bad shoulder. “Let go of me, Forbes, or I will be ripping your arm off and feeding it to you,” she hissed through the pain, “in bite sized pieces.”

“Then you
’d lose your job, and you don’t scare me, Sheriff.” He challenged her. He would love for her to punch him. That would make one hell of a news story.

“Maybe you didn’t hear
Ms. LaRue, Mr. Forbes,” growled Blackhawk, in dangerous hushed tones. Whether he meant to or not, it sounded lethal and promised an ass kicking. “Let go of her arm now!”

“Who the hell are you, her body guard?” he snapped, but
he did indeed release her arm.

“Do you really want to find out?” Blackhawk took off his glasses and stared down at the man, until he stepped back.

“Fine, but you can’t stop the press, Sheriff. We have a right to know what kind of maniac is running around town,” he muttered, backing out of the room.

Elizabeth turned on the man in front of her. “Mayor, may I have a moment of your precious time?” she said, sarcastically. “Since I had to come to you and lose part of my day investigating a murder, I am assuming you have something pretty damn vital going on here.
It must be all that pesky paperwork.”

Blackhawk almost laughed
and had to cover it with a cough. It was going to be an interesting meeting with the mayor. This woman was about to literally rip into her boss. She had balls of sheer steel. He suddenly wondered if she ever talked to Gabriel Rothschild that way.

“Sheriff, this way please.” William Argot led them into his spacious office. It was comfortable and recently redecorated. He sat his short, plump body behind his desk
and leaned forward. “I’ll take that outburst out there as just a venting of frustration, and not insubordination on your behalf.”

Elizabeth glanced over Ethan with a dead serious look on her face. “Special Agent Blackhawk
, in your professional opinion, did I just sound insubordinate?”

“
A little bit, Sheriff,” he said, trying not to laugh. He could read her, and knew where she was going with it.

“Damn
it and here I was going for a whole lot of defiant. I guess I need to work on that more. Note to self, be more insubordinate to assholes.”

“Now, listen here, Sheriff LaRue,” he started, ready to protest her tone.

“Mayor before you start, let me just say I don’t care. Today you obstructed justice, contaminated my crime scene and made my job a lot harder.”

His face went red and he stuttered, “Excuse me? Obstructed justice?”

“Let me first introduce you to my new friend, Special Agent Ethan Blackhawk. I called Quantico; we officially have the FBI helping us. Now that the introductions are done, let’s revisit the obstruction of justice. It seems you found a body, called it in, and then invited news crews. Let’s not forget that weasel Forbes, and everyone else with a camera, stomping all over my crime scene. Then you left without allowing me to interview you.”

If possible
, his face had gone redder, and it was all the way to the top of his balding head. As he began to speak, she interrupted again.

“Then
I come in here, and you are telling the media all about it, without speaking to the law first. That seems very counterproductive to me. Don’t you agree, Special Agent Blackhawk?” she waited for him, to play good cop and bad cop.

“I believe so, Sheriff LaRue, now that the FBI is involved, his interference can now be considered a federal issue for Mr. Argot.
I hope I don’t have to call my boss at Quantico and explain he made a media circus happen, compromised a crime scene, and interfered with the investigation of a serial killer.”

He was about to blow, “I will have your job, LaRue!” he
exclaimed, pointing at Elizabeth.

She had the decency to not laugh in his face. “One, you can’t fire m
e, you can only recommend my removal. You can try to pay off the council to get that done, but when I go on the news telling them what lame ass stunt you just pulled, it’ll cost you your job this fall too.” The threat hit home, she could see it on his face. “Don’t play hardball with me, Mayor Argot. I used to work for the United States Federal Government, and they train us to be a special kind of crazy.”

Blackhawk smiled as she stared down the man. He wished he could have see
n her in action as an FBI agent. There was no doubt, he could watch her interrogate and question people all day long.

Argot didn’t want to lose his
job. That was more important than the woman before him. She could lose her position as sheriff, but he wasn’t willing to risk being mayor. He would just toss her under the bus if she couldn’t solve the crimes. After all, Argot was a patient man.

“Now
if you have a moment, can you walk us through what happened today?” inquired Agent Blackhawk. “That is, if you aren’t too busy now.”

Argot sat back in his chair, trying to catch his breath and calm
down.  “I went out this morning to let the dog out, and immediately he ran across the field barking like crazy. When I went over to see what was wrong, I saw the girl.”

Elizabeth scribbled down some notes
, not caring to look at the man. He made her want to lose her temper. “What time would this be?”

“
It was approximately seven forty five or right around there. I usually leave for work by eight fifteen.”

“After di
scovering her body and calling us, what was your next step? Did you touch her or disturb the rocks in any way?” she asked. 

“I know better to touch a crime scene, Sheriff
. I’m not an idiot.”

Elizabeth went to say something, but decided
that arguing that point really wouldn’t solve anything. He was more like a media-grubbing whore right now. Idiot was a second place finish.

“Where were you last night around midnight?” asked Blackhawk.

“Out.”

Elizabeth looked up, “Can you elaborate? Out of town? Out of your mind? Out killing people? See, there is a big difference with the way you can use ‘
out
’.”

He gave her a look that could freeze over hell.

She gave one that was just as wicked, right back.

“I had a date, and I didn’t get home until maybe one
in the morning.” He wasn’t giving her a name unless he had to, and that was that.

“You know we need to
corroborate your alibi, right?” Blackhawk said, eyebrow lifting. “We did discover a body in your yard that makes you look…” he paused, looking over at the sheriff.

“Guilty as sin,” she finished for him, unable to help herself. There was nothing more rousing than a game of good cop, bad cop.

Mayor Argot’s face was red again, “Fine, it was with Sheila. Okay? I was out with my secretary. Last I looked, I’m free to date whomever I want, as I am not a married man.”

Blackhawk scribbled something in his notebook.

“What did you write down?” he asked, suddenly paranoid.

Elizabeth looked over at the notebook and almo
st laughed. She covered it well and nodded in agreement. “Sorry, just some FBI terminology, it loses something in translation,” she said. Agent Blackhawk had written the word paranoid down, and the mayor just proved it. “We are going to need to talk to Sheila.”

“She isn’t in until ten
. I told her to come in later. We were out late and I was concerned for her well-being.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and it took everything to not make a pithy comment.

Blackhawk nodded as he stood. “Thank you, Mayor,” he moved to the door. “Oh and Mayor Argot, don’t leave town. Until we get TOD and speak to Sheila, you’re a suspect,” he paused, looking down at his notebook, “I’m sorry, let me clarify. You’re our only suspect.”

Elizabeth enjoyed the look of horror on his pudgy round face. When they got out of the office, she laughed
. “Nice one! He’s scared shitless.” Elizabeth offered him a celebratory fist bump.

“Special kind of crazy?” he repeated, opening the door. “I must have missed that class at Quantico.”

“I didn’t, Gabe taught it. Thanks for the laugh in there too. You’re pretty funny for a straight-laced FBI agent.”

Blackhawk shrugged. “Yeah, well I did it for you,” he said, trying not to smile and split his lip more. “
I wish we were partners just so I could spend all day watching you with civilians. That’s some entertaining stuff,” he paused, “For the record, Lyzee, I’m not that straight-laced. You might be surprised,” he watched her take in that information and process it. Wondering what she would do if she knew more about him, his past, and the tattoos across his body. Would she eventually run like the other women or think less of him?

She laughed and winked at him.
“I love surprises. I don’t think I’ve ever been given one that I didn’t enjoy.” Elizabeth changed the subject, since she was feeling a bit warm, and not sure if they should be perusing this conversation at that moment. “Now, come on, we have about thirty minutes until the autopsy, let’s get going.”

“It’s two blocks away,” he said. “You want to go hang out in autopsy? Early?”

“Hell no, Special Agent Blackhawk! There’s no way I’d ever hang out in autopsy. I was going to buy you an iced coffee, and force you to check-in with Lily to make sure no one was causing any problems.”

“Sounds
good to me, Sheriff LaRue,” he replied, sliding on his glasses. “I love when an aggressive woman asks me out on a coffee date,” he said, trying to sound casual. There was only one aggressive woman he’d ever had any interest in, and it was her.

Elizabeth made a mental note to be more aggressive.

Sheriff LaRue called the station, while Blackhawk spoke to his partner. Martha was inundated with calls from concerned citizens, worried that their wives and daughters were next.

Somehow
, it had been leaked that they were looking at a serial killer. Her blood boiled, that the only people who were privy to that information were her staff and the agents. Someone spilled it, and now it just got messier. Blackhawk strolled back over to her, accepting the coffee she held for him. “Want to sit?” she said, pointing to the bench.

“We best not, Lyzee. Your
newspaper guy is across the street with his camera, taking our picture. If he catches you sitting, imagine the headline:

‘
Lazy sheriff takes coffee break during serial killings’

Elizabeth wanted to flip Forbes off, but knew that would be a
far worse headline. It took all her control to not just do it out of pure satisfaction.

“Don’t
Lyzee,” he warned laughing, already knowing her intent. He wanted to join her and that would be bad for both of them. Worms like Forbes were all over the place, and it wouldn’t stop the next one from just coming out and doing the same thing. He was used to it. “How about we walk to the morgue, finish our coffee and talk along the way.”

“Deal.”

“What’s your gut feeling on Argot?” he asked, wanting to see her thought process in action. She knew him better. Elizabeth was an insider, and he wasn’t.

“I think he’s a useless jackass, but I don’
t think he’s our nutbag. If he is the killer, he’s either a genius by leaving the body on his property or a complete idiot. I lean towards egregious idiot.”

“Same assessment here, besides he doesn’t fit my profile. I place the killer in the twenties, maybe early
thirties. He’s too old for me. Plus, he isn’t really in shape to carry these women around, and dispose of the bodies. I just can’t see him luring in all these young girls, he’s not exactly studly. What do you think?”

Elizabeth stared at him and
then laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I sure as hell don’t think he’s the sexiest man on the planet,” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “He’s not really my type. I like big, strong, and exotic.” Yeah, it was blatant flirting, and she was screwed. “A man has to be mysterious, or I have no interest.”

Blackhawk nearly choked on his coffee and
prayed Native was exotic enough. “I meant more the ‘
fit the profile’
not so much if he was your type, Lyzee.” God, he hoped he wasn’t turning red.

“Then
we agree.”

Blackhawk nodded to Christopher Santana,
as he opened the ME office door for Elizabeth. “Come on, let’s get this over with, and then we can regroup back at the station.”

“I want to interview S
heila, so I can alibi the mayor and cross him off the list or keep him on it.”

“Works for me,” he replied,
hitting the elevator button.

When they arrived in the morgue, Doc Trudeaux was waiting for them
. He had yet to glove up, and she knew that he was about to happen.

Well hell!

“Take it off, Lyzee,” he
ordered, pointing at her shirt.

“Really, Doc? Come on
. I have more important things to worry about than my shoulder,” Elizabeth gave him a look, trying to get him to understand that she didn't want to do this in front of the FBI agent, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Want me to have Mr.
Blackhawk wait outside?” He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

She looked at the agent, considering her options.
The smirk was almost a dare, and she took dares very serious. “No, he can stay. Not like it matters. I have male deputies and a brother,” she said, putting her coffee cup on the desk, unbuckling her belt, and pulling her shirt over her head.

Blackhawk scruti
nized the woman in front of him. She was tough, but he noticed she winced as she lifted her arm over her head. He tried to keep it to only that, and not let his eyes roam anywhere else but her face, but he was far from a saint. The sheriff had an amazing body. There were curves and silky pale skin he just wanted to touch. When Elizabeth turned her back to him, he let out the breath he was holding. Now she wouldn’t see his response to her body. This had to be the longest day of his life.

Yeah,
he needed desperately to be considered exotic.

Then his focus was pulled to the tell-tale sign that she’d been shot. There was the dimpling in the skin, right below her shoulder blade. He felt the overwhelming need to protect her, like he promised in his dreams.

“Roll your shoulder for me,” said Doc, as he pushed into the blade. When she winced, he released her.

“Christ, Doc! Take it easy, I need that shoulder!”

“Ice it tonight and then heat. Try not to use it too much, until it’s less enflamed. Oh and here’s a thought, Elizabeth. Don’t try to stop two hundred pound men with it either.”

“Great, well, as long as I don’t have to carry anything, or shoot my gun
then I should be fine,” she quipped, sarcastically.

He kissed her on the forehead, like a father would. “Doctor’s orders,” he s
tated, starting to suit up for the autopsy.

“I always wanted to be partially naked in autopsy, now I can cross it off my bucket list,”
Elizabeth mumbled, sarcastically, catching her shirt that Blackhawk tossed to her. Her body heated, knowing he had been watching her, and still was. Great, he saw her in her bra and in the morgue; this was one hell of a bad week, and it just kept coming.

Blackhawk leaned against an exam table, saying nothing.
He appreciated the female form on many an occasion, but he could honestly say, she won the award. Elizabeth LaRue was gutsy and gorgeous, and made it hard for him to concentrate. Taking her shirt off in autopsy, while he stood there, showed she wasn’t afraid of much. And for now he wouldn’t ask about the gun shot. Eventually he would get information from her or Gabe, and soon.

“I’m ready,” said Doc, as his lab tech wheeled in the body. He looked down at the dead girl and then at the living in the morgue. “Ready?” he asked.

Elizabeth finished tucking in her shirt, and buckling her belt. When she looked over at Blackhawk, he held her coffee, his expression saying nothing. She knew he wasn’t going to let it go, because she wouldn’t if it was reversed. Elizabeth would need to see what kind of liability she was dealing with, and expected no less from him.

“Later Lyzee,” was all he said, as he handed her the cup. It came across as a promise, not a threat.

One of the things Elizabeth loved about Doc, other than the fact he reminded her of her father was that he always gave the dead dignity. He delicately checked her body, looking for injection sites and anywhere she could have been struck. He took his job serious as he was looking for the tiniest trace evidence that may help them solve a murder. He called her by her name, and she wasn’t just a body to him. Kathy Cory was a human being that had once been alive and was given respect in death.

Doc spoke into the microphone
hanging over his head, “Our victim has wrist abrasions. She had struggled at one point, while being restrained. Rope is standard multi-strand twist, and I see no sign of injection. If she was drugged, it wasn’t by needle.”

The Y incision was made, and he pulled the flaps of skin back, to show the ribcage. “She was definitely crushed; there are micro fissures across the
chest area, as if large weighted objects crushed her. It confirms the set up at the crime scene.”

Blackhawk stepped back, so the tech could snap some pictures. There were times he was disgusted by the things man could do to man,
and this was one of those times. This had to be a horrible way to die, and his heart broke for the woman and her family.

Doc cut through the breast plate with large snips, and removed the lungs and heart. He inspected them closely, and then scribbled something on her chart. When he lifted the lids of her eyes, Elizabeth had to look away,
so she faced the FBI agent. She had a thing about that. “Sorry, dead eyes freak me out,” and they had since the day she watched Ray die.

“You’re clear,” Blackhawk said, when Doc was done.

Tubes of blood were taken, samples of tissue, and then she was slowly stitched back up, with the utmost care.

“She suffocated,” he said, not needing to say more
. He knew both of them knew how horrible it had to have been. “I’ll ship off the tox samples to Quantico. We should have them back tomorrow mid-morning, they tend to be fast.”

“Thank you, Doctor Trudeaux,” said Blackhawk.

“Please, call me Doc. Any friend of our Lyzee gets the privilege.”

Elizabeth prayed she didn’t just blush, especially since Doc was staring at her questioningly.
It was the same look a father would give his child, and it unnerved her. Add to it, she had just stood in her bra facing the agent.

“Thanks, Doc,” he said, holding out his hand, after the man ungloved.

“Lyzee, my girl, remember to ice and then heat on your shoulder. Plus take it easy, okay?” he pleaded, pointing at her with a serious look on his face.

Elizabeth saluted with her uninjured arm, and drawled, smiling, “Yes, sir
! Call me if you find anything, okay?” Elizabeth said, walking to the door.

“Promise, now go find the killer,”
Doc replied. When she was gone he added to the powers that be, “And keep yourself safe.”

When they hit the street, the sun was beginning its descent behind the trees, and the air was starting to get a bit less stagnant. Elizabeth looked over at Blackhawk, and knew he was waiting for her to offer up the information.