Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5) Read online

  They all stood.

  Paris wasn’t happy. When Tessa went to walk away, he grabbed her hand, getting her attention.

  “Yes?”

  Pulling her down, he kissed her in front of everyone. “Please be safe out in the field. I need you to come home tonight.”

  Tessa knew his big worry, and she was more than willing to soothe his fears. After all, she’d lived watching him get shot. “I’ll see you later, handsome,” she offered, placing her hand on his cheek.

  Gently, he tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear. “I’ll hold you to that, Tessie, my love.”

  Her heart rolled with emotion. Every now and again, she could see the old Paris struggling to push through the walls he’d built. This was one of those moments.

  Dropping a second light kiss to his lips, she released his hand.

  “Don’t worry, Paris, I’ll keep her safe,” Joe said, leading her out.

  Emma and Greyson waited until the team was gone before addressing Paris. “Son, are you going to be okay?” he asked, seeing the pain.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Emma’s mothering instinct kicked in, and she tried to reassure him. “You have nothing to worry about, Paris. Tessa can take care of herself.”

  Yeah, he hoped so.

  He watched them leave.

  Paris wished that he believed what Emma had said. Instead, there was that sick feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. He desperately wished he had his legs back.

  His Tessa needed him, and he was useless.

  Terrific.

  He was going to lose his girl.

  Paris Archer didn't have to be a genius. He could see it coming.

  * * *

  Arriving at Douglas Anderson’s place of employment, Emma and Greyson were surprised to see how happy he was. The man was sitting behind his desk with a co-worker perched on the edge, laughing along with him.

  It didn't look like he was pining away for his deceased wife.

  Not at all.

  As soon as he noticed the twosome were there, they immediately had his attention. “Welcome, folks! How can I help you find your ideal home today?” he asked.

  Emma took in the man’s appearance. He was well dressed, well fed, and not suffering at all. She knew that if Greyson had gone missing, she’d be none of those things.

  It gave them a glimpse into this man’s character.

  “We actually have a home,” Croft began, trying to get the man to focus.

  “Where do you live? Everyone could use an upgrade.”

  “We live in Sky Villa,” Croft replied, shutting the man down. There wasn’t an upgrade for that place. If you lived in Vegas, that’s where you wanted to be.

  “Oh,” he said dejectedly. “What can I do for you then? If you’re not here to buy a house, what do you need?”

  “Are you Douglas Anderson?” Emma asked, holding out her badge.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective Emma Croft, and this is Director Greyson Croft.” But before she could do the notify, the woman on his desk chimed it.

  “You’re that cop and FBI guy! The ones who are always on TV! Oh my God! You’re in our office. Dougie! They’re the king and queen of Vegas!”

  Emma rolled her eyes. This was part of the problem with the media. Their faces were all over the place, making it increasingly difficult to do their jobs. “Yeah, that’s us, but now if you don’t mind,” she began.

  “I saw you on that televised auction. Someone paid two million bucks to hear you play the piano!”

  Emma had enough. That was a touchy subject, and they really didn't have time for socializing. “If you don’t get your ass off that desk and out of here, I’m going to hurt you.”

  The woman looked surprised but shuffled off.

  Croft nearly laughed. His kitten, while on the job, had wicked claws. He loved every second of it.

  “Now, if you don’t mind. We’re here to talk about your wife, Polly.”

  He snorted. “What about her? She left me high and dry. I’m still trying to find that bitch to tell her to pay her credit card bills.”

  Croft wanted to slap the taste out of the man’s mouth. “Did you call in a missing person report?”

  “Yeah, I figured I should. I hope it causes problems for her if she is pulled over or seen. She’s made the last month hell for me.”

  Emma crossed her arms. “Really? I’m betting her last few minutes alive were far worse than anything you’ve had to endure, Dougie,” she said sarcastically.

  “What?”

  That had his attention.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, sir, but I work homicide. We’ve found the ‘bitch who left you high and dry’,” she stated.

  The man looked surprised. “She didn't leave?”

  “Why would she?” Croft asked. “Were you having marital issues?”

  Douglas Anderson laughed sardonically. “You could say that again,” he offered. “Our marriage was really rocky. One minute Polly would be all lovey dovey, and then she would be cold as ice. It was a signal of what was coming.”

  “Well, flirting with your co-workers couldn't have helped that out,” Emma stated, pointing in the direction that the other woman had run out.

  “It’s just some workplace fun. I’d never fool around with Heather. She’s too flaky. I like smart women.”

  “So, when we start digging into your life, Douglas, we’re not going to find any infidelities?” Croft asked. “Man up. When you lie to the police, you automatically look like a suspect.”

  That made him panic.

  “I didn't kill her, but I did sleep around. On Saturday nights, my buddies and I head over to ‘Club Pleasure’ and get our fun on, but that’s it!”

  Emma was disgusted. “Great. Thank you. You don’t happen to know if your wife was having sex with anyone other than you, do you?”

  “All I can tell you is that she didn't let me touch her. If she was hooking up, it was something that she was hiding. Polly never came out and said she was getting laid. I would have been pissed.”

  They stared at him.

  “What?”

  Croft shook his head. “If you have to ask that, you’re clueless.”

  Now, it was time to get their alibi for the night of her death. This was going to be interesting.

  “The night Polly went missing, where were you?”

  “Hey! I told you that I didn't kill her! I loved Polly as a person, just not as a wife.”

  Emma pushed on. “You said you headed out to ‘Club Pleasure’ on Saturday nights, and that’s the same day Polly went missing. Can you give us anyone who could corroborate your alibi?”

  He began rattling off names. “I also have a text message from her too. I didn't have the heart to erase it.”

  Croft lifted a brow.

  “Okay, I was going to use it in the divorce to show she was planning on disappearing.”

  Emma held out her hand. Reading over the text, she glanced over at her husband. “She was doing some online shopping and going for a pedicure?”

  “Yeah, she did that every Saturday. I went to the club, she went and got her nails done, and that’s how we rolled.”

  That wasn’t the part of the message that caught her eye. It was more the internet part that had her attention piqued. She wanted that computer.

  “We’re going to need all your electronics at home. If she met someone online, we might be able to track her emails and find out what was going on that night.”

  It was a long shot, but they didn't have any other choice at that point. Well, nothing until they ran the husband and dug into his past. Maybe he liked brunettes, since he was married to one.

  “You’re taking a little trip,” Croft said, grinning.

  “I’m under arrest?” he asked in horror.

  “Hell, no,” Croft stated. “You’re taking us to your house to let us in. We want your electronics and to look around.”

  “Do you have a warrant?” he asked. />
  Croft pulled out his handcuffs and dangled them from one finger. “Do you realize that right now, outside this building, there are media cars that follow us around just dying to take our picture? Do you really want them getting a shot of you in cuffs?” he asked.

  Emma wanted to laugh.

  “No!”

  “Where’s your car?” Croft asked.

  “Out back.”

  “You’re going to meet us there. Then, as long as we don’t find any evidence, you’ll be on your merry way.”

  He swallowed. “Can I have my phone?”

  It was Emma’s turn. “Oh, while you’re not under arrest, your phone is. Sorry. First, our team has to see exactly how big of a serial fornicator you are.”

  Croft was amused. “See you there,” he said, taking his wife’s hand before walking out of the business with her. Immediately, they were hit with the questions.

  It amused them that the media believed they were looking for property.

  Well, in this case, it was possibly for the best.

  * * *

  Downtown Vegas

  On their way to interview the second victim, Brynn Westmore and Curtis Briggs had some time to talk. He was dreading telling her that he had promised to move back into Sky Villa to be near his family.

  All Curtis could hope was Brynn wouldn’t be mad. They were doing really well, and he just felt like he needed to be there. He’d already abandoned Greyson once, and it wasn’t happening again.

  “You look worked up, Curtis. What’s going on?” she asked, noticing his mood. She’d learned to gauge them, thanks to the look on his face.

  “I have something to tell you, and you might get mad.”

  Uh oh.

  She didn't like the sound of that.

  “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked, getting worried.

  “NO! I talked to Greyson, and he was upset I bailed on him when he needed me. I’m just going to head back there and sleep in my room at night. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She visibly relaxed. “Are you kidding? We agreed that we weren’t going to live together and here we are. I think going slow is working for us.”

  He grinned. “I may still sleep over on certain nights.”

  The lecherous eyebrow wiggle made her laugh.

  “If you didn't, I’d get mad. I like cuddling after we roll around,” she stated.

  Curtis was grateful they were giving it another shot. “So, what will you do tonight when I’m gone?”

  “I have a celebration to shop for. I’m so glad we’re not skydiving, so in honor of that alone, I’m going to buy something scandalous to wear out when we hit up Vegas.”

  He couldn’t wait.

  “Now I’m thinking about sex.”

  She parked the car before glancing over at him. “Yeah, sucks that you’re going home tonight, huh?”

  Her laughter made his heart skip in his chest. They had it good right now, and he prayed they didn't screw it up. You generally didn't get a third chance.

  “Okay,” she said, making them focus. “How do you want to do this?” she asked, pointing at the building.

  “Well, I called ahead and told them that the FBI needed to interview one of their employees. I didn't want to waste time and have to wait until they found him. This is a big call center. It could take forever, and then the old man would have our heads.”

  She laughed at the nickname. “If Emma hears you say that, she’s going to be the one who takes your head.”

  He hopped out of the passenger seat. “Yeah, but I like to rile up the old man, so it’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

  As they entered the building, they were met with an HR person to lead them to the conference room. Once there, the man practically jumped out of his seat.

  Both of them reached for their guns.

  “You shouldn’t lurch at a cop like that,” warned Brynn. “You could get hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is about Candice, isn't it?” Albert Butler asked. There was desperation in his voice and fear in his eyes.

  Curtis pulled out a chair for Brynn and took a seat beside her. “Sit, Mr. Butler.”

  “She’s been missing for two weeks now, and I’m scared shitless. Did you find her?”

  Brynn took over, since the blow would be softened coming from her. There was something about victims’ families reacting better to a woman. Plus, Curtis hated doing notifies. “Sir, we have indeed found your girlfriend, but we don’t have good news.”

  “Oh God!”

  “We’re sorry to notify you that Candice Campbell has been found, and she was murdered.”

  At the last word, the man slumped in his chair and began sobbing. The HR woman, who insisted on staying, rushed to hand him tissues.

  “What happened?”

  Brynn and Curtis broke it down, leaving nothing out, but the scalping. The team was keeping that close to the vest.

  “When can I see her?” he asked, weeping more.

  Curtis took over. “You can’t, Albert, or at least you wouldn’t want to remember her this way.”

  “What happened?” he asked, blowing his nose.

  “She was found in the desert.”

  The man began putting two and two together. “Hey! Is this the killing they were talking about on the news? I saw you and that redhead being interviewed,” stated Albert, directing that at Brynn.

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  He slumped lower in the chair. “Okay, what can I do to help you? I want to help figure out who hurt her, and then send this animal to jail!”

  Temporarily gone was the sorrow, and anger had now reared its head. “I’m serious. What do you want to know?”

  This was a first for both of them. Generally, they had people who were mourning so much, that they couldn’t even think. Now, they had a man who was going the opposite way.

  “We need a timeline for where she was the night she disappeared,” Brynn stated.

  “Okay. I can do that. It was a Friday night. I’d gotten a text that she was hanging out at the house, watching some movies. I was going to be working until eleven, and then meet her there.”

  “So, you lived together?”

  “Yeah, it’s cheaper to share rent. Vegas is pricy.”

  They were both aware.

  “Then what happened?” Curtis urged.

  “I came home, and the place was deserted. There wasn’t any popcorn, no movie on TV, and no Candy. She was missing. The only thing I could find to tell she had even been around was her tablet was open. She must have been online.”

  “Is that when you called?” Brynn asked.

  “At first, I sent texts, thinking she met her friends somewhere and got held up. Then, when she didn't reply at three in the morning, I started calling. I think I dialed her number four hundred times. I was desperate. At six, I headed to the police station. They blew me off.”

  “There’s a forty eight hour wait until we can do anything, sir,” Brynn stated. “A lot of people ‘disappear’ in Vegas.”

  He got mad. “Candy wouldn’t get boozed up and pass out in a dumpster! She was a good girl!”

  Curtis calmed him down. “We know, sir, but others would. It’s just procedure. You need to relax, so we can help you.”

  It seemed to work.

  Brynn was glad to have him with her. There was something calming about Curtis. Maybe it was the curls forming in his hair, or the baby blue eyes.

  He elbowed her, which meant she must have missed something or been staring.

  “Where did Candy work?”

  “She sold gourmet chocolates on the strip.”

  Curtis glanced over at Brynn. “Candy sold candy?”

  He nodded, taking another tissue.

  “Was anyone bothering her at work, to your knowledge?” Brynn asked. There were days she wished that she was surrounded by expensive chocolate instead of rotting corpses and maggot-laden bums.

  It had to be a happy gig.

  “I don’t kno
w. If there were, she didn't say anything to me about it. I wish I asked more questions. I always came home and bitched about my job, but never once thought to ask about hers.”

  He sobbed.

  “What will I do without her?”

  The HR woman offered him a hug. “You need to go home. I’ll tell your supervisor,” she offered.

  “We’re going to need your phone and that tablet,” Curtis stated, knowing he was going to dig around in Candy’s life to see if there was anything odd.

  “I can get it for you.”

  Brynn knew that wasn’t procedure. They couldn’t leave the man alone with it. “We’d feel better taking you home. We don’t want you driving alone while you’re distraught.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” he stated, happy to have the company. He was going to have to face the truth.

  Candy was dead.

  Their place was now only his.

  “Get your things, Albert, and we’ll meet you out front.”

  When the man walked away, Brynn leaned over to speak in hushed tones, “This feels off to me.”

  “Me too. I wanted to ask him when she last had sex with him or anyone else, since she had bruising, but either way, I thought he’d lose it,” Briggs stated. “Maybe while you’re driving, I’ll get it out of him.”

  “Good luck,” she stated.

  Yeah, he had a feeling once he asked it, the man was going to fall apart.

  This was just one more reason he hated notifies.

  The list was getting longer.

  * * *

  In the car, the barrage of questions began, all of them directly related to Tessa’s relationship with Paris. At first, she was happy to answer, but with each passing one, it was getting irritating.

  “So, how long have you been engaged?”

  “Two months.”

  “When are you getting married?”

  “Soon.”

  “How long has he been a cripple?”

  That had her attention, causing her head to turn so fast, Tessa actually got dizzy. “What?”

  “The chair. How long has he been in it?” he rephrased.

  Tessa had a temper. In the field, she had always relied on Paris to keep her calm. If one of them was going to do anything crazy, it would be her.