Dying to Love (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 18) Read online

Page 27


  Elizabeth knew when the lightbulb went on for the man. His face said it all.

  “Wait! Why are you here? Who was killed?”

  “Yeah, well, it seems I have a few dead hookers, and your name has come up a few times during the investigation. We’re covering our bases.”

  “How?” he asked, bracing his body in the doorway. It was indicative of how the interview was going to go. It was a completely defensive stance.

  He was bracing for some kind of brawl.

  “Aren’t you going to invite us in?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “There are camera crews across the street.”

  “I don’t care. You’re not coming in here. As a cop, I know my rights.”

  Elizabeth shrugged.

  So be it.

  If he was okay with being on the news in his boxers, she wasn’t going to say a word. She needed to get this done, and fast. She had more interviews, and time was running out for another woman.

  She was sure of it.

  “You arrested the hookers who turned up dead,” she began.

  His laughter cut her off.

  “Lady, I arrest a lot of hookers. Do you know how many stroll the street by the Hill? Politicians like hookers, and hookers like cash. It’s like a match made in capitalism heaven. I spend most of my shift arresting prostitutes, and the other half telling them I won’t let them off for a blowjob. You know what DC is like.”

  She was aware.

  She’d worked the street in FBI Vice to help curb it. There were even a few cases where she’d had to go head to head against a politician or three.

  “Well, your name came up three times with our dead girls, and where there’s smoke, there’s generally fire.”

  He laughed. “I probably made a lasting impression. Most cops let them off. I don’t. I take them into booking, I make them sit there the few hours in a cell, and then I look for them again to see if they heeded the arrest or are back at it. Generally, they’re back on the street, and we repeat the process.”

  She knew the procedure.

  “I’m glad you’re diligent. That’s great. I’m super happy that you’re one of the good guys.” She opened her mouth to ask another question, when he glared at her.

  “You should get out of here. I need to get some sleep. I work the graveyard.”

  “I have a few more questions…”

  “Take it up with my department rep.”

  He slammed the door in her face.

  “Well, he was a damn charming individual,” Elizabeth said, putting on her sunglasses. The sun was getting bright, and she was running on nothing.

  “Well, I can make you feel so much better.”

  Elizabeth glanced over. “How?”

  “The whole time the media was filming, his dick was peeking out of the front of his boxers.”

  She started laughing. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Yes, yes, it was, Elizabeth. That’s hysterical and so very appropriate. He’s a dick and he was showing the world too.”

  She snorted.

  “Then again, the world will never know,” Johanna stated.

  “Why?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Easy. It was a very little dick. A zoom lens couldn’t pick up that teeny, tiny pecker.”

  She got into her ride. “You’re a funny one, Agent. I think I like you.”

  “You think?”

  Elizabeth grinned. “I’ll make up my mind when you do the next interview.”

  Johanna stared at her. “Me?”

  Elizabeth started up the ride. “Yep.”

  She began laughing. “I think I love you,” Johanna said, buckling in. “I love me some badass questioning.”

  Yeah, didn’t they all?

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

  Hoover Building

  Ethan Blackhawk’s

  Office

  When Gabe strolled into the office, Ethan was working on a profile. He was so engrossed in the work that he didn’t hear or see his boss sitting across from him.

  That was some in-depth concentration on his behalf.

  Finally, when Ethan made no appearance of realizing he was there, he cleared his throat.

  “Jesus!” Ethan said, jumping in his chair. “How long were you sitting there?”

  “Since you ran your hands through your hair, chewed on your pencil, and took two sips from your coffee cup.”

  “That long?”

  “Yep. What are you working on?”

  “This is the profile for Elizabeth. It has me all tied up in knots,” he admitted.

  “Why? This is your thing. You can profile in your sleep, and I’m pretty sure you do.”

  He laughed. “I sleep in my sleep. I profile when I’m staring blankly at something, or that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Want to talk it out?”

  He could use a neutral sounding board.

  So why the hell not?

  “If you have time. Are you working today?”

  “Yeah, I am. I was bored at home. The president told me you handled all the meetings, and even had it under control while I was out.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I did. Are you shocked?”

  “Nope. I knew you could do it. Since you rocked it out, I’ll help you with your profile. Hit me with what you have.”

  He could do that.

  “This feels personal. I feel like I need to dig into Elizabeth’s past cases for this. This killer is trying to woo her, and that means he must have crossed paths with her.”

  Gabe listened.

  “The roses are one thing, the poems, and Romeo. We just wrapped up that ‘Shakespearean Tragedy Killer’ case, and he’s calling himself by that name. Then we have a hooker case, and what was Elizabeth notorious for back when she was younger?”

  “Miss Kitty. She closed more cases using that than any other agent undercover.”

  “Exactly. I feel like this goes back.”

  “But?”

  “I can’t prove it. The killer has scalped a woman. Is that a reference to Callen and myself, or was it simply a message about the woman’s hair?”

  “Do you have pictures?” he asked.

  Ethan sent them to the big screen.

  He slowly flipped through them.

  “Could he be rebuilding her?” Gabe asked. “The hair that was removed was black and curly like Elizabeth’s.”

  Ethan flipped to the removed eyes. Then a side shot of the woman’s license photo. They were the same icy blue as Elizabeth’s.

  “The lips threw me,” Ethan said.

  Gabe stared at them. “When you wife buys you a card, what does she do to it?”

  Ethan thought about it.

  “Usually she leaves a kiss on the…”

  He understood.

  “He’s a sick asshole.”

  Yeah, Gabe didn’t disagree there. The man was insane. This was what Elizabeth excelled at too.

  The crazies were her thing.

  “He’s rebuilding her. He knows about her past cases,” Ethan said. “We had a killer who was taking body parts to rebuild her true love.”

  “You may have a killer who is doing the same, but in reverse. That would mean someone studied the cases or has been watching you for a very long time.”

  That made him sick.

  Ethan pulled up Elizabeth’s case log. He knew it would be pristine, since she wrote them, and he filed them as her partner. He began printing them out.

  “You think the answer is in there?”

  “Yes. I can’t tell how far back it goes yet, but eventually, I will. I just need time.”

  “This case is damn creepy,” Gabe offered.

  Yeah, he was damn right.

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

  Autopsy Suite One

  Hoover Building

  Callen had escorted the team back to the morgue. As he was sitting there, Chris was getting ready to work on the victim. He had his protective gear o
n, and he was staring down at her body.

  Callen was watching him, and he looked off his game. Just as he reached for his knife and began making his Y-incision, he jerked his hand back.

  “Shit!”

  Callen was immediately at his side.

  There was blood.

  Lots of fresh red blood, coming from his finger.

  “I cut myself.”

  Callen grabbed the emergency kit, and met Chris at the sink. As Chris flushed the wound, Callen pulled on gloves.

  “Tell me you didn’t cut into her first.”

  “I cut into her first.”

  Callen knew how bad this was. Chris had just contaminated himself with hooker blood. That could mean Hepatitis B, HIV, or any other blood borne diseases.

  This was three days past bad and right into a possible death sentence, and they both knew it.

  Callen was worried for the man.

  How could he not be?

  “This is a really bad day,” Chris said, pulling off his gloves. “I can’t believe I did this. Twenty years, and I’ve never done something so stupid.”

  Callen held his hand and flushed the wound. They all knew how to handle something like this, simply because Doctor Leonard was thorough.

  He’d taught them all the proper procedure in case someone was injured and contaminated. Callen just never thought he’d be using the training on Chris.

  Shit!

  “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Callen offered, trying to be positive. There was no point scaring the man to death. Chris was smart. He knew the odds.

  They both did.

  This was very bad.

  “I have to head to the hospital,” Chris said. “I need to get some shots and antibiotics into me ASAP.”

  “Do you want me to take you?” he asked.

  Chris was so angry with himself. He’d just risked his life, with a hooker, and not in the fun and sick way.

  This sucked.

  All he could think about was Bethe, and how he might not see all the milestones like her getting married.

  Then he thought about Elizabeth.

  Chris wished he could restart this whole day. He’d erase a lot of mistakes.

  “No, I’ll be good. Can you tell Elizabeth that I’ll do the autopsy after I get back? I can’t wait. I need antibiotics and some HIV shots.”

  He patted him on the back. “I’ll tell her.”

  Chris pulled off his protective gear, left his scrubs on, and got ready to head out to his ride. All he could hope was the ER wasn’t busy.

  He had a lot on his plate.

  This day sucked so badly that he wanted a redo. Chris wanted to go back, tell Elizabeth he was an idiot, and not likely contaminate himself with a hooker disease.

  “Amir, run her blood work ASAP. I need to know what she has, so I can figure out what the hell I might get.”

  The man got to work.

  Chris grabbed his keys and headed out.

  Callen did what he knew was the right thing to do.

  He picked up the phone and dialed his wife.

  She needed to know.

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

  Patrick Singer’s

  Home

  Georgetown

  Elizabeth recognized the neighborhood. It wasn’t far from where Johanna and Brody lived. Whenever she came through here, she thought about Merry and Boone Savage.

  “Have you heard from Merry?” she asked Johanna.

  “No, not this week. About two weeks ago, she sent me an email. She was complaining about her baby trying to turn her into a big bus.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, we’ve all been there,” she admitted.

  “Not me, and I’m glad,” she offered.

  Elizabeth wouldn’t trade her tribe in for the world. They were her babies.

  “I think this is it,” Elizabeth said.

  They parked on the street and headed toward the brownstone. This was the last interview she wanted to do. She and Patrick Singer didn’t part ways on good terms, and the last person he would likely want to see was going to be her.

  All she could hope for was very little drama.

  In fact, she would bet on it. Gabe had busted the man’s chops for his attitude, and Elizabeth knew she’d be the one who got the shit end of the stick.

  If he tried to kick her ass, she wouldn’t be shocked in the least.

  Johanna knocked.

  When the door opened, the man was in sweats, a t-shirt, and drinking coffee.

  He stared at Elizabeth.

  “Wow! There’s someone I didn’t think I’d ever see on my doorstep this side of Hell freezing over.”

  “Yeah, well, the devil sent me to say hello.”

  They all knew she meant Gabe.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve seen you in-house, but never thought you’d be here. Apparently, my avoidance skills need work.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be darkening your doorstep unless I had no choice. We’re working a case, and we have to ask you a few questions,” Elizabeth said. “It won’t take long, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “You work the violent crimes division, don’t you?” he asked.

  “I head it, so yes.”

  “Yeah, married to the boss.”

  She waited for it.

  This was right about when everyone told her she’d slept her way to the top.

  It should be coming any second.

  “Good for you. I’m glad you’re happy. Come on in.”

  It was like the Twilight Zone.

  The man, who had basically hated her guts twelve years ago, was being friendly.

  What?

  Really?

  “Want some coffee?”

  “Did you poison it?” she asked.

  “Ah, there’s the Elizabeth LaRue I knew. As for poison, I hear you’re good at finding killers, so no. Maybe just spit.”

  She laughed.

  “Oh, well, then in that case…”

  Johanna took a seat on the couch while he poured two cups. “For the record, Agent, you can stop looking at me like I’m really going to spit in your coffee. That’s a private joke.”

  “It’s a gross joke. Do you know how much bacteria is in the human mouth?”

  He grinned. “We’ve had this conversation before. I believe it was when some fry cook spit in my soup.”

  Johanna stopped him. “Yeah, no. I like soup. Let me have that at least.”

  He handed them coffee.

  “So, ask your questions.”

  Elizabeth sipped her coffee. “Go ahead, Joey.”

  “We need everything you have on two hookers. Your name came up.”

  “Which two? In vice, I get a lot of hooker time as I try to clean up the drugs.”

  Johanna read off the names. “Their names on the street were Cheeky and Peaches. If you need their real names…”

  “I know them. What happened?”

  “That’s the dead hooker case I’m working,” Elizabeth stated. “We are trying to figure out how they connect.”

  “I can’t give you much other than my partner and I were working on Peaches and Cheeky’s pimps.”

  Johanna was ready for him. “One was an informant. Why were you watching him?”

  He sipped his coffee. “We were beginning to believe he was working both sides. The Metro cops were helping us.”

  Elizabeth listened. “Did they ever say anyone was bugging them?”

  “Nope. They got paid, and they gave us their information. We found both their pimps to be clean.”

  “Edward Becker and Gavin Weeks?”

  “Yeah, their girls wore wires for us.”

  “And now they’re dead.”

  “Do you know an Elizabeth Lynn?” Johanna asked. “She was the third hooker who was found dead today.”

  “I’m not sure. You can access my casefiles if you need them, Elizabeth.”

  She would.

  In fact, she sent a text to Brody to do just that befor
e the day was up. She didn’t want any to ‘disappear’. Call it being overly cautious for a damn good reason.

  “I appreciate you helping out,” she offered.

  “It’s no problem.”

  They heard footsteps coming their way. Both women placed their hands on their guns.

  “It’s only my boyfriend,” he mentioned. “He’s a Fed too. Relax.”

  That was an interesting tidbit.

  Here was the man who tried to get into her pants, and he was saying he was gay.

  When the man rounded the corner, Elizabeth started laughing. “Well, well, well, what a coincidence.”

  Jay Melrose stopped moving.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Oh, this was going to be one of those days. Elizabeth could already tell. The universe was screwing with her.

  “You’re dating Patrick Singer?” she asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Elizabeth found it amusing. The man who’d once hit on her was now gay, but that wasn’t the funny part. Jay was once her husband’s partner, and now he was dating a man who was once her partner.

  What a very small world.

  She never saw that coming.

  Ever.

  “Again, if this is your way of harassing me, or him, you should leave.”

  “Babe, relax. She’s asking about a few informants I’ve used before. She’s not harassing me. I even made her coffee. We’re talking shop, and we’re being civil.”

  He gave her a look that said, ‘is she capable of that?’. Elizabeth got that look a lot.

  “Before you say anything, I’ve started dating again after my partner’s murder.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t thinking anything.

  She was amused.

  She must have her resting bitch face on again. She’d have to work on that.

  “It’s a small world, Agent. I’m not here to bother you. I’m handling the hooker killings. That’s all.”

  He relaxed.

  “I saw it on the news. I also saw one of your husbands heading into a motel with a hooker. That has to…sting.”

  Johanna laughed.

  “She’s going to slap the stupid out of you,” she stated. “I hope you’re ready for it.”

 

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