Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 8

  “I got an early start, Emma,” he said as he pulled the lungs from her chest cavity and sliced off a section of the lobe to have it analyzed.

  Croft lifted a brow at the easy familiarity between the ME and his wife. That didn't exactly make him happy but after what just happened, he’d swallow it. Greyson was pretty sure two Neanderthal explosions wouldn’t be tolerated as he was already pushing his luck. It still boggled his mind how his woman tore at his control so easily.

  “Great, Doc, what can you tell us?” she asked, watching the ME working on their dead woman.

  “Our victim didn't have any ID on her body like the last one, so, we didn't get lucky that way, but I will tell you that she had a juvenile record. When we ran her prints, they popped but didn't give us much.”

  “What about a name?” Brynn asked hopefully.

  The ME shrugged. “All we know is her name was V. Weist. When we ran it through the name database and came up with thirty seven different possibilities in the country alone in her age group.”

  Emma glanced over at Agent Briggs. He was their go to tech guy whenever they needed something dug out of the system. “Curtis, can you get me a name behind the sealed file? For now, we don’t need to know why she was arrested. I’ll get a warrant later if it seems pertinent.”

  It was funny to watch his wife running it by the rules. Just back in Celestia, she was bending them every which way, but now, not so much.

  “Can do, Emma.” He pulled out his tablet and hopped up onto a morgue table to get to work.

  As he scrolled and clicked away, everyone’s focus was on the body and the ME.

  “Anything else?” asked Croft.

  The man looked up. “Do I get the privilege of an introduction first?”

  “I’m sorry, Doc. It’s been a rough morning. My manners are missing,” admitted Emma. She faced her husband. “Director Greyson Croft, this is Doctor Steele Bentley. He’s our ME, and Doc, this is our FBI guy on loan.”

  Croft stared at the man’s outstretched hand covered in residue. The doctor was smirking and daring him to shake it. He lifted a brow and then remembered the gloves in Emma’s back pocket. Pulling one out, he had it on in seconds and reciprocated the handshake.

  Bentley laughed. “I like you already, Director Croft,” and then it hit him. “Wait, is there any relation?” He pointed back and forth between the detective and the man.

  “Emma is my wife.”

  “Ohhhh,” he said grinning. “You’re married to the FBI. Way to rattle the departmental cage,” he retorted, winking at the detective. “I’m sure that went over well with ‘Ford the bully’.”

  She placed her head on Greyson’s shoulder. “Yeah, well this may be my last case if my boss has anything to say about it.”

  The doctor looked confused until Brynn let him in on it.

  “Yeah, well I’m sure Ford had it coming. He’s the most chauvinistic, pig headed, and difficult man who I’ve ever met in my life. He has no respect for the fine art of my job or anyone of the fairer sex.”

  Emma grinned. “You’re definitely an artist, Doc.”

  “Then that makes you the fairer sex.”

  Greyson pulled his wife against his side and proprietarily dropped his arm over her shoulder. Yeah, he knew there was no reason to be jealous. His wife loved him… but still. His possessiveness took over once more and clawed viciously at his gut.

  It had to be the sheer exhaustion he was feeling.

  “Got it!” shouted Briggs. “Valerie Weist matches the fingerprints you pulled. She has an arrest record at age sixteen, and it is most definitely sealed.”

  Detective Westmore curiously watched the man. “I’m impressed. That was pretty fast.”

  “I aim to please, ma’ lady,” he said, bowing his head.

  Brynn flushed a crimson shade as the cute agent grinned at her. It was hard to believe she didn't notice him earlier. Oh yeah, that’s because she was busy ogling Emma’s husband.

  “Curtis, get the detectives an address and maybe I’ll buy you dinner tonight,” stated Croft, not missing the passing look between his partner and the other detective. This might be his way of getting his woman home and alone tonight.

  “Deal,” he replied, typing furiously.

  Emma returned her focus back to the victim. “How did she die, Doc?”

  He turned her head to the side and parted her hair just above the ear. “Someone took a hammer like object and clocked her on the noggin.”

  Croft had never heard terminology quite like that from any medical examiners he’d ever worked with before. He wasn’t sure if that was the norm or the man was trying to be funny. “Is it the same as the first victim?”

  “Yes, and I measured the size of the wound, and it matches perfectly.”

  Emma turned towards her husband. “I need a favor.”

  Now, he was curious as to what she wanted. “Yes?”

  “We have all this DNA and trace that needs to be processed. If our lab does it, it’ll be a week. Can you expedite it through the FBI lab in-house?”

  That was an easy one. “Absolutely, honey.”

  “Thanks, babe,” she said, grinning. It was really great to be working alongside her husband again. She enjoyed the easy partnership.

  “Tox is in for your first body,” stated Bentley as he continued to work on the woman. There was some curiosity regarding the couple before him, but he needed to focus on his work for the time being.

  He had everyone’s attention.

  “She had copious amounts of drugs in her system.”

  Emma would like to say she was surprised, but with Vegas, anything was possible. “What kinds are we talking about?”

  “The report says cocaine, some PCP, and even a little meth too. The girl also had prescriptions floating in her bloodstream. The ingredients to the death cocktail were none other than Xanax and Oxycodone.”

  Briggs whistled. “She was a time bomb waiting to explode.” He never understood the lure of drugs, and after seeing half the deaths he’d stood over, he never would.

  “I sent the tox for Valerie Weist. We’ll have it in the morning.” Then, he paused. “Holy cow,” he said, pulling out a long muscular tube.

  “What?” they all said together. It was rare that the ME could be surprised by anything that he found in a body.

  “This poor girl was very sick.”

  Now, they all moved closer.

  “I didn't get to unstitch her mouth yet, but I know what demon chased this young woman all her life,” Bentley sliced the tube open and pointed to the acid like burns all the way up the esophagus.

  “What?” Brynn asked, not seeing anything more than some blisters. “You need to give me a bit more, Doctor. I’m not a medical professional.”

  Emma saw it. “Our victim had an eating disorder. She was bulimic.” Emma had seen enough autopsies in her career to recall seeing it a time or two.

  “Bingo,” he answered. “This girl was long term too. This is years of binging and purging. I’ll have more when I look at the inside of her mouth and her teeth.”

  Greyson pondered what they learned. “So, one girl had a drug addiction and the other was addicted to purging?”

  “Food,” the doctor clarified. “Her addiction of choice was controlling her caloric intake.”

  Emma sympathized. Being a woman was a lot of work, especially as you grew older. Men became distinguished with age, but women simply aged less gracefully. Look at her husband. He always referred to himself as ‘old’, but it was furthest from the truth. The slight speckle of gray in his hair only made him look better. When Emma got her first gray, she’d be obligated to rip it out or sacrifice it to the hair dye Gods.

  “Do we know what the women did for a living?” inquired the ME. “Both were in excellent shape. Low body fat and very toned.”

  Emma shook her head. “We searched Sara Jensen’s apartment, and we found lots of show clothing. It looked like a flock of birds exploded. There were more feather c
overed items in her closet than regular clothing.”

  Doctor Bentley moved around the table and shifted the body to examine the back of the woman’s legs. “She was a dancer,” he said without hesitation.

  “How do you know?” Greyson inquired.

  The man pointed to the muscle running down the back of her leg. “That’s the Triceps surae muscle. It’s exceptionally toned and tight. Trust me. She was some sort of performer.”

  “Mine look just like that, but I run.” As if to prove a point, Greyson bent over and cuffed the one leg of his pants.

  Emma noticed the room got measurably warmer all of the sudden. One of her most favorite things in the world was her husband’s naked body. It was her little playground, and she couldn’t wait to go back there and explore.

  Doctor Bentley nodded. “Yes, but look here,” he pointed to the lower muscle, closer to the heel. This is far more toned on her leg than yours, only because it’s caused by the muscle being in a constant state of tension.”

  “Huh?” Briggs said.

  “Heels,” answered Emma. “She spent most of her time in heels.”

  “It makes sense,” added Brynn. “The dresses weren’t trashy like something a stripper might strut around in, but they were elaborate.”

  “This is Vegas. We have the most showgirls per capita,” offered Bentley.

  Croft glanced over at his partner. “Pull up the IRS records on the two victims. See if they filed taxes, and if they listed their employer.”

  “It’s going to take a couple hours, boss. I can’t hack the IRS. I have to go through proper channels,” Briggs admitted.

  “No! No hacking!” exclaimed Emma in horror. “I need this all by the books. We’re not taking any shortcuts on this one!”

  Greyson started laughing. “Where have I heard that before, ‘Mrs. DNA in your pocket’?” He referred to the case in Celestia where she swiped the mayor’s sample to find a match to a fetus.

  “Yeah, Yeah. That was your mess and this one’s mine. We’re not taking any easy routes to solving this case.” Emma winked at him. Her boss would love to nail her to the wall with something rookie like that.

  “I’ll finish the autopsy and send you the results,” he said as he picked up the saw. “I need to do the brain.”

  It was all he had to say. Agent Briggs and Detective Westmore were up and out of there in less than five seconds.

  Emma started laughing. “They’re a bunch of wusses.”

  The ME laughed at the term. Most people were when it came to removing the top of someone’s skull.

  Croft dropped his arm around her shoulders. “Where to now?” he asked.

  “Now, that we have the dead woman’s name, I want to head to her residence and do a search. We already know that Sara Jensen wasn’t abducted from her apartment, but now I need to cover my bases- just in case.”

  “Works for me.”

  “Doc, we’ll check in later. Buzz me when you get tox reports. Can you ship all the samples right to the FBI lab for processing?” Emma inquired. It was going to be nice to have the power of the Feds doing their lab work.

  “Will do.”

  They exited the morgue to find both of their partners huddled in a corner splitting a candy bar. Emma looked up at her husband, and they shared a look between them. The two younger law enforcement officers seemed to have bonded quickly.

  Croft cleared his throat and his probee jumped as if he was doing something illegal or immoral. It was funny to watch.

  “Sorry, we skipped breakfast this morning,” he rationalized, shoving the last piece of his candy bar into his mouth.

  Emma began laughing. “Okay, how about we divide up and then meet for lunch. I’m afraid you two will start eating limbs if we don’t stop to feed you.”

  “Where do you want me to head?” Detective Westmore asked as she waited for her part of the assignment.

  “I think you should head back to Sara Jensen’s apartment and ask the building supervisor if anyone’s been lurking around her place. Have him let you back in and this time get pictures of the dead woman’s feathered finery.”

  “And if he tries to get me in handcuffs again?” she asked, hoping that Emma would tell her to bring him in for questioning.

  “I think he’s learned his lesson. He won’t be offering up sexual gratification to just any woman he meets.”

  Both men looked over.

  “Excuse me?” Croft questioned, crossing his arms across his chest. “Someone came onto you?” And off went his blood pressure. “I think you had better explain that to your husband,” he stated.

  Briggs motioned to the door. “Trust me when I say that now is a really good time to make an escape before the large man gets cranky,” he whispered. “We’ll text you when we’re done,” he stated, pulling the detective out of the possible oncoming explosion.

  Emma started laughing as she ran her fingertips down his cheek. “Relax, love muffin. It was only the building super, and he was under the impression that I was there to get Sara reduced rent.”

  “It’s funny, because that explanation doesn’t make me feel better, sweet stuff” he replied as he moved closer to her. “In fact, it pisses love muffin off big time,” he whispered.

  Emma shivered at his breath on her ear. Whenever he used her nickname, her heart skipped. During their trip to Philadelphia on their investigation, he’d learned her nickname and given himself one in the process.

  “Grey,” Emma whispered, as she was desperate to run her hands all over her husband. “I missed you.” She lowered her voice as her palm moved up his chest. “A lot.”

  His body vibrated at the simple touch.

  God!

  What he wouldn’t do to find somewhere secluded to jump his wife. He might sell his soul at this point to bury himself deep in her body. “I need just one kiss, Emma,” he practically pleaded, dying to devour her again. Now, he knew how a junkie felt, needing his fix. “I have to taste my wife.”

  Emma attacked as she threw herself against his body and slammed her lips to his in a brutal meeting of mouths. Someone moaned as the kiss was deepened, and their hands wandered. Finally, Emma regained her sanity. Pulling away, they were both out of breath.

  “Is Curtis really staying with us?” she asked, dying to climb all over him. “Please tell me that was just some sick, cruel joke, and you’d never invite someone to stay in our home when we’re still newlyweds.”

  Croft groaned as she remained pressed against his body. “He is, and I’m afraid it gets worse. It’s not just overnight but for the long term.”

  Emma wanted to weep. “Why, Grey, why?”

  “I know, honey. How about we get him to take the detective to dinner, you and I feign exhaustion, and we go home? I want my wife in our bed, our balcony, the shower, and possibly the kitchen counter. Not all in that order.” He wasn’t kidding.

  She nodded in desperation. “Good plan.”

  “We’ll get it out of our systems and go from there,” he offered.

  “Yeah, then after the first few times, it’ll get boring. I think I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

  Croft laughed at the way she said it. “Absolutely.” He knew it wouldn’t ever be mundane with Emma. In fact, when he had to die, that was exactly how he prayed he went. Greyson wanted it to be the big one while having wild sex with his wife.

  “Okay, let’s get moving. I really need this day to be over. I have my own little Vegas strip show to attend later.”

  He stared after her with his mouth hanging open. “Who exactly is doing the stripping? Me or you?” he asked, following her. The idea of his wife putting on her own little sexy show had merit. “Honey?”

  Emma didn't answer. All she did was laugh.

  ~ Chapter Four ~

  Divide and conquer was always the easiest tactic when trying to cover this much ground in a murder investigation. Detective Brynn Westmore was learning a great deal from her new partner and honestly, she didn't mind the tag team with the
young FBI agent. It wasn’t hard to like Special Agent Curtis Briggs. From his brown spiky hair to his blue sparkling eyes, he was absolutely adorable in that ‘boy next door’ kind of way. He was funny, cheerful, and pretty entertaining. Not to mention, he was smart.

  Bright and intelligent men were always a turn on for her. She’d take a geek and nerd any day over a big oaf-like man. Then, she thought back to her partner’s husband. Okay, there were exceptions to every rule, and he was definitely one.

  “You’re awfully quiet. Want to share?” Briggs asked, thinking about the woman beside him. The minute he’d met Detective Brynn Westmore, his attention had been drawn to her. She was an interesting person and the curiosity in him wanted to start asking a myriad of questions. There were some that bordered on professional and the rest not so much.

  Her baby blue eyes were pretty spectacular, and the way her straight brown hair flirted with the tops of her shoulders made him hot around the collar. For some reason, he wanted to play with the wispy strands.

  Then, he recalled the last one-night stand he’d had with a homicidal nut job. His brain took over as self-preservation kicked in, and his mind began giving out the commands.

  NO bed bouncing!

  NO random sex!

  Definitely NO one night hook ups!

  If he was going to get to know the woman, he was going to take his time and do it right. Once bitten, twice shy was a fairly accurate saying in his life now. Almost being the victim of a serial killer had a way of shaking your confidence.

  “I was thinking about these women, and who could possibly want to kill a person in that manner. Even though this is my job, it still shocks me.” Brynn lied her ass off. There was no way she was going to tell the agent that she was wondering what was under his suit. She also wasn’t going to ask him his age. He looked like a kid, but still Brynn was attracted to him. Part of her was hoping she wasn’t that much older. Could she really be a cougar at thirty?

  “I’ve seen some sick things in the last year, and each time I wonder pretty much the same thing,” he replied. “When I think I can’t see anything worse, that’s usually what happens.”