Dawn of Evil_FBI Flashback

by Morgan Kelley

  “Like a rash.”

  He snorted.

  “God! Your humor is sick. I missed it. I know you don’t date people you work with, but now that we’re not partners…?”

  She shut him down.

  “I’m seeing someone, Alex. Turn it off. We are never dating. As in never.”

  “Oh. Who?”

  She laughed.

  No way in hell was that happening.

  “Let’s just say he’s not an investigator, and leave it at that. I don’t date fellow agents. That’s a bad habit, and it will get you killed.”

  He figured as much.

  He’d asked her out a few times as they worked together, and she’d pretty much told him no freaking way in hell.

  Apparently, she wasn’t playing hard to get.

  They parked at the house, and there was a man in the front working on the plants.

  Could they be this lucky?

  “Yo! Are you Ryan Burch?” she asked, getting his attention.

  The man stood.

  “Oh, shit! He’s going to run,” Elizabeth said, seeing the panicked look in his eyes.

  “Why would he…?”

  The man took off, throwing his spade and running around the side of the building.

  They followed, both pulling their guns and giving chase. When Alex cleared the house first, he shouted.

  Elizabeth found him on the ground, wrestling the man, and he was soaking wet.

  “HE HOSED ME!”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. He was dripping wet, and his hair was in his eyes.

  “What kind of animal does that?” he asked, getting the man in cuffs. “It’s chilly today! What if I get sick?”

  “Don’t send me back!” Ryan begged.

  They rolled him over and sat him up. “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

  “My visa expired.”

  Alex stared at him. “You hosed me because you thought we were INS?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. Just don’t send me back. I love living here! This is my home!”

  Elizabeth was amused.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Northern Ireland and I don’t want to go back. I won’t survive there.”

  She shook her head.

  “We’re FBI. We don’t do INS captures. We’re here about your boss. We heard you didn’t show up for work the day she was found.”

  He started crying.

  “I went to a bachelor party the night before, and I got really drunk. I slept through my alarm. I partied a little too hard. You know how it is.”

  Uh huh.

  Still, that didn’t mean jack shit to her. The man ran, and he wasn’t here. He needed to give them something more than ‘I was drunk’.

  “I’ll need an alibi.”

  He rattled off some names.

  “My buddies will tell you where I was the whole time,” he vowed. “I swear. I couldn’t kill Miss McGowan. She was always helping me. She was trying to help me get my citizenship. I’d never hurt her. She was like my dear, sweet ma!”

  She crouched down and kept writing down the numbers he’d rattled off.

  “If we find you’re in the clear, you can go free.”

  “You won’t turn me in to INS?”

  “You didn’t hose me,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not wet and angry,” she stated. “That’s up to my partner here. Right now, he’s dripping into his skivvies.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am!”

  Elizabeth called Noah. He was going to do the calls, and hopefully, this man hadn’t lied to them. If he had…

  Well, he was taking a little ride.

  And it wouldn’t be home.

  It would be to jail.

  * * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *

  Morgue

  Noah arrived with the doctors and techs in tow. As they got set up to continue working on the trace from the first three victims, he began his search.

  This was his specialty.

  While his partner, Alex, was more the balls to the wall investigator, he was damn good at finding something in a pile of nothing.

  He had a research knack.

  When he sat, he noticed a woman angrily heading toward the doors.

  “Heads-up. We have trouble,” he said, as he got ready to defend the doctors if it was needed.

  She blew into the autopsy suite, past him, and right toward Chris.

  “You stole my key!”

  He stared at her and played dumb. Oh, he was in possession of it, but he hadn’t technically lifted it.

  His girl did that.

  “Actually, no, I didn’t steal it,” he said.

  “Then it had to be that woman. She tripped me on purpose and took it. That was the last time I saw it, and that means it had to be her!”

  Chris shrugged and played it cool.

  “Well, there’s a problem with that.”

  “What?” she raged.

  “Do you have evidence of that being the case?” he asked. “In our world, you have to have proof before you throw out some accusations.”

  “How did you get in here, and who locked up last night? I came early to do some paperwork, and it was sealed up like a tomb.”

  Chris was not throwing Elizabeth to the wolves. They protected their own in the FBI, and he protected his girl.

  “You know, I assumed you opened it for us. When we got here, it wasn’t locked. If it wasn’t you, I have no clue. That’s a weird mystery you can figure out elsewhere.”

  She didn’t take a hint.

  “Oh, and didn’t your boss talk to you?” he asked, figuring he might as well really ruin her day.

  “About?”

  “You destroying evidence out of spite? He seemed pretty upset when I spoke to him yesterday. I’m sure it’s coming. He’s a busy man.”

  She turned three shades of red—right to the roots of her hair.

  “This isn’t done.”

  Oh, he was aware.

  Pains in the ass seldom left those who were trying to do their job alone.

  She’d be back.

  Like a rash.

  “Thanks for the morgue,” Tony said, waving to her as she stormed out of there.

  She flipped him off.

  “Wow. Someone is cranky,” he said, laughing his ass off at her reaction. “Classy.”

  Yeah, he was aware.

  Noah laughed from his seat at a table. When his phone rang, he got the info from Elizabeth.

  Chris moved closer to listen.

  It appeared that she was safe, and that was all he was really worried about.

  “I’ll work on it now,” Noah stated, scribbling down the information she was giving him. “I’ll call you back.”

  When he hung up, Chris tried to be casual.

  “Oh, was that Elizabeth?” he asked.

  “Yeah, they found the gardener, and he needs an alibi check. I’m going to work on it now.”

  “Do you need any help?” he asked. “I don’t have any bodies to work on, and Tony is all over the bones. I’m free if you need assistance.”

  He patted a chair beside him.

  “I’d like the company.”

  Chris grinned.

  Well, this was going to work out just fine. He was going to keep tabs on Elizabeth and help with the case. He was set.

  Chris was going to play investigator.

  For his girl.

  * * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *

  Professor McGowan’s

  Home

  The house was big, well maintained, and decorated as you’d think it would be.

  There were books everywhere.

  Literature.

  Stories.

  Novels.

  The woman definitely had one love in her life, and this was it. She was a collector. As they walked around, they tried to get the lay of the land.

  “So he broke in and killed her?” he asked, checking out her home.


  She looked around.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  Big house.

  Money.

  Why was there no security?

  “Did she have alarms?” Elizabeth asked as she stared up the stairs to where the body was found.

  Alex, still wet, headed back to the front door to check. He hadn’t noticed them when they came in, but he wasn’t looking either.

  “Yes, she has an alarm.”

  She pulled out her phone to begin going over the pictures of the crime scene.

  Alex joined her.

  “Wow! How come you have a high-tech phone and I have this shitty flip phone?”

  That amused her. So, she went with the truth.

  “Gabe likes me more.”

  He didn’t have to be told that. Everyone in the FBI was aware that she shit gold and Gabe loved her for it. That was why leaving her as a partner had been hard.

  She was smart, good, and a decent person. He just wanted to live a long life.

  “We all know that, LaRue. You’re his pet agent.”

  “Oh, relax. We are all going to be getting them. These smartphone things are the wave, and it actually makes it easier to search the internet.”

  He watched her do her thing.

  “I’m jealous.”

  She handed it to him so he could play, and then jogged up the main stairs to where the woman was found. She’d reacquainted herself with the photos, and she was ready to do the thing she did best.

  Walk the scene.

  She stared at the blood on the carpet and thought about the pictures that she had just gone through.

  It was off.

  Way off.

  “What is bugging you?” he asked.

  “Follow me and tell me what you think,” she said, giving him her impressions.

  “Okay.”

  She went into the bedroom and stood at the foot of the monstrous bed.

  “The other two women were killed in their beds. Why wasn’t she?”

  He thought about it.

  “Maybe she got away? Maybe she heard him, and she was trying to escape.”

  That was what she thought, but something wasn’t right.

  Did she forget to turn on her alarms?

  Did she hear something downstairs and go down to investigate the noise?

  She took the phone back.

  “Look at what the other two victims were wearing.”

  Elizabeth showed him the tattered clothes—clearly all kinds of nightwear.

  Pajamas.

  Panties.

  Tank tops.

  They were all dressed for bed.

  Then she pulled up Mirel’s clothing, and it wasn’t even close. The woman wasn’t likely going to bed like that.

  “What do you see?”

  “Workout clothes.”

  She waited for it.

  “You don’t think she was in bed, do you?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m going to say she let the killer into her home. The alarms were off when the maid arrived. The killer either KNEW the code or knew the victim.”

  Now that made sense.

  She continued, “He comes to the door, knocks, and she lets him in. She was likely working out.”

  They’d seen the treadmill in the office downstairs.

  “She greets him, and something goes wrong.”

  He listened to her talk about it like she’d been there. With Elizabeth, she was always able to talk it out once she walked the scene.

  “Look at the position of her body.”

  He did.

  He didn’t get it.

  Elizabeth explained.

  “If she was running FROM the bedroom, what way would she be pointed if he took her down?”

  He thought about it.

  “Her head would have been toward the stairs if he tackled her.”

  “Exactly. Look at the crime scene photos. She wasn’t facing the stairs. She was facing the bedroom. Her head was closest to that direction.”

  He got it.

  “She ran UP the stairs, and he was following. He raped and killed her there.”

  “Yeah, she was likely trying to get away from him.”

  Elizabeth searched on her phone for the one thing that might give her a clue as to why she was running UP the stairs.

  She found it.

  “And we have a gun registered to a Mirel McGowan. Want to bet that it’s somewhere in her bedroom?” she asked.

  “Hell no! I’m not betting against you.”

  She grinned.

  Yeah, it was bad to bet against the house.

  “Let’s see how well the team that stripped this place worked.”

  She headed into the bedroom and looked around.

  “If I was a single woman, and I wanted to have protection, where would I put my gun?”

  “You’re a woman. Where do you keep it now?”

  “On my nightstand, beside my badge.”

  “Easy to grab.”

  She stared at the bed.

  “It’s made.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Here’s more proof. Our killer either likes cleaning up after himself, or she never made it to bed. The report doesn’t mention it.”

  Which meant, the tech team might not have pulled the room apart.

  They stripped the bed, and nothing.

  When Elizabeth picked up a giant stuffed bear, it felt too heavy.

  Flipping it over, she found an opening in the back of the fluffy brown bear.

  Inside, she found the gun.

  “She was running up the stairs to kill whoever she let into her home. She wanted to get to the gun. He caught her on the stairs, and he raped and killed her there. She had more defensive wounds because, at some point, she realized the killer was going to hurt her.”

  “So that means that we need to figure out how the killer knew this woman.”

  “Yeah, and how the other two connect. Can you call Noah and ask him to run the three victims for anything that connects? Serial killers who stalk people usually have a plan.”

  This was NOT looking good for Professor Prince. He liked it rough, he was heard talking to Mirel, and she let him into her home. She might not have seen this coming.

  Someone was moving to the top of her suspect list. All that stood in the way was his alibi from a hooker.

  “Are you getting a profile from Ethan?”

  She looked over.

  “Uh, is that Gabe’s golden boy?” she asked.

  “Yeah, he’s stellar.”

  “He’s done my last two, but I think I got this one.”

  “Really?”

  “White male, he’s going to be in his twenties or thirties. He’s driven by sex. After thirty, the male libido drops off.”

  “Okay, and?”

  “He’s going to be a watcher, planner, and relatively smart. He’s going to be cautious since he’s not leaving anything behind.”

  “How do you know that, Elizabeth?”

  “He’s not leaving any hairs or prints. He’s going to be someone who believes he can outthink us.”

  “Who does that point to?” he asked.

  “The professor who was talking sex in the hall with the victim. He’s smart, he’s around thirty-two, and he’s a professor of criminology.”

  He laughed.

  “Well, could it be that we have our killer and only have to prove it?” Alex asked.

  She didn’t know.

  “One other thing.”

  “What?”

  “If it is him, why is the mob trying to stop me from doing my job? I doubt they give a shit about some professor at Harvard—unless he’s tied to the mob in some way.”

  That was a very good question, and it looked like that was going to be one of their roadblocks.

  They had to figure out if the man was behind this, and soon. Time was running out.

  Their killer was due a body drop any day now.

  “I’ll have Noah wo
rk that angle too. What do you have planned for us next?”

  “Well, talk to Noah, and if our Irish runner is in the clear, we’ll cut the gardener free. I doubt it was him. He would have access to the house. He would have snuck in so she didn’t see him, don’t you think?”

  In this case, he agreed.

  Plus, she’d figured out a shitload of details just walking the scene.

  Alex trusted her skill.

  The only reason they couldn’t work as a team was he wanted to be the alpha, too, and she emasculated him.

  Elizabeth LaRue was too damn smart for any male’s own good.

  “After we set him free, we’re heading to see Joy Scott’s mother. Yesterday, at the bank, Randolph said she was at her home mourning her daughter. We’ll head there and pay our respects.”

  “And?”

  “Maimee Scott would know her daughter best, don’t you think? She’d know everything she did, especially since they worked together, and they drove to work together.”

  That was likely true.

  “Hopefully, they were close and she was a hover mom,” he said.

  “Yeah, I hear moms are like that. Did yours catch you doing bad shit?”

  He laughed.

  “All the damn time.”

  There was her point.

  “Make the call and set the man free. We have a mother to interview, and then a hooker to meet at lunchtime. Oh, and she thinks I’m heading there to get laid.”

  He didn’t miss a beat.

  “Can I take pictures? I’ll be very quiet, LaRue.”

  She snorted.

  He cracked her up.

  “And you wonder why you’re single, sleeping alone, and having to jerk off.”

  He wasn’t surprised that she went there.

  “Well, we know it’s not my personality. You love me, LaRue, I can tell.”

  Yeah, well, she had news for him.

  She was a one guy kind of gal.

  “Want to get some dry clothes?” she asked. “I can hear you squishing when you walk.”

  “I have a pullover in the ride. I’ll be good. Why be dry and warm? This makes it so much more exciting, don’t you think?” he teased.

  Oh, she was sure.

  For now, she was on a roll, and she couldn’t wait to get to the next stop.

  Elizabeth was back in the game.

  And heads were going to roll.