All Elizabeth could hope was that the media wouldn’t notice it.
If they did…
Oh, it was going to be a huge mess. The vultures tended to blow shit out of proportion. Not that this was a minor thing, but she didn't need them making things up to sell papers.
Her, Ethan, and Callen involved was going to make it a circus to begin with. Toss in why she was working a case on this side of the country…yeah, it was going to be bad.
Chris got her attention by handing her gloves. There was no time to waste. Instead, they got ready to do the other part of the job. With their cameras, they began snapping pictures, just in case they needed to move his body.
Gabe hung up the phone, and he looked grim. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
Elizabeth had to say it before anyone else arrived. “How did the killer do this so fast? We got the call twenty minutes ago, and even with the butchered state of his body, there was no freaking way!”
They were just as puzzled as she was.
“To fully do what ‘The Butcher’ does to a victim, it takes more than twenty minutes, right?”
Chris inspected the wounds. “Yes. This killer was rushed, but still, this took longer than twenty minutes. He opened Tristan Case up, sliced apart most of his flesh, and tried to mimic the other killings.”
“It looks like the killer is losing it,” Ethan offered. “When the killing starts to look sloppy, or morph into this mess, it’s generally a sign that he’s losing it.”
She stared down at the body.
Oh, someone had definitely lost it, all right.
“I think in this case it may be that, and that the killer is screwing with us,” Ethan said, keeping his eyes on the windows not far away. He wasn’t taking any chances. At any moment, he was fully expecting a trap.
“I tend to agree,” Chris said, pulling out his thermometer.
Elizabeth began pacing, as she tried to figure out what the hell all of this meant.
There could really only be one reason.
“This doesn’t feel right to me. Something about this is making me edgy. That only happens when I think we’re being set up.”
Chris finished the math to figure out when Tristan had died. “Lyzee, I have your TOD,” he said, getting her attention. “I think you assessment is right.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“He died two hours ago. This man didn't die after Callen got that call.”
Her mind began racing.
“This was to get us here. This killer is seriously pissing me off,” Elizabeth stated. She hated games. Give her a good ol’ crazy who didn't mess around any day.
This was a clusterfuck in the making, and she hated it.
“I don’t get it,” Livy said. “What you’re saying is that he was dead before the phone went on, and you think he wanted us here?”
Maybe she’d been out of the loop for too long. This confused the hell out of her.
Ethan was trying to tie it all together for his wife.
“Why the screwing around?” Callen asked. “We would have come here eventually. At some point, he would have been missed by his partner, and Tristan would have been found. Why did the killer want us here at this time of the night?”
“I think I know,” stated Ethan, staring out the window. “We were set up, and we have company.”
Gabe headed his way. When he stared out, he saw it too. There were reporters.
The killer had sicced them on the team. That was the only possibility. There was no way they would have just showed up, and there couldn’t be a leak since he’d yet to call it in.
Damn it!
This was his worst-case scenario.
Gabe knew he had no choice but to play interference, buying the team some time. Only, the second the media got wind of him there, it was going to throw up red flags. The head of the FBI was caught at a crime scene. He rarely left Quantico or the Hoover building, and he never went out in the field.
The media was going to have a field day with this one.
He could see the conspiracy theories flying.
“I’ll take them. The rest of you preserve the integrity of this scene.”
Before heading out, Gabe paused to make a call for more agents. They were going to have to hold the perimeter while the techs, Doctor Leonard, and Merry did their job.
The shit was about to hit the fan, and they couldn’t stop it. One thing was for sure. When they found this asshole, there was going to be payback.
He’d deserve it.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Everything was going as planned. They’d rushed to the house, and now they were trapped. This couldn’t have been planned any better.
It was all falling into place.
Oh, they weren’t going to die…yet.
First, there would be suffering, and that would come at the hands of the media. They would have a lot of explaining to do. This killer was back, and they were helpless to stop it.
The plan was perfect.
It was genius.
Elizabeth LaRue Blackhawk would be chasing her tail in circles over this one. She’d never figure it out. They were taking it for face value, and that just proved they were shitty at their jobs.
They didn't deserve to be Feds.
Nepotism was the only reason she was still in the FBI—thanks to Gabriel Rothschild, and her marriage to Ethan Blackhawk. Before the week was out, there would be payback for what she’d done.
They’d all feel the wrath.
They’d ruined someone, and that wasn’t right.
Justice would be served.
The judge was about to speak, and they were helpless to stop it.
It was time.
They had to pay with their careers, blood, and lives.
This was years in the making.
And finally, it was time to make her bleed.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Two Hours Later
Hoover Building
Autopsy Suite 1
It had taken all the skill he had to get the victim put back together again and into the body bag before the media snapped the pictures. By some miracle, he and Merry had Tristan Case safely tucked away seconds before the flashes began going off from the dead man’s windows.
One of their big no-no’s was letting the horde of vultures get pictures of the victims or the crime scene. This time, it was way too close. Everyone knew if one picture leaked, the family of Tristan Case would see his destroyed body all over the papers and tabloids.
They couldn’t let that happen.
Besides, they knew that this mess was exactly what the killer was hoping would happen. That alone added incentive to keeping it under wraps.
When they arrived back at the office, it was already abuzz with gossip. Somehow, word had managed to circulate back to the building that one of their own was about to be autopsied.
Of course, it caused a huge amount of chaos. Not only was the team scrambling in the field, but now it was happening there too.
Agents were pissed.
Gossip was flying.
Most of it was because Gabriel Rothschild, the head of the FBI, was working a case.
They were inundated with questions and speculation. It was clear that this wasn’t just a run of the mill case. Thanks to the high profile investigators, it now had everyone’s attention.
Gabe and the Blackhawks weren’t the only ones under the microscope. While Chris was a competent ME, and had once worked there, the other ME’s on staff felt that they were better suited to handle the job. They wanted to give respect to one of their own and weren’t happy to take no for an answer.
It added fuel to the fire.
The only reason the other ME’s didn't push harder was because Elizabeth Blackhawk was acting as the wall between them and Chris. She was running this mess, and she was going to have her team work it.
If this was her office, she would have ridden
roughshod over all of them, but she was a guest there. The DC office was lucky. She couldn’t retrain them, and they needed it. They’d gotten sloppy since she’d left.
Elizabeth was surprised.
Most of it, she was willing to bet, was because Gabe wasn’t in the field anymore. If he had been, they would be shaking in their boots.
The minute she made her presence known, the other techs and ME’s backed off.
Most of them had heard rumors, or recalled working under Elizabeth LaRue at one time. They weren’t willing to go there.
The second she strolled out of the office, giving Chris his marching orders, he was on his own. Fortunately, he was trained by the best, and he could work under the pressure. At one point in the trace removal, he glanced up to see other Feds staring in from the glass observation windows.
It made him want to laugh.
If they thought that made him nervous, they didn't have a freaking clue. He was accustomed to working with multiple directors breathing down his neck.
After the trace had been pulled, Chris waited for Elizabeth to return for the autopsy. Only, she didn't.
Instead, he had the other director standing in to do the job.
That wasn’t the norm.
Ethan Blackhawk didn't hang out in autopsy without his wife.
Ever.
Unfortunately, she and Gabe had a mess on their hands. They needed to deal with the media, so that meant a press conference.
It appeared that Ethan Blackhawk was on duty, and Chris couldn’t help but think that it was more to keep the people away than to run the autopsy.
“Thank you, Director,” he stated.
Ethan lifted a brow. “For?”
“Babysitting.”
Blackhawk laughed. “Is that what you think this is?”
Chris began cutting through the dead man’s ribs. “Are you saying you’re not here to scare the gawkers away?”
Ethan glanced over his shoulder and toward the glass window. One icy stare and they moved silently out of the room. “Maybe a little. Elizabeth asked that I make sure you’re safe.”
He laughed. “I’m in the FBI building. I think this is about as safe as it gets. Unless I lose a finger with a scalpel or cutters, I think I can stay out of trouble.”
There was a pause.
Chris glanced up.
“I actually wanted to talk to you, Doctor.”
“About?” Chris asked.
“You sleeping with my wife.”
His eyes went big. “Uh, that was a long time ago, and there wasn’t sex. I swear.”
“So you didn’t want to have sex with her?”
Chris knew this was a dangerous discussion. There was a great deal on the line. “I suppose you want me to be honest.”
“I’d like that, especially since we’re friends.”
He had a point. They were friends.
“Honestly, I wanted to. I tried to. Hell! I even planned a romantic evening where I was going to throw everything I had at her.”
Ethan’s face remained blank.
“And?”
“She shot me down. We shared one passion filled kiss, only to realize that it was like kissing a sister. Neither of us felt it. We laughed about it afterwards, and for years it’s been the running joke.”
Ethan believed them.
“Are you pissed?” Chris asked. “I’m not in love with your wife. Well, I am in love with her, but in a very sister and brother kind of way. At the beginning, I was turned on by her looks and sweetness. Now I realize that she’s not my type. Cyra is. I love my wife.”
Blackhawk grinned. “I know.”
“Then why are you heading up the inquisition?”
“We’re friends. I wanted to see if you’d really just say it to my face. There’s tension between your family and mine, and I need to figure out where it’s originating from.”
Chris held his breath.
Was he that transparent?
“What gives, Chris?”
Like he didn't lie about the kiss, Chris couldn’t lie to Ethan since he threw down the friendship card.
“It’s Cyra. She’s not adjusted to my life in the FBI. She’s also a little wary of Elizabeth. I think the two men thing freaks her out.”
“Why?”
“I think she believes Elizabeth is a man collector.”
Chris removed the man’s liver and placed it on the table to begin slicing off a section to do the tox.
“You realize that’s not even close, right?”
He laughed. “I came first. If she was collecting, don’t you think she would have had me by now?”
Ethan laughed. “Likely.”
“Besides, I told you. Gabe and Livy broke her. I slept beside her for those days, and I didn't take advantage of her. Now I’m married, and I made a commitment to my wife. I wouldn’t go there even if she was available.”
“I believe you.”
“Thanks for that. I figured you’d be angry.”
Ethan leaned against the wall. “If I thought you were trying to have sex with Elizabeth, I would be. I see how you are around her. Even with Tony, you two act like big brothers. I know. I have the distinct pleasure of being one.”
“So we’re good?”
“Hell no!”
“What now?” Chris asked, the scalpel pausing in his hand.
“What killed him?” he asked, pointing at Tristan.
Chris laughed. “Are you kidding me?”
Ethan grinned.
“Was all this leading up to that question?”
“Yes.”
“You’re devious.”
“She is more straight forward, but I like to study people. You are an interesting man, and the more I find out about you and Lyzee, the more curious I am.”
“I love her, and he’s dead. There you go. Run with it.”
Blackhawk grinned. “You can do better than that.”
“He died a horrible death. That’s all I have.”
Ethan knew the man hated giving out details, so instead, he offered up a few of his own. “Tristan Case wasn’t tied down, and that’s one more thing the original ‘Butcher’ would have done. If there are no ligature marks, then that likely means he has to have been killed another way. If the killer came at me, I would have fought tooth and nail. So, I guess what I’m asking you is does he have any defensive wounds?”
Chris put down his scalpel and began running his fingers across the man’s head. He had the throat open, and he could tell he wasn’t strangled. Tristan’s hyoid was intact and there were no bruises or ligature marks on his neck.
As he examined the victim’s skull, his fingers passed over something on the back of his head.
He stopped.
“I think I found something.”
Ethan moved closer. “What?”
“There seems to be some damage to the occipital bone on the back of his head. We might have blunt force trauma. I won’t know until I open up his skull, but that’s likely what took him down.”
Ethan made notes.
“Tristan still has all his blood, unlike the director.”
“Wow, Doctor Leonard, you’re being helpful and didn't even put up a fight. That is so unlike you.”
“Yes, I’m aware. She tolerates my jackassery a little more than you will. I’m not baiting the boss man tiger.”
Blackhawk was amused. Little did the world know, but he was the easier going of the two directors.
As Ethan was about to ask more questions, the autopsy suite door swung open and a man raced into the room.
Ethan went for his gun and moved between the man and their ME.
Then he recognized him.
Ethan was more than a little surprised.
“Where’s my partner?” Jay Melrose asked. He frantically looked around the room, before his eyes fell onto the form on the metal table.
Blackhawk didn't move.
It took seconds for Jay Melrose to realize who stood before him, blocking his
route. “Ethan?” he asked, his eyes focusing on the one man. “What the hell? Is that really you?”
Ethan moved closer.
“Jay,” he said, holding out his hand.
Instead of taking it, Jay hugged him.
Blackhawk patted him on the back.
“What the hell happened? I was sleeping, and I got a call from another agent that Tristan was dead. They have to be yanking my chain, right?”
“I’m sorry, Jay, but they aren’t.”
He stared at him. “I don’t get it. We were out on a case, and then we took yesterday off. We were due back in this morning to head out. How did this happen?”
Before he could say anything, Callen entered the room, a folder under his arm. Immediately, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Uh, I guess I’m a little late,” Callen stated. “I was coming to give you Tristan and his partner’s file.”
Ethan stared at his old friend. “You really shouldn’t be here,” he stated.
“Since when do you follow the rules, Blackhawk? Your one goal in life was to break as many as possible.”
What could he say about that?
It was the damn truth.
Instead, Ethan took control and made introductions.
“This, Jay, is Director Whitefox, and this is our ME, Doctor Christopher Leonard.”
He stared at the doctor holding the scalpel. “I remember you. A while back weren’t you working here?”
As the introductions started, Chris pulled the sheet over the victim. He wasn’t sure what Ethan planned on doing. This had the potential to be volatile.
“Yes, I’ve worked a few cases you were handling when I was here at this office. I’ve worked with both of you back then.”
That shocked Blackhawk.
“Did you?”
Chris nodded.
Ethan began wracking his brain as he tried to recall ever working with Chris before Elizabeth.
He just couldn’t place the memories.
Why didn’t he recall him?
Chris wasn’t surprised that he had blended into the surroundings, and that he’d been invisible. Frankly, most of the agents never even paid attention to the ME or tech staff. They were merely a means to an end. They needed information, and the ME got it for them. Unlike Elizabeth, most agents didn't bother to get attached or pick a specific ME for their team. They took whatever the rotation provided. Other than Elizabeth, most Feds back then only wanted a hard copy of the report. There was very little interaction.
Choices will Destroy (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 14) Page 16