He stared down at the shirt she held in her hand. “Did he cut it off her?”
Emma examined the edges of the cloth, and they weren’t perfect, but jagged tears. The material was definitely rendered from her body. “No, it’s been ripped.”
He watched her carefully as she wiped a tear off her own cheek. “Honey,” he whispered, only to have Emma refuse his touch.
“I’m fine. I’ll get through this,” she whispered. “He beat her unmercifully like she didn’t matter, Greyson. I just can’t imagine hating anyone that much, that I could do this to someone.”
He leaned over, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s not sane, Emma. We can’t judge him by any standard but that. The animal that did this isn’t well in the head.” Greyson stared at the woman’s face, feeling the same emotions Emma was in the moment. It made him physically ill that she’s been abused so badly, that she was virtually unidentifiable.
“Here’s her purse,” she continued, handing him the blood soaked bag, carefully. “It feels heavy. Hopefully, we can find some ID inside, since a visual on her is going to be almost impossible.”
Croft opened the evidence bag containing the purse. The blood had begun soaking into it, and it slipped in his hands as he dug through the blood-ravaged contents.
“Anything?” she inquired.
“Her license says her name is Constance Hart.” He glanced up at the sheriff at her intake of breath. To make this worse, she obviously recognized the name. “You knew her?”
Emma nodded at his question. “Yes, I knew her. Connie worked at the beauty salon in town. I’d wave to her as I drove by on my way home most nights. I can’t believe this is her.” Emma turned away to catch her breath.
“You shouldn’t be doing this scene, Emma,” Greyson admitted, pulling off his one glove, to wipe a tear falling down her cheek. “Please go back to the station and let us handle this for you. Let me carry this one.”
Emma stared down at her hands, and watched the red stains creeping back into her life. The blood was returning and threatening to consume her again. Inside, there was this need to hide and escape again.
Like a coward.
Like a big, weak quitter.
No, this time she’d hang in as long as she could.
“I can’t walk away from this. Fate has placed me here, Greyson. For good or bad, I’m on this path now and I have to walk it to the end. It’s not only for them, but for me too.”
He knew he could push her from the assignment. Croft had that power behind the FBI badge, but he simply didn’t have the heart.
When she turned around, Greyson was staring directly at her. “If you want to stay on this one, Emma, we will talk about this later.” His tone was completely unyielding. “Do you understand me? If you want me to look the other way on this and trust you, then you need to believe in me. You have to give me something.”
Emma gave up and conceded to him. He was right. Later, she’d bare her soul to the man.
There was the sound of tires in the gravel outside the silo. Both of them paused, waiting until they knew if it was friend or foe coming through the opening.
“Sorry, I’m here. What can I do?” he inquired. The air around them was filled with tension, and he’d obviously missed something.
“We need to get the evidence and get out of here. Can you watch the opening to the silo?” He needed to make sure they were safe. “I’ll help the sheriff collect the samples.”
“No problem. I called Doctor Brooks, and he’s in route and should be here shortly.”
Croft was grateful that his partner was here to help.
“Holy mother of God!” was all he could say. What lay on the ground in front of his partner was quite possibly the most horrific thing he had ever seen done to a human being.
Emma closed her eyes and tried to not break down right there. When Greyson’s hand touched her shoulder, offering support, she was able to continue.
The look he gave his partner, admonished him without a single word having to be uttered.
“I’ll wait for the team,” he said, trying not to look at the victim or the sheriff.
Emma blocked out all the conversation. She was now focused on the woman, trying to do anything that might offer her some dignity. Then it hit her. “Croft, this one’s different. Where’s the note?”
All three of them scanned the area around the body.
“I don’t see anything,” stated Briggs.
“Me either,” added Croft.
Emma shook her head. “That’s not the only thing. Her undergarments are missing too.”
Greyson leaned down to get closer to the body, and with one gloved finger, he wiped the blood off the woman’s thighs. The clearing of the fluid revealed what he’d already suspected. “Honey, this one is different. There’s bruising on her inner thighs. I can’t tell for sure until the doctor checks her out, but this woman was sexually assaulted.”
Emma’s back straightened at the words, and he was acutely aware that there was a reason for her actions. Now Greyson needed to figure out why. Surely as a cop, she’d seen crimes with victims of sexual assault. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered to her. “I’ll get you through this, Em,” Croft swore, leaving a little peck on her cheek.
She nodded, believing he absolutely would because right now, he was all that stood between her and a breakdown.
The rest of her team arrived, entering the silo and going to work on the deceased woman. Doctor Brooks bagged her up, and promised a report as soon as possible. While he did his thing, Croft read off the preliminary wounds to Emma, so she could note them for the file. He didn’t want her to have to look at the violence any more than needed, and this made it a little easier, at least in his mind.
Emma sat as far from the body as possible, knowing what he was attempting to do, and it touched her. The man the FBI sent to her was a good, decent guy, and she appreciated him. Without his kindness and understanding, she’d be struggling to survive this scene.
“Our victim has multiple stab wounds to the chest, and throat area. The killer aggressively damaged her face. I’m going to say it probably wasn’t his hand. That kind of damage takes an object of sorts.”
She typed it all in, blocking out the meaning of the words and just following through with the mindless action.
“Constance Hart has defensive wounds on arms and legs. It looks like she put up one hell of a fight.”
Emma glanced up and stared into Croft’s eyes trying to regain her balance. She appreciated him using the victim’s name in an attempt to give her some dignity back.
“Want to continue?” he offered.
“Yes,” she replied, focusing her attention back on the tablet and the task at hand. The sooner they did this, the sooner she could get out of there.
“There was more violence this time. The killer appeared to be out of control and in a rage during this attack. If he’s now raping his victims, we have a ticking time bomb.”
Emma didn’t like the idea that an out of control maniac was running loose in her town.
It was as if he knew what she was thinking. “We’ll get him. I’m going to call in the rest of my team, and we’re going to find a mistake and bring him in, Emma.”
It was the best he could do in the reassurance department, and she knew it. Emma was going to put all her trust in him. Greyson Croft was her lifeline and salvation against this killer.
“Let me give the deputies something to do, and I need to talk to Doctor Brooks. Then we can head out of here.”
Emma nodded, wishing she was brave enough to go with him. She watched Croft as he walked around and talked to her men, the doctor, and Briggs. Before she knew it, the body of Connie Hart was being zipped into a bag and carried out of the confined space.
Panic welled up in her at the zipper being closed. The sound reminded her of the many times she’d heard it before. The familiarity made her dizzy and off-balanced. Emma stood, fighting to keep from panicking. If she c
ould get outside the silo into the sun and the fresh air, she might have a fighting chance of not being physically ill. Once outside in the warm sun and breeze, Emma was finally able to catch her breath.
Right then and there, she desperately wanted to be alone. Her plan was to climb into her vehicle, lock the doors, and cool down in the air conditioning. When she arrived home, the first priority on her list was a scalding hot shower to wash away the filth and scent of death, and then possibly a mental breakdown.
Then again, it might not necessarily be in that order.
Staring down at her hands and arms, the logical part of her told her there was no blood, but in her mind’s eye, it stayed with her, haunting her. Maybe she needed to see a psychiatrist. There was a good possibility that she was losing it. Now not only was she seeing imaginary blood, but she could smell it too.
Outside, the fresh clean air had lost its allure, as the coppery odor of death appeared to be following her. Glancing up, Emma knew why her nose burned with the scent.
It was everywhere.
The killer had been there and left her a present.
Her first instinct was to be a girl and respond. The cry that ripped from her body startled even her as she stood there frozen and trapped in the horror.
The shriek reached everyone inside the silo, emptying it quickly. In the lead, Greyson raced to get to her side. The sound of Emma’s startled scream sent icy claws down his spine. His first instinct was to get to her, and then wrap her up protectively from whatever had terrified her. As he approached her and the Jeep, he was appalled at what had frightened her.
It seems that the killer left a note after all. It was written in blood on Emma’s white vehicle. In fact, there were sick rivulets of blood scattered haphazardly across the front, offering an insight into the sick mind of the killer.
Sheriff,
The game has claimed another loser. I’ll be victorious. She pleaded for mercy, but none was offered. She was a whore.
Guess who’ll be next…
The Hunter
Croft pulled her into his arms and forced her face into his shoulder to keep her from reading any more. It wasn’t lost on him that the killer could be alluding that she was potentially next, or that he was challenging her to the game.
Emma shook uncontrollably, wrapping her arms around him and holding herself against his frame. Normally, she was unshakable and stronger than this. It wasn’t lost on her that the killer knew just which buttons to push. The blood, the death, and her past were eating away at her nerves and making her jumpy.
“It’s okay, honey. He’s screwing with you and trying to scare you,” Greyson whispered to her, leaving little kisses along the curl of her ear to offer reassurance.
She glanced up at him, still racked with fear. “He’s doing a damn good job.”
Deputy Reese stood behind them, staring at the message. “Emma, you can stay with me,” he stated, not willing to let her get hurt. There was a promise made years ago, and he intended to keep it.
Croft stared over his shoulder with no intention of letting that happen. “We’ll discuss this later, Deputy. Now’s not the time.” He wasn’t letting Emma out of his sight, and he certainly wasn’t sending her off with another man.
Briggs stood there with his camera. “I’ll get it documented,” he offered softly, knowing his partner wanted it handled quickly.
Croft scanned the area, taking in all their cars. “How the hell did he get past four deputies and two FBI agents to leave this message?” This was as much on him as them. They let their guard down, and now Emma was paying for it.
No one had an answer for that.
“I’m okay,” she whispered as he led her to the back of the FBI vehicle.
“I know you are, Emma. Let me get this situated, and we’ll head back to the office.” What he didn’t say was now, more than ever, he wasn’t comfortable with her out in the open. The killer had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged her.
She knew at that point, she was unable to coherently string together anything that would make sense.
Greyson returned to the team surrounding the Jeep. “Are the pictures taken?” he asked.
“We’re good,” stated Briggs. “I just swabbed for the lab. We’ll see if it’s the victim’s blood or another raccoon.”
He opened the driver’s side door and grabbed the bottle of water that Emma had placed there to drink. Breaking the seal, he dumped it on the words, washing them away.
“What do you need us to do?” asked Deputy Marshall.
“Double up and find out where he was hiding. I don’t want her stressed about this.” Croft glared at each man.
“Is he after her?” Reese asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was serious about her staying at my place.”
Croft stared into the man’s eyes, measuring him up. That suggestion had a snowball’s chance in hell. It wasn’t going to be happening. At that moment, he was staking his claim. “I’ll be sticking close to the sheriff. She’s going to have round the clock FBI guard dogs.”
Reese back down, temporarily. As soon as he could get Emma alone, they’d be revisiting this discussion--privately and without Mr. FBI hovering over them.
“Briggs, give them our email addresses. If you find anything, send it over to us. We’re calling the rest of our team and working around the clock to find this killer. We don’t have enough man power or tech facility here to get it done.” Without the FBI resources, Emma was at risk and that didn’t sit well with him. Now, he had to convince her to stick close. Greyson suspected that was going to be the hard part.
The last thing he wanted was her running off to play camp out with Deputy Reese. His blood pressure shot up exponentially at the mere visual in his mind.
No freaking way.
Walking over to the car, he opened the door, and placed his hand in to assist her in climbing out. “Come on, Emma. Let’s get out of here.”
She nodded, still somewhat in shock. The words from the killer played over and over in her mind. Was she tagged as the next victim or did he want to play some sick game?
Standing by her cargo space, Croft assisted in un-vesting her. He cautiously placed her in the passenger seat of the vehicle, all the while blocking her frame protectively. Returning to the back, he slipped out of his Kevlar as quickly as possible. Hopping behind the steering wheel, he pulled away, nodding at the four deputies watching him with speculative stares. Honestly, they could gawk all they wanted. He was taking Emma on as his personal assignment.
“Thank you for cleaning off the message,” she finally said. “I don’t think I could stare at it again.”
He reached for her tightly clenched hand, taking it in his own. “It’s not a problem, Emma.”
There was silence in the vehicle, and finally her hand relaxed enough, where she could comfortably hold his.
There was a building heat of contentment at the simple action of them staying connected this way. This woman shook him up and caught him continually off guard.
“Do you want something to eat?” he asked, staring over at her briefly.
She thought about it. “Not really hungry. The whole dead body thing ruined it for me.”
“Want some coffee?”
Again, she thought about it. “Okay,” she answered. Coffee seemed normal, and familiarity might help her regain focus.
He was surprised she agreed to it. “Where to? I’m not familiar with the town yet.”
Emma gave him directions. “Thank you for today, Croft.”
Irritation filled him at the use of his last name while they were alone. It was the last thing he wanted to hear from her lips, while it was just the two of them. It was if they’d taken a step backwards. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “I see we’re back on a last name basis.” It took everything to keep his voice level.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” she apologized as he pulled into the parking lot of the little coffee place.
“I didn�
��t mean that to come out like that, Emma. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” Usually, he was a man of infinite patience, but when it came to her that deep well had gone barren and dry.
Emma nodded.
Croft lifted her chin with his fingertips, forcing her to look into his eyes. What he saw haunted him. The pain and sadness appeared to be swallowing her whole. Leaning in, he did the only thing he could think of to pull her back to the surface. In life, there were few things that could heal, and the simple reassurance found in gentle contact was one of the big ones.
Staring at him as Greyson approached her, she was acutely aware of everything about the man. His scent overwhelmed her in the close confines of the vehicle. As their lips met, Emma permitted herself to let go and allowed him to patch her up inside. She accepted the kiss, feeling it wrap around her, devour her, and pull her out of the reaches of the darkness chasing her. It was gentle and coaxing and offered her anything she wanted in the moment. Instinctually, Emma’s hand went to his cheek as she granted him control to help her forget the entire day’s events. Emma let the man heal a little piece of her.
Pulling away was the hardest thing that he ever had to do. What he wanted was to drive her home, carry her inside, and give her one hell of a distraction to ease her pain. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. Emma needed to move at her pace, and he’d have to be patient with her.
“Greyson,” she whispered with her lips so close to his own.
“Hot or cold?” he asked, trying to regain control of his mind and body.
She leaned away, staring at him until she finally understood the question. The laughter came, and she shook her head. “I’ll go with cold. It’s about four hundred degrees out there.”
“Want to take a coffee break with me on that bench under that tree?” he asked, pointing off to the shade.
Emma appreciated what he was attempting to do. She’d known him for only two days, but already she was completely relaxed at his side. “I think we earned a few moments of down time,” she answered.
He started to get out and stopped, when her hand grasped his arm. “Yes, Em?”
Celestia is Falling (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 1) Page 12