When he flipped to the news channel, there was indeed the FBI Director doing some sort of press conference again. The one this morning must not have been enough.
That gave him extreme satisfaction that the FBI needed to talk about him even more.
Turning up the volume, he listened to the excited chatter of the reporter, and then noticed the words scrolling across the screen at the bottom.
What?
This wasn’t what they should be talking about!
He was in the midst of his Christmas offering to the Feds, and they were worried about the director’s wife?
What nonsense was this?
Slamming down his fork and knife, he began pacing back and forth. This just wouldn’t do. It was his turn in the spotlight! Now it was about him being the one the world was watching. Not some redheaded detective who went missing!
He didn't come to Vegas to be in the shadows while some two-bit abductor took the director’s wife!
His killings were a work of art and needed to be appreciated!
The victims that he picked were far better than just the obvious person to abduct! Anyone could aim for Emma Croft! It took a genius and mastermind to take two common women, steal their lives, and then give them immortality as the gift that would keep on giving.
Forever would his women be remembered in the minds of the cops who discovered them and the memories of the families that lost them!
Angrily, he threw the remote across the room, smashing it into pieces.
The fury was there, just below the surface as he was upstaged once more in his life. He needed desperately to burn off some of this anger before going to bed.
Oh wait.
He knew exactly the way to do it. It wasn’t as if he didn't have two perfectly new canvases waiting for him in the next room. ‘Naughty’ was all tied up and there for his every whim.
Once more, he began laughing. The anger began dissipating, as his body was filled with the knowledge that his women would get the attention tomorrow.
In his mind, there was no doubt.
* * *
Three Hours Later
Everything in his power had been done.
He had even crawled to Randall Mason, begging for help.
Greyson handed out a plea to the kidnapper to return his wife safely and offered to meet the demands by negotiating her safe return.
Now all that was left was to lean on his people by pushing them harder than he’d ever done before. Right at that moment, the police department was out doing canvases and searching the neighborhood for anyone who might have seen something.
There were tips coming in, but nothing was panning out. As of that moment, she had been gone over eight hours, and his hopes of getting her back alive were…
He had to stop thinking that way.
Getting up from his desk, he’d decided to head down to the lab to see what they’d found. By now, someone should know something.
Walking down the hall was a sobering thing.
Everyone was continually watching him, giving him the sympathetic look that screamed ‘I’m sorry your wife is dead’.
They all were thinking the same thing at that point; the chances were getting slimmer.
Walking into the lab, all the chatter immediately stopped. It was as if they were all afraid to upset him and push him over the edge. Word travelled fast regarding his eruption at the scene when he saw the letter.
Could he blame them?
Not really.
He was the boss, and it was his job to stay cool under pressure, even if he was dying inside over the possible outcome. What the team wanted was someone strong and not someone who fell apart. For now, he desperately needed to be their leader.
“Max, what do we have so far?” he asked, pulling out the man’s chair and taking a seat as he worked.
“Director, I was going to email you as soon as I finished adding this last file. Do you still want it sent?”
He nodded.
“Okay, let me tell you what we do know. We’ve scoured the car and scene and have some details.”
Croft wasn’t sure if he was ready or not. There was that sense that the man was hesitating over the information that needed to be delivered.
“The coffee cup was your wife’s. It had her lipstick that we matched from the tube inside the vehicle. Emma’s saliva was on the rim, and on the cup we found her fingerprints.”
“So no one touched it but her?”
“Not exactly. We had three sets of prints. There were your wife’s and then two other single prints.”
“And?” he lifted an eyebrow waiting.
“They trace back to two other cops out of the same building. We called there and found that Officer Torrance Burns and Detective Willa Montgomery work out of the same precinct.”
Croft waited.
“We sent an agent over to their squad and asked around. Emma got her coffee from the maker in the outer office. Both fingerprints on the cup likely happened as the other officers made coffee in the last few days. We tested a few other cups and found a myriad of prints from other employees.”
“So it was a dead end.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Croft was working hard on containing his anger and the fear that was welling up. “What’s next?”
Max continued, “We analyzed the blood that was found on the pavement, and it is also Emma’s.”
That made him blanch as his stomach rolled with waves of nausea. “Please continue.”
“We found some other matter in the blood.”
He waited for the man to go on, refusing to speculate at what he could be alluding to now.
“There were hair follicles.”
“Max, I’m having the worst day of my life. Whatever you need to tell me, just spill it fast and in the simplest terms possible. You can’t make me mad or angry. I know that you are all working hard and past the end of your shifts to help me find my wife. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know, but just lay it on the line.”
He figured he’d want it that way too if the shoe were on the other foot. “It appears that she was hit in the head somewhere. The chunk of skin we found had red hair and follicles. That’s likely the reason for the blood.”
“Next, please.” He didn't want to hear about it anymore. There was a good chance he’d throw up right then and there in front of most of his lab staff.
“We found nothing on the note that the person left for you. It’s made of a common grade of paper stock, nothing special and printed with a common printer ink. We’re trying to trace it, but it’s…”
“I know. It’ll take too much time and is a long shot.”
The man nodded, unsure what else he could possibly say to give his boss hope.
“How about the vehicle?” Croft inquired as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“There was trace in the Navigator from you and Emma. Your fingerprints were mostly on the steering wheel, and hers were everywhere else.”
“What else did you pull?”
“Curtis Briggs and Brynn Westmore’s prints were also present. Other than you four, no one else’s were found. Right now, the Navigator is being swept on the outside of the doors. We’re hoping that the person who took her touched something.”
“Detective Westmore said the door was open.”
“We’re also checking the door handles too.”
Croft stood. “Again, I appreciate everything all of you are doing, and no matter what the outcome, thank you,” he said, choking back the emotion.
Now, he needed to be alone for a while, until he could handle the feelings of guilt that were devouring him whole.
Already, hope was abandoning him.
Brynn sat at her desk, and stared at her partner’s chair. She was wishing that she had gone outside with her when Emma was leaving work. It was hard to not feel bad that she’d let her friend get abducted, when she was supposed to have her back.
How Greyson Croft was holding out, she�
�d never know.
Every now and again, she’d send a text message to Curtis, asking if Emma’s husband needed anything and if he was surviving.
Each time, the same reply came back. ‘Just barely.’ It wasn’t like she could blame him. Brynn knew how close the two were, and even if he was a bossy man, he didn't deserve to have his heart cut in half.
Sitting there, she watched the rest of the detectives all working overtime. They were authorized by the captain to help find one of their own. It was really nice of him to offer it up, wanting the police to work side by side with the Feds in a common goal.
Glancing down at her watch, she noticed the time. It wasn’t looking good. After this many hours had passed, with each tick of the clock, it meant Emma Croft was one-step closer to the grave.
Now, it would take the mother of all miracles.
Yet, they all pushed forwards and hoped that in the end, they would find her.
“By morning, we’ll be looking for her body,” stated Detective Sawyer Laden. “If the serial killer that was screwing with the Feds has her, she’s carved up by now.”
Brynn stood from her chair. “You’re an asshole.” She said it loud enough that everyone looked up.
“Hey, it’s the truth. Everyone here is thinking it, I just have the balls to say it out loud.”
She glared at him.
“Don’t get me wrong. I hope they find Emma, but this is just one of the things that being in bed with the Feds will bring you,” he added, nonchalantly. “She was taken because of her husband.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
“You know what, Sawyer? I hope they find her. As soon as they do, I’m telling her big scary Fed husband what you said, just to watch him wipe you all over the floor.”
“Hey, I’m not afraid of him. You’re getting your panties in a bunch.”
She’d had enough. Walking towards him with her cold coffee in her hand, she lost complete and total control. “You’re a heartless, simple minded worm. Why don’t you go home if you’re not going to be proactive? What we all need is positive people helping, not you being an asshole.”
He started laughing. “This is why women shouldn’t be cops. They’re too emotional.”
There was an audible gasp in the room.
“Emotional? Well, let me show you emotional.” Brynn tossed the entire cup of coffee right in the man’s face. She watched his shocked expression.
“What the fu…?”
“Laden!” interjected Ford from his doorway. “Go home.”
He stared incredulously as coffee dripped down his face onto his shirt. “She tosses coffee in my face and I get sent home?”
Ford moved into the room. “You’re getting sent home because she’s right. One of our family is missing. If I were her, I would have laid your ass out if you were talking about my partner like that. Now, head out. You’re off duty.”
The man stormed away.
Brynn faced her boss. “I’m sorry. He just pushes every single one of my damn buttons.”
“You should take a break too. Go get some more coffee and this time, don’t accidentally spill it on a co-worker,” he replied, winking.
As she was walking past Mace Bristol, he offered her a high five.
“Next time, just kick his balls up into his throat. Then, we won’t have to watch him be an embarrassment to men everywhere,” he added grinning.
Brynn had her first laugh, since finding Emma missing. As she headed out to the coffee machine, she said a silent prayer.
“Come on, Emma. Don’t make me eat my words. We need you to survive this!”
Taking a detour, she headed to the ladies’ room. Right now, she wanted to do something she seldom did.
Cry.
One Hour Later
Wednesday Night
Sitting in his office with his partner, the man was desperately trying to get him to eat something. He knew he probably should, but his gut was still churning, and he didn't believe he could keep anything down.
“You know if Emma was here, she’d be pissed that you’re destroying the temple with all that caffeine.”
“If she comes home, I’ll willingly give it up,” he admitted. “I’ll do anything to have her back. It was supposed to be our first Christmas. I had so many plans for this week. All of them fell away for this stupid job.”
Briggs watched him. “She’d not dead. I believe in her. Emma’s tough. Outside she’s soft, but when you get past that layer, it’s all steel.”
Croft hoped so, because that’s all that was left. It was going to come down to how tough his wife could be.
“We were going to go to the party together, and now I don’t think I can ever even look at a dress or tuxedo again.”
Briggs didn't think he could pull him back up out of the quicksand. That was generally Emma’s job, and she was the best at it. He knew they should focus on the evidence, and possibly his partner would shake it off.
“I pulled all the surveillance tapes that we gathered from the surrounding businesses.”
“Did you find anything?
“We had quite a few cars that left the parking lot that day. We narrowed it down by focusing on the hour before and the one right after Emma was abducted. The person who took her had to have staked the place out. He wouldn’t know she was leaving early. That means that he was either sitting there waiting for her to come back from lunch, or he planned on waiting her out the rest of the afternoon.”
Again, that guilt rose up, as he thought about her coming to eat with him. Maybe if he didn't invite her, or rush past her this would have ended differently.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Croft shared it with his partner, only because the man seemed really good at helping him fix the mess that he had continually made in his life when it came to Emma.
This wouldn’t be the first time that he had needed advice.
Briggs listened and took it all in before he spoke, “Boss, if they were going to take her, it wouldn’t have mattered if she stayed for lunch or not. You know Emma goes to work on her own and would be at risk a million times a day. She’s in the streets working most days, canvasing, interviewing, and standing over dead bodies. This person followed her, and they would have taken her regardless.”
What Briggs said, made sense.
“You had nothing to do with any of this, and Emma wouldn’t be blaming you.”
“I want to believe you in the worst possible way.”
He shook his head. “You need to believe me, because it’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t lie to you, and deep down you know it’s all facts.”
“If I get her back, I’m never letting her leave my side again. I’ll quit my job just to follow her around all day long.”
Briggs knew it was the fear talking. “She’s smart and tough. Have faith.” He paused. “Anyway, we searched the tapes and we have an older model black Lincoln pulling out of the lot after Emma exited the building. We have her on tape, crossing to the back of the lot, and then we lose her.”
“Do we have plates?”
He shook his head. “I’m running every Lincoln in the city and state. It’ll be a long list, but we might get lucky.”
“Thank you, Curtis,” he said wearily. Heading out to check with his agents, he hoped that someone had something.
Briggs was about to try and cheer him up, when his phone rang. “Director Croft,” he answered, rubbing his tired eyes.
“Is this Greyson Croft?”
“Yes,” he replied, not recognizing the voice. Croft actually pulled the phone away to stare at the number.
“This is nine-one-one, and we have a woman on the line. She’s given me this number and stated that she was abducted.”
There was that glimmer of hope exploding into a flame.
“Where’s she at?” he demanded, motioning to everyone in the room to follow him.
The operator told him what she’d relayed and gave him the story
.
“Do you have her on the line?” he practically shouted into the phone.
“Yes, sir.”
He knew what he needed to do.
“I need her name.” There was always the slim chance. “Then tell her to hide! I’m on my way.”
Chapter Three
The last thing that Emma wanted to do was hang up the phone and lose that last thread of humanity. It gave her a connection with someone, and it was the only voice she had heard all day--since being abducted. In fact, for all she knew, it was more than one day at that point.
She couldn’t tell how long she’d been out.
Gone were her wedding ring, watch and the necklace her husband had just given her. What she wouldn’t do for her gun, some clothes and her boots.
The shivering had kicked in, and she was so very cold, but she listened carefully to what instructions her husband had relayed to the operator. If he wanted her to hide until he got there, she wouldn’t disobey. There might be something he knew that she didn't.
Dropping the receiver into the cradle, she scanned the area and looked for any sign of ambush. The flight or fight instinct was dissipating, and she was now able to rationalize her decisions and make cop-like ones not based on fear.
The tree line looked safest, and offered her protection from being out in the open. She decided to jog across the grass, despite her sore feet, just to heat up her blood and keep hypothermia from kicking in and stealing her life.
There was no way of knowing how long it was going to take for Greyson to get to her, but she had to stay alive. Emma had made it this far, and now all that mattered was getting to her husband and into his arms.
Once there, she’d be safe.
It was all she had to hold onto at this point.
This had to be the most horrible experience of her life. At one time, she thought the witnessing of her brother being killed was at the top of the list, but this ranked right up there. The idea of her life being extinguished and her poor husband suffering was equally painful.
All that was left was to find a place to hide and not be caught. Emma planned to do just that.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 7