“I’m glad you found your wife,” he stated. “I bet you’re very relieved.”
Croft was a powder keg ready to blow. “Mason, stop screwing around and just tell me what’s on your mind. I’m a little busy here with a serial killer after my wife.” He wasn’t about to let on what he suspected.
Here came the set up.
There was a pause. “I wouldn’t worry about the serial killer going after Emma, Director Croft,” he stated nonchalantly.
This was definitely curious. Why was Mason pointing out what they already suspected? “What do you mean?” he bluffed.
“I did what you asked,” he began. “There’s chit chat out there that you and your beautiful wife have drawn the attention of one of the power players in Vegas. The serial killer isn’t the one after her.”
This threw him for a complete loop. What the hell was this? Now Mason was pointing it out? This couldn’t be right. “Are you serious and why are you telling me?” he inquired.
“I’m just a concerned friend, trying to give you a heads up,” he stated. “I’m worried about your wife and nothing more.”
If anything, this threw up more flags, setting off every warning signal in his body. “Who is it?”
He laughed. “Director, you have to be kidding. People whisper these things. They don’t shout names. I’m only passing on something that was brought to my attention. I assumed you’d want to know what was being said around Vegas.”
“Again, I’ll ask why, because you don’t seem like the type of person to willingly help the director of the FBI.”
Mason thought about that. “I happen to enjoy your wife’s company. She reminds me of my first wife, Aria. I loved her with all my heart like you do your Emma. I want her to remain on the earth for a very long time.”
This wasn’t his first day playing the game. “And?”
There was laughter. “You can help me out, Greyson,” he stated. “If you eliminate this entity, then I will have more room to branch out, legally.”
He knew there was a reason. “So, I cut the head off the serpent,” he paused.
Mason continued, “And two more grow back in its place. I’m glad to see we both understand each other.”
Croft could use this to his advantage. “How do I know if I can trust anything you say? Let’s face it, when it comes to crooked dealings, we both know you’re king.”
Mason answered immediately, “I’d do anything for your wife. She saved me twice. Both of those times, she risked her own life. If she wanted half my fortune, I’d write her a check today.”
He was hesitant to believe that.
“Try me out. Ask for anything.”
Greyson Croft had an idea. It would test Mason, and help Emma out in one shot. Playing it this way would be beneficially mutual for all of them.
“We have a problem with the party Friday night.”
Immediately, Mason was all over it. “Your wife is my special guest. I’ll have a car pick you both up at your condominium and bring you here. I can assure you that I will have excellent security for her protection. My staff is willing to keep her safe at all costs.”
Croft declined the offer, “Actually, no. I’ve already handled that little situation, but here’s Emma’s issue. The person who abducted her left bruises all over her body and she’s having some issues adjusting to it. Do you think a makeup artist from one of your shows can come here and cover them up? It might give her some peace of mind when everyone at the party isn’t gawking at her injuries.”
Randall Mason was excited to help. “It is the least I can do. I will send her over that afternoon to work on Emma. Is there anything else she needs?”
“No, but I want to surprise her so let’s keep it quiet, okay?” he requested, trusting the man. Why? He didn't have a clue, but this could all work out to the FBI’s advantage.
“Excellent, Director Croft.”
What the hell. If he was going in, he was going all the way into the mess. “Call me Greyson.”
Yeah, that hurt big time.
There was excited laughter from the other end of the phone. “Thank you, my boy! That was an early Christmas present, indeed!”
Yeah, he could kiss his soul goodbye. Croft hoped the devil choked on it. “We’ll see you on Friday, and please, keep your ears open about the person who did this to my wife. We have a mutual reason to search for him.”
Mason agreed. “I absolutely will. Good day, Greyson,” he stated, before hanging up the phone.
Croft was dumbfounded. He didn't really know what to think. At first, they believed Randall Mason to be the one bribing all the officials in Vegas, but now it appeared he wasn’t the guilty party. Unless, this was just one big elaborate scheme to throw them off. Who better to know it’s not the serial killer who took his wife, but the person who did it.
Shit! This was a confusing mess.
Now, he needed a second opinion. Dialing his phone, he called the only person who he could discuss this all with other than his wife.
After getting his secretary, there was a brief hold. “Greyson! I was just going to call you. We heard you found Emma,” stated Ethan Blackhawk. “We’re happy she’s back safe!”
The pleasantness in his voice offered him calm. “Thank you, Ethan,” he replied. “I’m very glad to have her at home with me. It was a long twenty-four hours.”
“I happened to catch the news. I see the media horde has you trapped in your condo.”
Croft wasn’t worried about it. “I could get out if need be. I own a fast car, and I’ll just run them down.”
Ethan would do the same thing if it came to his wife too. “What can I do for you?”
Croft broke down the entire conversation that he just had with Randall Mason, telling him everything the man offered up and the situation he’d allowed himself to get into.
“You’re aligning yourself with one of the power players,” stated Blackhawk, understanding his strategy.
“I’m just a little thrown off. I was truly ready to believe that the man was the one behind the commissioner and the bribes, but why would he come right out and tell me?”
Blackhawk thought about it. “He’s either screwing with you, or he’s putting you in his pocket, knowingly that word will get out that he owns you.”
“No one owns me,” Croft stated angrily.
“We know that, but from the outside, think of the speculation that’s going to happen. If he isn’t the one pulling the strings then that’s going to make the one who is very edgy.”
Croft calmed immediately. “Stirred up people make costly mistakes and get caught.”
Blackhawk had to agree. “As long as you keep reporting back, we’ll keep a record of all this to keep your ass out of the sling.”
“I believe Mason would do anything to keep my wife safe, and that’s another reason. He’s obsessed with her, I just don’t know why.” Finally, he just came out with it and admitted it. Why try and pretend. “If he hears anything, she’ll be his vested interest. Now, she’ll have the Feds and Mason watching her back.”
“Who’s watching yours?” Blackhawk inquired.
He thought about it. “The most important person in my life always has it- my wife.”
“Spoken like a man married to a woman who carries a gun,” he answered laughing.
Croft heard rumors about Elizabeth. She was the dangerous one. Ethan was the mastermind and the one who ran the place, but his wife was the wildcard. The Feds under her called Elizabeth the ‘executioner’.
Refocusing it back on work, he needed a favor. “I have an agent putting together a profile on this serial killer. He’s relatively new at it, so when he gives it to me later, can I ship it over for you to look it over?”
“Absolutely. It’ll only take me a few hours to study the file and the assessment. Is he any good?”
“He’s not bad. I mean, he’s not Ethan Blackhawk, the gold standard, but he’s pretty decent.”
Ethan laughed at that. “If El
izabeth heard you saying that, she’s warn you about my ego. So, let’s keep that between us.”
Croft was already feeling better. This was probably why Ethan was in charge at FBI West. He had that calming effect on his people. “I’ll send it over later. I need to prep for the meeting with my agents.”
“If you need anything, here’s my personal number,” he stated, rattling it off. “Call anytime. It’s always on.”
Writing it down, he grinned. “Thank you, Ethan.”
“Never a problem,” he replied before hanging up.
Now, it was time to get to work. He had a killer to track and catch.
Oh and a wife to keep safe.
* * *
He sat watching the live news feed from the location that he placed the bodies. There were FBI agents and news crews all over the place.
Now, this was the attention his girls deserved in their final moments. Not some pathetic blurb under Greyson Croft begging for his wife back.
This was more like it!
Turning up the volume, he sipped his coffee and smiled like a kid at Christmas. It was gratifying that his work was appreciated by the masses.
It was hard to not let his mind drift back to what was yet to come. Already, he had one of the next victims picked out. ‘Naughty’ was always easy to find in Vegas. All you had to do was look around and a woman who fit the qualifications would land in your lap. It was ‘nice’ that took a great deal of work and time.
It was worth every second. Just look at the news coverage. There had to be about twenty reporters there, all vying for the attention of the two agents waiting behind the yellow tape.
He was completely giddy.
“Agents, do you have a few seconds to answer a couple of questions,” the reporter called, grabbing their attention.
When the woman came over, the journalist shoved a microphone in her face.
“Everyone out there has one question that they can’t seem to get answered, and we need you to give us the details.”
“Shoot,” stated the woman.
“Are the new royalty of Vegas coming out of hiding soon? Is Detective Emma Croft alive and well?”
The man stared in disbelief as the reporter wasn’t even focused on the two dead women, but instead the FBI director’s wife. What the hell was this?
As she continued to throw out questions, the agent ignored them all, simply stating ‘no comment’.
Not one thing was said about his scene.
He howled in anger and threw his coffee mug at the TV. It shattered the screen and showered coffee everywhere.
This was a travesty.
AN ABOMINATION!
“It’s not going to happen!” he hissed, before storming from the room.
“I will have the attention that I deserve!”
Chapter Five
Thursday Mid-Day
Rolling up to the gate of Sky Villa was an out of body experience for the two agents. Usually, they were the ones who had control of the situation, but not this time.
Once clearing the entrance, they were met by security at the garage elevator. Inside, they rode silently between them as if they were being escorted into some location deemed off limits to the public. At the main desk, they were fingerprinted and had photos taken.
Both agents just stared at each other. This was all beyond bizarre.
When security requested their firearms, there was that brief moment where they planned to protest. Then again, if the director lived here, they didn't want to stir the pot. After checking in their weapons, they were escorted to the chairs to wait.
William called up to the Crofts, asking if he wanted them brought up.
After hanging up, he looked over. “Mr. Croft will be right down.”
Agent Brass had to ask, “Do you seriously fingerprint everyone who comes in the door?”
“Yes, it’s the policy here.”
Before she could ask any more questions, the main elevator opened, and Greyson exited.
“Mr. Croft, do you want them to enter your home armed?” security asked, holding up the absconded nine millimeters.
“Yes, that’s fine,” he answered, waving them towards the elevator. “Thank you,” he called to security as his agents gathered their sidearms and rushed after him.
“You live in a maximum security lockdown,” stated Paris Archer. “I guess you can rest assured no one is soliciting at your door.”
Croft laughed. “If they make it to my condo, someone is going to have a huge problem.” He escorted them to his door and unlocked it. Walking in, he had them follow.
“Okay, you’re on the take, right?” Tessa asked laughing. “This place is huge!”
Greyson glanced around amused. “To my knowledge, I’m not currently accepting cash bribes,” he answered, finding the whole thing ironic, considering the situation.
“When are you retiring, sir?” Paris inquired.
Croft looked at him funny. That was an odd question to ask someone. “Why, did you hear something?”
“No, I just want your job.”
Emma started laughing from the entrance to the hall. “He doesn’t get much sleep, he’s getting more gray hair, and he’s cranky. You may want to rethink coveting his job. Not here in Vegas anyway,” she stated, walking cautiously towards them.
Immediately, Greyson crossed to his wife and dropped his arm protectively around her shoulders. “Emma, this is Special Agent Paris Archer,” he introduced the man.
She shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too, Mrs. Croft.”
“This is Special Agent Tessa Brass,” her husband continued, pointing at the woman. “They’re working the assignment right now.
“I’m glad you got back home safe,” Mrs. Croft,” Tessa said, smiling.
“You can both call me Emma. I don’t do formal. Please have a seat,” she offered, taking her husband’s hand in hers as she joined them on the couch. Once she sat, he was beside her again with her body tucked against his.
Greyson spoke next. “I ordered us lunch. I hope you don’t mind pizza,” he said, dropping a kiss on his wife’s head.
“Yes, sir,” they said at the same time.
It made Emma start to laugh.
Croft stared down at her and lifted an eyebrow as he wondered what she found so funny.
“Really, Grey?” she asked, running her fingers up and down his leg. “Are you going to make them call you ‘sir’ while you’re at home, barefoot and in jeans? There has to be some FBI rule on that.”
Tessa hid her grin behind her hand. It was obvious that the boss man wasn’t in control around the smaller redhead.
“Bossy,” he muttered, then kissed his wife soundly on the lips. “Call me Greyson. My wife has a point. I’m off duty anyway.”
She cuddled against him.
“How about you both brief me with what you found today when you arrived at the scene.”
Tessa opened her tablet and took over. “Sir.” Then, she paused when Emma began laughing. “I mean Greyson. When we arrived at the mobile home community, we were escorted to the bodies. Again, we have two women with the same ribbons and card left for the FBI. It was the same message and signature.”
Paris leaned forward, handing Emma his tablet, so she could scroll through and view the scene. “If you notice, the killer is randomly leaving women wherever. We can’t connect the first set of bodies to the second location.”
Emma looked up. “Can I ask where they were found?”
Greyson answered, “The first set was found at an overgrown park not far from the strip. It’s kind of like the one you found behind the police precinct, but this one wasn’t cared for at all. Someone was walking their dog, saw the corpses, and reported them.”
“The next pair was found in a mobile home community. We tried running addresses and triangulating GPS locations, but nothing hit. We’re at a loss.”
She started laughing again. “No offense, Agents, but you three have
it too damn easy. As a homicide detective, who works the street and doesn’t have technology to back me up all the time, I can tell you the connection.”
They all looked over at her as if she was yanking their chains. They’d toiled over this for a couple hours now.
Emma was bemused by the looks on their faces. “You have a park and trailer park.”
Paris opened his mouth, and then closed it.
“Could it be that obvious?” Tessa asked. “He’s picking places with the work ‘park’ in them?”
She shrugged. “All I can say is the crazy sometimes think they’re being clever, but what they are, is just confusing themselves.”
Croft kissed her. “I married you for your brain.”
She snickered. “That is such a lie and you know it, babe.”
They both watched their boss. While he was at home and with his wife, he was a completely different person. Greyson Croft was relaxed, smiling and at ease. It was almost like he was human, and they both knew that was far from the truth. The ‘Ice King’ was a God among mere mortal FBI agents.
“I’ve found that they may try to be random but rarely can they pull it off. Something always links them together. You’ve got to be crazy to do what this guy is doing. You just need to find the commonality in the lunacy.”
Croft wasn’t paying attention. His wife was writing suggestive words on his thigh. It was a little thing she always did to tease and torment him. Affectionately, he gave her a pat on her ass to warn her to behave.
It didn't have the affect he was going for, since she only became bolder.
“What would really help out is a profile,” Emma suggested. “Have you gotten one from your profiler yet?”
“Actually, honey, Paris is doing the profiling on this one,” Croft answered, grinning. “I had the pleasure of talking to my boss this morning, and he’s going to look it over too.”
Agent Archer stopped moving and swallowed.
Emma watched the deer in headlights look plastered on his face and was worried for the agent. Yet, before she could offer him reassurance, Paris’s partner jumped in and rushed to his rescue.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 12