“What?” Greyson asked, glancing up from his paper.
“I know why you’re smiling, but I can’t figure out why Curtis looks so happy this morning.”
He looked up from the sports. “While you were having your way with dad, I hired a hooker,” he teased, earning a slap from Croft.
“Have some respect, son! We don’t call them hookers. They’re ladies of the night, so be a gentleman.”
Curtis snorted at the teasing. “I’m actually happy because Brynn and I had a talk last night.”
Emma was happy to hear that. She didn't want there to be tension between the four of them, since they’d be spending a lot of time together.
“That’s a good thing,” Croft added, focusing on work. “You’re on Emma duty when she goes back to work. You’ve been promoted to be her partner.”
He wasn’t sure if his boss was serious.
“I’m not kidding,” he answered, as if he could read his mind. “You need training on how to solve murders, and she does it every day. You’ll get more experience with her than following me around. I have too many meetings.”
“So, I get to stick to the hot babes while you do the paperwork?” He snickered like a pubescent boy on the eve of becoming a man.
“Curtis, have some respect,” Croft replied, not looking up from his paper.
“Sorry,” he stated. “I meant sexy babes.”
Emma started laughing and ruffled his hair. “At least I’ll be entertained when I’m in the field.”
Yeah, and safe, Croft thought as he stared over at his partner. He noticed that Briggs got the hint.
He was on babysitting duty.
“I need to send a text to Archer and Brass. They need to interview Bill Turner. We’ve been putting it off for days. I want to cover all my bases. Every time that I want to send someone over there, something comes up.”
As if to prove a point, his phone rang, showing Captain Ford on the ID. “See?”
Croft answered the phone. “Chris, what’s happening?”
“I need you and Emma to pop into the office today. I’ve located something you might be interested in.”
He didn't have to say anything more at that point. The man knew what he was talking about, and it had to be significant if he were making a call about it.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Ford replied, “I’ll meet you in my office.”
Croft hung up the phone. “Grab your coffee to go,” he said, getting up from his stool. “We have a meeting.”
“Killer or abductor?” Emma asked, filling their travel mugs.
“Something must have come in on Torrance Burns,” he answered, slipping into is suit jacket and knotting his tie. “Curtis, send out Brass and Archer to the interview.”
“Am I on desk duty again?”
“No, you’re going with us,” he replied, heading for the door, as he clipped his Glock to his hip.
“Yay!” he said, glad to be mingling, even if it was with a potential killer.
They knocked on his door before entering. The man was sitting behind the desk with his fingers locked behind his head as he stared off into space. It was obvious that the captain was all stirred up, there was a vein in his neck that throbbed when he wanted to lose his mind.
It was doing its unhappy dance.
“You needed us?” Croft asked as he entered the room and took a seat.
Briggs closed the door to offer them privacy.
“Yeah, I did. When I came in, they were clearing Torrance Burn’s desk. As they logged the information and items for the file, I happened to think about something. When I want to keep something safe and out of the open, I lock it away. So, if I’m a cop, where’s the safest place that I can get access any time of the day.”
“Your desk?” Briggs offered.
Emma laughed. “Not in this place it’s not. If you want the nosey co-workers to find out things about you, leave it there. I lock all my stuff up in my gym locker. It’s got a padlock and only women can get in there.
Croft had been in there once, so that wasn’t necessarily true.
“Did he have a key in his desk?”
“Yes. I want to check his locker, but I wanted back up. God forbid I open that locker and find a ton of money. I don’t want the Feds saying that I had some fun with it.”
Croft laughed at the man’s paranoia when it came to the FBI. “Okay then, let’s go.”
“This should be lots of fun,” stated Emma. “I finally get to see the inside of a men’s locker room. It’s a dream come true,” she said, laughing.
Croft wasn’t planning to let her in there with all the half-dressed cops running around after showers and working out in the gym.
“Stay here.”
She laughed, despite knowing what he was thinking. It wasn’t happening. “Yeah, I’ll close my eyes,” she answered, walking towards the door. “It’s not like I’m not used to seeing naked men around,” she taunted.
“Emma!” he practically growled.
Briggs followed her, since he had been put on Emma sitting duty. That and he was afraid to laugh at the big guy. Croft might have a stroke.
“You have your hands full,” Ford said, taking the key out of the evidence bag.
“Yeah, well just so you know, Curtis has been assigned to her private duty until we find the asshole that hired the abduction. He’s going to be her ‘unofficial’ official partner.”
“You have the power to just hand out FBI agents like Tic Tacs?” he asked.
“I’ll clear it with my boss, but generally I can do what I want with them- except abuse them too much. HR frowns upon that.”
The man followed him, shaking his head. If the feds were going to give him more man power while his detective did her job that was all right with him. It wasn’t like it was his budget that was going to get squeezed.
Outside the shower, Emma stood there, waiting for Greyson. He was giving her the ‘husband eye’, and when it came to doing her job, she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. She didn't swing by the office where he worked to tell him how to run his shop. That simple courtesy needed to be extended to her too.
“Ready?” she asked, walking into the men’s locker room. “Woman on the floor. Cover up your junk, boys.”
Ford laughed at that. Here was this demure little redhead being crass, while her husband looked beyond horrified and pissed off. This was the complete opposite of what he’d seen at their house. Detective Emma Croft was a coin with two sides, and not only Greyson’s wife.
At first, there were catcalls and offers for her to join the men in the shower, and then the offending officers saw the big FBI agent, with the angry face, behind her.
Eventually the men got the picture and shut up pretty fast. No one wanted to piss off a Fed, let alone one married to a woman they were leering at in the locker room.
“Here it is,” stated Ford, pointing to the locker and number. “You want the honors, Croft?” he asked, offering him the key.
“I sure do.” Greyson opened the locker and stared inside. It was empty. “Well this was a waste of time, and here I got my blood pressure all worked up for no reason,” he stated, staring at Emma.
She blew off his comments as she stared inside. It then occurred to her, that her locker was the same, except she didn't have a mirror. Reaching for the small piece of glass, she yanked on it to rip it out.
“Careful! If that breaks, you’ll get cut,” he stated, looking at her like she was crazy. Then again, she strolled right into a testosterone-filled room with half naked men and her husband watching.
She apparently had hit her head recently.
“Tadaa!” she exclaimed, turning the mirror over. Taped to the back was a key card. It didn't have any marking, but it was used for something. “Want to bet that this opens where the money is being kept?” she asked.
Croft handed it to his partner. “You’re up to bat, Curtis. You’re the king of the tech geeks, so get me the location
.”
“You know, you could ask nicely,” he stated, taking the card from his boss.
“I also could fire you and kick you out of the luxury you’ve become way too accustomed to at our expense.”
Yeah, it was time to zip it. “Point taken.”
Greyson’s pocket began ringing, and he pulled out his phone to check the number. It was his office line, so that meant Linda was trying to reach him.
“Director Croft.”
“Boss, you need to get to the location I’m sending you. There’s been another body, and it looks like it matches the other ones.”
“What?” he exclaimed. How could there possibly be more bodies when the ‘Naughty or Nice’ killer was finished on Christmas day?
“We got a call, and this time it was from the media. The killer dropped the body in their parking garage, with a note addressed right to you.”
“Well shit,” he muttered, hanging up the phone.
“Grey?”
“It looks like Kris Kringle isn’t done with the killing.” He explained the rest, as he strode out of the men’s locker room. “Curtis, you need to work on that card on the fly. We have another crime scene.”
He followed after him. On second thought, maybe deskwork would be more fun.
Tessa and Paris received the text message while they were frantically making out before leaving for work. Since they knew they had to make sure that they gave no outward signs of them being a couple while on the job, they planned to get it all out of their systems before arriving at the office.
Except that theory wasn’t working either. The more he put his hands on her, the more he wanted. The smell of her hair and the way that she grinned at him was tormenting his every waking moment.
God, he was crazy about her, as in this never could end.
Tessa could feel him staring at her, and if she looked at him, they’d be breaking the rules. Whenever she found herself kissing Paris, she forgot about everything around her. If anyone told her she’d be madly in lust with the smartest man she knew, Tessa wouldn’t have believed them.
Until now.
All she wanted to do was climb all over him. She had to keep repeating over and over again that she couldn’t touch him.
“We’re here,” he said, pulling into the parking lot and turning off the engine. “I can’t even think straight,” he admitted, watching her.
“I can’t look at you. When I see you in a suit with your glasses on, it makes me want to have sex, so don’t think I’m being rude but stay behind me.”
He started laughing at that. “That’s a problem for me. You have a really nice ass.”
“We’re screwed.”
God, that one word said it all.
“You’re the man and supposed to be stronger than me, so you have to do it.”
Paris laughed. “Men think about sex every seven minutes, and you want me to stare at your ass? I’m not that strong, Tess.”
“How are we supposed to do this every day?” she asked, still refusing to look at him. “I can’t seem to think of anything but what’s under your clothes.”
There was more laughter, making her look over at him.
“Shit,” she muttered.
Paris stared at her, enraptured by the green eyes. “Tessa,” he wanted to say so much to her, but couldn’t go there. Not yet. When she began chewing on her bottom lip, he leaned towards her and pulled her mouth towards his.
The kiss was delicious, and maybe because it was forbidden, that made it so much more potent.
“Paris,” she muttered, trying to escape the spell. “If Croft catches us, they’ll break us up,” she whispered.
That alone worked wonders, throwing a wet blanket on his libido. He couldn’t lose Tessa as his partner. “Okay, I know. I won’t touch you the rest of the day at work. I just needed that last kiss.”
She started laughing at the look on his face. “You sound like a junkie. Oh, look, we’re in the parking lot of a Methadone clinic too. How apropos is that statement?”
That made him laugh as he realized she was right. “Your place or mine tonight?” The bed hopping was getting irritating.
“Either,” she answered, jumping down from the Denali. As long as it was with him, did it matter? Tessa would even forget her grocery shopping rule.
Once inside, they found Bill Turner handing out doses of the drug to recovering addicts. When they flashed their badges, he lifted a hand.
“Be right with you.”
They waited off in the corner, trying not to touch each other, for fear they’d end up making out again.
“You smell amazing,” he whispered.
“Stop thinking about it,” she muttered.
Paris was struggling with it. “You smell like my soap and that makes me think of sex in the shower, and then I’m back dwelling on it,” he whispered, running his hand across her derriere.
She almost moaned, but somehow managed to pull off a neutral face. “Later, Paris,” she replied.
Just then, they had company. “What can I do for you?” asked Bill Turner, joining them in the corner.
“We’re here to ask you about the women who turned up here in the parking lot the other day,” Tessa stated, pulling up their pictures. “Do they look familiar?”
“I was wondering when the Feds were coming back,” he stated, shaking his head at the photos. “Sorry, but no, they don’t look familiar.”
That made them pause. “Why did you wonder?” asked Paris.
“I had to call the cops and report vandalism. Someone ripped out one of the security camera that was pointing right at the spot where the women were left.”
“Do you have the report?”
He smiled at her. “I certainly do. Want a copy?” he asked, grinning at her. “You have really pretty eyes,” Billy stated. “Want to get a drink sometime?”
“No thank you. I have a boyfriend,” she offered, unsure how Paris would respond.
“Hey, it was worth a try,” he stated, going off to get the paper.
She could feel his hand touching her back and sliding lower. “Paris!” she hissed, under her breath.
“Hey, he was checking out your eyes, I was thinking a lot lower,” he teased, patting her on the ass.
It should have pissed her off, but it only made her flush.
“Here’s a copy,” he said, staring at her. “Are you okay? You look red.”
“It’s warm in here,” she replied.
Paris took her by the arm. “Thank you for your help,” he stated, leading her away.
Once outside, she stared up at him. “We need to spend some time apart. When we get back to the office, I’m going to go hide.”
He grinned wickedly, knowing that he loved a good old fashioned game of hide and go seek. “Good luck with that.”
As they arrived on the scene, hell was breaking loose. The media was once again stirred into a frenzy, except this time it was in overdrive. The Christmas Killer was giving a late present and the king and queen of Vegas were on the scene. It was a double dose of gossip for the news stations.
Parking the Denali, they walked up the ramp in the parking garage to get to the victim. At the tape, Greyson pointed to the officers and agents off to the side. They had one reporter sequestered, and he was guessing that was the one who found the victim.
“Take any photos or videos that the witness has of the body,” he directed to Briggs, as he moved with his wife towards the woman lying in the corner. Already the ME was working on her, checking her temperature with a liver probe.
Croft began looking around. “We only have one?”
“That’s new,” stated Emma, kneeling beside Doctor Bentley. Examining the woman, she definitely fit the killer’s MO, all the way down to the ‘nice’ carved into her abdomen, and strangulation marks around her throat.
“There are a lot of new details on this one,” the ME said, glancing over. “She’s been sexually assaulted. Look at the bruising on her inner thighs.”
Emma stared at her. “She looks familiar,” she said, slipping on gloves and lifting the woman’s eye lids. “I've seen her before,” she stated.
“He’s taken to biting too,” Doc stated. “The good news is that we’ll get DNA from the saliva there. That screw up might give us more.”
Croft touched his wife’s shoulder. “Where did you see her?” Emma recognizing her would make it so much easier if they had an ID immediately.
“I don’t know. Let me think about it. I’m good with faces, so it’ll come to me.”
Doctor Bentley handed him the bag with the sealed card inside. “It’s still a Christmas card, and it’s addressed to you specifically.”
Croft took it and flipped it over to read it.
Director Croft,
I was wrong. There’s room for nice all year long.
~ Kris Kringle.
“I need her identity and fast. If he’s switching everything up now, he’s going to be harder to catch. We need to figure this out and soon.”
Bentley whistled for a tech to bring him a bag. As they began to unroll it, Curtis stopped beside them as he entered some information on his tablet. When he glanced down at the victim, he gasped.
“What?” Croft questioned.
“I know her.”
Greyson didn't understand how the woman looked familiar to Emma and his partner but not him. They basically spent all day, every day together. “Who is she?”
Curtis shook his head. “That’s Sister Mary Catherine. She runs the homeless shelter off of Eighth Avenue.”
Emma now remembered where she saw her. “When you went in to give the little boy the candy, she was standing there. I didn’t recognize her because she was in a full habit.
“This is bad,” said Curtis.
“Yeah, we have a far bigger problem if the killer is now murdering nuns,” Croft stated.
Emma had to agree. This had gone from bad to worse.
* * *
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 46