Dead are Forgotten

by Morgan Kelley

“If you need more manpower,” Elizabeth offered, “call in Johanna. She’s not working a major case, and Brody is still out until next week.”

  They got to work.

  “Ethan, I’m going to head to the post office to talk to the supervisor, Mary’s coworkers, and my least favorite mob asshole. I need a favor.”

  He lifted a brow.

  “Yes?”

  “I know you’re busy, but the next victim that comes in…I want it kept quiet. I know it’s not protocol to move the body ASAP, but I don’t want to feed into this beast. If he knows we’re watching for him, he’s going to get his jollies over it.”

  Chris protested.

  That was NOT how he rolled.

  At all.

  “I know, Doc, but if we have some young guy shanking women to play a game, we need to nip it in the bud. If we have another woman, I want her transported ASAP. We can work the evidence after the fact. If he doesn’t care if he’s dipping his stick in the woman without a condom, he’s not worried about saliva, hair, or anything else.”

  She had a point.

  He mulled it over.

  “I’m good with it,” Chris stated.

  That settled it.

  “Okay, I can pull a few strings.”

  She gave her husband a kiss.

  “I’ll miss you in the field. Maybe we can have lunch together?” she asked.

  “I’ll clear my schedule for that. Then you can update me,” he offered.

  It worked for her.

  She focused on Christina.

  “You have victim one. Let’s hope the techs at the city ME didn’t wash away any semen. Do a side by side comparison for me.”

  “I’ll try, boss.”

  Well, that was all she could ask for at this point. For now, it was about chasing some wannabe apprentice to some asshole ex-mob hitman.

  Ahhhhh, she loved her life.

  “Callen, are you ready to do some interviews?” she asked. “We have to roll. It’s going to be a busy day. I can tell.”

  “On it, angel.”

  He followed her out.

  “Chris, are you going to be okay not seeing the bodies in situ?” Ethan asked, making sure he was really okay with it after all. He was the ME, and he had to do his job.

  “Sure. I can do it just as well.”

  Everyone in the whole place looked at him like he’d sprouted a third eye and horns.

  He laughed.

  “It’s one case. I’ll give her this one,” he stated.

  And he would.

  Because they’d already given him so much.

  * * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *

  Post Office

  Saturday Morning

  They lucked out.

  Had it been a day later, they’d be waiting to talk to anyone at the post office. They were closed tomorrow, and Elizabeth knew they only had so much time to get this done. The federal employees at that location were finished as of noon, and somehow, she didn’t think they’d stick around out of the kindness of their hearts.

  She’d been to a rodeo like this before when a killer was mailing parts of men around the country. The post office had been notoriously difficult to work with, despite also being a federal agency.

  Elizabeth only hoped this wouldn’t be as shitty as that experience had been.

  As they arrived, Elizabeth was making Heath and Ivan hide in the shadows. They were going to be doing this without too much attention, and when two ex-military guys showed up anywhere, wearing riot gear, it drew attention.

  At the door of the local post office, Callen held it open for his wife. The look on her face was of pure determination.

  Yeah, they were going to be digging up something. She wasn’t going to leave without a damn good explanation on how someone ‘Howard’ worked with had died.

  Poor O’Banion.

  He actually felt bad for the asshole.

  As they headed in, they met the supervisor at the counter. He looked all kinds of concerned, and a little more than just freaked out. Apparently, he didn’t like chaos.

  Oh, Callen had news for him.

  That chaos had just entered the building, and she was wearing a badge and gun.

  The second the man saw her, you could tell his worries escalated. It was clearly on his face.

  Her reputation proceeded her.

  “Who’s dead?” he asked before she could even get a word out.

  “First off, who are you?” she asked. “Apparently, you know me.”

  “I’m Shamus McDeclan. I’m the supervisor here for this office.”

  She ignored him and kept going.

  “How many employees do you have?” she asked, hoping no one came in to buy stamps while they were there. Elizabeth needed covert and not people trying to get up in their business.

  “There are eight, but we have multiple postal delivery people that pick up here before they head out for their daily routes.”

  “Mary Waver.”

  She only had to say her name.

  The man looked surprised.

  “Yes, she works here. Is she the one who died?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that was what she was thinking before she was killed. Now that she is deceased, I need to talk to your people. I hate to bother you when I know your day is crazy, but she deserves justice.”

  Shamus McDeclan agreed.

  He led them to the back of the building where the employees he supervised were doing their jobs. They were hustling about, making sure that the mail was sorted, packed, and ready to be loaded up for delivery.

  “There are our guys who pick up,” Shamus McDeclan offered, waving his hand toward the people in uniforms working at a breakneck speed.

  Elizabeth watched them but continued to keep working.

  “Was anyone close to Mary or bothering her?” she asked, spotting O’Banion doing some heavy lifting.

  The man was sweating and working like every other stiff in the world, and that was a beautiful thing.

  Justice.

  Nothing made her happier.

  Michael O’Banion deserved to work after the shit he handed out in Boston. This was his hard time, and still, it wasn’t enough. She wanted him in a cage, and she was going to get it before this was all said and done.

  “I’ll start with him,” she said, pretending she didn’t know that it was the person they were supposed to be protecting in this mess.

  “What’s his name?” she asked, “And what can you tell me about him?”

  “That’s Howard. He’s a nice guy, and he was close with Mary.”

  That piqued her interest.

  “How close are we talking here? Did he work with her—close, or are we talking about a personal relationship—close?”

  Shamus thought about it.

  “They flirted a lot, and he took her to dinner a few times. They hit it off. I overheard them talking about a few dates, some dinners, and sex.”

  He looked worried.

  “But?”

  “Mary was a wild child. She wasn’t into settling down. She mentioned to me that there was a guy she was also seeing at the same time. Mary liked to play the field.”

  That had her attention.

  “Who?”

  “A man by the name of Marc Blanchard. He works in the strip mall across the street where my people often grab lunch. He’s a manager of the local wine and spirits shop.”

  Callen made notes for his wife, knowing that they were going to be stopping in to visit Mr. Blanchard soon.

  “And?”

  “They were both vying for her attention if you know what I mean, and they were both aware of the other person. Mary didn’t keep it to herself. She was open with her sexuality and her dating choices.”

  Oh, and that hadn’t ended well for her.

  Now it was a matter of figuring out how Carl found all of this out. He went after a woman that O’Banion crossed paths
with, and one he was having a sexual relationship with. That was a clear sign.

  This was a personal war. He was toying with them.

  Carl and his buddy were likely waiting in the wings—watching, and Elizabeth needed to find them and fast.

  “I’ll start with Howard.”

  Shamus let them get to it.

  As she approached O’Banion, she had her badge out, and she was trying to make it look as least suspicious as possible.

  Now to hope he got it and played along.

  “Mr. Flint, my name is Director Blackhawk, and this is my partner, Director Whitefox. We need to ask you a few questions about Mary Waver,” she said, so the people around him wouldn’t be suspicious.

  Still, his face said it all.

  O’Banion was freaked out that she was there, and she didn’t doubt why. Someone might see her with him, and his ass was on the line.

  “I have to load up these bins in my truck. We’ll have to talk as I do it.”

  Elizabeth was good with that. She preferred being outside where security was lurking. If someone went for them, Ivan and Heath had her back.

  So, she followed him out.

  Outside, he placed a bin in his truck and then faced them.

  “What happened to Mary?” he asked, keeping his voice low just in case.

  “She was found dead last night, and we received another note that’s directed at you,” she offered.

  She showed him on her phone.

  “I’m a dead man,” he muttered. “Carl is going to pick me off as soon as he can track me down. He was the best in the game back then. He made Joey look like a hack.”

  She smiled.

  “Are you admitting to something?” she asked.

  He stared at her.

  “Really? Now? My ass is on the line here. You both know I had them in my employ, but I paid my sins on that one. I don’t know why you’re riding my ass.”

  “Who are the people in the mass grave?” she asked.

  He closed his mouth.

  Yeah, O’Banion knew there was no statute of limitations on murder, and he’d swing for that too. She wasn’t shocked he’d clammed up.

  Well, she’d nail him to the wall for it, as soon as she found out their identities. Once they had the names, people would talk—assuming O’Banion was dead.

  Then she’d have him.

  Oh, this was far from over.

  “He’s a menace and wants me dead. As far as the world is concerned, I’m one more normal person. You have to keep me alive! I shouldn’t be out here!”

  She was aware, but that wasn’t her big concern. Elizabeth had to get justice for the REAL citizens who had gotten caught up in this mess. She had two dead women who deserved so much more than to be raped and stabbed in the spine.

  “We don’t think he knows where you are,” she stated. “If he did, you’d be dead.”

  “Well, that’s positive,” he stated sarcastically. “There’s my freaking silver lining. You can try not to look so damn happy that I might die!”

  She laughed.

  Callen laughed.

  Oh, that was funny.

  She wasn’t feeling all that bad for him in this situation. This was his karma for a life of shittiness. It was hard to protect an asshole who killed people and now needed their help.

  It was hard to play Fed.

  “What are you going to do to keep me alive?” he asked. “I need a personal bodyguard like you have.”

  She laughed even more.

  “Yeah, not happening, Mikey.”

  He shushed her.

  Only, she didn’t stop. Elizabeth recalled that night in the Italian restaurant where he tried to abduct her and kill Chris by way of his two goons.

  One was dead.

  The other would be too.

  “Oh, I’m going to TRY and keep you alive. Then I thought that maybe I’d try and find the killer,” she stated. “What the hell do you think I’m going to do?”

  He took a deep breath to calm the hell down.

  “Tell me about Mary.”

  “She was super nice. I really liked her. She wasn’t hot like you and that sexy ass of yours, but she was a good person.”

  Callen wasn’t having any of that.

  “I’m going to be a good person and not comment on killing you,” Callen stated. “Oops. Too late. I’m a bad person, and I’m going to break your fingers if you try to touch her, and I’ll enjoy every single second of it.”

  “Touchy.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Was anyone bothering her?” she asked, trying to get them to focus.

  “Well, not that I know of. She didn’t mention anything to me, but we weren’t exclusive. The one I wanted got away,” he said, staring at her.

  “Yeah, and the one who caught her will have his security grab you, shove your ass in a trunk, and take you for a ride,” Callen offered.

  “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Whitefox, but that would be illegal.”

  For his wife, he’d do it. Callen didn’t like this man at all, and he certainly didn’t trust the snake. He was checking out Elizabeth’s body, and that made him angry.

  Elizabeth ended that little sermon from the ex-mob man. He should talk.

  “Who is Marc Blanchard?” she asked.

  He didn’t even have to think about it.

  “That’s some guy that wanted to get into Mary’s pants. He saw us out for dinner, and from that day on, he was all over her. I guess she was seeing him too.”

  “That had to piss you off,” Elizabeth stated.

  He pointed at her. “Listen, I didn’t hurt Mary, so stop that avenue. I’m in serious shit here. If you want to look at a narcissistic asshole, find Marc Blanchard. He’s the king of them. He makes the old me look friendly.”

  Yeah, she was going to do just that.

  “What does he look like?” she asked.

  “Tall, dark hair, and my age.”

  Callen made notes.

  Well, that didn’t sound like Carl’s helper, but they were going to have to talk to him anyway. They couldn’t skip leads. If they did they’d miss something.

  “Do you know anyone around here that Carl might be using as a helper?” she asked.

  “I know nothing about…”

  She stopped him.

  “Off the record. If you don’t give me everything, your chances of dying go up exponentially.”

  He thought about it.

  “No. This isn’t my territory. I didn’t operate out of DC, so I can’t help you.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Uh, no. They placed me in this godforsaken shit hole town to keep an eye on me,” he stated. “I know no one here. I don’t even talk to my neighbors. Here is the ONLY socializing I do.”

  “If that’s the case, why did you have your thugs bury the bodies here?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth.

  Then he closed it.

  Elizabeth smiled.

  “You’re good at your job,” he stated. “You were a newbie once, but now I see you’re better at it.”

  She laughed.

  “Oh, Mikey, I’m the best the FBI has to offer. Assholes like you made me into this monster. I’ll find Carl, but then I’m coming for you.”

  He didn’t flinch.

  She switched it up to keep him off balance.

  “Has anyone mentioned you look like O’Banion?” she asked.

  While his haircut was different, and he’d grown a mustache, she still saw that rich asshole from Boston. His accent was gone, and he fit in, but still…

  Someone might have seen him.

  “No.”

  “How would Carl know you’re here?” she asked. “That’s where we're having issues. No one but three people knew where you were, and two of them are no longer working and retired. Gabe is the ONLY person left.”

  “Maybe he told someone,” he offered. “All I know is Carl likely buried all those bodies on his own recognizance, here. That might be a sign. I have no
idea why he did what he did since I wasn’t privy to it. As to me being here, Gabriel Rothschild is an asshole. He likes to watch people suffer.”

  Well, he was right on that. Gabe was sadistic. The two events might be a coincidence.

  Maybe he did spill the beans to someone.

  They might have to ask him.

  God!

  She hoped they didn’t have a leak—again. That had blown the whole Oracle thing up, and it had been a mess.

  “I’m not coming to work past today. I need to hide out,” he said. “Out in the open, I’m screwed. What if I delivered mail to Carl and never knew? What if he recognized me that way?”

  He had a point.

  “Fake sick. Go home.”

  “Want to give me a ride?” he asked. “And then I can give you one at my place,” O’Banion leered.

  Then he slapped Elizabeth on the ass.

  Callen lost it.

  It took a lot, but Chris had told him and Ethan all about this scumbag and his plans for their woman.

  It wasn’t happening.

  Callen shoved the man against the mail truck and stuck his gun under his chin. His finger was on the trigger.

  “I will kill you, and since you’re already dead no one will ever know. If you put your hands on her ever again, you won’t walk away. I can promise that, O’Banion,” he said, nice and loud.

  The man swallowed.

  Elizabeth didn’t even stop him.

  Yeah, again, it was hard to be a Fed when you hated the person you had to protect.

  Her bad.

  “I’m sorry!” he said, as Callen’s finger tapped the trigger in warning.

  He let him go.

  “There’s your one warning. I read all about you, and what you wanted to do with my wife. If you even sniff her perfume, I’ll end you. I’m not fucking around. You might have been the mob twenty years ago, but you’re dead. Back the hell off unless you want to die again, but this time for real. Hell is waiting, O’Banion.”

  The two security guys made their presence known by stepping around the corner.

  “Is there an issue, Mr. W?” Heath asked Callen. “Do you need something handled?”

  O’Banion glanced over, the gun still under his chin. His eyes went big.

  “It’s funny,” Elizabeth stated. “Back then, you had two guys watching your back. Meet mine. They’re not going to let you cross the line.”