Dead are Forgotten

by Morgan Kelley

  “On your team?”

  “How are you at interviews?”

  “Good, but I’m confused.”

  “Why?”

  “We lost him. I figured you’d ride my ass about that. I didn’t expect this.”

  “You’re smart, you have drive, and he got away on my watch. That’s not on you, but see how you owned it? That made me want to give you the job. You have what it takes.”

  He didn’t know what to say.

  This was…

  Odd.

  “I need to think about it.”

  “Okay, but seriously, send the girl flowers. She took three rounds to her back for you. That says flowers. She likes pink. Go with it.”

  He was out of his element.

  “Oh, and be ready to ride some ass in interrogation. I need Brian, and we have to get him. ASAP.”

  Now he was stressed.

  He’d been shot at.

  Told a sexy woman had flirted, and now he had to break someone in interrogation.

  Maybe he should have stayed in Boston.

  Where he was in his element.

  In DC…

  He was as confused as hell.

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

  Forty Minutes

  Later

  He stalked her.

  He followed her.

  He had to get her and take her life. The most important thing was to not let the boss down and to make sure he did what it took to leave the trail.

  It mattered.

  Nothing in his personal life could distract from that. Already, he was running late, and he hoped she didn’t leave her job yet.

  If she did, he was screwed.

  That wouldn’t make him happy.

  He knew it, too.

  So, he watched the bar, and before long, she headed out, whistling a tune and counting her tips. Oh, she was lovely, and that made him hard.

  He’d had a rough day, and she would make it sweeter.

  He knew it.

  Would the man really know if he fucked her first?

  Would he really find out if he took her?

  Nah.

  He wouldn’t.

  Besides, he was tired of fucking them after they were dead. He wanted a live one.

  A fighting one.

  So, he was going to do his thing, use her, and then end her life.

  But how?

  Well, he might have to get rough.

  As she went to walk past where he was hiding, he reached out, pulled her in, and then slammed her off the dumpster.

  She crumbled to the ground, and he smiled.

  Now he’d drag her back, do the deed, and hide the body—where they could find it.

  This was perfect.

  This was just.

  The man said so, and he wanted to be just like him one day.

  Wicked.

  Evil.

  And a killer.

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

  FBI

  Sunday One A.M

  Interrogation Room

  One

  When she finally strolled in with Max, they were ready to bust the man down and dig out any information they could from him.

  She sat.

  Max sat beside her.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he said before either of them could even say a word.

  It was very telling.

  “Who are you?” Max asked. “Give me your full name, address, and social security number, so processing takes less time.”

  He hesitated.

  “Oh, well, let’s put his face on the news. I’m sure he won’t have a momma who will beat his ass for doing stupid shit. I hope you don’t have a girl either,” Max stated. “Chicks don’t dig criminals.”

  He swallowed.

  “ID.”

  Elizabeth was impressed with how forceful he was during the interrogation.

  Someone knew how to work a criminal in the room. That made her day easier. In her experience, you were either born with that gift or not.

  Clearly, he was.

  “I’m Hudson Livingston.” He rattled off the rest of the information.

  Elizabeth made notes.

  The man was tall, blonde, and stupid.

  “Who is this?” Max asked, sending the picture of Brian toward him.

  He told him.

  “And this?” he asked, sending the prison picture of Carl Fitzpatrick across the table.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I stopped in to get drugs. I wanted some weed. I don’t know what the hell happened. One minute we were talking about a score, and then the next…”

  “Well, we raided a drug house, and you were in it. So, you’re screwed.”

  “Can I go home?”

  He laughed.

  “No.”

  “Why not? It was only weed. I didn’t fight, and I didn’t have a gun.”

  “YOU WERE FOUND IN A DRUG HOUSE—WITH ILLEGAL DRUGS.”

  The man began crying.

  “I want my mom. Can I call my mom?” he asked. “I need her.”

  Elizabeth actually laughed.

  She couldn’t help it.

  This generation was screwed.

  Max pushed on.

  “Where would Brian go if he needed a place to hide out?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I was there for drugs. I stopped in and wanted to buy fifty bucks worth of pot and that’s it.”

  A paper slid under the door.

  She knew it was Callen.

  The rest of the team was home sleeping, and he was doing her research.

  She read it.

  Then she handed it to her interrogation room partner in crime.

  Max read it, and he knew the truth. This kid couldn’t have been the killer’s helper. There were no ties to Carl. His background was spotless—except for this little mess.

  Nothing.

  “You’re under arrest for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can call your mother to bail you out.”

  He wept like a baby.

  Together, Elizabeth and Max headed out.

  “That was so anti-climactic,” she stated. “I was hoping for something other than tears.”

  He agreed.

  “Maybe the mother will be better.”

  She hoped.

  At this point, it was anyone’s guess.

  Inside the room, the strung-out blonde waited for them. She was cuffed in front, sitting on the chair, and had her hoodie over her face.

  Elizabeth bumped her chair against the table to get Stephanie Montany’s attention.

  It was clear someone liked dipping into her own merchandise. This explained why her kid was a scumbag.

  Shitty parenting.

  “Yo. Wake up, princess. We have questions for you,” she said loudly.

  “Did my son shoot anyone?” Stephanie asked, looking up at them.

  She didn’t go into details about how they’d come close.

  “No.”

  “Too fucking bad, you pigs suck! I wish he filled your body with lead!”

  She spit at Elizabeth, and that was it. Elizabeth was done. She reached across the table, grabbed her matted hair and hood, and then slammed her face off the table.

  The woman gasped in shock as Elizabeth wiped the spit off her vest.

  “That’s one charge of assault on you for spiting your, likely, Hep C saliva on a federal agent. Keep it up, and we can keep adding more to you time in jail.”

  She said nothing but rubbed her face where it had impacted the table.

  She was so high, she didn’t even feel the busted nose.

  Great.

  This was NOT looking good for them finding Brian. This woman was worthless—on so many levels.

  “Where would your son go?” Max asked. “Where would he hide if he was on the run?”

  “Hell.”

  Okay, well, one could only hope.

  He slid the pictur
e of Carl across the table, hoping to jog her memory.

  “Who is this?”

  “He’s my big dicked daddy,” She stated. “He’s going to come see me and fuck me.”

  Elizabeth did NOT want to ever see that. She was skeeved out by the whole thing.

  It was so damn wrong.

  “Where is he?”

  “Jail.”

  They both looked at each other.

  “Jail, huh? He got out a while ago. He came to DC a couple weeks ago.”

  She stared at them as if trying to figure out what they were telling her.

  “No, he would have come see me. I was going to give him plenty of pussy when he got out.”

  From the track marks all over her arms, and the way she couldn’t focus, she was likely going to give him a lot more than some rancid kitty.

  Herpes.

  Hep C.

  HIV.

  Her shit was toxic.

  “Then he must have come to see someone else,” she stated, as she pulled up the video and sent it to the TV monitor in the corner.

  Stephanie watched as Carl was picked up by the cab in DC. It proved they weren’t lying.

  Her face said it all.

  She went red.

  Then she jumped over the table, trying to get to Elizabeth’s eyes. Only, she’d been ready, and the junkie didn’t make it—not even close.

  Elizabeth head locked her, dragged her to the ground, and pressure pointed her neck.

  She went out.

  Out cold.

  “Wow, where did you learn that?” he asked.

  “I hang out with Marines and crazies,” she said, letting the woman drop to the ground. “They teach you the best shit to handle the worst situations.”

  He could see that.

  “I don’t think he came to see her,” she said. “When people are drugged up this badly, they tend to be brutally honest. She would have been bragging about getting him off.”

  He agreed.

  “Thus, the whole talk about her girl parts. I may need a shot,” Max stated.

  Yeah, she was aware.

  But now…this was a problem.

  That was their only link at this point. That was their only way to get to Carl—through his hussy. It had been a damn good lead, and it just went cold.

  If he didn’t come to see her, then who the bloody hell did he come to see?

  That was the million-dollar question.

  “This sucks,” Elizabeth said, pulling off her riot gear.

  They were back at square one.

  It was going to have to be backtracked to when Carl came to DC. That was the last lead they had.

  He had a helper who was killing with his style of murder, and they couldn’t find him.

  The only thing that made her happy?

  If he got O’Banion, that took the pressure off her. He was a dead man.

  And by his own damn karma.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fort Whitefox

  Blackhawk

  Sunday

  Three A.M

  A s they headed into the house, Max ran for cover to his guest room—in case her kids were lying in wait. She almost wanted to tell him they were sound asleep, but his reaction amused her.

  So, she let him bail.

  As for the house, thankfully, it was silent. In the kitchen, they found a note on the counter and some cookies that one of the housekeepers had baked. Elizabeth actually giggled when she saw them. It was a sure sign that she was about to crash.

  “That’s where the kids get it,” Callen said, handing her the biggest chocolate chip cookie there.

  She took it and shoved half of it in her mouth.

  The last time they ate was over twelve hours ago, and she could eat a body.

  Yes.

  She was that hungry.

  Callen grabbed the container of milk and poured them two glasses. While they should head right to bed, he was hungry too.

  He took a seat beside her, and they began binging on cookies.

  “I ran tonight, so I’m not feeling guilty.”

  He laughed.

  “We had sex, and I broke a sweat. I don’t feel guilty about much when it comes to food. I burn off the calories with my sexy wife-to-be.”

  She leaned into him.

  He had a very valid point.

  Together, they had a few cookies, drank some milk, and held hands.

  “Thank you for having my back,” she said, knowing that he always would. Callen was her knight in shining Kevlar for a reason. He was a good man.

  She was lucky.

  “So, our wedding...,” she began.

  He grinned like a fool.

  “The hotel is booked, you have a private room for the girl things the night before, and I have a trip planned to a gentleman’s club where I will be drinking bourbon and smoking cigars.”

  She kissed him.

  Elizabeth was lucky. Callen took very good care of her, and he always thought of everything.

  “Chocolate-y. Nice,” he said when she broke the kiss.

  She snorted.

  “Where are we going on our honeymoon?” she asked. “Are we hitting a beach?”

  “Nope.”

  “Paris?”

  “Nope.”

  “New Orleans?”

  “Double nope. We have a house there, but you let a bunch of killers squat in it. It will never be the same again.”

  She laughed.

  “Truth.”

  “I have something so romantic planned, and you will just have to wait until it happens. I’ve been working on it for a while, and I know you’ll love it.”

  “I thought you were up working at night?”

  “I was up working on that too. I am working on a book, but it’s hush-hush. I want to surprise you.”

  She was good with that.

  “I’m beat, Callen James. After Vegas, I’m definitely going to need a break. Seriously. I feel like I’ve gone to war the last couple months.”

  He understood.

  Bonnie.

  The aftermath.

  Now O’Banion.

  It would be nice to have a nice, easy mystery of who shot the stripper in the back alley for a damn change.

  It was sad, but the truth.

  He laughed.

  “What?”

  “Inner dialog.”

  “Oh, good. Oh, and by the way, Gabe doesn’t want O’Banion to survive this mess.”

  Elizabeth knew she told him to say nothing, but that didn’t mean she could lie to them, classified or not. They had rules in their marriage, and she was NEVER breaking them again.

  He looked over.

  “If you tell me he wants you to end him, I will get mad and hurt him.”

  She chewed.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “I haven’t told Ethan yet. I don’t know how that’s going to go over.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  I know, Callen. I know. I just don’t know what to do with it yet. I have a plan.

  “I don’t like this at all.”

  “What if I told you I didn’t plan on pulling the trigger?” she asked. “What if I have my suspicions, and I need to plan this out perfectly for it to work?”

  “I’d be glad, but you can’t tell me?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m pretty sure I know where this is all headed. I’m pretty sure I have it figured out, but I need a little more time. I don’t plan on pulling the trigger—that’s all I can share for now.”

  He gave her a kiss.

  Callen would trust her.

  He had to.

  “I love you.”

  “Can we brush our teeth and hit the bed? I’m dog tired. Like I could sleep here with the cookies.”

  “We could carry them to bed…”

  She laughed.

  “Screw cavities.”

  He laughed and turned around. She jumped onto his back and he piggybacked her up the stairs—cookies in hand.

 
; When they got to Chris’s room, he opened the door and peeked in.

  He wasn’t there.

  That meant he would be in with Ethan.

  Heading down the hall, they opened the door and found Chris cuddled against their other spouse. The man was on his arm, his head on his chest, and they were both asleep.

  Silently, she put the cookies on the night stand and began stripping out of her boots and cargo pants.

  Callen gave her his shirt, and she pulled that on to sleep in. It smelled like him, and she was in man heaven.

  Then, she shoved a cookie in her mouth to keep from giggling even more from the adrenaline crash of the evening.

  Callen too.

  “I smell cookies,” Chris muttered.

  “Busted,” Callen said, swallowing.

  Ethan opened his eyes and held out his hand.

  “Share or else.”

  They handed one over.

  Chris did the same.

  “Have mercy on me. You all smell like chocolate, and I’m a weak man. You can’t be that cruel to me. No one is that damn mean. Please?”

  They handed him the big one. It had been their intent from the start. One cookie wouldn’t kill him.

  Then they climbed into bed.

  Callen cuddled Elizabeth, Elizabeth and Chris faced each other, and Ethan took the edge.

  They ate their cookies, broke their own rules about not brushing their teeth, and slipped into sleep.

  Proving once more that a lot more things went down in their bed other than sex.

  There were crumbs, and giggles to prove it.

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

  Sunday

  Five AM

  The phone call was NOT welcomed, and their groans—plus bitching—proved it. As they each grabbed their phones, they read the incoming text.

  “I’ll miss you all,” Ethan stated, as he rolled into the middle of the bed and stretched when they all started getting dressed.

  “Jerk,” Callen stated. “So not cool. I was so comfortable,” he stated.

  Ethan laughed and closed his eyes.

  “I’m sleeping in Chris’s room tonight all alone,” she stated. That would teach him.