Ethan ignored them and pulled a pillow over his head to block out the light and noise.
He didn’t care.
He was off duty for two more hours. Then he’d be going straight all day with the president. He needed some sleep.
“Wear your Kevlar,” he muttered, as he rolled to his stomach and went back to sleep.
“I know I normally say I wouldn’t want his job, but today…I want it.”
Callen agreed.
For the two extra hours of sleep…he’d take the presidential flogging.
Here was their proof that this killer was crazy. He was dropping bodies left and right at a breakneck pace.
Something had to give.
“Let’s go. I’ll call the security,” he offered.
“Give them until morning. Ivan was chasing me around all-night. I think we can survive without them breathing down our necks for the next three hours.”
She had a point.
Besides, Callen was there.
He’d keep his wife safe.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Three
Hours
Earlier
When Ivan got home—or to her home, the lights were on, and she was up and awake. Blue was sitting at the kitchen table, having some tea, and working on her drawings.
She was working on the last victim they’d dug up. It was the beginning stages. She’d have it done in a day or so, once Jaxon got the markers in place.
When he arrived at the door, he saw the key sitting on the mat. Uh, he was going to have to talk to her about shit like that. That was exactly how you got killed.
Opening the door, he headed in and found her working.
“Hey, honey, I’m home,” he said, dropping his gear by the door.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she called.
He headed toward the sound of her voice to find her in a huge room of granite and white. It was as big as half his parent’s house in Iowa.
Holy shit!
“Hey, babe. Welcome home. Tired?” she asked.
Yes, yes, he was.
“A little. What are you doing?” he asked.
She closed up her sketch pad.
“I was waiting for my man to come home. Now that you’re here, we can go to bed.”
“Are you going to do this all the time?” he asked.
“What?”
“Wait up?”
She wasn’t sure if she’d made a mistake. After all, this was new to her.
“Uh, yes, if that’s a good thing, and, no, if that’s a bad thing.”
He laughed.
“It’s a sweet thing, and I’ll do the same for you.”
She smiled.
Blue held out her hand.
“I’ll show you the way to bed,” she said.
He let her lead him.
They headed up the back stairs, down a hall, and into a giant room. It had a big mahogany bed with posters as big around as his thighs.
“Wow.”
“If you don’t like it, you can swap it out. I got it while on a trip to the Bahamas. I love that plantation feel.”
He checked it all out.
Ivan didn’t hate it. It was masculine, dark wood, and it was hers. He could meet her halfway.
“The bed stays, the girly bedding with the flowers goes.”
She laughed.
“Deal.”
He yawned.
Blue took that as her sign that he wasn’t going to be christening anything, and she got it. While she could do thirty-six hours straight, he wasn’t a trained doctor.
“I’m beat,” she said, lying her ass off.
“Good. I’m so tired I could sleep standing up,” he admitted, pulling off his clothes.
Immediately, she picked them up, folded them, and placed them on a chair in the corner.
He laughed.
“Uh, what?” she asked.
“I was just thinking how it was nice having this.”
Blue smiled.
“You have it forever.”
That was his favorite part.
“Let’s sleep, Bluebell.”
She could do that.
So, they climbed into bed. It was time to shut down, close their eyes, and calle it a night.
Honestly, Ivan had never been more at peace in his life.
And never slept so damn good.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Crime Scene
Across Town
When they pulled up, they found five cops standing around a rolling trash can. It wasn’t that big, and suddenly, she hoped the killer wasn’t cutting people up.
Yes, of course, that was where her mind went.
How the hell could it not?
She hated when a killer went off the rails and switched it up mid-crime spree.
“What do we have?” she asked getting Kane’s attention.
He yawned.
Yeah, she was there herself. At some point, she wouldn’t be able to do these late nights. That was just one more reason why she wanted to expand her team. At her age, she needed some sleep to stay alive.
“We have one victim.”
“And we know it’s mine, how?” she asked.
“Your killer rolled the garbage can into the street, and when traffic started up, a good Samaritan tried to move it out of the way before starting his shift at the dock.”
Great.
The cuckoo was trying to get attention. She knew what Ethan would say. He was playing with them.
He wanted the victim to be found on HIS timeline, not HERS.
“Let’s see what he left me,” she said, looking into the can at the victim.
Yeah, this was an escalation.
She’d bet money on it.
The victim had facial bruising, she was bent and twisted to fit inside, and her vagina was facing up.
He’d literally bent her over backward to get her into her hiding spot.
Yuck.
Well, that was new.
“Hey, Doc, are you ready for this one?” she asked, as he headed her way in his protective gear.
“Oh, that sounded ominous,” he admitted.
She laughed.
“You have no idea.”
As he stared down into the trash bin, Chris whistled. What could he possibly say?
“Talk about bendy.”
She looked at him and that one look said it all. It was hard not to laugh.
“Too soon?”
She nodded.
“Chris, I’m going to let you handle this mess, and I’m going to talk to the good Samaritan, and see what else I can find out about our broken babe.”
“Just my luck. Chrissy, start the photos. I hope rigor mortis hasn’t set in. She’ll be a bitch to unbend.”
“I see a purse down there,” she said. “We might have an ID if we can get her out.”
He touched her leg.
Well, shit.
Yeah, this was exactly what he didn’t want to have to deal with once she was out.
“Elizabeth! Wait!”
“What?” she asked, as she was walking away.”
“What time did you go after Brian Montany?” he asked her, trying to figure something out.
“We kicked the door in at eleven, Why?”
“She’s in full rigor.”
“Uh oh.”
Yeah, that meant at least six to eight hours.
She did the math.
He would have had to beat her on a foot chase, got across town to this section of the neighborhood, and then kill her with no time to spare.
It wasn’t looking good for her when it came to him being a good suspect. This might just rule him out. She’d already mentioned he’d want time to set up and lie in wait.
“Shit! I hope it’s because it’s nippy out here!”
“I’ll check her liver temp, but it’s not looking good, honey. I’m sorry.”
She was NOT happy.
An
d there went another freaking suspect. Maybe Carl had done this one on his own if he saw his happy helper was tied up with running for his life.
That was the ONLY way this could work out in her favor. It meant her wounds were consistent with the bodies in the grave and not the new victims. If Carl was back in play, the evidence would tell the tale.
“I need to know if she was raped and the entry wound angle,” she said.
Elizabeth was holding out for hope. That was about all she had left at that point.
“As soon as I can give it to you, I will,” Chris said, going back to work.
Yeah, this sucked.
As she walked away, Callen felt bad for his wife. He didn’t think this was going to work out in their favor. It seldom did, and that was a tough pill to swallow for Elizabeth.
“I’m sorry.”
“If it’s not Brian, we have jack shit,” she admitted.
He was aware.
They weren’t only down a perfectly viable suspect, with a history of violence that they could tie to Carl, but they were back at square one.
“How can the perfect cuckoo fit the profile and still not be the one?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What are we missing?” she asked. Elizabeth had told him earlier that she was working on a backup plan, and this was fitting her suspicions. The evidence was leading her one way, and her gut, the other.
“Let’s interview this guy,” she said,
They headed to the police car and in the back was a normal looking guy except that he looked freaked out.
Could they blame him?
He’d just looked into the garbage can from hell.
“Sir, what happened?” she asked, as she leaned onto the ride to do the interview.
“It’s all too damn weird. I was driving to work. I start at six and I’m off at six. In the middle of the road, there was a garbage can, and it was going to cause an accident as traffic picked up, so I went to move it.”
Yeah, and put his prints all over it.
Great.
“Mr…?”
“I’m Riley Welch.”
Callen helped his wife and took down his information. He felt bad for the man.
He’d never look at a garbage can, or a vagina, the same way again.
He knew he wouldn’t.
“I was just trying to keep someone from having an accident, and I found her.”
Yeah, she didn’t even know where to take this. The guy looked straight-laced, he looked like some twenty-something on his way to the docks to unload.
When she looked toward his vehicle, it didn’t click.
Was he driving a sports car to the dock?
Really?
Why did that feel off?
“Did you see anyone around the area when you stopped to move the can?” she asked.
“No. It was dark and quiet.”
Yeah, that made sense. The killer was likely long gone. While she didn’t doubt that he’d want to see it all go down, he wouldn't stick around for a long time.
That would be crazy.
“Can I go to work? I don’t want to lose this job. I really need to get there.”
She jerked her head toward the man’s ride. “Yes, but stay in town.”
He jogged off and headed out.
“He was about twenty-five, right?”
“Yeah, why?” Callen asked.
“What was he driving?”
“A tricked-out muscle charger with mag wheels and a souped up…”
She was staring at him.
“It was more rhetorical on the details, Callen James,” she stated.
He laughed.
“Now you tell me.”
“What were you driving at twenty-five years old?”
“Uh, the same shit truck you first saw me in on the rez when we first met. No car payment is a good thing—that’s my motto.”
Yeah, she assumed.
Elizabeth sent a text to the detective and the agents doing the research for when they got into the office.
Riley Welch was on deck.
They had a saying in crime solving.
‘He who found the body was high on the list of dumping the body.’
“I have her out!” Chris called, alerting her that they were ready to give her more details.
They headed his way.
She was grotesquely twisted and lying on the black bag. From the look of her, she’d been stuffed in a swampy can, and smelled like death.
Or disgusting garbage juice.
“I may throw up,” she said, as Chris tossed her the Vicks to smear beneath her nose.
It looked like they all were going to be smelling like all kinds of metholyptus.
It was better than garbage-can, body soup.
“What can you tell me other than people suck?” she asked, passing the Vicks to Callen so he could partake in the fun of literal body dumpster diving.
“Well, she’s missing her undergarments.”
“Rape?” she asked, knowing this was going to come down to one of two things. While she wanted the killer not to be switching it up, she didn’t want the possibility of Carl having more than one helper.
“Yep. Badly too. Someone liked it rough, and I’m going to say it wasn’t her.”
Crap.
“Okay, well, then we can say this likely isn’t Brian. My thoughts were that Carl came into play for this one, but if that semen matches the other two victims…”
Yeah, they got it.
Brian was in the clear.
Elizabeth had to let it go. She had to keep going and hope something else helped her with this one. She didn’t like where her mind was taking this, and she couldn’t tell the team yet.
She had to be sure.
Elizabeth took in her nails.
They were perfect.
Her shoes.
They were sensible.
Then took in the low-cut shirt and hiked skirt.
Sexy.
The shoes were out of place.
If she were going out on the town, she’d be wearing her girly shoes if she was sporting a skirt that short and a top cut that low.
This had to be something.
“What doesn’t fit?” she asked.
Callen knew right away.
“She’s wearing sneaker-like shoes but dressed like she’s out to get laid.”
“Who dresses like that in comfortable shoes?” Elizabeth asked.
Chris and Callen both looked over at her and then at her cowboy boots.
“You’re both out to get your asses kicked if you don’t look elsewhere,” she threatened.
They averted their gaze.
It was a bad idea to provoke the cranky.
“Bar,” she said, scanning the whole street. There was a parking lot, an alley, a bar, and a few shops, but none of them would be open that late at night.
“Tattoo place,” Callen stated, drawing her attention there too.
Okay, so there was that possibility. Maybe she worked there.
It looked like when things opened at noon, she was going to have to do some interviews.
“We have an ID,” Christina stated, pulling out a name tag and license from the garbage can soaked bag.
How she didn’t puke was beyond Elizabeth. It was still cold out, but that was gross. It was garbage juice ice cubes at the bottom.
“We have a Mariah Hart. From the name tag, she was working at ‘Coopers’.”
They all looked down the street at the bar.
Well, at least her instincts were on track, and that worried her. If this was right, she was probably not going to like how this case ended.
What also sucked was this was the business district. There weren’t even any houses nearby that might have seen something.
“Cameras?”
“Bar and tattoo place,” Callen offered, zipping up his leather jacket.
Well, it looked like they were going to have to wait on that too. Interviews and c
ameras would have to wait until the businesses opened.
“I don’t like that he’s escalating,” Callen stated.
Chris either.
“Do you have TOD?” she asked, focused on the puzzle she was working on in her head. She had a suspicion, and she was running with it.
He pulled the liver probe from her body, as two techs tried to unbend her. The popping and cracking were enough to make anyone want to puke.
“Jesus. I may never be the same again,” she stated as bones made that horrible noise.
“It’s not the first time you’ve dealt with that,” he stated.
It was true, but it was still nasty.
“TOD?” she asked again.
“With the temperature out here, and the state of rigor, I’m going to aim for eleven—give or take thirty minutes.”
“Brian Montany is off the hook. Semen or not,” she said. “He’s been given an alibi. We were sitting outside his dump of a home waiting for him to be brought in. I’m his freaking alibi,” she stated.
Great.
Well, this meant one thing.
Elizabeth pulled out her cell and called her husband, so he could have some fun too.
Ethan answered on the second ring, and he sounded like he was still in bed.
“You hate me, don’t you? I have to deal with the President today.”
She told him about the body.
“She was sandwiched in a garbage can, bent in half, raped, and sitting in enough garbage soup to make me want to puke. Is our guy going to escalate further? I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t something huge.”
It took him a second to clear the fog.
“Carl never raped the girls,” he stated. “I read the file that Gabe had on O’Banion. He stated that Carl wasn’t into rape. He made a joke about the man being impotent more than once.”
Well, that sucked for him.
“At first, I thought maybe he stepped in and handled this victim, but we have the same MO from one and two. I’m pretty sure we don’t have Carl killing.”
“The rape is the concerning part, Lyzee. Carl, while an asshole, wasn’t a rapist. He had a wife, they had a cuckoo for a son, but he didn’t abuse women. He was there for the money. That was his jam. He killed because it was his job. He didn’t get joy out of it. Someone is getting joy.”
Dead are Forgotten Page 47