DC was crazy.
Boone had to stop thinking about home. This was a totally different world than New Orleans.
On their way out of the precinct, to head toward the next crime scene, Boone was cautiously looking around. He had the feeling he was being watched, and he wasn’t sure if he really was or if he was simply paranoid.
Apparently, his odd behavior was noticeable.
“What’s bugging you, Boone?” his partner asked, as they headed toward their ride. “You look twitchy today.”
He glanced over at Sima. He really liked working with her. Not only was she smart, but she knew her way around DC. As an outsider there, he needed all the help he could get.
She really was his backup—in all senses of the word.
“I’m just checking out my surroundings.”
Boone hadn’t told anyone about the issue that he and Merry were battling. The only ones who knew were Elizabeth and Ethan Blackhawk. He had to hope that she’d keep his girlfriend inside where it was safe.
“You look worried.”
Yeah, he really was. He was wearing Merry’s Kevlar, and he was praying he wasn’t going to be shot in the head by a deranged nut bag. To say he was distracted would be an understatement.
As they got into their car, he didn’t even argue about driving. Boone wanted to stay alert.
“Why don’t you talk it out?” she asked.
He shrugged. “There’s nothing to…”
Sima cut him off.
“You realize that if you lie to your partner, it totally makes me not trust you. When we’re going through a door, I need to believe you have my back.”
He sighed. “Sima.”
“Boone, we’ve been partnered up two weeks now. Don’t you think it’s time you trusted me?”
He knew she had a point.
“What is it?”
“My girlfriend has an ex. He’s a douchebag. He’s abusive, threatened to hurt her, and has been stalking her. He knows she’s with me, and it’s making me edgy.”
“That sucks. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, but we’re both worried that he’s going to pop up and do something stupid. I’m just making sure I keep my eyes open in case he does. I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m just trying to stay alive.”
She patted his arm. “What’s he look like? I can multitask. If I see him, I can let you know. Since I’m with you all day long, that might be a good plan.”
He agreed.
Boone pulled out his phone and showed her the picture Elizabeth had circulated around her team.
“He’s a cop?” she asked.
“He was until he was kicked off the force for hurting Meredith. His bosses were pissed when the FBI called them up and told them they were employing an abusive lunatic. Go figure.”
“Okay, I’ll keep my eyes open. Was that so difficult to trust your partner?”
He laughed. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I have your back.”
Boone knew he needed all the help he could get at this point. One more set of eyes might mean him living a little longer.
Sima kept driving as she headed toward the scene.
“What do we know about this one?” he asked. “I didn’t get to read the report that was called in.”
Sima broke it down. “This is a weird one.”
He laughed. “They all are. What do we have?”
“Sally Patton, a domestic for Fern Yoder called it in. She found her boss tied to her bed.”
Great.
There was nothing like some sex and kinkery to add some spice to your caseload. Boone saw a lot of that in ‘The Big Easy’. Sex was a constant in a tourist town where women flashed people to get cheap plastic beads.
Shit!
He needed to stop thinking about home. This was his new normal, and he needed to focus on it.
“Okay, and?”
“She had burns through her throat.”
That was different.
“Through?”
“Yeah, here’s the weird part I was talking about. They were from the inside out. Something hot was shoved down her throat, and it burned through her flesh.”
Okay, that was weird.
“What else did she say?”
“Well, the officers on duty had a hard time understanding her since she was screaming and weeping. By now, she should be calmed down enough that we can get her to tell us more.”
“Is there anyone else who lives there?” Boone asked, making notes.
“Not that I know right now. If you search Fern Yoder online, she may look familiar.”
Boone pulled out his phone as his partner navigated the blocked off street.
“She’s old.”
“Yeah, and she’s a rich recluse.”
Boone stared over at her. “We have two wealthy recluses taken out in the same week?”
She laughed. “It happens. Put away the suspicion. One was drowned and the other was…whatever she was.”
Boone couldn’t help it.
Something was bugging his gut, and when that happened, he needed to focus on it. While Sima was an up and coming cop, working for Metro, he’d been a cop twice as long and in a city that dealt with a shitload of crazy.
This, to him, was right up that alley.
Getting out of their vehicle, both detectives flashed their badges to the cops at the tape. They were motioned toward the large house where the DC ME was already inside, poking at the body.
It didn’t take them long to find her.
“Hey, Doctor Brass. Good to see you,” Sima said, grinning at her.
The woman stood up. “Not as good as seeing you, Detective. You have an interesting one here,” she said, pointing at the bound woman.
“COD?” Boone asked.
“And you are?” the ME asked.
Sima made the introductions. “This is my new partner, Vanessa. This is Detective Boone Savage.”
The ME pulled off a glove and shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Detective. Welcome to the team.”
“Thank you,” he stated.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“N’awlins.”
“You’re not big into conversation either, huh?”
Boone shrugged. “I’m really into what killed the woman on the bed—if that matters.”
Doctor Vanessa Brass laughed at his comment. “Point made, Detective. Our dead woman was bound and hot coals were shoved down her throat. They had to have been heated pretty hot to sear through the flesh.”
“Is that what that smell is?” Sima asked.
“Yep, it’s cooked old lady.”
“Yuck. I could have gone without that visual in my head, Doc.”
Boone grabbed a pair of gloves and slipped them onto his hands. “What else do we know?”
“That it had to hurt like a bitch?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a given. What else?”
She shook her head. “I can’t give you anything until I open her up, and I’m not doing that until tomorrow. I have a backlog at the morgue, and you’re not first on my roster.”
“Doctor,” he began.
“You’re not even fifth, so you can slow your roll, Detective. In DC, it’s first dead, first cut.”
Boone got it.
He knew how it worked.
When he stood up, something off to the side on the nightstand caught his eye. “Wait. What’s that?” he asked, pointing toward it.
He headed around the bed to reach it. His partner was right behind him.
“It looks like…”
“Yeah, it’s a white handkerchief. I’ve seen that twice now in two cases, and that can’t be a fluke.”
His partner picked it up with gloved fingers. “It’s the same one,” Sima stated.
“What do you have?” Doctor Brass asked.
“Our other victim, who was drowned, had this same handkerchief on the scene. It was lying beside the pool.”
“Yeah, I was off when
he came in, but the case is on my desk,” the doctor stated.
Boone pulled up the crime scene pictures and began flipping until he found what he was looking for in them.
Bingo!
There it was.
“We thought it was the victim’s handkerchief, but two random killings with the same one?”
Yeah, he didn’t like coincidences.
“What’s that on it?” Doctor Brass asked as she studied the photograph.
“It looks like a lily,” Sima stated. “I may be wrong, since flowers aren’t really my thing.”
“It’s definitely a lily,” stated the ME.
“Aren’t lilies a typical flower you find at funerals?” asked Boone.
“Yeah, they are,” Vanessa Brass answered.
His wheels were spinning.
“I need to check something,” he stated, wanting to cover his bases. Something was up, and they needed to figure it out. His gut was now screaming.
He couldn’t ignore it.
Pulling out his phone, he logged into his work account to find the last couple of missing person reports that were emailed to the precinct.
Boone scanned them.
He found one that caught his attention. As he was reading, he found the name of the detective in charge and dialed his number. As he waited for Detective Harrison Lindsey to answer, his partner was at his side.
“What?” she asked.
“I have a hunch.”
She didn’t know the man well enough, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Their captain said the man was a decorated detective with over a decade on the job. It was worth hearing him out.
“Detective Lindsey.”
“Hey, Detective, this is Detective Savage, how are you?” he asked.
“Working. What do you need?”
“You pulled a missing person case. I need some information on it. Do you have a few?” he asked, putting the phone on speaker.
“Yeah, I can spare a few. Did you find my guy? I’m assuming you’re homicide. These cases rarely end up any other way.”
“Yeah, I’m homicide, but no, we haven’t found him. We may be tied to it with our case. Can you tell me what you have?”
The man began rattling off the details.
“I have Roman Conley who went missing. He’s a local rich guy who was playing a few holes at the local country club, and he went MIA. No one’s seen him since.”
“Is he a recluse?”
“Well, other than the golfing buddies, I’m told that he’s not big into public appearances.”
That sounded like their other two victims.
“Did you turn up anything on him?”
“We found his car at the country club. It had his clubs and his personal effects, but that’s about it. We didn’t find any blood, fluids, or signs of a struggle. It’s a mystery. It’s like he walked away and was never seen again.”
This was where Boone would tie it together or be in for a huge let down.
“Did you take any crime scene photos?”
“We documented his car since he’s missing, but technically, it’s not a case until we can figure out if something happened to him or if he’s just off on some African safari.”
“Can you forward me the pictures? I want to compare them to my scenes.”
“Sure. If anything pops, will you let me know?” he asked. “I’d like to clear this MPR off my desk.”
He got it. No one liked missing person reports. They were a backlog in the making, and as a cop, your job was to solve cases, not let them gather dust on your desk.
“Will do, Detective. I’ll keep you updated.”
“I’ll send them right now.”
Boone ended the call.
“You know this is like the most insane angle I’ve ever seen worked in my life. You’re crazy.”
Was he?
He really just thought he was a damn good cop who used his gut. When the phone chimed, he opened up his email. Together, they scrolled through the pictures until they came to the one picture that proved Boone was on his game.
“Well, son of a bitch,” Sima muttered. “I guess you aren’t as crazy as I thought you were.”
“Still think it’s a longshot?” he asked, enlarging the picture to see it better.
How could she?
At the scene, where the other man went missing, there had been incriminating evidence that this was connected.
There was the third handkerchief.
It was white.
It had a lily.
And it said it all.
“We have a serial killer,” Boone stated. “We have to get help on this one before it spirals out of control.”
Sima stared at him. “Like who? Superman? This whole damn town in backlogged. If you call in the FBI, they’ll send us some newbie without a clue, and that’s a mess in the making. All we have is a handkerchief and your gut. I don’t think you can get a Fed to even buy this one if you tried.”
Oh, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.
He knew a few Feds…
Boone patted her on the back. “I don’t want to let this one get away from us. We need to call in help, and I’m going to ask you to do what you asked me to do.”
“What?”
“Trust me.”
It was only fair.
She agreed, but still…
Who was he going to get to believe this harebrained attempt at connecting three cases?
“Unless you have friends at the bureau, there is no way we’re going to even be on their radar. They’ll give us the run around, tell us to get more evidence, and that they’ll ‘look into it’ when they won’t.”
Boone smiled.
Oh, he had this one in the bag.
“Let me make a call.”
“Who are you calling?” Sima asked, as she stared at him. Her partner was insane.
That was the only explanation. You could tell he wasn’t from DC. One didn’t just call the FBI. They liked you to go through proper channels, fill out the paperwork, and pray they could give you the time of day.
“I’m calling Ethan Blackhawk.”
She started laughing.
“You are totally full of shit. There is no way you’re making that call. He’s second in charge of the FBI. He’s not the kind of suit who takes calls from two street detectives who think they have a serial killer.”
He ignored her as he hit speed dial. Boone waited for the man to answer and held up the phone.
“Blackhawk.”
“Ethan? It’s Boone. I need your help.”
“Hey! Boone, what’s up?” Ethan asked.
All the while the two men carried on a conversation, Sima stared at her partner with huge eyes.
“I have a serial killer, and this one might be right up Elizabeth’s alley.”
Sima couldn’t believe this.
‘Elizabeth freaking Blackhawk,’ she mouthed in surprise and shock. Her partner had to be yanking her chain. No one dialed up a Blackhawk in DC unless you were at the top of the food chain.
They were the power couple.
“She’s in between cases now, Boone, so if you need her, you should drop by the office.”
“Great. We’ll head in. I owe her a hug anyway for what she did for Merry.”
“We’ll be waiting. I’ll clear a few meetings to see you,” Ethan offered.
Sima couldn’t believe this. Who the hell was her partner? Who had this kind of clout? Certainly not an average cop.
“Thank you, Ethan. My gut is off on this one.”
“I trust your gut,” Blackhawk stated. “We’ll see you in a few. I’ll have you cleared at the front desk.”
When he hung up the phone, she was shaking her head. “Do I want to know how you have his direct number?”
Boone laughed at the shock in her voice. “You can thank my girlfriend.”
Sima was confused as hell. “Why does she have anything to do with this?”
Until that moment, he’d k
ept his private life just that—private. Now the cat was out of the bag.
“She runs Elizabeth Blackhawk’s lab. She’s her head tech and works exclusively on her team.”
She punched him.
HARD.
“Hey! What the hell was that for?” he asked, rubbing his arm. “That hurt!”
“You’ve been holding out on your partner, Boone. You totally deserved that one.”
Maybe she was right.
He possibly did.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Hoover Building
Violent Crimes Unit
Somehow, she’d managed to shake her tail. Igor was crowding her all morning, and it was making her crazy. He’d followed her from the house to the office. He tailed her to the cafeteria when she wanted a coffee. He’d even tracked her to the ladies’ room when she had to pee.
Hey, don’t get her wrong.
He was a nice guy.
He just wasn’t fun as a babysitter.
When the man followed her to the ladies’ room, then the cafeteria, and finally, her desk—all while safely inside the Hoover building, it made her want to flip her shit all over the place.
No…
It made her want to manhandle her husband and not in a kinky fun way.
This was Ethan’s doing, and it made her crazy. She didn’t need Igor following her. It made her cranky, and cranky Elizabeth did things the men wouldn’t like.
She was likely to cause a mutiny just for shits and giggles. Well, it was coming.
Elizabeth could feel it.
The other thing she could feel?
Pure freaking joy that the weekend was coming!
They’d had minor cases the last two weeks, and so far, they’d avoided being called out on a big one. It was like Christmas for her.
This was a huge gift.
Elizabeth wanted to stick around DC to catch the Halloween holiday next week with her babies.
All of their costumes were ready.
CJ was going to be a cop.
EJ was going to be a robber.
Cat was going to be a bail bondsman…because that was where the money was when it came to her brothers.
Act of Blood (An FBI/Romance Thriller ~ Book 16) Page 4