Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5)

by Morgan Kelley

  Well, at least they had something more to go by.

  “All the women have that ISP contacting them?” she asked.

  Curtis nodded as he continued to run the mailman. “Yep. It’s not going to be a coincidence either.”

  Brynn yawned. “Sorry. I’m running on fumes.”

  Emma glanced over at her husband and gave him the look. She knew he was prone to not need much sleep, since he’d been in the military. Unfortunately, they had been burning the candle at both ends, and the team was suffering for it.

  “Head home. Emma and I will take care of the interviews. You and Brynn get some down time and be here ready to go in the morning. Our killer is escalating, and his next target is anyone’s guess.”

  Curtis could have kissed his boss. “Are you sure?” Yet, he was hesitant to let them wander around alone. He knew what was chasing them.

  Who was now chasing them.

  “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Go, get some sleep.”

  They packed up their things. “I’ll keep running Lawrence Owens,” he offered, feeling a little guilty.

  “Thank you,” Emma stated, waiting for them to head out for the day.

  “Well, it’s just us. What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “Head to our vehicle, make out, and have sex.”

  He stared at her. “You know you shouldn’t tease, right? This door does have a lock.”

  It made her laugh, and Emma realized it was the first time in over twenty-four hours where she genuinely had a moment of happiness.

  Of course, Greyson gave it to her.

  “How about we interview Scott Greensmith, and then hit up the address tied to Arron Patterson? Something has to give sooner or later. This killer isn't invisible.”

  He understood her frustration. “I’m with you.”

  Together, they headed out, giving it one more try.

  * * *

  Dominic Marianna was on a high.

  Randall Mason had been the one person standing in his way. Now, he could dominate Vegas, crush Greyson Croft, and own Emma, the man’s feisty wife.

  It was a pretty good day.

  Yes, Levi Hammond had abandoned ship, and he’d been pissed about that, but now there was so much more to make him happy.

  Greyson Croft was about to be taken down.

  No more would there be all of Mason’s money to keep him safe. In Vegas, money talked. While he was rich, Randall Mason had been wealthier than God and the devil combined.

  He’d been the obstacle that held him back.

  Now, the man was burning in hell, and he was going to rule the town once and for all.

  “I can’t find any will,” stated Kenneth James. He’d been asked by his boss to locate where all of Randall Mason’s money was going.

  While he’d done the man’s business, he couldn’t find any sign of one.

  “He didn't have one?” asked Marianna. That couldn’t be right. Certainly, the heaviest hitter in Vegas would have a will. Marianna wanted it in the worst way. That little piece of paper would clue him in to who he was up against.

  “I’ve looked everywhere. I even went through Lana’s files. She didn't work on one for him, and neither did I.”

  “That can’t be.”

  The man thought about it. “I’d bet that there has to be one. Randall was too smart not to be prepared. He was notorious for micromanaging everything. I’m betting he didn't let me do it, just because he knew you and I did business.”

  Marianna laughed. “Well, what’s my worst case scenario?” he asked.

  “If he divided up his estate, you have nothing to worry about. Since he had no kids, there was no one to inherit it all.”

  “And if he didn't?”

  “The one person who gets it all will be the most powerful person in Vegas.”

  “What was his net worth? Millions?”

  Kenneth laughed at that. His boss had millions of dollars. Randall Mason could buy and sell Dominic a thousand times over. “Try billions.”

  Marianna would cut off his own balls to have that kind of power. If someone inherited that, he couldn’t buy them off. There would be no way to use money as leverage. In this world, money spoke.

  If that was what ended up happening, this entire thing would make him very unhappy.

  “Find out for me. Reach out to your lawyer friends and ask if anyone has access to that will. If they’ll change it, let me know. If they won’t, just give me a heads up. I want to use my power to break Croft and own his wife.”

  Kenneth James would, but he knew Randall Mason well. What he wasn’t telling his boss was that the job wouldn’t be that easy. Randall Mason was smart.

  He wouldn’t have left a trail of breadcrumbs.

  If they were able to find one, the person guarding it would have been paid more money than conceivable to keep it quiet. Randall bought his loyalty with numbers containing lots of zeros.

  “Sure thing, Dom,” he said, heading out.

  He crossed his fingers and prayed that Dominic Marianna was happy in the end. A pissed off mob boss was a dangerous one, and he didn't buy that Levi Hammond just walked away.

  When you swam with sharks, you didn't escape that easy.

  Kenneth James was worried.

  No, make that scared shitless. His partner was dead, one friend was missing, and Dominic had a big hard on over screwing with the head Fed.

  This was bound to get ugly.

  * * *

  When they pulled up to Scott Greensmith’s home, they found his car in the driveway. Once on the porch, they didn't even have to knock. Immediately, the door was opened and a man stood there watching them.

  “Can I help you?” he asked curiously.

  Croft could tell from the look in his face that he recognized them. “We’re here to talk to a Mr. Scott Greensmith.”

  “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

  Emma pointed to the inside of his house. “Can we come in?”

  “Sure! Just don’t mind the mess. I work from home,” he stated, leading them into his personal space.

  Once inside, he wasn’t kidding. It looked like a library exploded all over the place.

  “What do you do for a living, Mr. Greensmith?” Greyson Croft asked.

  “I’m a writer. I’m working on a new book.”

  Emma sat on the couch, between a large cat and her husband. It was almost like being at home, only this cat rubbed against her.

  So, cats could be friendly.

  Who knew?

  “What kind?”

  He started laughing. “We’re not going to ignore the fact that a cop and FBI guy are in my house, are we? I think the first question should be why you’re here.”

  Croft hated smart-ass suspects. “We’re investigating the death of two women, who you had contact with, a couple weeks ago,” he stated. Pulling out his tablet, he showed him their pictures.”

  “Yeah, I had one night with each of them, but it was research for my book.”

  “One night as in sex?” Emma asked.

  “No.”

  Croft gave him a look. “Zara Harris was a nympho. Are you telling me that you didn't get on that train?”

  He looked sheepish. “Okay, so I did have sex with her, but the second one, no. She wanted something I wouldn’t do.”

  Again, he got the look. Men generally didn't have many boundaries, especially when they had sex on the brain.

  Emma took a different route. “What are you writing about?” she asked.

  “Vegas and the lack of modern day feminism.”

  She wanted to laugh. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes, it seems like in this city, women are bought and sold every day. That’s why I was meeting with them. I also found two hookers who were willing to talk to me.”

  Croft wasn’t sure if the man was yanking their chain or not. “So you’re admitting to the police that you picked up hookers?”

  “I didn't sleep with them. I just bought them coffee, paid their fe
e, and got their story.”

  “Ever hear of ‘The Hideaway’?” Emma asked.

  “No. What is it?”

  “A motel that hookers and loose women like to hang out in, selling themselves instead of being feminists,” she stated.

  He gave her a look. “Listen, I’m writing a book. I presold it. I didn't kill or hurt anyone. Yes, I slept with Zara Harris. She was hot, and I’m only human, but that’s it. When a woman rips off her clothes and sits in your lap, it’s really hard to say no.”

  Croft would agree, but he was selective on the woman in question. Only one would work for him. If anyone else did it, he’d freak out.

  They pulled up the rest of the pictures to show him. “Do you know anyone else here? Before you say no, we’re going to run you and find out. If you lie, you won’t be writing anything in jail.”

  He shook his head. “I've never seen them.”

  Croft picked up the questioning, “Why don’t you tell me about the sex?”

  “These women were freaks. I couldn’t do it with Lidia, she wanted to have sex in a church. I’m catholic, and I’m not risking my eternal soul for a one night stand.”

  Croft made notes.

  “What about Zara?”

  “She wanted to dress up like a nun and have me…” He searched for the right words. “She wanted me to break her in. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. We headed to this cemetery and had sex in my car. She was freaky, but I’m pretty straight. I like one woman at a time, nothing bizarre, and most of the time the lights dimmed. I sit on my ass all day and don’t have time for the gym.”

  Emma wanted confirmation. “So, you never met up with them ever again?”

  “No. I met with Lidia, interviewed her, and that was it. She told me she needed more and more sex, and that her boyfriend wasn’t supplying what she craved.”

  That made sense. He was a steroid junkie. It was amazing that he could get it up at all. Someone didn't need that chastity belt after all…

  “And Zara?” Emma asked.

  “She told me that she had to get off daily, and the kinkier the fantasy the better. When we were doing it, I don’t think she even had an orgasm. Sex in a dark cemetery was too vanilla for her. She wanted me to dress up like a priest, and I wasn’t doing that either. I’ll do a lot for a story, but let’s not go crazy.”

  “Have you used your account lately?” Croft asked.

  “It’s my homepage, so whenever I log into my laptop, it auto opens it. I haven’t looked at any of the profiles. I got what I needed. Women like to sell themselves to the highest bidder. I got my information, and I was done with it.”

  “Can you supply an alibi if we asked?” Emma gave him the dates of Lidia and Zara’s deaths.”

  He thought about it.

  “I can do better than that!” Scott jumped up and grabbed his phone off his desk. When he returned, he handed it to Emma and Greyson.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “On the night when Lidia was killed, I was interviewing a prostitute. It’s right there. Hit play.”

  They did. Both Crofts watched the interview. Indeed, it was time stamped and showed he was occupied.

  Greyson handed the phone back. “What about Zara?”

  He shook his head. “I was here working, but I swear I didn't kill her.”

  It was apparent that they were at a dead end with this one.

  “We’re going to ask you to stick around,” stated Emma, standing from the couch. At least they covered all their bases. For now, they were still back at start.

  “If you’d like to be interviewed for my book, Mrs. Croft, I’d love to add you.”

  Greyson crossed his arms. “You want to interview my wife in a book of sluts and prostitutes? Are you out of your mind? I’m sitting right here.”

  “NO! This is about women and equal rights. She’s obviously more submissive in the relationship. I’d love to hear what her thoughts are on Feminism.”

  Greyson laughed. “You’ve never been married, have you?” he asked.

  “No, why?”

  “If you had been, you’d realize that no man is really in charge of a marriage. She’s the boss. I just wear the tie and play the role.”

  He stared at them, the wheels spinning in his brain.

  On the way out the door, Emma patted him on the ass. “You know that is total bullshit,” she stated, grinning up at him. “You’re a caveman to your bones.”

  Croft was well aware he wore the pants, but the public didn't need to know about their personal lives. Emma was his kitten, and he truly believed her place was in his lap.

  Thankfully, his cave babe was okay with that.

  * * *

  When she got the message, she was intrigued. She was just about ready to give up on the new serial killer case the Crofts were working on.

  It was impossible to get them to return a call.

  They were paired up with that weasel-y bastard Powell. Obviously, he’d paid them off to get all the good dirt.

  Now, she had one up on him.

  When she got back to her desk, there had been a message for her. If she wanted the scoop on what really happened at ‘The Hideaway’, she could have it.

  Did she want it?

  Hell yeah!

  This was going to make her career. God! She loved anonymous sources. They were the bread and butter of her job. She didn't need the stupid FBI or police interviews.

  She had a secret informant.

  This would propel her into the big time, right past that news-hogging bastard.

  That was going to put her name in lights. No more would they think she was some small time reporter. She’d headline the crime beat. Then that nobody reporter, who they were feeding information to, would disappear.

  She would be the best.

  There was something about being queen of the media in Las Vegas. They would all bow to her.

  When she emailed the address on the paper, telling the informant it was a go, she was sent instructions.

  This mystery person wanted to meet her at the last crime scene, and all she had to do was pay for a room. There, they could talk in private.

  Maybe it was a cop! She could get the informant to leak the crime scene photos.

  Oh, this was going to be awesome.

  That hack was screwed.

  There was going to be a new reporter running this byline, and it wouldn’t be him.

  She didn't mind going the extra mile. What was a measly fifty-nine bucks for a room rental? She could write it off on her taxes anyway.

  Closing up her laptop, she tucked it in her bag before saying goodbye to her co-workers.

  If they only knew where she was going, they’d be jealous.

  This was going to be epic.

  Long live the new queen.

  * * *

  Monday Early Evening

  The café had been a bust.

  The second they rolled up, it was obvious that they were only open during morning hours. The place catered to the morning commuters, looking for their coffee and donut fix.

  It would have to wait.

  Tomorrow morning, they’d be paying another visit to the place. Then they could ask the man in charge all the pressing questions, like why his ISP address was being used to hunt down prey for a serial killer.

  It should be interesting.

  “Well, we’ve sent our team home, so what do you want to do? We can head home and call it a night. We’ve been going since finding Reanne Morris’s body.”

  “I need to do something, and I think having you by my side will be so much easier.”

  He would do anything for his wife. “What do you need, Emma?” Greyson asked, taking her hand in his.

  “I want to go to Randall’s house. I need to face it all. When I was there, I was fighting for my life, but now I just want to make sure it’s locked up and safe. I promised him that I’d take care of everything.”

  He under
stood.

  Emma needed closure.

  “Let’s go,” he offered.

  Her heart melted even more for the man beside her. Emma was well aware that her husband didn't love Randall, only tolerating his presence for her sake.

  He could have said no.

  Instead, he worked on trying to heal her heart.

  “I love you, Greyson. Thank you.”

  “Emma, my sweet, you don’t have to thank me. I’m here for my wife. If you need to do this, it’ll be with me at your side.”

  She gave him a kiss. “I’m very lucky, Grey.”

  So was he.

  The drive there was quiet. He could tell his wife was lost in thought. As they got closer to the property, he began worrying. He saw the crime scene, and now Emma was going to relive it.

  He only wanted to protect her. Greyson didn't want her to hurt.

  As they approached, they could see the media was gone, but one lone man stood there, guarding the gate.

  Pulling to a stop, Greyson rolled down his window, but before he could speak, the man introduced himself.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Croft, I’ve been waiting for you. My name in Dimitri Gideon, and we have some business to finish.”

  Greyson didn't like this at all.

  “Who are you, and I don’t need you to repeat your name?” he asked.

  “I was hired by Randall Mason to finish up what he couldn’t,” he stated, getting into the back of the Navigator.

  It made Greyson nervous to have a man sitting right behind him. He could be armed. “What are you doing?”

  “Randall told me that if he were to die, there were two letters waiting to be delivered. He knew Emma would come here, so I was to wait until she did. Then, I’m no longer employed by him.” What he didn't say was that after this job was done, he’d been heavily compensated to work for the Crofts. He had two new bosses.

  Emma turned to stare at the man. There was a slight Russian lilt to his speech, and it was obvious he was working on hiding it. She’d never seen him before, because if she had, there was no doubt she’d remember him. He was incredibly good looking.