“And your close friends, what do they call you?” he asked, feeling the warmth creep up his body, because he planned to be at least that by the end of the work day.
“I’ve been known to tolerate a few specific people calling me Lyzee.”
He grinned, putting his coffee cup down, and holding out his hand. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but it’s very nice to meet you, Lyzee.”
“I don’t have a problem with anyone being forward, Ethan, as long as you don’t mind if it’s reciprocated.” she stood, leaning across her desk to take his hand, wondering if she’d feel the shock of awareness again or if it was a fluke.
Nope, there it was again.
Just watching her smile staggered him. He kept the well trained composure, and his eyes never left hers, as they shook hands again. He was profoundly grateful she called the FBI for help.
Elizabeth had one thought in her head. Calling in the FBI was going to be a huge mistake. She could already tell, and this man was going to be the reason why. Ethan Blackhawk was going to take her to her knees.
She already knew it in her heart.
Thursday Mid-morning
The ride in the car had been a quiet one. Blackhawk’s partner was nowhere to be found, so he opted to ride with the sheriff in her Jeep. Not that he minded, he was enjoying being near her. She smelled incredible, just as she did in his dreams. After they left her office, she introduced him to all her deputies and staff. Instructing them to assist him in any way possible, giving him full access to anything he needed, and to comply with any orders Ethan gave. It was a big change from their usual run in with law enforcement. Usually, they were seen as the invading army or the enemy, and he was pretty sure the reason she didn’t feel that way was she worked the other side too. Being there in the capacity of a consultant only for now, he had to defer to her, but she made his opinion feel welcome and not those of an outsider. She had once been FBI, and he was betting she had been good at her job.
“So, your dad was sheriff?” he asked softly, watching her shift gears and look over at him with eyes hidden by her sunglasses.
“Yes, since I was ten. My mom was killed in a car accident, and he moved us from DC to Salem. Before coming here, he worked for the Capitol police.”
“Salem’s a nice town,” he said, watching the houses pass outside the window.
Elizabeth laughed, and continued, “Thank you, I think.”
Ethan gave her the famous Blackhawk grin. It was his secret weapon in catching women. “I mean it. I grew up in a town similar to this one,” he paused. “Okay, it was more a reservation than a town,” he teased, pointing out the obvious, that he had Native blood. “But when you say reservation, it tends to make people very uncomfortable and twitchy.”
Yeah, she’d noticed the Native ethnicity in him. It made him really sexy. She lifted her sunglasses to have eye contact with him. “I have to say, I don’t see why it would make me or anyone uncomfortable. I don’t have an issue with you being Native American. In fact, I have a few good jokes if you're bored…”
He laughed, not expecting her easy manner and teasing. Blackhawk was already feeling relaxed at her side.
“I have to ask why you didn’t work for the reservation police,” she inquired, making small talk, one eye on him and one on driving.
Ethan Blackhawk was pretty sure no one ever asked him that before. Most people weren’t aware reservations had their own police, let alone cared to ask him about his origins. Sheriff LaRue continually surprised him, keeping him on his toes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” she added, thinking she offended him.
He lifted his own sunglasses, smiling at her. “You didn’t. I just don’t think anyone ever asked me why I didn’t. I guess it would be logical assumption.” Unless you grew up on a reservation and saw how bad the conditions were there. Then you’d know why he ran for his life.
Elizabeth smiled back. The man was certainly easy to like. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“I had a reputation back home. I burned that bridge down and had no way to get back across,” he answered, being completely honest. He never shared that with anyone before. “I spent my youth being a bit too wild and out of control.” It was like his mouth was on autopilot, and he had no control. He didn’t know what made him tell her all that. Ethan had spent years hiding the past behind a perfectly built facade.
“Oh, a bad boy and trouble maker, huh?” Her laughter filled the Jeep. “Well then Ethan Blackhawk, that brings me to my next question.”
“Well then shoot, Lyzee LaRue,” he replied warily. He was unsure where she was heading with it. Part of him disliked the idea of her thinking of him as a bad boy and not seeing the real him.
“What did you do to get sent down here?” she inquired, glancing over at him. She knew when she hit it right on the mark when the serious face was gone, and in its place was a grin.
“How did you know?” The wicked smile said it all. She was very observant.
Elizabeth hung her sunglasses on her shirt; she didn’t feel the need to hide behind them anymore. “I worked with Gabe, for quite a few years. When I called he was more than eager to send you to me, and that just screams suspicious.”
“Gabe’s a sadistic son of a bitch,” Blackhawk began laughing. He had to remember to thank him when he got back for helping him find her. Then Ethan hoped he hadn’t offended her, since Gabriel Rothschild was her friend.
Elizabeth pulled the Jeep into the parking lot and found her space, before she replied. Her eyes were bright with laughter as she stared into his soul.
“Hell yeah he is, Ethan.”
Morgue
Elizabeth led the way to the basement of the Medical Examiner’s building. She knew Doctor Trudeaux would be expecting their arrival.
Off in a side office, the mother of Patricia Parker would be waiting to see her daughter. This had to be the worst part of any job, being the one who had to tell a mother her child was never coming home. After she introduced him to the doctor, Elizabeth nodded towards the room.
“Is her daughter ready?”
“She is, Lyzee my girl. You go do your thing, and I’ll get my part taken care of too,” he said, nodding to the FBI agent. “Have a seat, Mr. Blackhawk. This won’t take long.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, and nodded at both men before entering the room. Inside sat a pale woman, with red hair that matched her daughter’s. Both she and the victim were tiny, especially in comparison to her, but just the beaten down pose she took, made her look almost childlike. “Ms. Parker?”
“Sheriff,” she began and immediately the tears started. “You found my baby?”
“Yes, ma’am, we did and I’m sorry.” Elizabeth took a seat beside her, taking her hand in hers and offering her as much reassurance and peace as she could.
“I want to see her.”
“I imagine you do, but we need to talk first. I need your help, so I can bring her justice.”
The woman looked at her with almost dead eyes, as if all the life had been sucked out of them and her body as well. “Okay, Sheriff.”
“Can you tell me where your daughter was the night she disappeared?” Her eyes darted to the camera in the corner of the room, she knew they were being videotaped and watched. It made it easier, and made the victim’s families feel more comfortable.
“She said she was going out with a girlfriend. I never asked where.”
“What was the girlfriend’s name?”
“Corinne Gilbride. She isn’t from around here. My daughter and she were roommates in college. Patty was home for summer break, and she is… was going back in two weeks.” And then the damn burst at the knowledge the young girl’s life was over. There would be no college diploma; there would be no marriage, and no children.
The woman fell out of her chair and Elizabeth went to her, sitting beside her and pulling her into her arms. She just held her, rocking her and offering her whatever comfort sh
e could at a time like this. When the storm passed, she handed her some tissues.
“I want to see my baby.”
Elizabeth stood, offering the woman her hand. “I’ll stay with you while we view Patty.”
Ms. Parker nodded, as she was led to the table holding her daughter. “Maybe it isn’t her,” she said hopefully, trying to find some chance to cling to at the last moment.
Elizabeth’s eyes met Blackhawk’s. Both knew what was coming. This wasn’t the first time in the morgue for either of them. Once the sheet was pulled back, this woman’s life would be forever changed. This was the finality of life. It was the end for those who were once living, breathing beings. The morgue slab was one step before the grave.
Patricia’s mom gasped and sobbed uncontrollably, as she recognized the woman lying before her, and it was indeed her daughter. She nodded as the sheet was placed back over her body. Immediately, she turned into Elizabeth and clung as she sobbed.
“Ms. Parker, I hate to ask you to do this, but can you look at the girl we found with Patty and let me know if it’s Corrine?” asked Elizabeth, handing her a tissue.
“I guess so,” she replied, watching as the sheet was pulled back from the second body. “Yes, that’s her college roommate, Corrine.” The sobbing intensified, as she thought about having to tell the other girl’s parents she was dead too.
Elizabeth’s eyes met Doc’s and she nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Parker,” she hugged the woman.
“Please Sheriff, find who did this to her,” she whispered in between gasps of air, as the sobs came harder.
“I promise I’ll get her justice. If it’s the last thing I do.”
Blackhawk understood the dream now. The blood, the part where she put down her badge and gun, and now the name she continually told him.
Justice.
He knew he was meant to be here with her. Together, they would find justice for this woman and her child.
He accepted it, Elizabeth LaRue was his destiny.
Now Blackhawk needed to figure out how to make her see it too.
Elizabeth sat silently outside the morgue on the stone wall, overlooking the parking lot. Agent Blackhawk had a phone call, and she was giving him some privacy to take it. There was no doubt in her mind that it would be his partner. When she looked up, he was walking towards her with two bottles of water in his hands. His face was void of all expression, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the call or what they just had to do.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he said, sitting beside her and opening his own bottle as he handed her one of her own.
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking water though,” she muttered. “I was thinking a beer or five.”
“Me too. That never gets easier to do or see.”
Elizabeth took a sip of water, not really in the mood to talk.
“That was my partner on the phone,” he began.
“Great, looks like I will definitely need to up that count to at least six to eight beers now,” she drawled, her voice showing no animosity, even though she felt it deep inside. “Before round two commences.”
“She wants to know if she can still assist us.”
She looked over at him. “It’s not my choice,” she said, softly. “If you're the lead agent while you’re here, then that’s all up to you. I don’t have a say in her being here. After all, I’m just the backwoods sheriff, remember?”
Blackhawk listened to the tone of her voice, and just the hurt in it, troubled him. It angered him that his partner did this, and it bothered him that he had to be in the middle of the two women. He didn’t want to choose between the one who was his partner, and one who had been in his dreams begging for his help. He was beyond torn. He was just about to tell her that his hands were tied, throwing out the standard line when she spoke, breaking the silence.
“Tell her to meet us at the sheriff’s station, we can brief her and go from there.” Her hand touched his wrist just below the cuff of his expensively tailored shirt, reassuring him it was fine. Elizabeth would make it easy for him, and she would take one for the team, and for the town.
When Elizabeth jumped off the wall and walked to her Jeep, he watched her leave. His wrist still felt warm where she touched him, and he had respect for the woman. She understood the position he was in, and she could have made it hard on him.
Instead, the sheriff bore the weight alone.
Ethan dialed the phone and made the call.
* * *
The killer watched from the trees across the street.
So it was true, the FBI had come to town to help Elizabeth LaRue. That just didn’t seem fair. She was nothing like her father. When faced with a little problem, immediately she ran to the FBI for help. Her father had at least tried to ferret out the truth on his own. Respect for the woman plummeted, as she was barely any better than the victims. Maybe she would have to meet an untimely death, much like her dear old pop.
It was time to up the ante, giving the sheriff a few more problems to worry about. Watching the man on the phone, an idea began to form.
Why not give them a few loose ends to chase to keep them busy?
In the meantime, it was about time to find the next victim and hit a little closer to home.
Soon, the time was coming to rattle the sheriff’s cage.
* * *
Elizabeth had set up a giant white board in the conference room of her office. She was posting the pictures, one by one, in the order of their death. Carefully aligning the names with faces, the details listed beneath them. She had a picture of them in life, and one in death.
“Interesting technique,” Blackhawk said from the doorway. Usually the white board only held pictures of the victims after they were found, and hers held both.
“It helps me stay focused. I try to remember that they’re still human, not just a body,” she answered, not turning around. She sat on the edge of the table, taking in the method of killing. Something was bothering her about it. It was like she was missing the obvious and that irritated her. She was completely lost in thought, until there was a knock on the doorway.
“Sheriff LaRue?”
Elizabeth turned her head to find her deputy there, “Yeah, Chris?” They had a tumultuous relationship to say the least. At one time he hoped to become the sheriff of Salem, but the mayor saw different. He was biding his time, and learning the ropes. Elizabeth had no doubt that one day, he’d be an excellent leader. There was still that underlying tension between them, and sometimes it made it uncomfortable. On a day to day basis, she never knew if he was going to like her or hate her. It changed like the wind, and having a deputy that was a wild card, just didn’t set well with her. Lately, he’d been really trying, and that she had to appreciate.
“Tony said you needed me,” he strolled in, nodding at the dark haired man sitting in one of the chairs, watching the boss and waiting for her directive.
“We know from the victim’s mother, she was going out to a party with a girlfriend.”
“Yeah?”
Elizabeth nodded and asked, “Who is on with you this evening?”
“Sara is on all night, and then Tyrell comes in mid-shift.”
“I need you and Sara to canvas the local areas. I’ll get you a copy of the young girl’s pictures. Take them to anyplace that a ‘party’ could happen. The local bars, the bowling alley and the arcade. Anywhere a nineteen year old would be looking for a hook up. Think back to when you were twenty one, where you would go and what would you do to find the ladies.” When he grinned, she held up her hand. “Please leave the details out of the report, the less I know about my deputy’s sex life the better I sleep at night.”
Christopher laughed, winking at the agent watching them. “Okay, on it boss,” he said, closing the conference room door.
“What are you thinking, Sheriff?” questioned Blackhawk, appreciative of how she was working through the case. She was definitely FBI trained.
Elizabeth looked over at h
im and patted the spot on the table alongside her.
Blackhawk accepted her offer to sit that close to her body. He wasn’t crazy. He’d sit shoulder to shoulder with her any day. Taking the spot, they both stared up at the white board.
“What I see is this,” she pointed. “I see all the victims being under twenty four years old. I also see that they’re all women, and that leads me to perp. I just wish I knew why he was choosing them.”
“So your assessment of the killer is that he’s male?”
“I think so. I know standard FBI profiling says women can be killers too, but in this case, I think we have a young, white male that has female issues. He’s preying on the younger, inexperienced females. I think he is picking them off with partying and light drug use. When I was in the FBI, I was more the partner that pieced it together. My strong point isn’t the profiles. It’s the details.”
“It fits the assessment I did inflight here. What about the randomness of the way they are killed? Something about it is bothering me. What are your impressions of it?” Blackhawk wanted to hear her thought process.
“It’s bugging me too,” Elizabeth replied, chewing on the end of her pen. “Fire, hanging, and drowning, and right now I’m not sure if it’s meant to lead us to something, or if it’s completely random. Maybe the perp is just using whatever method he can at that time. What if we’re giving him too much credit?”
“Is he just killing, and then hiding the evidence?” he added, pointing at the two burnt bodies. “He kills them in a moment of rage, knows there’s evidence and torches the bodies. Maybe he’s watched too many TV shows, and thinks it gets rid of all the evidence that way.”
“Then you have the hanging. In a fit of passion or rage he strangles her, and then decides to make it look like a suicide.”
“Again, not knowledgeable enough to know the hyoid bone would be broken in a fall from that tree limb at her body weight. So we know he has basic intelligence, and he isn’t a medical professional, or he would have set it up to be more accurate a suicide. Simple pressure would have snapped the bone. He could have done it after the fact, and we’d be more likely to buy the suicide angle. There are little details he consistently missed.”
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 7