Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2)

by Morgan Kelley

  “Oh, you’re funny,” she said, following her partner into the building. “Come on, get some chicken on that salad and live a little.”

  Emma ignored her. She didn't tell anyone about her past or the real reason she simply couldn’t do it. Ever since her brother was murdered in front of her, the thought of eating something dead turned her stomach.

  Only Greyson knew the horrible truth.

  They’d been living on the edge and experimenting. Now, she could basically handle seafood. When they went out to dinner together, she would try to consume meat, but only when he was at her side and holding her hand. Again, Greyson was her strength.

  While he was away, there was no way she’d attempt it.

  After ordering their lunch, they headed to the table to eat and discuss the case. Emma pulled out her tablet and prepared to enter all the details from her partner.

  “Okay, what do we have?”

  Brynn opened her phone and scrolled, until she found the file that she had made as they canvassed the neighborhood. “We covered the west blocks of the crime scene easily. It’s mostly land that’s up for development. There was only one dwelling there, and it appeared abandoned.”

  “I seriously doubt the victim was carried down the street and dumped there. Most likely, she was driven from the scene, from the less populated part of the street, and left behind.”

  “I agree. I also hit up the east side, right in front of crime scene. There are luxury apartments there.”

  How did Emma miss that? “Seriously?”

  Brynn nodded. “It’s all being re-fabbed. On the outside, it looks like industrial space, but there are three condos that looked pretty damn nice inside.”

  Making notes, she didn't look up.

  “So, you live in a condo right?” Her partner began digging.

  Emma didn't really want to go there. She drove a car that wasn’t in a cop’s salary, and she lived in a place that was ridiculously overpriced. If Greyson wasn’t a director, they’d live in a normal house and not some exorbitant high rise with its own S.W.A.T team.

  “Yeah.”

  “Over on the south side of Las Vegas Boulevard, right?”

  Now, she looked up. “Yeah, are you following me home at night?” Emma didn't know whether she should laugh or be wary.

  “No, I don’t live that far from you. I drive out of work behind you a lot, and I’m very curious.” As was everyone in the entire squad room. Emma Croft was an enigma and something just didn't add up.

  What was the harm? Emma figured it was her partner. If she had to trust the woman with her life, she might as well go with it. “We have a place at Sky Villa.”

  The woman choked on her french fry. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, can we keep it quiet? You know between partners?” Emma hoped and prayed.

  Brynn grinned. “You know I’m going to use this to blackmail you, right?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

  Detective Westmore thought about it. “So, why did you tell me then?”

  “You’re my partner. Isn’t this what we’re supposed to do?”

  She was touched. “Okay, you’re secret is safe with me, but now I get to ask questions.”

  Emma wasn’t shocked. “I figured as much.”

  “Are you loaded?”

  She laughed. “No, my husband had a really nice house outside of Philly, and we sold it along with my cabin. When we honeymooned here, I mentioned that I liked the views high up, and he took me serious.”

  “So, he bought you a freaking luxury condo?”

  She shrugged.

  “Okay, well we schlubs only dream of living there. That place has politicians, celebrities, and powerful people. So, that brings me to question number two.”

  Emma knew it was coming.

  “Spill it, partner. What’s your sugar daddy do for a living?”

  It was hard to not laugh at that and be appalled at the same time. Greyson was going to find this all entertaining when she told him. “If I tell you, you have to swear on your own life that you’ll never speak a word of it to anyone in the squad.”

  She pondered it. “Why? Is it illegal?”

  That made her snort. “Hell no!”

  “Okay, I promise then.” Curiosity was getting the best of her.

  It wasn’t as if Emma wasn’t proud as hell of her husband. He had a very stressful and powerful job, but she didn't want the flak or the comments from the peanut gallery all the time at work. Greyson wasn’t the condominium or a walking wallet. He was a good, kind, and sweet man.

  “You know the Federal building over on Hartford and Vine? I believe it’s the big one with the glass walls and shiny metal statues out front?”

  Brynn nodded.

  “My husband runs it.”

  At first, she didn't get it. “How? That’s the FBI office.”

  Emma just stared at her, waiting for the woman to put two and two together. It was easy to see when she finally figured it out.

  “Holy shit! You’re married to a Fed?”

  Emma shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s worse. Grey is director of the entire field office.”

  The look on her face must have said it all. “You’re a cop, and you’re shacked up with the head Fed! When Captain Ford hears that, he’s going to shit himself. He’s an FBI hater to the core.”

  Yeah, she was well aware. “That’s why I like to keep that little detail on the down-low. I’m a really good cop, or I like to believe I am. I don’t want everyone thinking I’m just a piece of fluff married to a powerful man. I earned my badge.”

  “You realize that we work with the Feds a lot.”

  She shrugged. “Greyson doesn’t do a lot of fieldwork. I think my chances are pretty good I can avoid it coming up. Besides, he’s in Quantico right now. I’m in the clear.”

  “Ford really doesn’t know?”

  She shook her head. “The commissioner does. Other than that, I’m not one hundred percent sure what the boss has knowledge of at this point.”

  What could she say to that? “Well, it explains the fancy car and the condo,” she said, seeing her partner look uncomfortable. “Hey, at least he’s not a criminal. Most of the other detectives were betting he was in jail.”

  Emma laughed. “Thanks for that.”

  “I promise. I won’t say a word, but I still want to meet him,” she said, grinning.

  “Yeah, well come over to our place sometime. He’ll cook us dinner, but it won’t be meat.”

  Brynn began laughing. “Deal. Now back to work?”

  She went back to her tablet. “Okay, so you hit up the condos. What did you find?” Emma asked.

  Flipping through her notes on the screen, she stopped at the information. Almost all the tenants of the building were home, and no one saw anything last night.”

  “Doctor Bentley places time of death to be around midnight,” Emma added. “So, the body was dumped between then and eight in the morning when we were tagged.”

  “Yep. There are still patrol officers out looking right now, to see if we can dig up a witness, but so far we have nada.”

  Emma was about to say more when there was a beep on her phone. “It’s the ME. He has her ID.”

  That was surprising. “Really?”

  “Yep, let’s get over there. The autopsy is in a couple hours anyway. Maybe he’ll bump her and do it first while we’re standing there.”

  “Doctor Serious doesn’t break the rules for anyone,” Brynn added, knowing they’d have to make a second trip there regardless.

  “We may get lucky.”

  “Yeah, and they say I’m the green one.”

  * * *

  Greyson Croft sat across from Gabriel Rothschild and waited for whatever bad news was coming. He’d been called into the ‘Dragon Slayer’s’ office and that was NEVER a good thing. One of the best parts of working out of the Philadelphia field office was that he didn't have to work with the man in front of him.

  It wasn
’t that he wasn’t a good boss. He was just stubborn, like himself. When you put two dominant personalities in a room, making them play together, someone was bound to get injured.

  “You look nervous,” Gabe said, grinning. He’d been running this division for a long time, and he knew when an agent wasn’t feeling it.

  “I hate being called in here. It generally means an ass chewing or in my absence, my staff did something that’s close to being a huge disaster.”

  “Ah, my reputation precedes me,” Gabe said, laughing. “That’s good to know.”

  “Are you pink slipping me?” If he was, this was going to suck. They had just bought the condominium and there was a large mortgage, which meant he needed to keep his job.

  “No, do you need to be terminated?”

  “I’m thinking back to the last few weeks, and nothing seems to warrant me being called before the firing squad. The only thing I can think of is you no longer want me running your Vegas branch.”

  Gabe started laughing. “You’re actually doing really well as the boss there. That’s a fairly large hub. It’s not FBI West, but it’s still a big job.”

  He stared at him.

  “Plus, the last director wasn’t exactly doing things the legal way, so unless you’re taking kickbacks, you’re golden.”

  Greyson began to relax, since he knew he was running it above the letter of the law. “Okay, then what’s the deal?”

  “Maybe I just wanted to talk.”

  Croft didn't buy it for a second. “Yeah, I didn't hit my head recently, and I’m pretty sure neither did you, so spill it Gabe. What’s going on?”

  He steepled his fingers and sat back as he stared at his director. “I have a situation.”

  That, Greyson Croft understood. Talking work wasn’t a big deal, he loved his job, especially now.

  “How would you feel about continuing to train a probationary agent?”

  To him it didn't matter. His last probee was Curtis Briggs, and he didn't mind having him tag along in the least. “I’m okay with it as long as I’m doing it back at home.”

  Gabe heard he’d just married. “Congrats on the new bride.” He couldn’t blame the man. If there was one thing that made him nervous it was being away from his wife and their six kids. He was a family man under the tough exterior.

  “Thank you.”

  “How would you feel about finishing up the year with your trainee, Agent Briggs?”

  Croft would love it. He actually missed his old partner, but then it hit him. “I’m a desk jockey. What am I training him to be? A glorified paper pusher?”

  Here came the catch. “You’ll need to take on some field assignments. Take him out and make sure he gets the training he needs. Plus, being seen out in public and doing your job will help clean up the FBI image.”

  That he understood. “Not that I mind, but you’re going to send him across the country to me? Aren’t there any other agents available here?”

  Gabe sighed. “We’re under the federal sequester. Training has been cut from our budget and so has hiring new agents. You were the last man hired, and at this rate, you probably will be for the next year.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Gabe was surprised at how quickly he answered. “Shouldn’t you think about it?”

  Croft stood. “I miss the field work, and I’ll be helping preserve my job by offering up double duty. I don’t mind.”

  Gabe grinned. “Spoken like a true G-man.”

  On the outside, Greyson Croft was smiling, but on the inside he was wondering how the hell he was going to tell his wife he’d just voluntarily opted to draw a bull’s-eye on his back. Maybe if he led with the possibility of losing his big fat paycheck that would soften the blow.

  Or not…

  * * *

  Back in-house, both detectives were waiting for Doctor Bentley to make an appearance and discuss the dead woman. Brynn found coffee and offered her partner a cup and as usual, she declined.

  “No way! I like my stomach lining,” Emma stated. “I’m a coffee snob. If I’m going to caffeine up, I want the good stuff and not morgue sewage, unless I have no other choice.”

  The brunette wasn’t as picky.

  “Sorry to keep you both,” stated Steele Bentley as he rushed into the morgue suite. “I was tied up.”

  “I’m glad to see you got free,” Emma quipped. Her partner began coughing and choking on the hot liquid.

  The ME laughed. “That was a good one. I can see you’ll be the one to watch out for from now on,” he stated, winking. “I don’t think anyone really comes down here and jokes around.”

  Emma liked him already. Everyone thought he was stuffy and serious, but for God’s sake, the man had his hands in bodies all day. That had to kill off some of the giggles and grins.

  “I’m a wild one. I’m teetering on the edge as we speak.” How she managed to keep a straight face was beyond her.

  The man laughed. “Shall we then?” he inquired, taking a seat and offering the detective one too.

  Emma sat on the counter and patted the spot beside her. Her partner looked horrified at touching anything in the room.

  “No thank you, I’ll stand,” Brynn replied quickly.

  “Anyway,” Bentley continued. “When the staff stripped our girl down, we found this.” He picked up a sealed bag and tossed it to Emma.

  “She didn't have a purse on her or pockets in her pants. Where did they locate it?”

  He grinned. “When you ladies go out to dance and you don’t carry a purse, where do you put your ID?”

  Emma thought about it. “My husband’s pocket?”

  Steele Bentley laughed.

  Emma wasn’t sure why that was so funny. Greyson always carried her things.

  Brynn fielded this one, patting her partner on the arm. “In my bra.”

  “Give the detective a prize. Now, had she come with a husband, we might have a bit more information than just her name.”

  Emma read her driver’s license. “Sara Jensen was only twenty two. She lived quite a distance from where we found her.”

  Detective Westmore added the details to the tablet. “Do we have anything on her yet other than her ID?”

  He shook his head. “I have an autopsy now, and then I’ll be cutting into her.”

  Brynn snorted, knowing she was one hundred percent right. “Sure thing, Doctor Bentley.”

  He stared at the woman. “What’s so entertaining, Detective?” Steele didn't get what was amusing the woman. “Is there something funny about an autopsy?”

  Her partner jumped in to save her. “I was going to beg you to bump it forward so we didn't have to rush back over here later. Brynn didn't think you’d do it for me- something about you being strict with ‘procedures and rules’.”

  He grinned at her honesty. It was refreshing.

  “So, how about it, Doc? Will you start her now while we’re here, and we can all save the tax payers some money?” Emma gave it a shot. She didn't know the man well enough to be able to offer him a bribe. Yeah, she’d stoop to that level if need be.

  “I guess I can do it.”

  Detective Westmore almost dropped her tablet. “Seriously? That’s all it took?”

  He laughed as he buzzed one of his lab assistants to bring up the victim. “The other case is a hit and run. I’m fairly sure it was a car that killed him.”

  Emma winked at her partner. “Perfect. Thank you, Doc. We appreciate it.”

  He nodded and gloved up. As the woman was wheeled in, he began pulling out his tools. “I’ll start with the skull, since there’s some damage back here.”

  Walking over to the coffee pot out of sheer desperation from not sleeping well without her husband, she poured herself a cup and went with black. Part of it was because she hated powdered creamer and the rest because it reminded her of Greyson. God, even in autopsy she missed him. Pulling out her phone, she whipped out a text and sent it to him.

  “Are we ready, Detecti
ves?” he asked, firing up the tiny saw to remove her skull.

  Brynn could feel the heebie jeebies coming on, and they were followed by an involuntary shudder. “I hate this part.”

  Emma glanced over at her partner. “You can get out of here. I’ll do the autopsy. You get the paperwork back at the office.” She pulled her keys out of her pocket and tossed them to the woman. “Your purse is in the Navigator, so drive it back to the lot. I’ll take the shortcut through the building.”

  “Are you sure? I hate autopsy.”

  Doctor Bentley waited, only grinning. Again, not many detectives lasted through it.

  “If you can’t do it, I understand. Not everyone has a strong stomach for this.”

  Brynn was nobody’s hero. She caught the keys and high tailed it out of there as fast as she could.

  “I think we’re ready,” Emma said, getting comfortable.

  “Then, here we go.”

  * * *

  Maybe the second body was hidden too well. By now, they should have found it. Worry began to creep in and take over.

  It had been exciting to know the first woman was found so easily. But now, there was the dilemma of what to do to assure that the next one also turned up.

  Then, inspiration struck.

  There was one way to make sure the police knew the location of the next showgirl. Why not just call it in?

  Looking around the park, the perfect ‘assistant’ appeared. Wandering over to the vagrant, the plan became clear.

  “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you make a call for me.”

  The man looked skeptical. He’d been screwed over by people before. “Who do I have to call?”

  “The police.”

  Now alarm bells went off. “Why?”

  “I saw a body of a homeless woman, and I can’t do it. I called in sick today, and if I report this and my boss ever finds out, I’ll be fired.”

  It sounded plausible.

  “Will you do it?”

  He contemplated it. The person looked genuinely honest, and he didn't see blood or any signs of a set up.

  “Yeah, but can I get a ride across town too? I want to visit one of my friends.”