Chapter Twelve
The FBI Morgue
Same Time
Monday
Mid-Morning
Now that Gene and Ethan had pieced together that the three victims were connected, the men wanted to talk to the ME since he’d done the homicide detective’s autopsy, and by now, he’d have the Fed’s done too.
Hopefully, Corbin was grabbing the other autopsy, and being damn careful about it.
They needed to cover all of their bases, and they were both a little twitchy.
Why?
Everyone who had been investigating ended up dead, and it all seemed tied to a man who owned a beach-front restaurant.
Something had gone on around that man, and Gene was willing to bet money on it.
The location of the body dumps, and the restaurant were bugging the hell out of him.
As for their baby detective, well, Corbin had a knack of getting his ass into trouble. That was the LAST thing they needed him to do again.
Riding to the rescue was getting exhausting.
“I’m worried,” Gene said out of the blue.
That had Ethan’s attention.
“Me too. We should call him,” Ethan said, knowing where that was going.
They tended to think alike.
“I don’t know how I feel about him out and about without backup. This case is giving me that feeling like whoever picks it up is going to have problems. It’s best if it’s us. We’re safe as a team, but Corbin doesn’t always see the blindside coming.”
Gene had been thinking the same thing because it was the truth.
Corbin was a good cop, but they didn’t call him baby detective because of his young face.
It was his blindness toward what was coming. He was still green, and not able to navigate the obstacles of investigation.
You learned fast as a Fed.
Or.
You.
Died.
“Yeah, call him. Will isn’t exactly backup. Oh, he’ll wrangle the crazy, but he can’t stop a bullet. Then again, none of us can.”
And that was making Gene twitchy too. The last thing he wanted was to see Ethan hurt, or to get shot himself.
That, too, was exhausting.
Because he agreed with Gene, Ethan pulled out his phone, and he dialed the man as they stood outside the FBI morgue. It was basically a tiny space that they’d made up for an ME, so they could have their own facility.
How did they know?
It was that damn small.
Regular FBI morgues were so much bigger, and this one screamed ‘last minute decision’.
On the third ring, Corbin answered the phone.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up? Need me to talk to someone else?”
Ethan put it on speaker.
Gene was going to want to boss Corbin around. There was no doubt there. They were still protecting him despite what the man thought about being ready.
He.
Was.
Not.
“No, we’re just getting to the morgue here. We found out a few things, and wanted to make sure you’re good.”
Corbin laughed.
Why wasn’t he surprised?
That most definitely sounded like them.
Honestly, he didn’t mind the hovering.
“I’ll tell you now that I’m safe. There is no doubt in my mind that you and Dad wanted to make sure I wasn’t in danger. I know you two.”
Gene laughed.
Well, at least he was self-aware about that.
“The whippersnapper is at least cognizant of the situation,” he said. “And you’re not taking risks, are you?” he asked, hoping the man wasn’t.
If he was, they were going to ground him.
Yeah, they weren’t kidding about that.
“Because we’re tired, Crotch Goblin. Please say that you’re not acting a fool out there. You don’t have a gun,” Gene reminded him.
Oh, he was aware.
“I wish I did.”
Well, they had news for him.
“Greyson had to fly down to manage this office. He brought our guns, and he has yours too. We haven’t decided if you can have it back yet,” Gene admitted.
Corbin went to protest, but Will shut that down.
“Corby, they’re running this. If you need a gun, they’ll give you one,” he stated.
Corbin would have argued that, but he heard the tone in Will’s voice.
He.
Was.
Stressed.
Yeah, he wasn’t going to let the man he loved be freaked out over this. Will wasn’t a fan of guns, and he knew they made him twitchy.
So, he’d take one for the team.
He’d bend toward the FBI’s will.
Gene and Ethan knew best.
“I guess I can live with that,” Corbin admitted. “I’m safe here, anyway. Will is playing watchdog.”
His man laughed.
“I didn’t think I’d have to do that on vacation,” he admitted. “The ME was hitting on him. She thought he was pretty, and I was hoping I didn’t get into a bitch-slapping fight with her. Those nails were wicked and long.”
Gene sighed.
“I know how that is. It’s brutal working with someone who’s pretty,” he stated. “Ethan gets hit on much of the day,” he stated. “It’s exhausting batting away the would-be-suitors.”
Both Will and Gene laughed.
Only, the man in question pointed at his crotch, and the bump in his pants.
Gene got it.
It didn’t matter who flirted with him. He belonged to someone else.
HIM.
That made him smile like an idiot, but he simply couldn’t help himself.
“Har-har. You guys are funny,” Corbin said. “But while I was looking pretty, I found something out. You’re not going to believe this,” he said.
Oh, they knew what he had found out. It was likely the same thing they had found out.
Ethan cut him off.
To save time, they went there.
“Is it that the Fed died working the cop case, and the cop worked the original victim’s case? Did you figure out that they’re all tied together?”
There was silence.
Then, Corbin was to the point.
“I hate when you do that. It kills the buildup. You know, the climax. Now, I feel let down that I didn’t get to tell you guys.”
Gene laughed.
Oh, he knew what that felt like. Ethan tended to figure things out well before him, and he did that to him all of the time.
Then again, you kind of wanted your profiler to be ahead of the game—not behind.
“You’ll get over it, Crotch Goblin. Did you get the reports?” he asked.
He clued them in.
“Yeah, and I found out something else. Apparently, and this is from the detective’s paperwork, and the new cop who has been working it, but there was an employee who was fired from the original victim’s restaurant for some reason. She opened a club, and guess what they do there?”
Gene went with what they encountered most. It was usually strippers, hookers, and ladies of the night.
“Strip?” Gene asked.
“Penuckle?” Ethan offered, being ridiculous because Corbin could have just told them.
The man laughed.
“No, it’s a dark club where they deal with Voodoo and all kinds of shit as they serve up drinks to the patrons. It’s called Dark Spirits. Plus, the ME, the one who liked me,” he offered, “said that the victim’s clothes were COVERED in trace of herbs.”
Gene wasn’t shocked.
The FBI ME had been thorough, too. There was one thing that befuddled him.
“Even after being in the water?”
“Yeah, even after that. Just from working other homicides before I got stuck with you two,” he began, “I know that means that he was heavily saturated or the herbs were in the greasy substance that was painted onto his body in symbols,” Corbin offered.
Ethan went there.
“Or they weren’t in the water long.”
There was that.
It was a distinct possibility that whoever was dumping them wasn’t taking them far from shore—or sending them out right from shore.
That would take more digging.
Clearly.
“And you have the reports and all that information, so we can add it to our report?”
Corbin did.
“I’m recovering—not incompetent, Gene. What do you want me to help out with next? What’s the next interview to handle?”
Oh, well…
About that.
Gene knew.
“I want you to be careful. Drop the reports, and then hang out with Greyson until we get in. Then, you’re off for the rest of the day.
We’re not playing games. The people investigating this keep dying, and you’re not back to work yet.
We played stupid games before, and we’re not playing them again. ”
There was a pause.
Immediately, Gene expected pushback, but it didn’t happen.
Not.
Even.
Close.
“Okay. I’ll drop off the files and check in with Greyson. Can I get my gun at least?” he asked. “I feel naked without it, and if it’s just sitting around...”
What was this?
NO fighting?
NO arguing?
That was the most un-Corbin-like thing they’d ever experienced.
Now, Gene needed to know.
“Are you feeling okay? Normally, you’d shit a ton of bricks about us excluding you, and yada-yada-yada how you’re a cop and can hold your own. You’re going to just agree to do what we say without a fight? Do you have a fever?”
Blackhawk laughed.
Gene had been accurate in describing Corbin on that one.
As for the detective, they were discussing…
Har-har.
They were funny.
Corbin was honest.
“I did that before, remember? Look what happened to me because of my stubbornness. You guys are in charge of this, and I’m here to learn. If you say I’m pulled, you know best when it comes to this.”
Both Gene and Ethan stared at each other.
What?
Was?
This?
Honestly, this was not expected. Had their Crotch Goblin, the baby detective, finally gotten it through his thick skull that playing stupid games got you stupid prizes?
Like being assaulted by bikers?
“Uh, okay,” Ethan said.
Gene was wary.
With this young detective, he’d learned you needed to be.
“I hope that’s legit, Corby, because it took us a while to get there.”
Corbin was to the point.
“I did it my way, guys, and it ended badly. I’m going to do it your way. I do want to see that dark club, though, so if you guys are going there, I’m curious like a cat. Can we go too?”
Yeah, this was a full one-eighty. Corbin was erring on the side of caution, and that was all they wanted for him.
Still…
Gene was hella wary.
“Sure. You and Will can go with us. We’re going to do it undercover, so to speak. As tourists. Oh, and you’re still not getting your gun yet. Nice try though.”
Hopefully, it didn’t end like it had for Corbin’s last undercover gig.
While Feds tended to be paranoid, they were also superstitious, and they both hoped Corbin wasn’t going to jinx it.
They’d like to get home alive.
As for the baby detective…
That worked for him.