Chapter Twelve #5
And they would.
Will wanted to help.
“So is the next step figuring out how they get out there?” he asked. “Sorry if I’m interrupting.”
Gene stopped him.
“You’re not, Will. Your perspective is different. Ask if you have a question. It could spark another question.”
Oh, he would.
Honestly, he loved being around the men as they worked. It was clear that Gene was a good teacher. Now, maybe he’d teach Corbin how to stay alive.
“As for getting out there, it’s likely on a boat. That’s the easiest way.”
Ethan gave them the heads-up.
“The ME said they had sugar burns. Did yours have sugar on it, Corbin?” he asked, so they could all discuss it, and get Greyson on the same page.
Corbin nodded, and pulled up the part of the autopsy report he’d gotten.
“Yeah.”
Gene tapped their files.
“Our ME analyzed it. I’m going to say the local law didn’t go as in-depth, but they found sand in the sugar that was hot enough to burn them.”
He was right there.
It took a while for forensics with the local police.
MONTHS.
“Where do you get sugar burns on an island?” Corbin asked.
They shared what Ben suggested.
“Candy making on the beach?”
Corbin stared at him, and said the first thing that came to his mind.
“Like a beachfront carnival?” he asked. “So a boardwalk?”
Greyson began researching it, and when he found something, he shared.
“There is a boardwalk,” he said, showing them. “It’s called Paseo de la Princesa—which is like ‘walkway of the princess’.”
Gene was curious.
“And how far is it from where the bodies were found?” he asked, covering his bases.
The man did the math.
“It’s on the opposite side of San Juan.”
For Gene, that didn’t fit.
“No, the killer wouldn’t load them up, take them somewhere, abuse them near that boardwalk, and then load them up, transport across the city, and dump them in the water from a boat.”
On that, Ethan agreed.
“I think it’s safe to say the sugar burns are from something else.”
Gene went there.
“But we keep this on the back burner, Corbin, simply because if everything else fails to pan out, we have this.”
He got it.
They were being thorough.
Will was curious.
“Okay, so if we look at what else you said, if it’s not ritualistic, why is this person pointing it at that? Because crazies do nothing accidentally. Right? Or is this all intentional?”
Ethan went there.
“I’m going to say that this is all a cover. Someone was trying to keep the cops and Feds off of their tail, and is continuing to do that from victim one. Only, when they killed the last fed, they didn’t realize that we’d be here, and take over.”
Greyson agreed.
“With Director Moore’s new directive, had you not been here, I would have come down with someone else. Before that, someone here would have fielded it. You guys have shit luck when it comes to your vacations.”
Oh, they were well aware.
Because he needed them to have a comprehensive list, and a way to do this, Ethan headed toward the whiteboard on the wall, and he uncapped the marker.
That’s when he began laying out the evidence for them, so they’d have a roadmap.
This killer was consistent, and with Corbin handling half the information that morning, they needed it all consolidated.
On the board, he wrote the victim’s names.
‘Jaden Mendin—restaurant owner who showed up dead on a beach.
Aaron Figueroa—cop who was working Jaden’s homicide, ends up dead on a beach.
Jarod Shand—Fed who was working on cop’s murder and ends up dead on a beach by feds.
?’
What Gene didn’t like was the last line. The question mark said it all.
Ethan expected there to be more.
“Oh, shit. There’s going to be a few more.”
Blackhawk nodded.
“Likely. That’s why we’re going to have to start at the beginning and see why this man, Jaden, was the first to die.
In cases like this, there’s always a pattern, until the killer realizes that the pattern is what is going to get him or her caught.
Then, they deviate to throw people off. We’ll know at that deviation that the plan is falling apart. ”
Corbin was curious.
“Or escalating?”
Ethan nodded.
“There are slight differences between the two, but I’ll be able to figure them out. What we need to do is research the boat angle, and dig into the owner of Dark Spirits. Why is she being targeted if this isn’t ritualistic…yada-yada.”
Corbin had already done some legwork, along with what the cops had told him.
“The owner’s name is Esmeralda Barada to the world, but she was born Maria Barada. Apparently, she used to work for Jaden Medin.”
He wrote that on the board.
They had their first person on the board. Was she guilty? Ethan didn’t know, but they were going somewhere with it.
“Anyone else we can say piqued our interest?” Ethan asked.
Corbin raised his hand.
“Not so much as piqued, but the homicide captain was the last person to see him alive. He dropped his report there, and said he was heading out to do something.”
Honestly, Corbin couldn’t remember what he’d said. His brain was foggy from not using it as a detective for the last month.
That worked for Ethan and Gene since they could then create a timeline.
Corbin shared what he knew.
“His name is Adrian Marrero. He felt like he was on the up and up, but I know the rules,” he said, glancing over at Gene. “Pick up the lead where the last person saw the victim next,” he said, reciting it back to the man from a week ago. “Told you. Memorized.”
He laughed.
“Oh, you taught me,” he joked.
Gene let it go at that for his sanity.
“Okay, so we have two people on our suspect list, but basically just to have a list.”
Ethan nodded.
“Pretty much, but we need to start from somewhere, right?”
He had a point.
And they were starting at the beginning.
Apparently.
Will was curious.
“Do we know the gender?”
Blackhawk shook his head.
“Not yet, but because we’re having to move quicker with this one,” he said, pointing at the question marks on the board indicating there would be more, “I’m going to say male.
Women, while deadly, don’t break every bone in a person’s body, and then have to carry them to a boat, load them up, and dump them in. ”
Will went there.
“How about a coven of Voodoo practitioners—or whatever that’s called.”
Ethan didn’t know.
“We don’t have anything forensically, thanks to the ocean and what we’ve already discovered. Sugar on the skin, herbs, and chaos.”
That said it all.
They’d been boned again forensically.
Greyson went there.
“Why does this feel mob-y?” he asked. “Not that I’m a mob pro, but why do I feel like all the broken bones are the clue that we need to focus on? It’s the other thing that’s out of place, other than someone pointing us as far from a logical killer as possible.”
Gene glanced over.
He’d not considered that.
“A mob hit?” he asked.
Greyson wasn’t sure.
“I’m not saying that, but more so, along with what Ethan was saying.
This feels like the ritualistic shit is to cover up the actual shit.
Who do we know would break some bones, and dump a body but a mobster?
I’m going with someone who doesn’t really know how to do this perfectly, and that screams mob. Does this place have them?”
That was a good question.
Heading to the door, Ethan stuck his head out, and whistled. When he did, one of the Feds headed his way.
“Yeah?” Agent Miguel Crespo Gonzales asked, tucking his pen behind his ear. “You needed me?”
He pointed.
“Have a seat.”
The man looked twitchy, and Greyson was pretty sure he knew why. Before, he was auditing files, and the whole staff was getting worried.
There was incompetence here.
So.
Much.
Incompetence.
Now, they just had to see how deep it went before this information was sent back to Gabe. There was no doubt why he was here.
And it was to do that and babysit Blackhawk and Cantrell.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
Gene was to the point.
“What do you know about the mob on this island?” he asked, and the man looked much calmer.
They all noticed it.
“That it’s there, but as long as they keep out of our way, we don’t bust their balls. There’s not enough of us to hold down that monster. So, we all just stay in our lanes.”
What?
Was?
This?
Greyson was horrified.
Did he just say…?
“Stay in your lanes? But they are here and likely doing crooked shit. Our lanes are their lanes. We police ALL THE LANES!”
Miguel laughed.
How could he not?
It was just like an outsider to interfere, and then condemn people in the process.
Working here wasn’t easy.
“How many agents do you have in your office?” he asked.
Greyson answered.
“Twenty-five, why?”
Miguel was to the point.
“We had six, and now, we have five. There are barely enough of us to handle the drugs, the guns, and the deaths. Now you want us up the mob’s ass? We work around the clock. You have enough bodies to do the job—but we don’t. We can’t even work our friend’s death!”
Greyson lifted a brow.
Yeah, he didn’t like this.
Mob running unchecked was always a bad plan. It never ended well.
For anyone.
“You have a city that has multiple police forces, and just alone, there are almost seven thousand cops in your city, not counting the state police, the FBI, and all the other police forces like sheriffs and US Marshals. We have ten thousand cops for the WHOLE island, where drugs can get dumped each day on a beach, or trafficking can happen.”
Okay, they hit a sore point.
Clearly.
“So, don’t look down your perfect nose at us when you have the funds and backup we don’t. So no, we don’t poke the mob here. We like living, and there’s a shortage of backup to come here and clean up.”
Greyson said nothing.
But Gene did.
“We’re not accusing you of anything. We’re asking questions. Was Jarod involved in any cases where he might have come across the mob?” he asked, trying to save this questioning so they didn’t make enemies here.
They might need the agents here when the final leg of the chase was on. They, after all, knew the island.
The man pointed at the file cabinet.
“You have full access. I don’t recall any, but we each have three cases on our desks at all times. Nightshift might have one less. You can look up anything you want and see.”
Well, that was chilly.
Someone did NOT like them there—or did they not like that they weren’t running this?
“Any more questions?” he asked.
Yeah, there was.
Ethan went there.
“Are you being bitchy because we asked, or are you being a douchebag toward us because we got tagged into this clusterfuck to find who killed your friend?”
They turned the man’s laptop around, and there was the picture of Jarod and Miguel side-by-side, laughing together.
“I see you got his laptop. Well, good. I hope you find something on it. To answer your question, none of us like being told that more competent investigators are coming here. That’s what Gabe told us.”
Well, shit.
Gabe was an asshole.
“Listen, we don’t think we’re better than you,” Greyson said. “What Gabe said is shitty, but if you’ve worked for the FBI long enough, you know that EVERYTHING he says is shitty. He’s a pot stirrer to watch the fallout. We didn’t ask to be here.”
That seemed to calm him down.
“Yeah, this fucked my vacation,” Gene admitted.
The man apologized.
“I’m sorry. It’s a sore point.”
They could see that, and there were no hard feelings. When you worked for the FBI, you couldn’t take things personally. This guy was mourning his friend, and they got that.
“Thanks for your help,” Ethan said, springing the man since it wasn’t going to help them in the long run.
Making enemies was too easy.
Keeping your back covered was far more difficult.
When he left, and the door closed behind him, Ethan sat.
“Well, that wasn’t good,” Gene admitted. “Gabe put a bullseye on our backs. He’s such a dick,” he added.
Oh, they all agreed there.
“He was right,” Corbin stated.
Greyson looked over.
“What was he right about, Baby Detective?” he asked, since Corbin was blabbering on about something.
“You do have an annoyingly perfect nose.”
What?
It made the man laugh.
“Oh, well, I’m sorry my gene pool gave me this nose,” he joked. “I’ll cut it off to make you happy, Crotch Goblin.”
Well, at least that cut the tension—a bit.
Ethan steepled his fingers, proving that he was thinking again.
“I don’t have a feeling about the mob being involved yet. I think we need to dig a little more before I take that path. Once we go down it, we’re poking something ugly.”
Was his partner hesitating?
Well, that would be rare.
And Gene didn’t like it.
When he got up, Gene went to the whiteboard and pointed at the first victim, Jaden Medin.
“It all started here. We need to run them,” he stated, “starting with him.”
Greyson would be in-house.
He’d take one for the team.
“I can run the victims and see what comes up.”
That worked for them.
“Bless you,” Gene said. “We’ll be in the field, and that will help. What we do know is that he had weird markings, herbs on his skin with that black, greasy substance, and had broken bones,” he stated.
Then, he pointed at victim two, the cop, Aaron.
“We know he also had the weird markings, all of their COD was blunt force trauma, and they found traces of sugar on his clothing that didn’t get washed away in the ocean. Those are the consistencies in all of them—so far. Right?”
Corbin was flipping pages to confirm.
“Yep. It’s in all three. All have the same according to the two different MEs.”
Okay, so they were all on the same page so far.
“We also know that no one was sexually assaulted, or had sex before they were killed. Ben swabbed and checked. This isn’t a sex crime.”
Gene kept talking.
“We all know they went into the water around the same place, so they were on a boat at some time, and washed ashore.”
Agreed.
They did know that.
So how many boats could be transporting bodies out into the water?
Oh, the number was definitely not infinitesimal.
That was for damn sure.
That was going to be a needle in a haystack, and one they couldn’t trudge into with low manpower.
“What we need to know is the motive. When Greyson researches, he’ll find out if they connect in any way other than the dead man was a cop’s case, and then dead cop became a dead fed’s case.”
Ethan raised his hands.
“If you want a motive, we usually have the same suspect every single time.”
Oh, and Gene knew what that was.
Damn it.
Blackhawk went there.
“Greed is a big motivator, that there was something coveted, and wanted, or everyone’s favorite,” Ethan offered.
They all said it at the same time.
“MONEY.”
What were the chances it was anything else?
Slim.
In their world.