Chapter Fourteen #3
“Yep, and then, a cop starts nosing around. He is talking about the case, and the killer overhears, never planning on playing serial killer, but thinking fast, he’s already covered victim one, so no one suspects him, and now, it’s escalating.”
Ethan considered it.
“It would make sense because this is not going well for them. We’re already sure it’s bullshit, and it’s four hours in.”
Exactly.
“This person is desperately trying to stay ahead by making this look ritualistic, but doesn’t know enough about cases like this to pull it off. It’s red flags for us, but not for them. To this person, they’re nailing it.”
Oh, boy.
“So Jaden gets stuck in something he shouldn’t, gets killed, and then it goes through two people who solve crimes. So, they get grabbed, tortured for information to see what they know, and then dumped.”
He nodded.
“It makes sense, Gene. How do you want to work it?”
This was the tricky part.
“We’re being watched. I’d bet on it. Someone is curious to see if we’ll pull this off. I think we need to just move along, working this, but keep focused on one thing.”
Ethan waited.
“Why Esmeralda? That’s what doesn’t fit for me. They went out of their way to point this at her, and I doubt it’s random. I bet if we scratch around her, we might find someone tied to her that is involved in this.”
That worked for him.
“So stop researching anywhere else and focus on the priestess with the bar?”
Gene went there.
“Someone picked her for a reason, and I’m willing to bet if we find the small threads, we’ll get the big one to tug on. What did she do at Jaden’s place?” he asked.
Ethan knew.
“She was a waitress and bartender. Why?”
He knew what was bothering him.
“Then how the hell did she afford to buy a church, renovate it, and make the kind of money she’s making? Someone doesn’t like her, and that someone might be our killer. They put the bullseye on her next.”
Oh, boy.
“So we’re definitely going there and skipping Jaden’s once restaurant?”
He nodded.
And for one major reason.
Gene didn’t want the killer seeing them snooping around the same scene that kicked this off. They’d do this low-key behind this killer’s back in order to out them.
“That’s on our plans for date night,” he said.
“We’ll go there and have a few drinks, look around, and do it on the DL.
If she’s innocent, and not part of this, I don’t want to go in with badges out and fuck her business—or alert this killer that we’re onto them.
For all we know, that’s this idiot’s plan.
It might be how he’s keeping tabs on us.
He laid the clues, so he knows if we’re following them. ”
Ethan agreed there.
That was a possibility.
“If everyone has moved on from the original victim’s business, there’s no point wasting time there. Let the killer think we’re behind and incompetent. We’ll focus on Dark Spirits first, because I’m telling you…there’s a reason.”
Ethan was down with that.
Honestly, he trusted his partner.
“Let’s look at the clues that don’t fit. There’s the woman likely being framed, and then there’s the big one. What the hell is the sugar with the sand in it? We said it’s likely not some boardwalk festivities, so…?”
Ethan had no idea.
“We need more.”
Gene was aware.
He just hoped the next body dropped wasn’t his or Ethan’s.
“That sugar is coming from somewhere,” Ethan offered. “I bet if we figure that out, we’ll have a good chunk of this handled.”
Gene hoped so.
His gut said this was going to be in the aberrations to the case, and not what the killer pointed them at. An unskilled Fed would go for the regular route.
Gene was going to take the slow route there, hopefully avoiding all of the danger to themselves.
“For all we know,” Gene began, “maybe someone likes to kill people while eating frosting and it’s crystallizing in the sun and sand?” he asked. “There was this case once, where this guy was breaking into women’s homes, killing them, and his calling card? A poor man’s donut.”
Ethan lifted a brow.
What?
Did he hear him right?
“Pardon? I grew up a poor kid, and I have NO clue what you’re talking about.”
He laughed.
Then, he explained.
“At three of the crime scenes, we found open bread bags, and open frosting. We were befuddled. We thought someone was beyond cuckoo.”
Ethan still had no clue what he was talking about.
“And?” he asked.
Gene told him.
“The killer liked a snacky-snack after doing the deed. So he’d go to their kitchen, find the bread, and raid their pantry.
We caught him red-handed at the last victim’s, making a frosting sandwich.
He called it a poor man’s donut. That one aberration was what caught him. Maybe this sugar will be his downfall?”
Ethan blinked.
What?
“That’s a clear indicator that someone is a psychopath—just for eating frosting on bread. On a spoon, yes. On a lover, sure. But on a slice of bread? I couldn’t trust a person who did that.”
Gene grinned.
“Back up to the lover part. That intrigues me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ethan just laughed.
He told him he wasn’t getting his way with sex, so he was going to let the man keep throwing innuendos, and letting them miss.
He’d play hard to get.
Two could play at this sexy game.
He knew his man, and there was only so much innuendo he could handle before he got handsy.
Or dick-sy.
“Anyway,” Ethan offered, “maybe the person worked with sugar, and it transferred?”
Gene didn’t think so.
“It was hot sugar. So it wouldn’t be transferred. It would be contact from something hot—plus don’t forget the sand.”
How could he?
It was chaos.
“The ME said it was so deeply in the clothes that it wasn’t washed away by ocean water. That’s a hardcore transfer.”
Yes, yes, it is.
Gene was curious, and wanted to make sure he wasn’t making a huge mistake. Their lives depended on his gut being accurate.
“What else did you find out about Maria Barada?” he asked, hoping she might be able to tell them who was targeting her.
Ethan shared.
“She’s legit into Voodoo. She has a business page on social media, and allows partial access to look into her personal life. She’s got money. As someone who likes expensive shoes and clothes, she’s wearing designer things as she’s handing out Vampire’s Erections in her club.”
Gene thought about that.
“Did you know that most bars and restaurants fail within the first two years. It’s something like ninety-four percent of them.”
Ethan knew where he was taking this.
That meant she had an influx of capital to keep it afloat.
“You think that it’s a front?” he asked. “You think maybe Esmerelda isn’t on the up and someone isn’t actually after her, but someone she’s hiding?”
He shrugged.
“Like with any of our cases, we need to figure that part out. It makes sense, but we need to find the evidence to say that.”
Yes, yes, they did.
Ethan looked around.
“Anything up here?” he asked. “You said only condoms and no porn. Anything like a boyfriend or girlfriend?”
Gene shook his head.
“Nah, Jarod was either celibate, or he was married to his job. The cops did say he was the ONLY decent agent here—which likely freaked the killer out.”
Ethan was staring at the wall and shaking his head.
“What?” he asked.
Ethan explained.
“It sucks that he was likely killed because he was good at his job. They probably didn’t want him to catch on to what was going on, and by killing him, they assumed it would be one of the other agents—who supposedly aren’t great at their jobs—to get the case.
All the killing is sometimes overwhelming.
I think I need a vacation from our vacation. ”
He laughed.
Why?
Ethan wasn’t the only one.
Now, Gene needed one too.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
The FBI Office
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Same Time
Monday Noon
As he was doing some research for Gene, Greyson had a little free time on his hands, so he did the same thing he’d been doing the last four weeks whenever he had a moment to himself.
Research.
Pulling out the laptop from the CIA sting a few cases ago, he began doing some research on his favorite target.
Sasha Harper.
To say that he was so obsessed that he couldn’t even sleep would be an understatement.
Why?
Because she lied to him, she betrayed all of them, and he didn’t like games like this.
They’d welcomed her into their group, and she’d burned his two friends.
Ethan and Gene were entitled to have their own lives, and not have someone up in their business.
If they wanted to have sex, and be a couple, they should be allowed. What Sasha did risked all of them, and it made him irate.
It also made him curious.
Why?
It had to be a damn big issue that Gabe had on her for the woman to be a snitch.
Most FBI agents had one hardcore rule. To not be like their once leader, J. Edgar Hoover, they didn’t snitch on co-workers.
Oh, there were a few who did, but for the majority, they truly believed that snitches got stitches.
And for Sasha to burn two decent human beings to Gabe told him that she’d fucked up good.
Like REAL good.
Now, like any agent with a sixth sense, and a gut instinct, he was chasing down that lead.
Eventually, he’d find her real identity.
Running her face was the last-ditch effort, and he was only hoping that Gabe hadn’t had her erased. There were rumors that it could be done, and if there were rumors, there was some truth to it.
So, he uploaded the picture he’d taken lowkey of her at the office, and sat back.
As he did, he went back to his other laptop to check it out to see what he found when it came to Papi’s. That was the restaurant on the beach that had been owned by Ethan and Gene’s first victim.
For all intents and purposes, it was clean, and that was just as frustrating.
How the hell did this killer pick the first victim? What he did know was that Ethan and Gene got tagged into the worst messes.
This was proof.
When his phone rang, he picked it up, and kept working.
“Croft.”
That’s when he heard the voice.