Chapter Eighteen #4
Ironically, they had too, and they were dealing with a mob man.
“What was used?”
He paused.
“Something hammer-like, but not a hammer. From what I can tell, it was all metal with a rounded head. Ball peen hammer?” he said, guessing.
Gene made notes.
“It was used to hit from the side, and remove the caps from their position. It was also used to inflict as much injury as possible. He was badly abused. There are microfractures all over his body.”
Ethan glanced over at Gene.
They were both thinking the same thing.
It was a good bet they were worked over for information.
This killer was cleaning up after himself, and didn’t want to leave anyone behind who might know who was behind this.
“Any trace?” he asked.
Ben grabbed a paper from the printer.
“We found DNA on his torso, and a hair. Unfortunately for you, it was where Agent Mayfield touched the body without gloves on.”
Goddamn it.
“It was in the circle I made on his skin. So it was definitely transferred after because I opened his shirt.”
Gene was frustrated.
“Nothing else? How about tox?” he asked.
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Agents. If he was drugged, it was out of his system, and he wasn’t clocked and taken. There was only one point of BFT to his head, and it was the killing blow. He had bruising, so he was alive for hours before he died.”
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
This killer was covering his tracks.
That was for sure.
“Okay, so tell me this. Did the same weapon do them all in?” Gene asked.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did he have any sugar on him?” Gene asked, pulling the evidence bag with the sticky substance from his pocket to turn it in.
The man checked.
“Yes. It was on him. No burns, but definitely sugar trace with sand in it. Where did you find this?” he asked, looking at the glob of stickiness that he was holding in an evidence bag.
“Near what we think is the crime scene,” he stated. “We think we know where they were taken. Can you analyze it and see if it is, indeed, the same? If it is, we’ve got this guy on lock.”
The man nodded.
“Sure can, agents. Anything else? We do have trace from his car, but it’s just being run. I’ll have the techs do it when they come back.”
Gene lifted a brow.
“Come back?”
He stared at him like he was the one who was crazy.
“Didn’t you tell me to send them to the agent’s home to get trace since it was wrecked and it might be the place he was grabbed?”
Shit.
He had.
“How long…?” he began, but was shut down.
“As long as it takes, Agent. I don’t follow the techs around and make them work at a speed in which they can’t do their job. I’ll email you the trace results, if we have them. They’ll get on the car trace as soon as they get back.”
Well, they’d have to let them do their work. It wasn’t like staring at them would make it go any faster.
UNFORTUNATELY.
This felt like everything was working against them, and Gene didn’t like it.
Not.
At.
All.
As for the timing, it was already heading toward five, and they had plans to hit up a specific club.
“We’re heading back upstairs, and then, we’ll be heading out,” he stated, thinking about their plans for the evening. “You can reach me by text,” he said, since he’d given him his phone number.
That was quicker.
“If you find anything out of the ordinary in the trace, or anyone’s DNA that might be in CODIS, like a cop, let me know.”
His eyebrow went up.
“Do you think this might be a cop?” Ben asked, sounding horrified.
Gene shrugged.
“We don’t know, Doc. That’s what we need that trace for to make sure we aren’t being led around by our noses. Someone is good at playing games, and I don’t like risking my life when someone is close enough to stab me in the back.”
Ben got it.
“I’ll be in touch, Agents.”
With that, Gene and Ethan headed out of the morgue, and neither one was happy.
“I don’t like how this is going back and forth between a cop who knows how to set a scene to tie us up with work, and a mob man who is smart enough to con the law,” Gene admitted.
On this, Ethan agreed.
This felt like a quagmire.
And nothing good ever happened when you went into one of those.
Blindly.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
FBI Office
Upstairs
Same Time
When they got back to the conference room, Greyson had returned, and he was eating some late lunch, or an early dinner.
His laptop was running, and they could see what it was—because it wasn’t his laptop, but the CIA’s.
Someone was borderline obsessed with finding Sasha’s identity.
Like eat, sleep, dream about getting that one tidbit that was eluding him.
“How’s it going?” Gene asked, sitting down beside him.
It wasn’t.
And that was annoying.
“I’ll find something,” Greyson said. “I know for a freaking fact that there had to be something overlooked. There’s no way they erased a full person. The FBI is incompetent on a good day, and today is NOT a good day,” he muttered.
Oh, boy.
This had become an obsession.
“Grey, maybe you should put down the CIA tech, and take a break. You’re angry,” Gene said.
He stared at the man.
“I don’t like being lied to, and that Gabe pulled this off under our noses, and that woman betrayed us to him—that pisses me off. When I’m challenged in a game, I will figure out who is behind it, and why.”
When Gene opened his mouth, Ethan put his hand on the man’s thigh, silencing him.
“Well, we appreciate you doing this for us,” Ethan said, taking over. “If you need our help, let us know.”
There was no point trying to stop him. Greyson was a man on a mission, and he was pissed.
REALLY.
PISSED.
He just nodded, and then had a moment of clarity. So, he went there.
“How’s the case going? Did the ME have anything?” he asked.
They shared.
“He found trace and DNA, but unfortunately, it was in the spot that Lucas raw-dogged the body barehanded. Other than that, nada. The techs are at Jarod’s home, processing it, and they’ll start running Samuel Padilla’s car when they get back in.”
Greyson shook his head.
“This feels like it’s moving so slowly,” he admitted.
Yeah, Gene felt like that, too, even though it was only the first day.
Technically.
“Agreed,” Gene stated.
Greyson was curious.
“And are you guys going to head out to Dark Spirits?” he asked. “Need backup?”
Gene was to the point.
“We’re going to make it look like a double date, and are taking Corbin and Will. We’ll be good. Are you going to be good here with this laptop?” he asked, hinting at the man’s obsession.
Greyson laughed.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s true. I’m obsessed. I’ll be okay when I figure out who she is. I promise.”
Oh, they hoped so.
They missed their friend. Greyson wasn’t happy-go-lucky anymore. He was borderline angry, and that didn’t go well with their jobs.
Mental note—never betray Greyson Croft.
He got vengeful.
“Okay, Grey,” Gene stated. “We are all angry over her betrayal. Just don’t let it distract you or take you down. It’s not worth it.”
To him it was.
There was nothing he valued more than loyalty. As an ex-soldier, that was part of who he was, and how he survived as one.
“If you guys want, you can…,” he began, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the CIA laptop began dinging.
It.
Found.
Something.
“Oh, holy shit,” Greyson muttered, as he scanned over the information found on the screen.
He’d been right.
They hadn’t erased all of her. The laptop had found the truth, and it was in some small crevice of the internet.
“I know who she is.”
The man had their full attention.
“Who?” Gene asked.
Turning the laptop around, he showed them.
On the screen, there was a small picture, and an article on her.
‘Daphne Carmichael, wife to mob crime boss, Hugo Carmichael, has turned state's evidence against the man. After it was found that she helped him cover up homicides, working as a city ME, she was arrested Tuesday, and charged in accordance to her crimes. The DA gave her the option to testify against her husband in exchange for a new life. The deal was taken immediately, and then, Daphne disappeared. Her husband is expected to get the electric chair for the homicide of ten cops spanning over a five-year period in which he made their deaths look like accidents.’
Oh, fuckity.
“She’s dirty,” Gene said. “No wonder that Gabe has her wrapped around his little finger and on a very short leash. She’s likely afraid the FBI will leak her whereabouts, and her ex will have her taken care of from jail.”
Ethan shook his head.
“Are you familiar with this case?” he asked. “I am. I read about it.”
They both looked over.
“What?”
Ethan hadn’t seen her picture, since the media had been blackballed from posting it, but he’d absolutely read over the cases.
“They called her The Scorpion because she would get information from the cops, and then she would pass that information off to her husband, Hugo. She’d sting them in the back and betray them.”
Oh, that was bad.
Greyson was going red.
“I’m going to take care of her,” he stated. “I’m going to burn her so good she can’t walk into a room without knowing everyone is aware of who she is.”
Gene touched his arm.
“Breathe, big man. We have something on Gabe now. He’s allowing a woman, who falsified autopsy results to work for law enforcement.
If he gets caught, he’s losing his job. Congress will collectively shit its pants.
There’s no doubt in my mind he knows who she is.
He’s using her to do exactly what she used to do. ”
Ethan agreed.
“Let’s hold onto this until we need it. Now that we know who she is, we can prepare for it. If Gabe gets cunty, we can drop this bomb on him, and get him to back off.”
Greyson was seeing red.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve never hit a woman before, but she might be the first.”
Gene patted him on the back.
“Let’s do this the best way so we can show Gabe what it means to be under someone’s thumb. Because I’ll absolutely drop this to the media to make him cry.”
Greyson calmed down.
“Okay, I think I can be calm.”
They hoped so, because they finally had a way to protect themselves, and they absolutely would. That Gabe was playing dirty games…
Well, fuck around and find out.
At some point, they’d blow him out of the water, because now, they were also playing chess.
And there were three of them.
When Gene’s phone chimed, it was Corbin, and he was asking a question.
‘Are we grabbing dinner? Or have the plans changed? Let me know—C.’
Ethan rattled off a text, telling him they would be heading back soon.
“We’ve got to go,” Ethan said. “We have plans for Dark Spirits tonight, and the Crotch Goblin is texting,” he stated.
They wanted to make sure Greyson was calm, and that he wouldn’t do anything that might blow up in his face.
Or their faces.
“Maybe you should come with us,” Gene admitted.
The man laughed.
“No, I’m good. Really, but if we’re ever going after Gabe, I need to know when because I’m going after Sasha at the same time. I’m going to make sure she feels this to her bones. She’s mine to handle. You can deal with Gabe on this one.”
Oh, and Gene would.
Well, it was a start.
At least he wasn’t going scorched-earth right off the bat. So, that was a win for them.
Call it a hunch, but letting Greyson go wild didn’t sound like a good plan.
Not.
At.
All.
“Okay, Grey. We’ll keep you updated,” Gene promised. “We’ll check in later.”
The man held out a fist.
“Call if you need me,” Greyson called. “Don’t get your asses into trouble. I don’t want paperwork,” he stated.
They both laughed.
“We’re going to dinner at a place owned by the girlfriend of a mob man, who has been implicated in killing two cops, and two civilians,” Gene said. “How could it possibly go south?”
And they all laughed.
Why?
Because they knew that the odds weren’t in their favor on this one.
As the two men headed out, Greyson manned Ethan’s computer. It was running information on the cops, doing a deep search.
As he stared at the information flying by on the screen, he knew what he needed to do.
Greyson needed to distract himself, or he was getting on a plane, flying back to Philly, and confronting a traitorous, deceitful woman who had NO business working for the FBI after what she did.
She.
Was.
Dirty.
Oh, and he would take out the trash on this one.
There was no doubt that he’d love nothing more than to grab a redhead by the hair, shake some sense into her, and then drop her in Hugo Carmichael’s lap. The mob man might be in jail, but there was no doubt his cancerous ways were still ongoing.
Mob men didn’t go down easily.
So, to keep his mind busy, he started researching everyone.
All of the cops.
All of the people they’d come across.
EVERYONE.
Why not?
Something in Puerto Rico wasn’t what it seemed.