Chapter 50 Dammit, Miss Cleo #2
“Another strong possibility. It’s either that or the dye is evidence, which makes it another loose end.
” I press off a rock, rise to a standing position, then wipe the salty water from my hands.
“And for the record, they tortured him to get the dye. They cut off his tattoo for dishonoring the brotherhood. And then they killed him because he wanted a bigger cut.”
McBride snaps a picture of the victim’s face before rising. “I’ll show this to Hemsley. With any luck, he can ID her so we don’t have to wait for the ME to do it. We should see how he’s making out with the other DB, anyhow.”
My phone alerts with an incoming text as I’m gingerly stepping off the last slick rock. With both feet on solid earth, I glance at the message.
Shit.
It’s Kri, the Redleg guard with Lila.
My body doesn’t tense the way I’d have expected. Probably because I pushed my emotions into that swirling mist haven.
I skim the message, which details a simple request Lila made. Considering it, I can’t see how it would impact her safety. Not from a physical aspect, at least. It isn’t like she’s asking to leave the condo.
Andrews calls out from the ERT tent. “Are you done?”
Distracted, I bounce my gaze between him and the text. “Hang on.”
Once more, I read the message. Kudos to Kri for asking first. This should be fine to green-light. As a bonus, Lila’s request solves another problem for me.
“Today, Hayes,” Agent McBride hollers from beside Andrews. While I was in decision paralysis, he had already made it to the ERT tent.
Without giving it another thought, I tap out a speedy reply to Kri.
Handled.
Legs in motion, I quickly join my peers. The medical examiner’s team brushes by me, hefting a body board toward the rocks.
Andrews fists his hands on his hips. “Tide’s coming back in. Anything else you need before they move her off the rocks? Last chance.”
“Nothing there other than her body, and it’s been well photographed.” I cross my arms at my chest. “She looks like the vic from the Skinner Street home invasion.”
McBride flashes his phone at Andrews. “Gonna show this pic to Hemsley since he’s the one who interviewed her and her husband.”
Andrews frowns at the picture, then edges out of the tent. “Let’s go see him.”
As we march down the beach, I nudge my partner’s elbow. “What did the ME say?”
“No defensive wounds or visible injuries that he can see from here. Other than the throat laceration, which is likely the cause of death. He was certain she washed up on the rocks, rather than someone dumping her body there.”
“That aligns with my thoughts,” I muse. “We’re looking for someone with access to a boat. I gotta say, I’m surprised they didn’t weigh her down with bricks.”
“These kids today,” Andrews tosses flippantly. “Always cutting corners.”
Despite the grim situation, that gets a soft chuckle out of me.
Luke pipes in. “What about time of death?”
“He won’t know until he gets her to the morgue and can do a deeper analysis.”
I fan out my empty palm. “Not even an estimate?”
“Dammit. Fucking east coast beaches are the worst.” Andrews curses under his breath as he sinks deeper into the sand and crushed shells with each step.
“No estimate. He was rambling about checking tidal history and evaluating the pink stains on her shirt to see how much time the blood had to set in before she hit the water. Then he needs to measure fluid in the lungs, and blah, blah, blah. All in all, he wasn’t comfortable guessing. ”
I offer my two cents. “She couldn’t have been floating for very long. No shark bites. Not even her blood drew them to her. And there was very little decomposition. Once we confirm her identity, we’ll get a better idea of timing based on when she was last seen.”
McBride grouses from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want to be the one to tell her husband. I hate that shit.”
With a hearty eye roll, Andrews quips, “Only sociopaths enjoy doing that. We can always send a uniformed officer.”
Miffed at his out-of-character suggestion, I glower at my mentor. “It’s that kind of behavior that makes local law enforcement hate us. They aren’t our little bitches.”
“It was a joke.”
The chatter fiddles out as we approach the second scene. Aside from the crashing waves, the only other sound is our huffing and puffing from trudging through the sand.
Hemsley meets us a few feet from the body. “Fancy a swim, guys? Got the ocean right there. Did you bring your water wings?”
Everybody’s a fucking comedian today. At least Andrews’ little one-liner was humorous.
Once Grant sees his joke fell flat on its face, he shapeshifts back into an adult. Or better yet, a federal fucking agent at a double murder scene.
“Anything helpful at the other body?” he asks, his eyes swiping from left to right.
McBride shoves his phone at Hemsley. “Recognize her? Hayes thinks she’s the one from the Skinner Street job.”
He squints at the picture on Luke’s phone, then offers a solemn confirmation. “Yeah. That’s Emma Jones.” He shakes his head, cursing through gritted teeth. “Fuck. That makes two dead casino dealers today.”
I peer around him, noticing that the second victim is wearing the same black-and-white dealer’s uniform. However, she’s face down, unlike the victim on the rocks. “Do we know this one?” I ask.
Hemsley gestures for us to follow him toward the body. “Her name was Sophie. She worked on the Sunset casino cruise, just like Emma down there. Oddly, Sophie isn’t one of the dealers the casino identified as potentially compromised.”
Taking a knee in the sand, McBride angles his head for a better view of the victim’s neck. “DB on the rocks didn’t have identification on her. Yet this one does? Seem fishy to y’all? Sorry ‘bout the pun.”
In an emotionless tone, Grant explains, “No ID on this one either. We briefly rolled her over, and she still has her name tag on.”
Andrews exhales, layering the whooshing air with a thoughtful hum. “People tend to remove their name tags after they clock out or when they get into their car to drive home. Makes me wonder if they grabbed her at work.”
“Taking her right when she walks off the fucking table or the boat?” Luke sails out a protracted whistle. “Big ol’ brass balls on these fuckers.”
The more this situation unfolds, the harder it is to keep that ward of protection around my senses. That fucking mist is swirling over my head like a damn storm cloud.
I’m never sending Lila back to Oak Winds. Never.
Warren must know where my mind went, because his eyes find mine. “Good thing Lila is safe. You were right to keep her with you when you did.”
Addressing the others, he states, “We need to update the SSA. All the involved dealers are in grave danger and need protection ASAP.”
McBride stands, dusting the sand off his hands. “If we plant squad cars in front of their homes, it’ll tip off the crime ring.”
“They gotta know we’re getting close after we popped Hartley,” Hemsley counters.
Andrews drags his gaze away from the body, tossing in his two cents. “That was a murder arrest. STK doesn’t know we’ve linked it with the casino crimes.”
I massage my forehead to stem a brewing tension headache. “It’s a big risk with Lila still angling to meet with Silas. I know she isn’t the only dealer in jeopardy, but without her getting him comfortable enough to talk, how else will we get the name of the kingpin out of Silas?”
“We can hash it out with boss lady when we get her on the horn,” Luke decrees, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his cell.
Before he swipes his thumb across the screen, all our phones blast with various alert tones. Two new messages appear in the team’s group chat.
Agent Carson:
FYI team, lots happening this AM. Expect frequent updates. We can’t send the mobile command to Cocoa, so we’re having an emergency meeting at 11:00 here at the Tampa FO. If you can’t return by then, you’ll need to call in from the field.
SSA Chase:
I just got off the phone with the gang unit’s ASAC. DB found in Tampa last night looks to have significant STK connections. Fowler and Morales are en route to the victim’s house. More info to come. We need to get our CI to press “Silas” for that meeting before more people die.
My protective vapor slams back into me, bringing all my discordant emotions with it. Disgust blends with an anxious uncertainty and sorrow over the loss of innocent life.
But the prevailing emotion is fear. Raw and unrelenting fear.
For Lila and the others like her. People who were forced into this nightmare, only to be discarded once they’re no longer useful.
Like the ocean-soaked bodies that washed up this morning.
If we don’t figure this out soon, more will die.
As if that wasn’t enough pressure, an individual message makes my phone buzz.
Carson:
Call me about your sister ASAP. Something’s up with her.
Dread thrums in my veins, making my insides churn.
I close the distance between Andrews and me, pinning him dead in the eyes. “Are you sure I can trust Redleg with Lila?”
To his credit, he doesn’t flinch or waver. “They wiped out the Lenkov Bratva. Trust me, they’ve got this.”
That should comfort me enough to keep my shit together.
Should. But doesn’t.
Teeth grinding, I stomp a few steps away from my team to call Lila. With a little reassurance, I’ll be able to find my footing again.
All I need is to hear her voice. That’s it.
When the call connects, it isn’t Lila’s voice on the other end.
Her bodyguard answers instead. And she says one of the last things I want to hear. “We have a problem.”