Chapter Fourteen #2
“Can you also hit the main database and find any other killings that match up with that? We’re buried in research here. I’m currently running a school full of teachers, significant others, and the cops we work with. We’re maxed out.”
It sounded like it.
Ethan continued.
“That particular torture is very specific.”
He was curious.
“Was it done while they were alive?”
He laughed.
“Well, if the ME didn’t run, I’d have that answer. What I have is basics like a range for TOD, and the COD. Nothing else. Forensics takes forever here.”
That sucked.
Ethan wasn’t done.
“What I do know is that particular action of skinning is very specific. The ONLY skin left was their faces. It’s like he wanted to look them in the face and make them pay.”
Greyson was making notes.
“Okay, got it. I’ll play researcher for you two nuts. It’s not like I’m doing anything or ANYONE else for a long time.”
He snorted.
“Oh, well, the next redhead that rolls into town is in for some trouble. All that pent-up sexual frustration.”
Greyson snorted.
“You know me so well, and I know you two. Don’t. Get. Killed.”
Oh, he was trying not to.
Since the man was in a good mood, he was going to push his luck. That’s how he rolled.
“One more thing.”
There was a pause.
“What?”
Ethan dropped that request bomb and kept his fingers crossed.
“Gene needs a gun.”
He began laughing.
“Absolutely not. He’s on desk duty. That he was on the street and shot, tells me he is NOT really on desk duty—despite that lame excuse you gave me. Gabe said babysit, and I’m saying no.”
Ethan was laying the framework to cover their asses because now, Gene already had a gun.
HIS.
“I’ll just give him one of mine.”
As he said it, Greyson wasn’t listening.
“I can’t hear you, Blackhawk. If you confiscate a gun from the team that’s arriving, to use as your own, and you somehow misplace it, and Gene finds it and holds onto it for you, I don’t want to know.”
And there it was.
Friendship mattered.
At his ‘non-suggestion’, Ethan smiled.
“Thanks, Grey.”
He put the kibosh on that.
“Don’t thank me for anything. I said NOT to give him a gun. What you two cowboys do while I’m researching a thousand plus miles away is not my problem.”
Yeah, he got the message.
What happened in Utah stayed in Utah.
“I meant thanks for getting us that morgue, an ME, and helping with research.”
Greyson had the news on in his office, since he was sitting there doing paperwork. On it, the national news was showing the shitshow going down there.
This was a mess.
“Well, in that case, you’re welcome. Do you think there will be more deaths?” he asked, needing to know how big this fire was going to be for when he had to put it out.
He continued sharing what he suspected.
“Yes, simply because he’s lashing out. Before that, I believed he might have been dumping his stash, but now I know there’s a message hidden in this somewhere. We just have to figure out what it is. He shot at Gene, so the media gave him a clue that we’re here. He’ll protect what he’s doing.”
Great.
They didn’t need that.
Now did they?
“And do we know it’s a dude?”
He laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
“Oh, I don’t like that,” Greyson admitted.
Blackhawk was honest.
“If it’s DID, we won’t know who the dominant personality is. The original one, who could be a woman, or the split personality, who could be a man.”
Greyson paused.
“So, you’re saying that it might be a chick who wants to be a man, who isn’t one, but is acting out on the male voices in her head? Or flip that?”
That was EXACTLY what he was saying.
“We won’t know until we get a bead on who this is. Originally, I thought male. Men collect women, but if this is the split personality in charge, it could be a woman who is following orders or not. Without forensics, I have no idea until this person is standing in front of me.”
Oh, boy.
“Can I ask a question?” Greyson inquired.
Ethan didn’t mind.
“Shoot.”
Oh, he went there, alright.
“How the fuckity do you and your partner seem to find the most ridiculous cases out there without actually trying to find them?”
He snorted.
“Just lucky?” he asked.
Greyson sighed.
“The universe hates you, my dude.”
Tell him something he didn’t know.
“I got booted out of DC, I have Javier Hughes trying to collect my dick and kill my man, oh, and I’m back home in a place I absolutely despise. The universe doesn’t hate me. It wants me dead or institutionalized.”
Unfortunately, truer words hadn’t been said.
“Just be careful,” Greyson warned.
Oh, he would be.
“I’m in the hotel researching, and we have a lead for the first victim. As soon as Gene gets back, we’ll head back out to deal with the mayhem. We still have three or four interviews yet to do today.”
He hoped the mad shooter stayed away from his people.
“Okay, I’ll text you when I arrange the morgue situation. Stay out of danger, Blackhawk, and for the love of God, get some Kevlar! I’ll get some ordered up for you, and a backup gun.”
That was the plan.
Hopefully, they could ‘borrow’ some until the team reached Damascus.
“Talk to you later,” he stated. “I’ll send my report,” he added, knowing Greyson was going to ride ass over being a stickler since Gabe would be up his ass.
“Oh, you know it.”
When he hung up, Ethan went back to running information, and he had both laptops going.
When he heard the key in the door, he glanced up.
In came ‘Huggy Bear’, as Greyson called him, and he was sporting bloody clothes but a spiffy new cast.
“Nice duds,” Ethan said, getting up to reach him. “Maybe don’t play in blood.”
He laughed.
“The nice nurses tried to take my things, but I like pockets, and not scrubs, so I sent the detective with a list and a credit card to buy us some things. Did you miss me?” he asked, thinking about how he had a box with rings in it, and that’s why he needed pockets.
He nodded.
“Yeah, I just got off the phone with Grey. He’s commandeering a morgue for us and sending techs to help us. He also told me to under no circumstance borrow a gun from the techs and give it to you. Ironically, he’s having one commissioned for me in case I lose my gun.”
Gene grinned.
“Oh, well, you shouldn’t do that,” he said. “Does he have body armor coming too? I like packing plates in the back and front when I know people are gunning for me.”
Ethan was well aware that was exactly the plan.
“Oh, bet on it. We’ll see if Jerry will give us some, or if the detective has spares.”
That was the first question he planned on asking him when he got there. He’d been so worried about getting back to Ethan, it slipped his mind.
“What about the bullet?” he asked.
Gene pulled it from his pocket. It had been right next the ring box he was holding onto for dear life.
In a bag, there was a mangled bullet—proof it went through the sign and into his cast.
“It’s a twenty-two, and from the make, it is from a long rifle.”
Immediately, Ethan cringed.
Holy shit.
Someone wasn’t playing.
“That’s a dangerous one. That gun is fairly accurate, can shoot multiple rounds fast, and puts big holes in things.”
Yeah, thus, the poor woman who died and the five shots in rapid fire.
Gene felt horrible about that.
“It sucks that we likely won’t be able to trace that bullet,” Gene said. “It’s common. Almost as common as the nine-millimeter. This is a big hunting area. I’d bet my britches that every redneck in the area has that gun in the cab of their truck in case they spot a moose or elk.”
Yeah, he would be right about that one.
“Well, at least we know what we’re up against,” Ethan offered. “The normal.”
Yeah, he could say that again.
Because he felt icky, Gene needed to get out of these things, after hiding that little black box where his partner wouldn’t see it.
Gene glanced over.
“I’m going to go shower,” he stated. “I feel gross with that poor woman’s blood on me.”
Ethan wasn’t shocked.
“Okay, babe.”
Only, before he did that, Gene was curious.
“Did you find anything? Tell me you solved it, and we can get the fuck out of here now.”
He laughed.
And wished.
“No, it’s not solved. I did run the shit out of both cops. They are sparkling clean, and I mean I went deep. Nothing. Right now, both laptops are working on the laundry list of teachers, and people involved in this case so far.”
“Anything pop?”
Ethan shook his head.
“No. Teachers have background checks, and I’m not finding anything that says they missed something. We’re screwed when it comes to suspects, and being able to figure out the gender of this killer.”
Well, that wasn’t good.
“At least the cop is clean. I double checked his vehicle, and he didn’t lie. Green, relatively new truck-like SUV.”
Yeah, he didn’t think he lied. When Gene saw the lady blowing him kisses and waving from the window above the crime scene, it said one thing.
He was telling the truth.
“It’s only a matter of time before Detective Balo is up in our grills,” Gene admitted.
He was aware.
But he didn’t care.
She rubbed him the wrong way.
Well, about her…
“And as for the female detective, she’s also clean.
Her mother is her only living parent, and her father passed away ten years ago.
He was a cop and died on the job—nothing we didn’t already know.
It was a shooting that took his life. He died on the job.
Someone walked up to him from behind and put a bullet in his head.
It’s still unsolved. He was working a case at the time. ”
Gene whistled.
“That’s tough. So, the kid of a cop, who is overly protective of her job, and super ambitious? That tracks. I doubt she’d be killing people.”
He nodded.
“I didn’t find anything that said she was. She’s clean too. So, when she comes at us, because she’s going to, she can help. I still don’t like her, but…I want to get this done and get out of here as soon as possible.”
He figured as much.
That was the joint sentiment.
“Okay, you wrapped the cops. Now, what about suspects? It’s not like we have a lot of them.”
That was the truth.