Chapter Eight #3
Someone was off his rocker.
“Uh, well, we all did piss on it and laugh,” Corbin admitted, sarcastically, making his partner snort, and then have to cover it with a cough.
Who wasn’t amused?
Trenton.
“I don’t see how this is funny, Gentlemen. That building is part of our history, and deserves to be respected.”
Corbin just gave his partner a look.
Alex jumped in.
“What can you tell us about Devon Slater?”
He actually laughed.
“He’s a rich, self-entitled man who thinks he can repeatedly bully us with his attorney to get those permits. This is his karma for being obnoxious. The universe is clearly punishing him. I hope his name and picture are in the paper over this, and it gives him a bad rap.”
Well, that sounded all kinds of angry.
And off.
“That’s harsh.”
The man shrugged.
“I’ve been dealing with him for a year. It’s getting old,” Trenton said. “I think I’d like to talk to the deputy director personally regarding this. Give me her number.”
Now, it was Alex’s turn.
That wasn’t happening.
Not on his watch.
They didn’t just hand out Elizabeth’s information, and for good reason.
Ivan would kill them.
“Yeah, no, Sir. She’s a very busy woman. You’re not going to get the resolution you think you are by talking to her. The FBI hasn’t damaged the building, and we’re working hard to make sure we get a resolution.”
He didn’t look happy.
Corbin helped.
“We only saw yellow police tape. It comes off,” he said, sarcastically. “Just add a little water and scrub.”
The man stared at them.
“This isn’t funny.”
Corbin was aware, but someone was going nutters over a ridiculous building.
“We’re not mocking the situation,” he said. “We’re mocking your response to it. You’re more concerned about the building than the homeless man who died there, or the situation with the eyeballs.”
He shrugged.
“People die.”
Well, that was cold.
Alex stood up and pulled a card from behind his badge. When he placed it on the table, he knew they weren’t going to get anywhere with this guy.
He was being ridiculous.
All he wanted to do was bitch to Elizabeth. That wasn’t going to happen.
Bet.
On.
It.
“If you have any questions, give me a call,” he said. “Elizabeth seldom deals with bureaucratic red tape,” he offered. “She’s got better things to do.”
The man said nothing, but maybe that was because the two Feds headed out, leaving him sitting there.
Outside, Corbin rolled his neck.
“Someone has zero concern that there were twenty eyeballs, a bunch of skulls, and a dead man in that building. He’s worried that the stone outside stays pristine.”
Alex had seen a lot of crazy in his time with the FBI.
Was he shocked?
No.
Crazy did what crazy did.
He knew that Elizabeth would shit a ton of bricks if he gave the man her number, so he could bother her at all hours. That was one sure-fire way to get the boss pissed at you.
Pass.
When his phone chimed, Alex pulled it from the pocket. It was a text from the morgue staff. They had positive ID using the dentals, not using the tags and wallet, on the victim.
“The ME finished the autopsy. They confirmed positive ID on the homeless man who ended up dead.”
Corbin was reading over his shoulder, and that’s when he smelled it.
It was a very familiar cologne, and it hit him so damn hard it stole his breath.
Jesus.
It was Will’s cologne.
Christ Almighty.
That was a punch to the gut. It took him a second to regroup. That scent was something he hadn’t smelled in a very long time.
And it brought a pain back that he couldn’t fight.
“Jonathan Miller?” he asked, trying to focus.
It had been a long time since his husband, the love of his life, was stolen from him, and mostly, he was able to go a full day without thinking about him.
There were always odd moments where something caught him off guard, and knocked him off his feet.
Like now.
Corbin wanted to run, but he wanted to stay, continuing to smell that scent. It fucked with his head, and his libido in ways it shouldn’t.
And that scared him.
Alex nodded.
He had a plan.
They had more work to do.
“Yeah. I’m going to message Elizabeth. We should head to the local homeless encampment and ask some questions.
I know it was likely part of the plan. She’d want to cover bases over this to eliminate him as being tied to this.
If we talk to anyone who knew him in the homeless community, that might give us something. ”
Corbin just nodded.
When he didn’t speak, Alex glanced over.
“Hey, you’re pale. Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing his wrist with his hand to connect them. With his fingers over the man’s pulse, he could feel it beating erratically.
Corbin didn’t say anything at first. That one scent was so familiar and comforting that it had him by the throat.
And balls.
Wildly, his libido turned on, when it absolutely shouldn’t, but here he was, feeling things that had been dead a long time.
God.
He missed that.
He missed feeling alive.
Breathing through that attraction, he was infinitely grateful that he was gay, and Alex was not.
That was his emergency kill switch.
“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go to the homeless encampment. You can drive,” he said, pulling out the keys. “I’ll contact the homicide captain, and get the location,” he offered, doing everything in his power to be able to keep working.
As they were tossed, Alex caught the keys.
He was confused.
Corbin went from fine to being in a bad place pretty damn fast. He wasn’t sure why, but he could tell that he was struggling to talk.
There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there.
Was it pain?
Had Alex said something?
God knew he recognized it, since he spent a lot of time in that same place.
“Uh, okay,” he said.
But it wasn’t okay.
Now, he was worried.
Something was definitely up with the man, and he was struggling.
He just hoped that whatever it was didn’t bite them in the ass. The team couldn’t have two people falling apart.
That was his job.
It always was.
Because Alex was the weakest link.
* * * The Blackhawk Family * * *
En Route
To The Cemetery
Saint Mary’s
As Ivan drove, Elizabeth got the email from her husband. The autopsy was done on Jonathan Miller, and they now had positive ID.
Pulling out her phone, she called Chris.
It looked like it was time to check in with him.
As soon as he answered, Chris went there.
“Hey,” he said. “Let me guess. You got the email, and now, you’re going to ask all kinds of questions to annoy me.”
She laughed.
How could she not?
He’d nailed that.
“I love and hate that you know me so well. COD,” she said, not missing a beat.
Chris wasn’t shocked.
Yes, he’d just sent the email one minute ago, but if anything, Elizabeth was a creature of habit.
“Well, it was a stab to the heart, like we all saw from the crime scene, but Jonathan Miller had other issues.”
That made her lift a brow.
“And they would be?”
He was to the point.
“He was missing a kidney.”
That hung there.
And she was confused.
It wasn’t like her husband not to notice a man had a hole on the back of his body on a crime scene. This might be a first.
“So you guys missed that he had a whole-ass kidney missing at the scene? That might have been helpful then.”
Chris slowed her roll.
“No, Elizabeth, I didn’t miss it. I’ve been doing this as long as you have. I saw the scar, but didn’t point it out because people have surgeries.”
Okay.
He had her there.
Chris continued.
“At some point, he had surgery, and his kidney was taken out. I have the VA records on him, and there is no evidence of him having kidney disease, or him donating. It says in the records that he’s been homeless for a long time.”
“What war?” she asked.
He was to the point.
“Desert Storm.”
She hated it when a soldier became homeless, and then lost his life on the streets when he’d served their country.
It pissed her off.
“Okay. Find his family,” she said. “If I come across a jar of kidneys, I’ll let you know.”
Chris didn’t know if this would be helpful or not.
“Both Alexi and I confirmed that COD is the stab to the heart. A knife punctured his heart, and he bled out around midnight last night. That’s how he died.”
She was curious.
“And he has both of his eyes, right?” she asked.
Chris confirmed it.
“Yes. Both are intact.”
She was thinking about it.
“We need to figure out if he came across the stash, and the killer shanked him, or if he was just a victim of a random act of violence and not tied to this case.”
Chris couldn’t answer that.
None of them could.
Well, unless they talked to his friends.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said. “That’s more your area than mine.”
Elizabeth laughed.
Yeah, tell her about it.
Only, she busted her husband’s ass.
“This is why we all love Zane. He speculates, and helps us come up with a theory.”
Oh, well, she was out of luck on that one because that shit wasn’t happening from him.
“That’s a you problem, Boo. I’m not doing that, and you know it. I will speculate on one thing, though.”
Oh, well, he had her attention.
“Yes?”
He shared what he’d observed.
“Your male detective has a thing for the female detective. He’s super protective of her, but she seems to be oblivious. I just watched him and her together. I thought you should know.”
Elizabeth laughed.
And the men in the car knew why.
Someone had just called out Cupid, and she was always available for that little side gig.
Always.
“You don’t say?” she asked, amused.
Honestly, her husband wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.
She was, after all, hyper-aware of her surroundings. That was one of her superpowers.
Thank.
Freaking.
God.
Chris was to the point.
“What you choose to do with that information, Elizabeth, is your choice,” Chris said. “You’re welcome.”
She snorted.
“Thanks, handsome. I’ll keep it on the back burner,” she said. “I love you.”
Oh, he loved her too.
“Be careful,” he offered, and then cut the call.
Before she could say anything, Callen went there.