Prologue #3
She was about to be bumped from Director of The Special Victims Unit to Director of the FBI, leapfrogging Elizabeth for the position.
Thank.
Freaking.
God.
Yes, Elizabeth had about ten years on her with seniority, and yes, she had more time as a director, but Elizabeth would rather eat her own gun than be head of the FBI.
Hell!
She would have rather eaten her gun when she’d been shoved into this position, but again, Gabe had won on that one.
Moving up any further was a hard NO for her.
It would mean giving up her division, and that was NOT happening. Look at the cuckoos out there causing harm. The Violent Crimes Unit needed her.
And she needed it.
Mostly, it kept her sane—until it didn’t.
“Thanks,” she said as they loaded up and hit the road. Time was of the essence because there was no doubt that Devon Slater would know when she touched that crime scene.
It was dangerous even going there, but she knew there was no choice.
Not for her, anyway.
“Light it up,” she said, sitting in the passenger seat as Raphael did just that.
The navigation system chirped their location and where they were heading.
“Okay, and now for the rules,” Raphael said as he drove them to the scene.
She sighed.
Well, no shock this was coming.
“What are the rules now?” she asked as the scenery flew by the windows.
Raphael told her.
“If it feels off to either one of us, Uriel is tossing you over his shoulder, and we are getting the fuck out of there.”
She laughed.
“Sorry. I pictured it. Kinky, Cas. Kinky.”
He pointed at her.
“Don’t be a menace. Ivan can’t wrangle you, but we will ABSOLUTELY put your ass in a straitjacket and put you in the trunk for safekeeping. Our directive is to allow you to work, unless it becomes too dangerous. Then, our directive is to remove you at any MEANS NECESSARY.”
She knew they weren’t kidding, either.
“We don’t want to be out in the open for long, so get in, get what you need, and get out.”
She hated to be the one who pissed on their parade, but that wasn’t conducive to her job.
“Guys, if I’m trying to find this guy, I have to look around and take my time. I’m fast, and I’m good, but I’m human. Missing one thing could be detrimental.”
Raphael didn’t like this.
Not.
At.
All.
“Inside, you can take your time. Outside, where we can get shot or hurt, not acceptable.”
Well, then, it was a good thing this crime scene was inside because there was no doubt in her mind Devon would have left her something to suck her into this mess even more.
“You do your thing,” Uriel said, “and we will do ours. That’s why we were assigned to you and not Ivan for this one,” he admitted. “Archangels have a little more close-quarters combat than MRR. Ivan is good, but he’s not an Archangel.”
She knew he’d hate that.
“If he hears you saying that, his undies are going to be in a twist, and you know it.”
Caspian smiled.
“I know. That’s why I said it,” he teased.
Well, apparently, she was being held hostage by two men she considered her children.
Good to know.
As they drove, she knew when they arrived at the crime scene location.
It was a gas station on the outskirts of Corpus Christi where the bodies were found, but it was surrounded by about twenty cop cars and a bunch of deputies.
Well, the International Space Station could see the lights from all the way up there.
There was nothing like doing something INCOGNITO.
Jesus.
H.
Christ.
Talk about overkill. It was either a really bad scene, or every yahoo deputy with some time on their hands felt like showing up to be part of the show.
It looked like they were about to find out which it was.
As Raphael rolled up to the tape, he dropped the window so that the police on the scene could see who was approaching. Granted, they likely figured it out by the big, blacked-out vehicle.
“I have the FBI onboard,” he said, as she stuck her badge out the window for them to see.
Immediately, the deputy pointed.
“We were told to look out for you, Director. The sheriff is inside. I hope you have a strong stomach.”
Well, she did, but not for this bullshit.
This was enough to make her want to be bitchy and slap the taste out of someone’s mouth.
Truth be told, Devon Slater was pushing his luck to begin with and making her jump through hoops to play this game of chess made her want to punch him in the balls.
REPEATEDLY.
That was for damn sure.
As they rolled under the tape, and she got out, a big man with a paunchy belly and beard headed her way. He looked like Santa Claus, but in a green uniform.
“Director?” he asked.
Well, no one else wanted to play ‘switch lives with Elizabeth, so it had to be her.
She nodded and shook his hand. The whole time, both of her security were almost on top of her as they were eyeing up the man.
“Yes, and you are?” she asked.
He introduced himself.
“Billy Deen. I’m the sheriff here in Corpus Christi. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Director.”
Yeah, her too.
Only, this was kind of her norm.
Death not only ruled her world, but it was that familiar friend you hated seeing but knew inside and out.
When the man moved closer, both Marines adjusted their stance.
She did too.
Elizabeth didn’t trust anyone, and it was clear that Raphael and Uriel were also not feeling it.
“That’s close enough,” Raphael stated, getting the man to give pause.
He stared at them, and blinked.
“Who are they?” he asked, eyeing up the two men.
Elizabeth knew that now was NOT a good time to play games with the Archangels.
They were twitchy as hell being out in the open.
In fact, Raphael was so far up her ass, thanks to Ethan siccing him on her, that she could smell his cologne. Now she knew how Saint felt.
Just without all the fun.
“These are my testy Marine bodyguards who are trigger-happy. They don’t like people, and I don’t blame them, Sheriff. How about you just show me the scene?” she asked, knowing that with her luck, Devon was watching and ready to blow something up—like a gas station.
That would be a fireball of fun.
Clearly, the man didn’t get offended, but instead, he did do just that.
“This way, Ma’am.”
Following, she wanted to get in and then get out. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, and that was never a good thing.
Maybe it was that they were in danger, or it could be Uriel’s breath.
He was that close, too.
As they headed into the abandoned gas station, she could smell it before she saw it.
Oh, and if she knew blood and bowel, it was going to be a bad one.
Someone, and by the smell of it a few someones, hadn’t gone out easily.
There was going to be torture.
From the copper penny smell and the stench of bowel, she could say that it was definitely a free-for-all in here.
“We got a message dropped at the station in the mail,” he said. “It was addressed to me.”
So that was how Devon was going to play? The blood smelled pretty fresh, so she was going to bet that he mailed the letter before setting up the scene.
Unless the US Postal Service was faster here than back where she lived.
When she held out her hand, he passed it to her, and gratefully, it was already bagged.
Well, someone at least knew how to preserve evidence for her. That was a plus in his favor.
Then again, not that there would be any.
She’d bet on it.
Devon was too clever to leave a clue on it, like a piece of dirt or a hidden message. He’d want her to work this out on her own. Since he’d been studying her for years, he’d know that she was too damn good of an investigator to be given forensics.
With that, she could solve anything.
The puzzles he left were going to be much harder.
Bet.
On.
It.
Taking the evidence bag and note, she read it through the plastic.
‘An offering was made, the Eucharist done, and I have left my presence. Three women were sacrificed, and all because of one’s whorish ways. Call Director Blackhawk at the FBI, and give her this note and the bodies. She’ll know what to do.’
There was the location of the remains scribbled at the bottom.
After reading it, Elizabeth stared at the women. She actually got close to them and crouched down to check them out.
Yeah, they’d been there no more than a day. She’d been right about her assessment when it came to the smell. Fresh blood changed scent after twenty-four hours.
On top of that, she knew one thing.
They weren’t killed there.
“Do you understand that letter?” Billy asked. “I’ve read it about twenty times, and I have no clue.”
Elizabeth was honest, and she shook her head.
“No, but I already know who did this to them,” she admitted. “I need to know everything about this scene. Raphael, contact the Corpus Cristi office. Get a tech team here. I need all of this documented, ASAP. Tell them to haul ass.”
That was all she had to say.
He pulled out his phone and did that for her, knowing they’d cleared it before to expect his call from their boss.
As he did that, Elizabeth knew what she needed to do. It was time to see what Devon had left for her.
As she walked the scene, she saw the chair facing a shelf with jars on it. That fit his hidey-hole scene in the dilapidated building.
It was definitely going to be him.
On the shelf, where she imagined oil and other car things once sat, she saw empty jars.
This time.
He was telling a story.
They took his collection, and now the nut was telling her there would be punishment. For a collector, all she had to do was figure out what his ultimate collection was, and that would help her find him.
Only, that wasn’t going to be easy.
There was no doubt that Devon was being meticulous with this scene.
The sheriff was beside her, as was Uriel.
“We found a jar with something in it, but for the life of me, I don’t know what the fuck it is,” Billy admitted, pointing to the jar right beside the chair.
It was a mass of disgustingness, and she knew they didn’t have any choice. She was going to have to stick her hands in that mess and figure it out.
She didn’t trust that he wouldn’t hide a piece of the puzzle inside that goo.
It was now or never.