Choices will Destroy (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 14) (25 page)

“I moved here for college, and Seamus told me he wanted to come here and go to school too. Then we could be together. He and I were very close.”

“He went to school for art, right?” Livy asked.

Elizabeth let her do the interview. Caroline O’Brien wasn’t exactly open to her being there.

“Yes. He was a magnificent artist.”

“What was his medium?” Elizabeth asked, taking a chance when Livy hit a lull in the questioning.

Caroline scowled at her.

Elizabeth signaled Livy to continue with the line of questioning. She wasn’t going to get anything viable from the woman.

“What did he use?” Livy asked, taking the lead.

“Seamus used clay. He liked to sculpt and run his hands over the art to feel it come alive beneath his hands.”

Yeah, it was funny how he did the opposite when he was killing women.

Livy smiled, but it wasn’t easy. Just the simple act of talking about him made her ill. “Do you have any of his works?” she asked, hoping to get a glimpse.

“Maybe. Why?”

“Would you be willing to let us see it?” she asked.

“I don’t get why it matters all these years later. You didn't care then. Why do you care now?”

“In order to get into the mind of the victim, you need to feel that connection. The case has been reopened, and we’re searching for his killer,” Livy offered, laying the bullshit on pretty thick.

Seamus’s sister glanced over at Elizabeth with nothing but anger and malice in her eyes. “Yes, I saw the news. Funny, it looks like every dog has her day. You’re the bitch they should have put down years ago.”

Elizabeth didn't say a word.

“I’ll get it.”

Caroline O’Brien muttered under her breath as she walked away. They both caught the nastiness she was spewing toward Elizabeth.

“I’m sorry,” Livy whispered. Elizabeth had been vilified on this one, and it sucked.

“It’s ok. I’m used to it.”

When the woman returned, Livy pulled out her phone. “May I take pictures of it?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s lovely,” Livy offered, feeling sick to her stomach. The man who made that sculpture had touched, hurt, and raped her.

The result had been her child.

It made her angry. What she wanted to do was grab it, smash it into a million pieces, and then punch the woman in the face.

Only, she couldn’t. She knew Elizabeth would never stop her, so she had to have control.

“Thank you,” Livy said, snapping a few pictures.

“Is there anything else?” Caroline asked.

“Was your brother close to anyone here? A girl perhaps?” Livy asked. “Was he seeing anyone?”

“NO!”

The woman pulled the sculpture from Elizabeth’s hands and stepped back. “If you want to talk, call my attorney. Get off my porch!”

With that, the door was slammed in their faces.

On the way back to the Denali, Livy was curious. “Do you think she knew anything?”

She thought about it. “I think the family probably had an inkling as to Seamus being off. It’s hard to ignore it, but then again, they loved him. That puts blinders on a person.”

She spoke from experience.

“Still, they had to know,” Livy said.

“I think deep down, they might have suspected. The victims’ faces were all over the news. We know Seamus was reenacting some moment in his life that damaged him. If they loved him, then they had to see something. In cases like this, it’s generally one thing.”

“What?” Livy asked.

“Seamus had his heart broken by a woman.”

Livy thought back to the file and the case fifteen years ago. There had been a few clues.

“The heart in a jar?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s my guess.”

“Do you think the brother will be more helpful?” Livy inquired. “Caroline hates your guts.”

She didn't have a clue.

At this point, it was a crapshoot.

“We can only hope he’ll offer something up. We just have to keep pushing forward until we get that little thread.”

Livy missed this. “It’s all coming back to me.”

Elizabeth hoped she knew what she was doing.  She’d escaped the FBI. It didn't devour her alive.

Livy was one of the lucky ones.

“You should buckle up. It’s going to be a long drive. He’s in Virginia. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Elizabeth started the Denali, and they headed out in the snow. She could only hope something would pop with the brother.

They needed something.

And fast.

Night was falling, and the chances were that the killer was going to be paying them a visit, and soon.

       
         
* * *
  B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x   * * *

Tristan Case’s

Home

When he got the call from his brother, Ethan was a little confused. Ethan was quite sure that if Tristan was gay, he wasn’t checking out the women in a bar with Jay, but that was what the man said had happened.

That meant that his ex-partner had been lying.

Or covering for him.

When that happened, it generally meant something. So, he was going to have to dig to find out. There was no doubt that his old friend was hiding something.

It was a matter of finding out what.

“Did you two hang out often?” Blackhawk asked, trying to work up to what he had to ask.

“We worked together, so that should answer your question,” Jay said, avoiding the room where his partner was found. When Ethan didn't make a comment, he felt obligated to add more. “Yes, we spent a lot of time together.”

Blackhawk headed upstairs toward the man’s bedroom. He could hear Jay following behind him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I have to dig through his personal space, and we both know, as Feds, that the bedroom is the most intimate place in a person’s house. You know that’s where everyone hides the good stuff,” he stated, pulling on a pair of gloves. There were black smudges everywhere. The tech team must have pulled lots of trace.

“That feels wrong,” Jay said. “I don’t think we should be going through his things like this.”

Ethan could see what was happening. His old partner was trying to get him out of that room.

That meant he was likely on the right path after all.

“Well, it’s our job. You heard the lead investigator. She gave us a job, and we have to do it.”

Jay followed him into the bedroom. “So, you got married, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you find it a tad bit ironic who you married?”

“Some might think that. I like to believe it was fate trying to get us together the entire time.”

“Is she any good at investigating?”

Ethan glanced up from digging in the drawers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked angrily.

“Well, she’s a director, and you’re a director…then you’re married to her.”

“For the record, I married her prior to becoming Director of FBI West. So, you can stop thinking she slept with me to get to the top.”

He shrugged. “It just seems off. Her career was shot to shit, and here you two are, running FBI West. There are not a lot of conclusions to draw from that scenario.”

Ethan wasn’t shocked that people were going there. The only other possibility to outsiders peeking into their life was that he married her for her looks and to be his arm candy.

God forbid if they actually fell in love.

“Shocked that an Indian like me got a babe?” Ethan asked.

“Uh…”

“Never thought it would happen, huh? I do believe I told you that I dated. I wasn’t celibate.”

Honestly, it didn't bother him anymore. When people saw them together, there was always that knowing look. She was beautiful, Caucasian, and smart.

He was Native.

It spoke volumes. It took years for him not to believe it, but he knew people always went there. Either he had married up in social standing, or she had scored a high-powered husband. One was for prestige and one was for power.

It sucked that no one saw the truth.

“I didn't mean to offend you. I was just curious how well she did her job.”

“Well, she knows your partner is gay,” he said, going in for the kill.

Jay flinched.

Here’s where the gamble came. “She also knows that you two had more than a partnership at work. You had sex with him the night he died, and I’m betting it all went down right here.”

Jay went red, but still said nothing.

“You left trace in the form of semen. So, unless you were really drunk and mistook him for a ‘babe’, then you have some explaining to do.”

He didn't say a word.

“Are you gay, Jay?”

“Yes.”

“Was he gay?”

“Yes.”

“Were you two a couple?” Ethan asked, pulling out a drawer full of lube and other things.

“Yes. When are you going to tell Gabriel Rothschild?”

Ethan knew why the man wanted in on the case. He was hoping to see what they found in Tristan’s home.

“He’s going to find out, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Right now, Christopher Leonard is running the semen. He’s going to pull your DNA, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Ethan was a little shocked, but then again, he wasn’t. Jay had been very obnoxious when it came to his sexuality. In fact, he flaunted it a little too much.

“How long have you been gay?” he asked. “You were the biggest womanizer I’ve ever met in the bureau. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’ve been gay my whole life,” Jay said, still not moving from the spot in the bedroom. “The women were just an act. I was grateful we didn't hang out after work, or that would have been awkward.”

Yeah, he was well aware.

“I guess so.”

“There was a better chance I’d sleep with you then your wife. At that point in my life, I was still trying to lie to myself. That’s why I hit on her. Certainly, if I could get her to sleep with me, I had to be a man.”

Ethan leaned against the doorframe of the closet. “Being gay doesn’t make you less of a man. Not being truthful about your feelings does.”

Jay stared at him.

Ethan knew this had to hurt, but Jay was trying to hold it together. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

“I did. You know that there are rules in the FBI. I couldn’t openly date my partner and being a fag was dangerous.”

Ethan stared at him. “For the record, I don’t care that you’re gay. I don’t care that you were gay then, and it doesn’t bother me now.”

“You don’t get it.”

Ethan laughed. “Do you watch the news?” he asked. “Have you seen the shit storm surrounding my relationship? I can’t go to the store to buy my kids cereal without the cashier pointing at my face on the tabloids.”

He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ethan laughed even more.

“Spill it.”

“Or?”

“I tell your wife that you used to be a serial fornicator. I’m sure she’s not going to like that.”

“She’s well aware. Elizabeth and I don’t keep secrets.” Only that was a lie. He never told her the truth about how he’d participated in hazing the Fed who ‘bungled’ the
‘The Butcher’
case.

“Ethan, come on. You know my deepest darkest secret. Help a guy out. I had your back for seven years. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“My wife and I are in a threesome.”

He grinned. “Kinky.”

“With my brother.”

Jay laughed. “I could tell you how sick you are, but that’s kinda hot. Well, your brother is. I guess he’s not available then.”

“He’s not.”

“Well, it’s still hot.”

Ethan laughed. “Thanks. Now I’m weirded out that you’re checking my spouse out, but it’s not my wife.”

Jay ran his hand down the pillow on the bed. His face changed. There was no humor. There was only pain.

Then he looked up.

“There’s something in the pillow case.”

He had Ethan’s full attention. “What?”

Jay reached in and pulled out the paper with his gloved fingers. It was folded up.

“Let me have it,” Blackhawk said, pulling out his phone. Immediately, he laid it back on the pillow and began snapping pictures. It appeared someone from the tech team missed this in the search.