Consumed by Wrath: An FBI/Romance Thriller (An FBI/Romance Thriller ~ Book 8) (2 page)

The man who was now sheriff was nothing less than a complete and total idiot. How he had gotten the council to make him leader was a surprise. If they saw anything redeeming in his skills, they kept it a secret. No one believed the town to be safe under his watchful eyes.

If anything, he was a womanizer and
not an officer of the law. Then, he pondered the situation at hand. Taking this particular man might work to his advantage after all. Since the man was clueless, why not head to the epicenter of the town and take what he so desired?

It should be easy.

Sitting down to the table, he stared at the last banquet he was going to have from the freezer stock. It did his heart good to see the fine meal that had come from his ingenuity. With a little spice and some TLC, the meat had become a masterpiece.

Maybe he needed to write his own cookbook.

‘One hundred and one ways to eat your fellow man
.’

He found that outrageously funny
, and who wouldn’t?

Taking his first bite, he savored the moment. Until he was able to get his hands on the next person, it would be plain old chicken for him.

God, he hated poultry and its flimsy flesh.

So, t
hat meant working fast.

Time was of the essence in this situation
. He wouldn’t be able to falter or dilly-dally. His daddy always taught him to grab the bull by the horns and take what you wanted, and he desired to have a full belly, and freezer, more than anything else in life.

Now, he was going to
make his move.

It was time to bring home the bacon, so to speak.

Soon, it would be time to have a feast.

Salem

Sunday Night

Morgue

It just didn't make sense.

The more that he studied the autopsy reports, the more they looked wrong. In his heart, he knew that he had done each postmortem accurately. After all, he prided himself on years and years of practice, but he had to be missing something. His gut feeling was screaming that there was a big piece of the puzzle missing from this file.

He just didn't have a clue as to what that was.

When the bones were pulled from the river, he was more than just suspicious. What drew his attention to them were the markings that crisscrossed their surface. It was something that he had never encountered before, and he wasn’t sure if that was because he was from a small town, or if this was something new. Everyone around him was claiming that the cause was some sort of hungry animal, but his gut was telling him otherwise.

The teeth marks looked…

Human.

By no means was he an expert on anything like this, but he was a doctor and had been trained to think outside the box.
God, what he wouldn’t give to have an anthropologist or specialist to have a second look. Their expertise could help him figure this out.

He was certain of it.

Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the photos of each bone. His lab staff had done a careful job of collecting all the evidence from the watery grave. But then again, he expected nothing less from them. Each one had been trained and worked under him for years. In a sense, he was their mentor in the world of death.

Yet, now he had to wonder if they
had missed something. Could he have?

It wasn’t like they had a slew of killing
s or deaths in the town. It was, after all, Salem. Their tranquil little berg was known for being calm, backwoods, and relatively law abiding.

That’s why he loved it
there and called it home.

Salem called to something deep down inside of
his soul. For years, he thought about becoming a medical examiner in some big city, but that just never happened. Salem lured him in and made him content. The balance between the people and the peace was incredibly cathartic.

When you lived with death, you wanted
as much harmony in the rest of your life as possible.

Staying
for over fifty years was the best decision that he had ever made. He couldn’t imagine a single day outside of Salem. When life left him barren, home filled his soul. The relationships, which he had built over the years, gave him something that nothing else ever could.

Family.

When people would ask him when he was retiring, he had one simple answer. He would only call it quits when he was on his own slab for autopsy. Then, they would have to find someone to come in and do the exam.

He wouldn’t care at that point, but for now
the idea that age was making him slow and sloppy only exacerbated his irritation. Looking around, Samuel Trudeaux took in the place that he called his second home. Granted, it wasn’t as exciting as some other morgues around the country, but in a sense it was all his. Each tool, machine, and piece of equipment was lovingly fought for and brought into that office by him.

Samuel had
built the place from the ground up.

Literally.

When he first came out of medical school, he went home to be the ME and had to do battle to get the morgue built. Thanks to generous town folk, he was able to eventually get it done.

Now, it stood in its grandeur right beside the sheriff’s station.
Like the morgue, he too was a monument in the town. One of the best things about living in Salem was that everyone knew your name. In a way, he had become a living legend there. So many of the townsfolk were in awe over what he did. Not many would willingly dig into the dead on a daily basis. When Samuel would walk down the street, the residents would call to him and greet him with nothing but kindness and friendship.

This town was as much a part of him, as he was the town.

Staring down at the reports, he couldn’t help but get that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was brewing there, and he had to be worried about it. What kind of citizen would he be if he let it slide, only because he was perplexed over it?

He took an oath and made a vow.

That mattered to him a great deal.

There had been only one other time where he was fearful like this, and it was when his best buddy
, Charlie LaRue, had begun digging into a pair of suspicious deaths. Ultimately, they had cost him his life, but justice had been served in the end.

That was all that mattered.

And now, t
his was the same feeling bubbling in his belly. Charlie would tell him that if it felt off, it was. The man had been wise beyond his years, allowing his cop suspicion to lead the way, fuelled by his gut.

Now, it was his turn to do the same. Samuel couldn’t turn his back on this and feign ignorance. Duty was a calling
, and he was an honorable man.

Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

He made notes in his files and tucked them safely back into his medical bag. For now, he would take them home and study them some more. If worse came to worse, he knew who he could send them over to and have her take a quick look. Charlie had once done the same, and she had been the salvation that Salem needed.

Elizabeth
wouldn’t think that he was a crazy old man, losing touch with reality. In fact, she would most likely think the opposite.

She was just like her
father, thankfully. It was apparently a genetic thing, and it led her down the path that she now traversed. There was pride there, as he thought about the young girl who grew into a fine woman. He was glad that he was able to have a part in her rearing. Like his job, it filled his heart and chased the emptiness away.

“We’re not done yet,” he stated, taking one last look at the final file. “I’m going to figure you out, if it’s the last thing
that I do,” Doc Trudeaux said, as he snapped closed his medical bag and pulled on his coat.

Something ugly was brewing
once more in Salem, and he was going to stop it.

This was his town
, his place, and his people and as far as Samuel was concerned, he was going to help contain the sanctity of his home.

No one was going to tarnish it.

It wasn’t happening now or ever.

Samuel Trudeaux was taking a stand.

Even if it was the last thing he ever did….

    
~ Chapter One ~

Fort Blackhawk/Whitefox

            One A.M.

  
       Tuesday

He sat in the silence of the office, working on the family’s budget and bills. There were things to pay and accounts to transfer money into, which couldn’t be ignored. There were now three college and car funds that needed a monthly influx of cash. If they didn't focus on the now, there would be problems in the future.

With three kids,
they needed to be prepared for anything that might arise, whether it be braces, textbooks, or vacations.

What he would
rather be doing was to be tucked beside the two people whom he loved more than anything in the world, and lost in deep slumber. Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

The family
, at that moment, was being carried on his shoulders. It was his job to cover the gaps that had formed while they were still trying to fix what was broken.

Four months ago, the unforgettable happened. Ethan Blackhawk nearly died
and left them. For Callen, it had been hard, because it meant stepping up and taking the helm. Where he was always able to coast through life, he now had to drive the train. He was now the conductor while his brother healed. Even though it scared the shit out of him, there was no choice. The family, snuggled into their warm beds, was counting on him to grow up and be a man.

Over the last few weeks,
Ethan was getting better. The dreams were slowly slipping away, and he was starting to get the sense of humor back that he once had. It had been a very slow process of healing and for a while there, they weren’t sure the family would stay intact.

Where Callen and Elizabeth
had believed that sex would heal it all, they were wrong. There was still a tiny little part of his life that Ethan was holding prisoner because of his experience.

It was evident to both of them
, and nothing that they had been able to come up with was changing that. Where they believed their jobs were a bloody war, they were wrong. There was a far more painful battle going on, and it was on the home front.

Callen and Elizabeth
were still fighting for Ethan’s soul.

At one point, they were cohesive and one strong
unit that seemed impenetrable. Now, they were still a solid protective wall, but it was around the wounded man, not including him.

Neither Elizabeth nor Callen had a freaking clue on how to heal the
rift which was formed when the madman tortured and almost stole his life.

How do you fix that?

Was it even repairable?

Where Ethan used to be warm and loving, he was now leaning more to
wards the aloof side, with the slight edge of chill. In one moment, he would be laughing, and then the next, it would all be gone. It had shades of Jekyll and Hyde, and at times it was scary.

To say that they were all walking on eggshells would be an understatement. If Callen wasn’t
so damn worried, he would be laughing at the entire thing. In theory, it should have been fun to watch Elizabeth so off guard that she was discombobulated. The woman was always so self-assured and in control, and now neither of them were able to get their footing.

Ethan’s mood swings and anger were
staying one step ahead of everyone in the house.

Now, no one was finding
any of it amusing.

When Ethan wanted to go back to work after two weeks, they let him
, despite how his family felt about it deep inside.

When he didn't want to
talk about what happened to him while he was being tortured, they didn't push, because they were afraid to damage him further.

Now, they didn't have a clue as to what to do next. Callen and Elizabeth were prisoners too
, and frankly, something had to give. Their relationship was taking on water, and the boat was sinking fast.

Where they wished that they could go to Ethan and have an intervention, they knew it wasn’t a possibility. Elizabeth and Callen
were being held hostage by the ghosts of Ethan’s past. Both hoped and prayed that he would eventually come back to them, exactly as he was prior to the abduction.