Slay Bells Ring (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 12) (21 page)

When Dakota went to ask more questions, Callen dismissed them. It wasn’t the time or the place, and honestly, he didn't plan on getting to know the man. He’d slept with Elizabeth, and that made him public enemy number one.

Pointing at the house, Callen drew his sidearm.

“Do you Marshals know how to clear a house?” he asked sarcastically. “If you get shot, I don’t have time to take you to the hospital.”

He glared at him. “We bring in fugitives. I think we can manage. You don’t have to be a condescending dick.”

“Why not? It works for you.”

Dakota opened his mouth but Delaney touched his arm. He zipped it, but he didn’t like it.

Callen stopped at the door. Peeking in the window, he could see the blood all over the place. Motioning to the two agents, he sent them around back.

They immediately understood.

“I’ll boot the door, and then go left. You and your partner have straight ahead and right.”

They pulled their guns and got ready. Turning, Callen put his back to the door.

“FBI. We’re coming in!”

Then, with the sole of his booted foot, he slammed it back into the wood. The lock couldn’t handle the hit and busted open. Callen spun and headed in, the Marshals not far behind.

Inside, there was the stench of death, and Christmas music playing in the house. It was sick and twisted, if he did say so himself.

As he moved through what had once been a dining room, he knew they had found the scene where the two people had been killed. The dining room table had make shift restraints, and he could see where Ann Kong had likely scratched the table to get away, or while she was in pain. Her clothes were strewn all over the bloody floor.

Yeah, this was ground zero for their murders.

“Clear,” he yelled, as he hit the surround sound power button with the nose of his Glock. The last thing he wanted was to hear Bing Crosby singing about a white Christmas as he stood ankle deep in someone’s blood.

Delaney Moore shouted down from the upstairs. “Clear.”

Finally, Dakota Rakin did the same.

They rendezvoused in the kitchen. There, it was a shit mess. There was gore, blood, and mess everywhere.

It looked like a massacre, and he wasn’t surprised. Mutilating and dismembering bodies wasn’t a clean job. It tended to leave a trail behind. Most killers, when they chopped people up, didn't want to get caught, so they used the bath tub.

Not these two.

They didn't give a shit.

Bonnie and Clyde wanted to leave an impression.

Well, they’d certainly done that. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, only this blood was real.

“Holy shit,” muttered Dakota, covering his nose. It smelled ripe in there.

Callen didn't flinch. When he first saw something like this, he swore he’d never get accustomed to it, but he’d been wrong.

This was another day in his job.

Pulling out his phone, he sent texts to the techs, informing them that it was safe to enter the building. They needed to gather anything they could.

“Glove up,” he stated, holstering his gun. When he pulled a pair of purple latex gloves from his pocket, they looked confused.

“Oh, I forgot. You arrest fugitives. You don’t run a crime scene. Find a tech and hold out your hand. The magic glove fairy will appear.”

Sure enough, Dakota and Delaney did just that, and the gloves were placed in their palms.

“More of Elizabeth’s training?” Dakota asked.

“Yep. She likes them to be ready for anything.”

“What are we going to do now?” Delaney asked.

Callen started for the kitchen counter. “We’re going to walk through here like Elizabeth would and make notes. She’s going to have to go through the information, and possibly revisit the scene.”

“Where is she?”

“Tied up.”

“She never let me do that with her.”

Callen spun, grabbing the man by the front of the shirt. All the techs in the room stopped.

“How do you not get that what is coming out of your damn mouth is insulting? You’re talking about our partner on the job and in life. That’s my wife. She’s the mother of our children, and while you find it amusing, I find it rude. I’m not going to tolerate it.”

He stared at him.

As did all the techs.

“I was only joking.”

Callen let him go. “I don’t find it funny. My brother wasn’t amused, and I bet our techs aren’t either. Are you?”

They all shook their heads. Elizabeth had gone to bat for all of them at one time.

“We run this team with respect, and if you can’t have it, I’ll call Gabriel Rothschild, and he can call your boss. I’m willing to bet you’ll be heading home, we won’t be.”

Dakota opened his mouth.

“Before you go there, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. I’ve had enough. One more comment about how easy my woman is, or how she never let you tie her up, and I’m going to kick your ass off this scene. Then I’m going to find you on my own time, and I’m going to leave a lasting impression on your face. Got me?”

Delaney Moore tried to sooth the situation. “Dakota has a bad sense of timing, Director. He didn't mean it.”

Callen didn’t care.

“His bad sense of timing is going to get him hurt.”

“Duly noted,” Delaney stated, as she waited for the man to set her partner free.

Callen released his vest. “Now, if you’re done being a douchebag, shall we do the job?”

“Yes.”

Callen refocused on the task at hand. Walking through the kitchen, he paused at the counter. Beside the large puddle of congealed blood there was a half-eaten sandwich.

“Merry, I need you to bag this.”

She popped up right by his side. “Sure thing, Director,” she stated.

Then he saw the blender, and inside was a bunch of liquefied goo.

That didn't sit right.

He was pretty sure he knew what was in there. “Were there other blenders at the other crime scenes?” he asked.

Dakota had to think about it. “I think so.”

“Did your ME test them?”

“For?”

Callen stared at him. “What’s the one thing the ME’s haven’t been able to find from the male victims?”

Dakota swallowed. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

“I think we figured out what they’re doing with the missing penises. Someone has some anger issues toward men.”

Dakota looked sick. “You have to be shitting me! What kind of person does something like that?” he asked.

The team laughed.

All the crazies they chased.

Callen picked up the blender and swirled the goo around. “It’s completely liquefied. Merry, can we test this and get a definitive answer?”

She nodded. “If it’s a penis, there may be some sperm or seminal fluid in the mix. I can run it through the machinery.”

“Test for saliva along the rim. I want to see if someone’s drinking people.”

She didn't bat an eyelash.

The US Marshals were a different story.

“You’re kidding right?” Dakota asked.

She stared at him. “If you can’t stand the heat, Marshal, stay the hell out of the frying pan. This is what we do.”

Callen grinned at her.

Their people were loyal to a fault, and he was damn glad.

“We’re accustomed to depravity. It’s how we roll,” Callen admitted.

When he saw Johanna and Brody, he called to them. “Can one of you get the sheriff? I need to ask him some questions.”

Broderick went out to find the man. When he came back, the sheriff looked a little freaked out. Apparently, he didn't see a bloodbath all that often.

Lucky him.

“Sheriff, I need all the gossip, details, or information you can give me on Christian Bourdain. Hold nothing back.”

He waited.

“Well, I don’t know what I can tell you. He was outspoken, loud, and didn't play well with others.”

Well, that helped.

“Examples?”

“He was a proponent to rightwing craziness. He would get on his radio show and stir the pot. One day, he got it in his thick skull to burn some books.”

“Moron,” muttered Merry. “People who burn books deserve to have their dicks processed in a blender.”

She said it low enough that only Callen heard her. He patted her on the back.

“And?”

“Well, he did it on the air, and one of our citizens took poorly to his insanity.”

“A lot of people would. Hitler burned books—look how that ended.”

“Well, Jacob Heller marched down to the studio, got inside, and punched him in the face. They got into it, a scuffle ensued, and it was all on air.”

“I see. Where can I find Jacob?”

“He owns the local bookstore and cyber café. They’re side by side. He was arrested, and then let go. It seems that Christian didn't want to press charges. It got him countrywide media, and that boosted his ratings.”

“So it was a publicity stunt?”

“Pretty much. It eventually blew over, but Jacob was pissed that the man used him to create a spectacle.”

Callen made notes.

“What about Ann Kong? What can you tell us about her?”

“She spent most of her time at the dance studio. She liked to work on her body. She’d been known to flaunt it as much as possible.”

“Did that piss anyone off?”

“Not to my knowledge. If you want details, you should head over to the dance place. It’s called
‘In Motion’
. The owner is Rena Woods. She might be able to give you more gossip on her. We didn't know her all that well. She was a transplant.”

Callen noted the name of the dance studio. They would definitely be going there, and to the radio station as well.

At least they now had a direction.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” he stated.

“Oh, wait!”

They all looked over. “He had a personal assistant at the station. We’d see them together in the café all the time.”

“Okay, and?”

“His fiancée put a stop to that. She wasn’t having another woman
‘helping’
him at work.”

They got what he meant.

“So, he was fooling around with her?”

The sheriff shrugged. “You’d have to ask her. I only know what the gossip says.”

Well, they would definitely do just that.

“Can you give us her name?”

“Alessandra Savage. She’s a local student at the college. She didn't work for him long, and she might not have been in a relationship with him, but it might help you find who did this.”

Callen hoped it would.

He was pretty satisfied with the outcome.

The whole day had been pretty great. They found the victim’s identities, crime scene, and a few possible leads. Elizabeth and Ethan would be happy.

“What happened in there?” asked the Sheriff.

Callen noticed he was pointing at the dining room.

“It looks like the woman was restrained in there. Her undergarments are strewn all over the place.”

Merry followed them in. Immediately, she was drawn to the table. “It looks like someone rolled around on the top of this.”

They all moved closer.

There was a substance on the dried blood.

“Is that…?” Callen asked, hoping he was going to be wrong.

She took out a swab. “I’m thinking it is, Director.”

“What?” Dakota asked, not seeing anything but some dried white stuff. “What are you seeing that I’m not?” he asked.

“I’m willing to bet that it’s semen,” Callen admitted.

Dakota didn't look impressed. “Okay, so he raped her on the table, and then got off.”

Merry shook her head. “It’s not that simple. In fact, I wouldn’t bet on it, Marshal Rakin. The blood is the bottom layer, and the semen is on top. It’s still tacky while the blood isn’t. I’m going to bet that someone had sex here post death. If it was the other way around, the blood would have covered and masked this.”

Now he looked horrified.

“So, he shagged someone else on the bloody table?”

She nodded, snapping pictures of the smear marks. “Someone slid around in the blood.”

“Bonnie perhaps?” Callen asked.

“Well, either way, we have his DNA. If there is some vaginal secretions, I’ll be able to compare it to Ann Kong. If it’s not hers, then it’s likely going to be Bonnie.”

“Your job is gross.”

She stood up. “Actually, Marshal, my job is fascinating and very important. We all can’t ride around and bring in the bad guys in gun fight. Someone has to find the evidence to point you in the right direction. Without me doing my
‘GROSS’
job, you wouldn’t have a court case and the bad guys would go free.”