Page 39 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

“I’ll be sending you a text in about twenty minutes. I’ll talk to you then. Like I mentioned, we’re going to handle this a different way. Much like how that agent went to the source, we’re going to find the source here.”

Then, the call went dead.

“Uh, what did we get ourselves into?” Greyson asked. “I think Corbin boned us. I’m not sure though since this could make or break my career.”

Oh, he was aware.

Only, he needed to let Greyson in on that phone call he’d made. When they got into Ethan’s car, he asked, and that was what led to calling Gabe.

“Here’s a wild coincidence for you,” he began. “The agent that he sent in to handle that mess in Colombia, is actually the one person I trust back in DC. I spoke to her while we were meeting with the two detectives. She told me everything that Gabe just did. He’s being legit.”

He lifted a brow.

“When were you telling me that?” he asked. “Because I’m not sure you were going to share.”

Oh, he was.

Just not Elizabeth’s ID.

Gene was to the point.

“I was going to tell you as soon as we spoke to Gabe. This shit is bad,” he admitted. “The CIA was doing some dirty deeds undercover, and the FBI was involved. My source said that this might be drugs that got here BEFORE she took out the ring. We might get lucky. Then again, we rarely do.”

He let that sink in.

“Uh, I don’t like this.”

Gene was to the point.

“You can bail. Ethan and I can handle this if you don’t want to be involved. Sometimes, Grey, getting a career-changing assignment isn’t the blessing you think it is. I won’t blame you. I promise.”

Greyson stopped that.

Then.

And.

There.

“And then have to hear about it through all the paperwork I’m going to have to process after you two cause a mess? No freaking way. You get a babysitter for the whole thing. Trust and believe I’m helping.”

He laughed.

“I mean, I doubt there will be paperwork if Gabe is saying it needs to be handled unlike normal. This is all going to be done in the shadows, and those rapists are in for some trouble.”

They both knew what that meant.

GUANTANAMO BAY.

The FBI didn’t play around with terrorists or drug dealers. Once they went in, they never got out.

As they parked at the police station, Gene made sure his phone was not set to mute. He didn’t want to miss the text from Gabe.

“If I don’t get to say this later,” Gene began, “I wanted to let you know I’m grateful that you’re helping with this. You’re a good dude, Greyson.”

He laughed.

“Well, so are you. Just don’t get shot or killed. I really am at my max for paperwork. I may laugh when saying it, but it’s the truth.”

Yeah, well, again, knowing Gabe, there likely wouldn’t be any.

As they reached the morgue, it was pretty quiet in there, considering. It was just proof that the crazy stayed inside when the weather was cold and snowy.

Thank.

God.

Inside of the morgue, doing his job, they found the man of the hour. Reed was on a rolling chair, working on paperwork.

When they walked in, he glanced up and sighed.

“Oh, brother. What now?” he asked, seeing Gene and knowing the shit was about to hit the fan. The man was the harbinger of paperwork, trouble, and irritation.

And it was on his doorstep.

AGAIN.

Gene laughed.

“I mean, it’s nice to see you too, Doctor. I hope you’re having a delightful Saturday. I know mine has been a non-stop funfest.”

The man stood.

“What do you need? I don’t see Corbin, so that tells me this is FBI business.”

Clearly, word hadn’t spread, and for that, he was grateful.

Gene dropped the hammer, knowing it would piss the man off.

“The FBI pulled some cases from the local PD. You’re the city ME, so we need the autopsy records for three victims,” he admitted.

“Corbin passed it off to us, and we’re running with it.

I promise we won’t be up your ass for longer than it takes to get the files.

You can call your commissioner if you wish for verification. ”

No, that wouldn’t be necessary.

They only came around when they got tagged in a case, and he would send an email to the commissioner’s office to make sure later.

He didn’t think they were lying.

“Who are you here about?” he asked. “I have a refrigerator full of victims. Take your pick.”

Well, there were three he specifically wanted.

“How about Elliot Graves, Wesley Thorton, and Graham Sinclair?” he asked.

Reed had bad news for him.

“We don’t have the bones anymore. When we got their ID, I released them to the victims’ families.

There wasn’t much to hold onto. They were mostly bones and a little bit of flesh on the bodies.

I hope that’s not a problem,” he said, handing him the folders.

“It pisses families off when you dig up the remains post burial.”

That.

It.

Did.

It looked as if they’d have to work off of Corbin’s file and the official ME report. They would have photographs, but they’d also have toxicology.

Gene needed that first and foremost.

As he went to ask, Reed decided to get chatty, and he started with the twenty questions.

“So, where’s your normal partner?” Reed asked. “Usually, you’re consistently around here with him, and Corbin.”

Greyson kept it short, sweet, and to the point.

For good reason.

“He’s still working with us. Right now, he’s profiling it while we’re doing the legwork,” he admitted. “Miss us?” he joked.

The man laughed.

“Yes, like a person misses chlamydia, scurvy, and tuberculosis.”

Well, that said it all.

This guy really didn’t like the FBI.

They waited as Reed dug out the files, and he made copies of the papers inside for them. It didn’t take long.

Maybe five minutes at the most.

When he handed them back, Gene started playing his own game of twenty questions.

“Did you get toxicology back?” he asked.

The man nodded.

“That’s what I just gave you. I’m assuming you have the official report. As for the drugs I found in the victims’ systems, it was confusing,” he said, talking about it.

“What do you mean?” Greyson asked.

Reed told him.

“I just got the testing back this morning, and it’s inconclusive as to the drugs found in the men’s systems. Their tissue samples showed an opioid-like drug, but it didn’t register what kind. It’s not in the database for testing, so I don’t think we’ve seen it before.”

Well, there it was.

They likely had Snow, and not the shit outside.

“I see,” Gene said, not giving anything away. Now, he had more questions.

They needed answers.

“I’m sure it’s in your file, but can you ballpark how long the men were dead?” he asked. “Or when they died?”

Reed nodded.

“It’s in there, but I can give it to you now. It was befuddling because all of the bodies were found together. Only, it was clear it was more a dump spot, than a spot where they were killed.”

The men listened.

“They were all taken around the same time. Corbin brought me missing person reports, and I got dentals for about fifteen men. The three matched.”

Gene was making notes.

“All of the men were missing from early October and on. The first victim, Elliot Graves, died first. I’m putting his time of death around the end of October.”

Gene did the math.

“So he was dead about two plus months from today?”

The man nodded.

“Give or take a couple of weeks. There was predation in what was left of the flesh. What saved our asses with these three victims is the snow. It covered what the animals didn’t eat, and it preserved the flesh. I am using a new technique that takes the flesh and checks the decomp before freezing.”

Honestly, they didn’t care.

They needed data.

PERIOD.

The man kept talking.

“The second victim, Wesley Thorton had the least flesh to test. He was dead for the longest time. I’m going to say he died right after being taken. He had a burn on his groin above his pubic bone.”

Greyson opened the ME’s copy of the file. Inside, there were all of the photographs.

They all looked at it.

“We don’t know what it is,” Reed said. “But it’s there. The third victim had it too. On his ass cheek.”

Well, that told them that the men branding them didn’t care the location.

“The third victim, Graham Sinclair, died last. I’m putting it around Christmas, so three to four weeks ago. Again, that mark was on his ass.”

Gene clued him in.

“It’s a brand. The men were being sex trafficked. They were being marked by the people who were transporting them. So buyers would know who brought them into the ring.”

Reed looked disgusted.

“That’s gross.”

Yeah, tell them something they didn’t know.

“And the first victim?” Greyson asked, taking pictures of the originals so they’d have it for their file.

If there was a file when Gabe got done.

“None. I’m going to say it’s because he was eaten by predators and out in the elements—or they burned the skin in a place that was a tasty snack. I was lucky to get some flesh to test for drugs, but not much.

Well, that answered that.

Reed kept talking.

“I hope you find out what drug it is. What makes me curious is if they were being trafficked, and drugged, why wouldn’t they use the normal to keep them compliant?

I checked their wrists and ankles when there was flesh present.

They were bound, but not to the point they’d rubbed their flesh raw.

What did they give them that makes them compliant that’s a narcotic opioid? ”

Oh, they knew.

SNOW.

And that was something they wouldn’t answer.

“No clue, Doc. If we find out, you’ll be the next to know so you can look for it again,” Gene said. “Oh, and if it pops up in any more victims, can you give me a heads-up call?”

Reed took his card.

“Do you want me to look in past victims? I’m slow today. I can go through toxicology.”

Yes.

Definitely.

They needed to see how long it was in their city.

“Yes, please. They might be victims of the same trafficking situation. We’d appreciate it.”

He nodded.

“I’ll call if I have anything.”

That worked for both of them.