Well, shit.
Strike one.
With access to his desktop, Ethan was doing a deep dive on the man’s life.
Greyson was doing double duty, and they appreciated that. Not only was he researching the victims, but he was also working on FBI stuff, and none of that was going to be fun for him.
There were agents to audit, and after Miguel’s angry outburst, it was likely to be worse.
No one envied Greyson on this one.
No.
One.
As the system ran the names, someone had to offer up an olive branch and soothe the angry Fed beasts.
For now, all the ducks were accounted for, and that was the bottom line.
“You’re quiet,” Ethan admitted as Gene drove them toward the dead Fed’s home.
Yeah, Gene knew why he was silent, but he was rerunning everything over in his head to make sure they didn’t miss a single thing.
He was worried about the killer going after them—mostly Ethan—and it was hard to not be stressed.
So, he shared.
“I don’t like this already,” he admitted.
Ethan focused.
“Me either. When someone goes to this much trouble to fuck with the evidence, there’s a reason. We won’t know if it’s legit Voodoo-related until we dig in and go deep. It’s chaos, and while we work in chaos, it’s not fun.”
No.
It.
Wasn’t.
And that was what freaked him out.
As a devout Catholic, who pretty much followed all the rules with the exception of the gay one, dealing with ritualistic crimes made him twitchy on a good day. Before Ethan, he didn’t think twice.
Now, because of the assholes like David Neives, it was always at the forefront of his mind.
It was like a bad flashback.
It haunted him.
“Just stay close, okay, EJ? I can’t do a repeat of what happened with David Neives. I’m always wary he’s out there playing with us, and that makes me cranky.”
Ethan put his hand on Gene’s leg, and ran it up and down to soothe him.
Oh, he was very aware of how something could go bad. He’d lived to tell about it, and that asshole was always in his mind, lurking.
That trauma never went away.
The only thing that saved him was Gene had gotten to him in time.
