Invaded

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  “Jesus,” Art said. “What’s in his mouth?”

  Biggs straightened. “His genitals.”

  Art covered his lips and leaned away from the screen.

  John pointed at the tablet. “Crime of passion. Look at the bruising. I’ll bet some of that is post mortem.”

  “How the hell can you tell by looking at a computer screen?” Art asked.

  Biggs disregarded him and turned to John. “I need you on this one. Agent Evans passed, said this is unrelated to their case.”

  “And how did the hotshot federal agent come to that conclusion so quick?” Art asked.

  John furrowed his brow, contemplating the screen. “Did Evans know Doogan was the one who shot his perpetrator?”

  Biggs shrugged. “I may have left a few details out. Funny how forgetful you can be on phone conferences when the people on the other end are shouting at you.”

  The sergeant’s gaze remained stoic. John had never known Biggs to break the rules, but they’d developed a trust over the years. Maybe he didn’t want the Feds anywhere near an investigation of one of his own.

  “We’re on it,” John said. “Don’t let them take the body until I get there.” He turned to Art. “Call Emmerson and have her draw me up a standard roster of suspects. I want a list of every ticket he’s given, or any domestic dispute call he’s answered. Give me everything from his work files.”

  John’s attention drew back to the screen, absorbing the bruising patterns. Evans was probably right. If their serial killer had found Doogan, he wouldn’t have taken this kind of time. The cop’s death would have been quick in order to efficiently eliminate the problem and get back to the woman he probably had tied up somewhere. This was something different. Someone hated Doogan. A lot.

  He headed to the door. “And buy Emmerson a box of chocolate for me because I’ll be asking for a lot more research before this is over.”

  So much for the simple breaking-and-entering he had hoped for.

  40

  A burst of cool air tickled Tracy’s cheeks as she pushed open the exit door of her office building and headed for her car.

  If the Olsons decided to start the new promotion over spring break, they’d only have two months before summer vacation. That’s what McNulty would do—jump in head first—but it would be too early. They needed to wiggle their ad campaign in with everyone else’s back-to-school advertising. They could get a head-start on September, and then have an entire ten months of fully-realized potential.

  “Miss Seavers?”

  Tracy jumped. Her laptop bag slipped from her shoulder and bounced off the asphalt, landing on the white painted line beside her car.

  She spun to find a man in a dark suit with a familiar grin.

  Agent Green held up his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She stared for a moment, no words rising to the surface. A day after finally deciding not to call the federal agents, one of them happens to show up outside where she works?

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I was in the area and thought I’d check up and see how you were doing.”

  Tracy tried to control her gape by reaching for her laptop bag.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Is your new friend still running silent?”

  A ball formed in her chest as she slipped the strap over her shoulder. This was her chance. She could tell him everything. Maybe they knew a way to get an Ambient out without killing the host. Maybe they could do it in a hospital so they could help Tracy breathe.

  No.

  Dak would never forgive her and it would drive a wedge between her and John that neither of them would be able to loosen, even if they wanted to.

  Besides, Adonna had helped her on more than one occasion, and she’d been silent since the incident on Wednesday. It had only been a few days, but they had been good days.

  And now that she and John were a couple, things would be better. Adonna had spoken to Dak or shared somehow. If they’d come to a mutual understanding, maybe they could all be happy together.

  As long as Tracy kept away from Sean.

  She could do that. She would do that. She had to.

  Tracy cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Umm, yeah. It’s been fine. I mean, weird, but fine. I think I’m starting to get used to the idea.”

  He nodded. “Can you sense any movement?”

  Would it be bad if she had or hadn’t? Agent Clark had said she might sense something, but that it was different for everyone. “Sometimes I think I feel her, but I don’t know. It might be gas.”

  Green puffed out a laugh. He seemed so genuine, so nice. “Have you heard any voices? Felt any inkling at all to do something you didn’t want to do?”

  Oh, shit. He knew.

  His expression remained serene, if not expectant, as if the idea held a hint of excitement for him. God, she wanted to tell someone everything. She wanted to trust this man that was supposed to be her lifeline. But for some reason, she couldn’t.

  She gulped as he stared at her, still waiting for her answer.

  “Well, there’s the chocolate.”

  “Chocolate?”

  “Yeah. Normally, chocolate gives me a horrible headache, but since the accident, I can’t get enough of it, and it doesn’t seem to bother me at all anymore.”

  His head cocked to the left. “Interesting. I guess that’s not all that bad a side effect.”

  Several witty comebacks came to mind, but she bit them back. Agent Green was not her friend, no matter how amiable he seemed. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust anyone; except maybe Dak and John, but she couldn’t even tell them everything.

  She blinked away the thought. Maybe she really was alone in all this.

  Green’s eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Her fingers dug into the strap of her laptop bag. “Yeah, there’s a lot on my mind. I got a promotion and, you know, the pressure and all.”

  The agent’s gaze wavered over her hands before returning to her eyes. “All right, then. I’ll stop by again some time, if that’s okay by you.”

  The word no simmered on her tongue. The invasiveness of him standing next to her car sank in, almost as if he had always been there, watching over her shoulder. Then again, maybe he had, and there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about it.

  She forced a smile. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

  Green tipped his head and walked toward a plain, dark blue sedan. Somehow, his presence continued to press in on all sides, even after he’d driven away.

  41

  “This is what kept me up last night,” Art said, pinning a photo onto the war room corkboard. “Why choke a guy with his own genitals?” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I mean, I get the anger and all, but damn.”

  John had never known Art to lose sleep over a case. “Did you know Doogan?”

  “No, but he was one of us, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The same sentiment trickled through the combined precincts. It didn’t matter who did or didn’t know him. Doogan was a cop. That’s all that mattered.

  John stood and pointed to the photograph. “Well, he didn’t actually choke. This was done post-mortem. Our perpetrator was sending a message. Probably trying to substantiate their dominance.”

  “As in sexually, a lover’s spat?”

  “I don’t think so. The rest of the bruising is a bit too aggressive. Too pointed. This perpetrator had a lot to prove.” John rubbed his chin. “But let’s see if Doogan was dating anyone, just in case.” He leaned against the wall beside the war board and stared at the picture. “What were you trying to prove. And why?”

  “That annoying sixth sense you got ain’t telling you what this asshole was thinking?”

  “Not this time.”

  Biggs opened the door and dropped a flash drive on the table. “Here ar
e all Doogan’s recent reports. Emmerson said if you want to print them, you can do it yourself.”

  John dragged his fingers through his hair. Electronic numbers and images didn’t speak to him like the real thing. Hard copies were real, tangible. They couldn’t be deleted with the swipe of a keystroke. They were something more. Not that he expected anyone else to understand that. He really needed those files printed. “I guess she didn’t get the box of chocolate I sent her?”

  “Actually, she was chewing on a caramel when she handed me the flash drive. She said thanks and that the printer is loaded with paper.”

  So much for good old-fashioned bribery.

  Art flicked the memory stick toward John. “Tell you what: you start printing and I’ll order take out.”

  John snatched the drive and headed out the door toward his desk. Nearly a dozen cops lined the walls and all chatter stopped as he stepped into the hall. He hadn’t seen this many cops in one place since the layoffs started.

  “You got a lead yet?” a beat cop asked, sparking a wave of blue uniforms shifting from foot to foot.

  “Not yet,” John said. “But we’ll get him.”

  Someone murmured, “Pussy detective.”

  John froze. His grip tightened on the flash drive.

  Had John been that much of an ass when he was on the beat? Maybe. He’d mouthed off a few times, too. Still did, for that matter. Gritting his teeth, he kept walking.

  One of the cops sneered as he passed. “Hey, Peters, you gonna stay in here drinking coffee all day, or will you eventually go out and catch Doogan’s killer?”

  John spun and slammed the cop against the wall, pinning him with one arm. The guy looked barely out of the academy, all clean and neat, with fresh acne scars on his nose. That wasn’t going to get him off the hook for being an ass-wipe, though. John stared into his wide eyes until the kid’s cheeks reddened, and the he looked away.

  Yeah, you better call uncle, you stupid shit.

  He released him and turned. The rest of the cops stepped back, probably with good reason as John eyed each of them.

  “Doogan was a good cop.” His grip tightened on the flash drive. Hopefully the files inside wouldn’t prove differently.

  John took a steadying breath. They all knew he’d been removed from one of the last cases Doogan had been involved with.

  “He would have wanted you all out there doing your jobs. I’ll radio if we need any assistance.” A few nodded as John turned toward his desk and let the door close behind him.

  This was going to be a long day.

  42

  Tracy bolted up the hill, drawing on the last of her strength after running three full treks around the perimeter of Gloucester Township Park. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She was unstoppable. Tomorrow, she would march into that presentation room, face the sales force, and—

  She stopped a few yards short of the top of the hill. Sean sat on her favorite bench, smiling at her.

  He stood. “You certainly can run for a long time.”

  Holy hell! “Were you watching me?”

  “It’s not like that.” Sean held out his hands. “I was waiting for you to finish. I only wanted to talk.”

  She stared at him for a moment, at a loss for words. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I drove by yesterday but I didn’t get that tingling sensation in my stomach, so I figured you weren’t here. Today, the pull started when I was a few blocks away. I guess this thing inside me is like a Tracy-meter.”

  Great. Just great. “Sean, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I’m not looking for anything. I know you have a boyfriend.” He shifted his weight. “Things still good with you and John?”

  He tilted his head, his gaze intent, as if the answer interested him more than it should.

  “Of course, things are good. Why wouldn’t they be?”

  His lower lip twitched. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m actin’ like a creep. I don’t mean to. It’s just that everything is different now and I wanted to talk some more.”

  Adonna sparkled along Tracy’s diaphragm, but otherwise didn’t react or fling herself against Tracy’s skin. Maybe she’d finally listened.

  He turned away. “I guess that’s too much to ask and I don’t blame you. Damn, I’m being a first-class jerk.”

  True, but it would be rude of her to agree with him out loud.

  “You and me, the other day, that wasn’t all this entity thing inside me. When you kissed me back, I couldn’t believe that a decent woman was actually interested in an ass like me.” He slapped his forehead with his palm. “Idiot!”

  “Well, maybe if you tried getting to know a girl once in a while instead of going out and looking for a score, maybe you could find someone.” Wow. That was harsh, but there it was: out there.

  He shook his head. “I’m too far gone. All I know is how to use this,” he motioned to his beautiful face, “to get what I want and move on to the next one.”

  Which wouldn’t be her.

  Ever again, at least.

  But she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He had a different woman every night, and still ended up feeling alone.

  His cheek ticked. His gaze fixed on a white butterfly bouncing about the clover flowers in the grass between them. Something about his face changed, and a slight adjustment in his stance made him seem more vulnerable than before. What was that expression on his face? Regret?

  “You look pretty disgusted with yourself.”

  He laughed. “Darlin’, I’m the king of disgust.”

  She closed the space between them. “Why the king of disgust?”

  Children laughed on the other side of the hill. Sean continued to stare at the butterfly.

  “Are you okay?” Tracy asked.

  His gaze latched to hers. His eyes quaked before he blinked and turned away. “It’s nothing.”

  “Well, you sure are acting like it’s something.”

  Walk away, Tracy. You don’t want to have anything to do with this guy. But it wasn’t like she was in any danger. There were dozens of people in earshot. And she felt bad for him in so many ways, not the least of which being that she had John to talk to about the Ambients. Sean had no one but her.

  “Why don’t you want to talk about it?” She shoed away a fly buzzing her hair.

  His lips pursed. “No one ever listens.”

  Damn. One thing she’d always had in life was someone to talk to. Her mom had always been there, and when she moved out of the house, Laini had become her sounding board. Now she even had John.

  Tracy had never understood the expression ‘good friends are hard to come by’. It was a whimsical phrase, something to put on greeting cards. She couldn’t imagine not having someone she could count on. How much of her success could she relate to others supporting her?

  Probably everything.

  She eased onto the park bench. “I’ll listen.”

  What was she doing? This was incredibly stupid. Adonna’s patience would only last so long, but Tracy sat there. Rapt. What would he say? What would drive a man to search for a different woman every night?

  Sean’s eyes rounded. “Trust me. You don’t want to know my problems.”

  “Try me.”

  Sean laughed through his nose. He paced the grass three times before plopping beside her on the bench. “You really want to know?”

  Probably not, but she nodded anyway.

  He stared at the butterfly for a few more moments. An odd sense of peace seemed to spread over him. “I was a kid when it started.” He cringed when the insect fluttered down the hill. “There are lots of places to go if this happens to you, plenty of people to talk to if, you know, you’re a girl.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “If you are a guy, and you say you’ve been sexually abused by a woman, no one believes you.”

  Tracy’s eyebrows inched up. Seriously? What guy would say no to sex? She shook the thought from her mind.
That kind of sexism was exactly what he must have been talking about. And he said he’d been a kid. Maybe he’d been young. Shit. She was not prepared for a conversation like this. Then again, who would be?

  The sun cast a shadow on the side of his face as he looked up at her. “The fucking psychiatrist they forced me to sit with every goddamn week didn’t even believe me.”

  Her lips parted. “Couldn’t you talk to your parents?”

  He snorted. “Once I realized what was happening, I was afraid my father would kill me in one of his drunken stupors.”

  Oh. Crap. “What about your mom?”

  “My mom?” His nose flared as if he’d smelled rotten meat. His eyes centered on nothing before he shook his head. “Screw this.”

  He stood and started down the hill. He turned when Tracy didn’t move.

  Every ounce of intuition she had told her to get up and jog in the opposite direction. This guy was seriously disturbed. He needed professional help, but suggesting another psychiatrist after the first one discounted his claims was probably the worst idea ever.

  But what if she found out tomorrow that he’d put a gun in his mouth? How could she live with herself knowing that maybe she could have helped?

  She tightened her grip on the edge of the bench. “I’m-I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t a shrink, are you?”

  “No. You just sound like you’re hurting.”

  “I’m well beyond hurting, darlin’.”

  Tracy stared at him. Her fingers ached and sweat dampened her palms. “That’s why maybe it would be good to talk it out.”

  His eyes softened. “Nobody ever wanted to talk. They blew me off, told me I was imagining things.”

  Her stomach twisted. He looked so tired. Alone. The dangerous edge had fallen from his shoulders, making him look more like a frightened child than the man who’d held her with such practiced hands. How long had he been alone like this, pretending a horrible past didn’t exist?