Killerbyte (byte Series Book 1)

by Cat Connor

  He scrambled out of the car and flung the hood up.

  I could barely breathe. I bet Mac heard my thumping heart. He paused for a second or two then he closed the hood and smiled. I grinned and gave the horn a tap. Mac jumped.

  “Bitch!”

  All I could do was smile.

  Mac started the car and backed out. We felt a dull thud. Mac jumped on the brake. He shot me a questioning look.

  “No idea,” I said.

  He resumed backing. Another thud. We stared at each other for a second. Mac backed up a little more. Then we saw it. Two legs tumbled in front of the car on the concrete. Mac braked hard. The legs bounced.

  “Jesus!” Mac said. He stopped the car.

  “Oh, so not good!”

  We jumped out of the car and peered underneath. There were black plastic bags tied up under the car. I tried to make sense of what we found. This must be what it’s like to get married in hell: body parts bouncing like cans behind the car.

  “Macabre wedding in hell,” Mac said. He straightened up and looked at me over the roof.

  “Jesus, you are a freak!” I tried hard to calm my pounding heart while I dragged the phone from my pocket and called Caine back.

  As soon as he picked up, I said, “Crime scene investigators needed.”

  “What have you got?”

  “Body parts attached to the underneath of the car.” I walked around and inspected the legs. “Looks like they’re strung on aviation wire.” I tried not to think of the parts as being a person, but being able to detach myself fully was as impossible as making sense out of the mind that created such horror.

  “I’m nearly there. There’s some crime scene tape in the trunk of the car.” His voice sounded flat. I knew worry had caused his voice to bottom out.

  “We’re in P-1.”

  I disconnected the call and looked for Mac. He leaned on the trunk and faced into the garage. I guessed by his expression that his thoughts lay somewhere near mine.

  Disbelief at what we’d found mingled with disgust. How could anyone do that to another person? There was also a kind of morbid fascination. This Unsub was inventive and clever. How did he find us?

  “Mac?”

  “Yeah.” He turned his head towards me.

  “Open the trunk? Caine wants the area taped off.”

  At the very back of the trunk I saw a large black case. Mac hauled it out then crouched on the concrete and opened it up. I sensed some tension, but that disappeared as soon as he revealed the contents. Two rolls of FBI tape, two flashlights, four orange road markers and a first aid kit. I took the first aid kit and removed a pair of latex gloves from inside it.

  “Don’t think the first aid kit will do much for the jigsaw puzzle on the wire,” Mac commented.

  I pulled on the gloves. “I want to see who it is. Can you tape off the area, please?”

  Mac nodded and took a roll of tape. I had visions of Humpty Dumpty falling from the wall and his limbs bouncing about like a marionette. He took the end of the roll of tape and began sealing off the area.

  I reached under the car for one of the closest and smallest bags. I had to lie down with my arm fully extended to undo the wire holding it to the chassis. The bag dropped with a thump. I dragged it out and untied the top. Peeling the plastic away, I saw some hair. I lucked out.

  Mac looked around and asked, “Is that a head?”

  “Yes. Male. Looks like that guy from our chat room who goes by the name Pebblerock. You ever seen his picture?”

  Mac shook his head.

  “Want to see him now?”

  “I’ll pass.”

  I closed the top of the bag. “Are you okay for a few minutes?”

  “Why?” Mac asked.

  “I’m going back to get that security guard. We’ll close this level.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  The whole macabre wedding-in-hell thing was more than just a little creepy. My eyes drifted back to the legs, and the contents of the remaining black plastic bags edged ever closer to my conscious thoughts. I hurried over to the elevator entrance.

  Two hours later, we left the hotel in a rental car Caine had arranged. Crime scene investigators swarmed through the garage as we pulled out.

  I knew if the Unsub found us in Crystal City, he could find us anywhere, unless we found out how he worked. Where was the poem? The Unsub must’ve been on the surveillance footage somewhere.

  I called Caine. “I looked briefly at the hotel garage surveillance tapes for the thirteen hours we were in the hotel. He’s got to be on there somewhere.”

  “I’ve already sent the tapes to the lab. Of course, it would help if we knew who we were looking for.”

  “How about a cleaner or someone like that, someone who would be carrying trash bags and nobody would notice.”

  “I thought that too. You think you missed him?”

  “I know I did.” I hung up. My fingers tapped out the beat to the Bon Jovi song playing on the radio. I thought about notes, or rather the absence of a note. “Mac, did you see a poem?”

  Mac remained silent.

  “Mac?” I repeated.

  “Uh huh.”

  “You saw it?”

  “Yeah, I saw it. Yellow Post-it like the last one.” He didn’t seem eager to share.

  “And?”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Spill it!”

  Mac chewed his lip, and then recited, “‘Hell is where I reside, toasty warm room to hide, ridding the world of those that shame. All I wanted was a friend, none of you played. Now it’s my game.’”

  “Jesus.”

  Eight

  Take Me Home Country Road

  After much discussion, we decided to check into a motel in Lexington. We settled on a motel one street over from the Interscape Café. An hour and a half after checking in, we were back in Mauryville having coffee with Holly.

  Kevin hurried into the warm kitchen. “Hey, you two,” he said, plonking his body in the closest chair.

  “Hey, Kevin,” Mac replied. He sounded pleased to see him.

  “What are you doing back here?”

  I grinned. “We have to pick up some things from home. What are you doing here?”

  “About to enjoy the best coffee in the district.”

  I looked over at Holly. “You still pouring free coffee for the local cops?”

  “Can’t help myself, there’s something about a man in uniform …” Holly plonked a mug in front of Kevin. “You think Aidan will understand that?”

  “No man will ever understand that. Don’t tell him,” I replied. Mac and Kevin were watching me intently both wearing a “chicks are weird” look.

  “You want an escort to pick up your stuff?” Kevin asked.

  I still wasn’t over the whole Starsky and Hutch thing. “Nah.”

  I could see Holly from the corner of my eye. She employed hand signals to attract my attention. I rolled my eyes at her, which caused her to narrow her eyes and redouble her efforts to get me to follow her into the store.

  “Hun, I think Holly wants you,” Mac said.

  I gave him an innocent look and followed it with. “Oh, I am silly! Be right back.” I left the menfolk to their chatter and followed Holly through the door. She grabbed my arm and dragged me across the store, out of earshot of the kitchen.

  “Spill it!” she demanded.

  “What?” I knew for sure she wouldn’t buy the innocent nothing-is-going-on routine, but I had to try.

  “You and Mac, something’s changed.”

  I bit my lip to stop the grin forcing its way onto my face. “What do you mean?”

  “Ellie! You did it!” she squealed.

  “Shush.” Through the doorway, I saw Mac watching me. Damn, he made my toes tingle.

  “You did. That’s what’s changed,” she said, delighted. “This is wonderful!”

  I knew the expression on her face meant she intended to ask personal questions.

  “Don
’t you dare ask me for details.”

  “Just one?”

  “No.”

  “Ellie, you’re no fun!”

  “Oh, now that’s where you are wrong, apparently I am lots of fun!” I spun on my heels and hurried back to the kitchen.

  “We should get moving,” Mac said, pushing his chair back as I entered the room.

  “Yes, we should.”

  I knew Holly: she would not give up her questions as easily as that.

  “We’ll drop in on our way back,” Mac said, as we headed for the door.

  Like hell; she’d corner me if we did, and I’d be toast.

  “Good,” Kevin replied. He shook Mac’s hand. Kevin leaned over and kissed my cheek then caught sight of my neck. “What the hell?” he drawled. “Holly, have you seen this?” He tipped my head back with two fingers placed under my chin. Tipping up my chin was tiresome, real quick. It’s no big deal, a scratch if anything.

  “It’s nothing,” I protested, “Really, it’s nothing!”

  Holly moved closer and peered at the mark on my neck. “When did this happen?”

  “Two days ago,” Mac interjected. “The Unsub is getting bolder.”

  “Be mindful,” Kevin warned him, “If he’s brave enough to do that, then there’s no telling what he may do next.”

  Ya think! I looked at Mac. There was no need to upset anyone with the Unsub’s latest exploits.

  Mac drove. As we neared home, I pulled my gun from my holster, checked the magazine and chambered a round. Mac glanced at me.

  “Just checking,” I mumbled, pushing the weapon back into my holster.

  “Figured,” he replied. He had already turned his attention back to the road.

  Confession time. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “Snap,” Mac said.

  As we turned into my driveway, I felt an unusual sense of alienation. It didn’t feel like home.

  “Don’t go right around,” I said. “Park near the front door so we can leave quickly.”

  When I unlocked the front door, my hand shook. Together, we approached the kitchen door. I pushed it wide open and stood in stunned amazement at the sight in front of me.

  The entire room was spotless. It was my kitchen again, except for the smell of hospital grade disinfectant and a knife missing from the block on the counter.

  “Wow,” Mac commented.

  “Crime scene clean-up does good work,” I said, turning away from the now sterile room. It may be clean, but it still felt wrong. A maniac had vanquished my sanctuary.

  “Does that mean ...”

  “Yep. Your place will be returned to normal as soon as forensics is finished.” I tried hard not to use the words “crime scene” in regard to Mac’s home.

  “Whew.”

  I didn’t ever want to go back into his guest room, clean or not.

  “Come on. Let’s go upstairs to my office. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can leave.” I shut the kitchen doors behind us. The urge to leave grew strong.

  We ran up the stairs. I switched on the computer; my office felt warm and inviting. It still felt like home in there. I pulled open the top drawer of my desk and collected a handful of CDs. Above my computer monitor hung a napkin poem Mac had written at our first face-to-face meeting.

  Mac said, “I recognize that napkin.”

  “I love that poem.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just a scribble. What do you want me to do?”

  “Check the bookcase, Mac.” I read the labels on the CDs piled on the desk. “Anything dated this year, or that mentions Cobwebs.”

  Mac piled CDs next to me. “We should have made coffee,” he said. I had the feeling he wasn’t going to offer to spend any time in my kitchen.

  “I’ll go.” I stood up. “You do this.” I shoved a CD into the ROM drive.

  He sat in the chair I had vacated and looked up at me. “You’ll be okay?”

  “Hell, yeah,” I replied from the doorway, hoping I sounded convincing.

  I didn’t much feel like being in the kitchen either.

  This is my house, and I’m okay. How could I not be okay?

  I started the coffee. While I waited, I inspected the kitchen. Visions of the last time I saw it superimposed themselves over what I could now see. My mind conjured up the crime scene. As I stared at the floor and remembered the spectacle, it became very apparent that Caine was right. The kitchen had been too clean. I’d seen only one set of footprints and they were Carter’s; there should have been two sets. No way could the assailant have got out clean. He could not have avoided the blood. His feet would have left bloody prints. Unless it was him wearing Carter’s shoes and he carried Carter in and then out again. A drugged Carter and a smart Unsub.

  I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called Caine. “Me again, as if you didn’t know. I’ve had a thought about the first crime scene.”

  “Your home?”

  “Yes.” I paused to gather my thoughts. “One set of footprints, forensics matched to Carter’s shoes. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “What size shoe?”

  “I’ll get back to you, Ellie. I can’t access that information at this time. I know where you are going with this. You think they wore the same size shoe, and the Unsub carried him?”

  “It’s a thought.”

  “It’s a good one. What’d Carter weigh? One-ninety? That’s a hell of a dead weight to lift.”

  “Yeah, but he only needed to do it once and he could’ve dragged him in, he probably wasn’t bleeding then. On the way out, he was in pieces that would’ve been easier to handle.”

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  Twenty minutes later, I stomped back up the stairs carrying two mugs of super-strong black coffee and met by an, “Ah, finally!” Mac took the mugs from me and set them on the desk. “It’s been forever since we’ve had decent coffee.” He picked up a mug and sipped the hot liquid. “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  I rolled my eyes; he sounded like a dork. “Found anything yet?”

  “Nope, don’t think we have gone back far enough yet. I’m setting aside disks that mention Dhs, you never know.”

  “Good plan.”

  Mac stifled a yawn. I brushed past him and opened the window. I lingered for a moment breathing the fresh mountain air.

  “I should’ve bought the laptops.”

  “What if we check your drive and then take all the CDs we’ve found back to the motel? Then we can both search.”

  “Let’s do that.” I leaned back against the windowsill and watched Mac scroll through files on my hard drive. “Would you pass my coffee?” I asked.

  He handed it to me and smiled. His smile melted into me and quickened my heart. I would walk over hot coals three times a day for the rest of my life just to see him smile like that at me.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I had a seriously bad feeling about being back at home. It was fueled by an undercurrent of concern about being back in Rockbridge County at all.

  I’m okay, but something else isn’t.

  Common sense told me we should be safest here. Nobody would expect we’d return to the scene of the first crime. There was no reason for the Unsub to return here either. Unless he was stalking us. I pushed the thought out of my mind.

  “Ellie!”

  “Uh huh.” I think Mac must’ve called my name a few times before I heard him.

  “Blank disks?”

  “Bottom drawer.”

  Mac went back to the download task.

  I leaned out the window and watched a squirrel in the back yard. Something tapped me on the back. I jumped and bashed my head on the window sash. “Ouch!”

  Mac almost fell off the chair laughing. “You all right?” he asked, struggling to control himself.

  “Yeah.” I felt silly, but I was undamaged.

  “Good.” His warm, throaty chuckle ceased. Mac took my hand and pulled me
onto his lap. “I think we have everything. If you want to get going, we can.”

  “Cool. I’ll get some clothes and stuff while we’re here.”

  “Not necessary, babe.”

  “Shush,” I whispered, burying my head in his neck as his arms tightened around me. The subtle scent of his cologne combined with the warmth of his body stirred feelings that were hard to ignore.

  “I think I’ll take a shower,” I whispered, breathing in his scent.

  Nine

  Ghost Riders In The Sky

  An hour later, I went back to my office. From the gun cabinet, I took two fresh magazines and another box of ammunition which I hid among the clothing in the over-stuffed bag. I slung the bag over my shoulder and had the CDs clutched in my hand. Mac and I stood by the open front door ready to leave.

  “When you turn on your computer, does it connect to the Internet?”

  “Yes,” I replied, inwardly cursing my cable connection. Usually I cursed the connection due to poor service, so this was a new experience.

  “You didn’t send any emails or go to the chat room?”

  He knew I hadn’t. “No.”

  “Well then, let’s go.”

  We stepped out into the cool breeze. I locked the door then had a thought and asked, “Did I turn it off?”

  “I dunno,” Mac replied.

  I unlocked the door again. “Come with?”

  “Yep.” He followed me back into the house and up to my office.

  The computer was still running. When the mouse moved to clear the screen saver, it revealed the little mail icon in the task bar.

  “Oh no!” I clicked on the icon and opened my inbox.

  “Check the time it was sent.”

  “An hour ago,” I replied, opening the email: And the Cat came back she couldn’t stay away. “Oh Man.” I groaned. “How?”

  Mac shrugged. “Turn it off,” he said. “He’s playing stupid head games. It’s like the tequila thing, he’s guessing.”

  I looked up at him, and hoped it was a game designed to frighten, and not a prelude to more horror. I forwarded the email to Caine and switched off the computer.

  We left the house again and re-locked the door.