by Cat Connor
“Okay.”
For the first time in a long time, I realized I missed Aidan’s company. I hated not being there for him. “Go home, catch up with friends, have some fun. I’ll go see Dad and her as soon as I can.”
“Be safe, Ellie.” The phone call ended and left me staring at the screen.
I placed the phone on the table and continued being Mac in the chat room, even though I knew he was standing behind me. He’d been there for half the conversation. I didn’t have to explain anything to Mac. We shared a common family background – insane mothers. It was a lot to rise above.
We bore scars from less-than-perfect and nowhere-near-normal childhoods. Over time, we managed to develop a healthier perspective of the insanity that had ruled our lives for so long. My answer was distance. I kept a physical and emotional distance between the woman known as Mom and myself. Despite the distance, I remained very close to Dad; it was a juggling act which Aidan couldn’t pull off. He was blackmailed into contact and still clamored for the mother he wanted and needed. I knew by the time I was eight that “Mommy Dearest” was all we were ever going to get.
Mac, too, had a close relationship with his father and saw his parents regularly. He tolerated his mother. Finding her antics mostly amusing, she’d swapped violent insanity for a quirkier and more entertaining form of dementia, with fewer outbursts of uncontrolled anger.
Mac had replied to a poem in the chat room. I hadn’t even noticed his hand on the keyboard.
“You okay?” he asked.
I ducked under his arm and moved from the chair. “Yeah, just ramblings and mom bullshit,” I said. “I think we need more coffee. I’ll make some.”
“Good idea.”
I knew he watched me as I moved to the tiny sink and cleaned out the coffee pot. An unusual subdued tension had crept into the room.
Mac had gone quiet. Apprehension pervaded every space of the motel room, interrupted only by the sound of cups placed on the tabletop, the mechanical tapping of computer keys and the occasional flick of a cigarette lighter.
Caine called at midday, saying all surveillance was in place and Mac had the go-ahead to construct the farce. Caine reminded him to converse with people in the chat room about how bored he was. At the appointed time, he would mention that OtherwiseCat was leaving to do some grocery shopping and afterwards he would meet her at the café. We stared at each other as the call ended.
I spoke, “Has this been the longest day so far or what?”
“Hell, yeah,” Mac replied. “Only an hour before you leave.”
“I hope this works.” I sat next to Mac and glanced at his screen. I also hoped the agents following me stayed close and remained undetected.
His hand touched mine. “You’re not sure, are you?”
“Nope.” My reply was honest. “I am hoping this catches him off guard and he shows because he can’t resist the opportunity.” My tone lacked assurance, and I knew it.
“I know. Me too. Guess we’ll find out.”
“I want you to wear a wire.” I had been thinking about it, and I was worried. “I’m going to call Caine and have you rigged for sound.”
Mac frowned. “There are agents everywhere.”
“Humor me, okay? I want to know that you’re all right,” I told him, while I pressed in the quick-dial code for Caine’s phone. I watched Mac’s expression sour further as he listened to me ask Caine for a voice-activated radio microphone. Caine agreed and said someone would drop a parcel at the motel reception desk within ten minutes.
I ended the call and glared at Mac. “And,” I paused, “I’ll have the car. You’ll be walking over to the café. I just need know you get there safe.”
He gave me a strange look then grinned. “You think I am in danger of being molested on the streets of Lexington?”
“You never know your luck.”
Ten minutes later, I collected the parcel Caine had promised. Back in our room I opened the small box and removed what looked like a lapel pin.
“There is a tiny, tiny switch at the back of this pin.” I turned it over to show him. “I’ll turn it on before I leave.” I attached the pin to his collar.
“How loudly do I have to speak?”
“Normally. It’ll pick up everything from a slight whisper to more usual speaking levels.”
“How clear?”
“Very – no one will miss anything you say.”
“That almost sounded like a warning.” He pulled me to him.
“It wasn’t.” Or maybe it was. Just a little one.
My phone rang. Caine was ready to run a sound check and wanted the mic on. I flipped up Mac’s collar and turned the tiny switch to the “on” position.
“You’re live.”
His eyes widened. He looked as though he’d never speak again. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly become mute?”
“Not quite,” he replied. “Just a little nervy. It’s more real now.”
“Go sit over by the computers and say something quietly,” I instructed.
A few moments later, the phone rang again.
“Checked, okay,” Caine said
“Cool, he may as well leave it on. It’s almost time for me to go.”
“Yes, I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.”
I ended the call. “Okay, I’ll get ready,” I said to Mac.
I gathered all the necessary items, my gun, holster, a jacket and wallet. From the box Caine sent over I removed a very small earpiece. I turned it on and pushed it into my ear letting my hair fall to cover it. “Mac?”
“Yeah?” he replied, looking across the room at me.
“Just checking,” I said with a smile. I stamped my feet a little to ensure my boots were snug.
“Want a hand with anything?” he asked. “There’s not much happening in the room right now, and typing ‘I’m bored’ doesn’t require much preparation.”
“I’m done,” I replied. I wore a shoulder holster concealed under my black leather jacket. My hair was loose to prevent anyone close by from seeing the small earpiece. I stood in the middle of the room and did a quick run-through, making sure I’d accounted for everything I needed. “You take my cell phone so Caine can get hold of you. I’ll exercise the company credit cards and buy a new one.”
“All right. Sounds like a plan. You set?”
“Yep.”
Mac walked me to the door. “Be careful.” He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”
“You sure will. Remember, I’ll be fashionably late. I think I’ll ditch the Explorer, too. Get us a rental. It’ll make it a bit harder for this nut-job to spot me.”
“Good idea, but I don’t want another festering, old redneck disaster!”
I winked at him. “Okay, no Fords.”
Mac waited by the door. He waved as I drove off.
Eleven
Hold On I’m Coming
Grocery shopping would be a good idea, seeing as room service was a luxury we no longer had. My plan was simple: grocery store, electronics store, then drop off the Explorer at the mechanic’s place and pick up a rental.
I parked in the last available parking space outside the grocery store and was pleased not to have to walk far. I caught sight of a reflection in the large window. Two parking spaces away an agent I knew climbed out of a beat-up old car; comforting to know they were around.
I had no idea what I was shopping for as I entered the store. I strolled down aisle after aisle hoping inspiration would grab me as I surveyed the multitude of enticing, packaged foodstuffs. Ahead of me, I saw a familiar figure.
“Hey, Mr. Parker. Thought you did your shopping in Mauryville.”
He lifted his head and smiled. “I usually do, Ellie. Had some things to take care of in town today.”
I nodded and scanned the shelves. Maybe a list would have been a good idea or I should have at least asked Mac what he wanted.
“The whole town’s talking about that sorr
y business out at your place,” Jed Parker said, as he scrutinized the label of a competitor’s honey jar. The satisfied look on his face suggested his labels were better.
“Really?”
Uh huh, of course they are – small town gossip and speculation makes the world go around.
“Yes, indeedy. Even ole Doc Tompson is talking. He told me he saw that fella.”
Okay, so now I was interested. “How’d he know it was him?”
“He spoke to him.”
“Really?” I tried not to appear too interested, but this was something new.
“Yeah. He said he spoke to him, said his name was Carter McDonald.”
Whoa, back up ... Carter’s name was not McDonald. His name was McClaren.
“McDonald?” I repeated.
“That’s what Doc said. Also said he was a vet from Illinois.”
A vet? What the hell? Now he’s Carter McDonald the vet. It’s has to be someone else, surely? Coincidence maybe? Ketamine … vets have access to ketamine. Carter had ketamine in his system. Note to self: have someone to talk to Doc Tompson.
I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked, “Did Doc say what Carter wanted with him?”
“He never said,” Mr. Parker replied. “Probably vet business.”
Vet business? The man was supposed to be a chef. A chef, not a vet. There is something screwy with this whole scenario. Surely, an alias would have been uncovered during the preliminary investigation.
“Don’t suppose you know when Doc saw him?”
“I do. Doc told me it was the night before the ruckus out at your place.”
I thought for a second about the last known sighting of Carter. “Did you see Carter the next day?” I knew they’d followed him to Parker’s and then lost him.
“No, Kevin and the boys were all over my place looking for someone, told me they found his car. No strangers came into the store or came to the house.”
My mind threw up visions of Kevin and the boys, Dukes of Hazzard-style. I’d be damned if I’d be Daisy. Best if Holly took that role. I shook the images from my already over-taxed mind and nodded. “I’d best get a move on, Mr. Parker.”
I checked my watch and reminded myself if I didn’t get out of there I really would be late. Every now and then, I heard Mac muttering in my ear, which was unnerving. I kept expecting to hear, “10-4 little fat buddy,” come out of his mouth.
Mr. Parker placed a gnarled hand on my elbow. “Not before I tell ya about the dance, Taylor’s barn, two weeks on Saturday.”
I grinned. “Tell me there’s venison pie for supper and I’m there.”
“Hell, yes, and honey mead.”
“We’ll be there,” I assured him.
Jed’s worn face broke under a wide smile. “You and that Mac fella?”
Oh man!
“Yeah.”
“I heard tell he’s a good one.” Mr. Parker nodded. “Kevin said he thinks mighty highly of that man of yours.”
I smiled. “See you at the dance, Mr. P.”
I grabbed a few cans of some kind of casseroled muck. The label looked inviting, but I suspected the contents would resemble cat food. I hurried down the next aisle in search of fruit. I needed fruit. I escaped the supermarket and dropped the bag of groceries onto the back seat of the car. I walked a few doors down to the electronics store and struggled to maintain my composure, while I listened to a conversation Mac had with someone about the planting of bulbs. I also heard street noises; it sounded like he was on his way to the café and had stopped for a chat. I attempted to wipe the smile off my face as I entered the store.
Mac had made it to the café and ordered his coffee. I had an urge to ask him to order for me, too, but knew he couldn’t hear me.
I chose a new phone, handed over a credit card, and filled in the paperwork for a new connection. Mac could keep my other phone. This one we’d keep free from Manic Mother calls.
Next stop, the mechanic. I’m sure dollar signs pinged up in Floyd’s eyes when he saw the state of the Explorer. I’d bet money on his working for Boss Hogg. I’d bet money on his being related to Boss Hogg, possibly a first-cousin marriage. I had to get the Dukes of Hazzard thing out of my head.
“What do you need Ms. Conway?” he asked. The man seemed to be in a permanent state of filth.
“I need you to not rip me off, Floyd, you got that?” My tone conveyed instant death, the only way to deal with Floyd.
“Yes ma’am.”
“I want George to do the panel work, not one single scratch or ding is to be left in this truck.”
He inspected the damaged panels, running his grimy, oil-stained hands all over what was once my immaculate vehicle.
“You been ramming shit in this thing? You’ve smashed up your lights. You should have bull bars.”
“Whatever,” I replied, and quickly dismissed the idea and Floyd’s notion of making extra cash out of me. “I want you to change the oil, change the filters, check the brakes, the belts, and ...” I gave him a long hard stare, “... NO joy riding in my car!”
He shuffled from foot to foot looking a little embarrassed. “Yes, ma’am.”
I kept my smile to myself. Something told me I was close with the first cousin hypothesis.
“I need a rental.”
His eyes lit up. Before he could say anything, I continued. “I’ll be back in a bit, and give you the keys then.”
I left Floyd to his embarrassed pondering, and strode up the street to the rental company. Like hell I would rent a car from Floyd.
I picked out a car and drove back to Floyd’s garage. I took everything from my car and flipped the keys to Floyd.
Once settled in the rental, I cranked the window. “Not one cent will be paid until I have test driven that car, and thoroughly inspected the panel work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I grinned as I pulled out of his lot. Yes ma’am, no ma’am, three bags full ma’am. I suspected that had I looked in my rearview mirror, a bird would have flown my way.
I slipped into a parking space under a large maple within clear sight of the Interscape Café. My predetermined surveillance spot was a good one. The agent I’d seen earlier drove by and disappeared around a corner. I checked my watch; still not late.
The front entrance of the red-bricked café looked inviting, and the mingled smells of roasted coffee beans were divine. My mind screamed espresso as I settled in.
I called Mac and told him I was there. “Hey you, I’m here. Make it look like I’m telling you I’ll be late. Make sure you add this number to your phone, okay?”
“Will do, and I’ll be waiting,” he replied. The smile that curled my toes came through in his voice.
“Miss you.”
“You too, see you when you get here.”
I hung up and watched a few cars go by, then called Caine. “I’m in position. You got anything?”
“Not a dickey bird. You got a new phone. Good thinking.”
“I have something for you. Did anyone speak to Doc Tompson out in Mauryville?”
“Shit, Ellie, I’d have to check the case notes.”
“I think you should and find out why Carter used the name McDonald or, if he didn’t, find out who the hell Carter McDonald is.”
Caine interrupted me, “That’s the third time that car has been by in the last fifteen minutes. Did you get the tags?”
“Yes. I’ll call them in.” I disconnected the call to Caine and dialed our central communications call center. “Special Agent Conway badge number seven-nine-seven-two requesting QV.” Okay, so we don’t always use plain English but ‘query vehicle’ takes too long to say.
“Go ahead SA.”
“Personalized Virginia plate reads L-M-A-O. Lima Mike Alpha Oscar.”
Seconds later, I got my answer. “White Mazda sedan, registered owner Darius Harcourt Senton, Virginia Beach address.”
“Thanks. Conway out.” I hung up. Watching the road as the car came back around again, I made
a connection.
“Dhs, oh man!” I called Caine back while observing the car park up the street. He seemed to change his mind and drove off again.
“L-M-A-O is chat-speak for ‘laugh my ass off’... The car is registered to a Darius Harcourt Senton of Virginia Beach ... his initials are Dhs. Coincidence?”
“I’m on it,” he hissed and hung up.
Mac sighed in my ear and whispered, “The Unsub is in the chat room.” Then I heard the email alert sound on the computer and him click twice then whisper again, “‘He waits – but will she come?’” Mac groaned. “Fuck me. He’s got to be watching.”
I put the phone back to my ear and called Caine again, my stomach twisting. “Did you hear Mac?”
“Of course.”
“Could he be in there?”
“No one but Mac has entered the café since midday.”
My thoughts ran wild. “What if he’s been using the café the whole time, he could have already been in there.”
I listened as Caine spoke to the agents in the café. “He may be among the patrons.” Brief and to the point, as usual.
Then he said to me again, “Heads up, Ellie. That white car is back.”
I watched and memorized a partial description of the driver. Backwards red baseball cap, sandy hair, freckled face, young looking, wearing a faded, beige-checked shirt.
Two men walked toward the Interscape Café on foot. I watched with interest, but they passed on by.
The white car parked up the street and someone exited the vehicle. I called Mac as the person approached the café parking lot, then turned and headed down the side of the building.
“Look out the window,” I said. “Is someone there? A male wearing a red baseball cap backwards?”
I saw Caine run past me. He hurried up the street to the white vehicle and waited out of sight.
“Jesus!” Mac exclaimed. “There was, and he’s running!” Mac started chuckling. “He runs like a girl.”
“Order me a coffee, Mac. I’ll be in shortly.” I disconnected the call and drove up the street to join Caine. I arrived just as he stepped from the shadows of a building and confronted the man.
