by Cat Connor
Lee tapped my arm and pointed to the computer screen in front of Mac. “You got mail.”
“Open it while I’m talking to you,” Caine said.
I opened it and read the subject line then the body of the text. “‘Chicago’ is the subject. Then he says ‘How’s K-land, Mac? They’ve all told me it’s a fun place to be. Have another gift for you, Otherwisecat. Remember Chicago? He broke your arm. 4urxtc won’t bother you anymore.’” My heart was doing more than pound now. It was threatening to stop all together. How would this fuckhead know about Chicago? I heard Caine’s breathing.
He took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “How’s Mac?”
I tested my voice, “Okay.” I don’t think it shook too much.
“We’ll talk about this later. Meanwhile let’s expect another body to turn up soon. If and when that happens, I’ll deal with DEA.” His voice was even. He didn’t sound annoyed by the new development. I couldn’t think if that were a good thing or not. I couldn’t think.
Lee took the phone from my hand, and said something to Caine. I don’t know what he said. My brain had stalled again.
Twelve
Objects In The Rear View Mirror
May Appear Closer Than They Are
Mac returned to normal. I noticed it when he looked at me fully focused and said, “Gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“How do you feel?”
“A bit floaty.” He frowned. “I feel like I have missed something.”
“That’s to be expected.” I looked up. Lee nodded so I figured it was okay to tell Mac what had happened. “Our stalker-slash-killer managed to get ketamine into your coffee.”
“He what?” Mac was back. His voice echoed the disbelief written all over his face.
“You were drugged. Luckily Lee was here, and he knows a bit about ketamine and its effects.”
“Lee? General Lee.” Mac said, shifting his gaze to the bulky agent sitting next to him.
“Yup, that’s me.” Lee clamped a meaty paw on Mac’s shoulder.
“Jesus! What did I do?” Mac bit his lip and looked at me. I wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. “How embarrassing was I?”
I grinned. “You were fine. You and the rainbow people were happy as could be.”
He groaned and sat up straighter. “I didn’t dance did I?”
“No. You didn’t. You kept asking me, but we didn’t dance.”
He heaved a sigh. “What a relief; you know I can’t dance.”
“Can’t sing either,” I replied. His horrified expression made me smile.
“I didn’t!”
I nodded. “You did and you were most entertaining.”
“Shush.” Mac groaned. A blush rose in his cheeks.
Lee’s deep throaty laugh flowed. “Mac, you were just fine. No harm, no foul.”
I tried hard not to laugh.
“I have a weird question.” Mac looked at us both. “Did either of you see Mr. T?”
I choked under the effort to remain composed. Lee roared with laughter.
“What did I do?” Mac asked with a resigned sigh.
Lee answered, “I have never seen anyone rub Sam’s head like that before and get away with it.”
Color flamed in Mac’s cheeks. “He’s a real person?”
“Oh, yeah, he’s real all right.”
Our laughter subsided. Mac was embarrassed, and we weren’t helping any.
“What now?” Mac asked reaching for the pack of Winston’s in front of him. Lee and I watched as he lit a cigarette.
“What?” he asked. Guess our curious expressions gave something away.
“Nothing,” I replied. He was okay and didn’t seem drawn to the burning ember or spellbound by the lighter flame. I reached over and turned off the computer. I didn’t want Mac to see the latest email, not yet anyway. I had already forwarded a copy to the lab.
Some sort of commotion reached our ears from the front of the café. Lee’s back straightened as he listened.
“They must be here,” he commented.
I nodded.
“They who?” Mac asked, stubbing out his cigarette and preparing to move. He seemed back to normal.
“Extra agents,” I replied. “We’ve been waiting for more agents.”
We moved as quickly as we could through the tables and past interested patrons. Lee caught my arm as we negotiated through the throng near the door. “Watch him, Ellie. He may not be all the way through the trip yet.”
“Does this shit flash back like LSD did in the sixties?”
“Not that I can recall but I’m not a hundred percent sure. I figure he’s had an hour and a half or so.” Lee glanced at Mac. “It’s always possible that the hallucinations haven’t completely gone but he seems to be through it. Err on the side of caution.”
“Okay.”
We had emerged through the front door to the café. In front of us, we found a woman lying on the ground with several people kneeling beside her. I saw an FBI identity card clipped to the shirt pocket of one of the men kneeling. I motioned to Mac and Lee to follow me as I made my way around the edge of the small gathering to the agent.
“Need any help?” I asked as I knelt down by him.
He glanced over at me. We exchanged brief confirming looks of recognition. Kurt shook his head. “Paramedics are on the way. This lady here fell in her rush to get back inside the café.”
I almost didn’t want to ask. “Why was she in so much of a hurry?”
He looked at me, and then his eyes hit Lee and Mac, “Take a look in the trunk of the red Pontiac over there.”
My stomach threatened to revolt. “Last time I looked, it contained my groceries.”
He replied under his breath, “I wouldn’t want dinner at your house, Conway.”
I leaned over to whisper in his ear, “You’re not invited. Was there a poem?”
A hint of what he’d viewed reflected in the depth of his tired eyes. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” I meant it. It wasn’t fair that we had some insane freak leaving bodies in cars for his personal gratification and traumatizing innocent people.
We headed over to the car and found three agents gathered around the trunk.
“Hey,” I called as we approached. Two agents jumped as they spun around. The third lifted his head and acknowledged me with a nod.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten y’all.”
“You sure you want to see this, ma’am?”
“No, but I’m going to,” I replied.
Lee said, “Move aside, gentlemen. Agent Conway here is taking a peek.”
They parted and stepped back. Mac and I moved in closer. Lee positioned himself close to Mac, just in case. We peered at the headless body. Damn it was weird looking.
“Looks like we found the owner of the head,” Mac stated.
I turned to the agent nearest me. “Have you got any gloves?”
He fished a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. “They’re large, will probably swim on you,” he said handing them over.
“Thanks, they’ll do.” I slipped them on. The gloves resembled saggy, white elephant skin as they fell in folds and wrinkles from my hands. Holding the gloves in place, I reached for the bloodied piece of paper stuck to the neck of the corpse, where once a head had resided. I held it up and read the scrawled handwriting.
“This is entitled ‘Stumped.’ ‘Did you connect the letter in the left-hand side? Have you identified the head I fried? Sticking your neck out would be unwise.’”
I could see Mac’s appalled look as he stared at the paper in my hand.
“I can’t believe you touched that,” he said, avoiding all reference to the content and title of the poem. I saw something else too. I detected a tremor in his shoulders. A slight crinkle by his eyes told me he was trying not to laugh.
I looked away. The danger of an uncontrolled outburst of laughter from me soared. I put the note back where I found it and watched as the gloves fell from my
hands landing on the rim of the trunk. From my perspective, they appeared to be climbing into the trunk. I used all my willpower to maintain some semblance of professionalism. My defenses crumbled as the macabre humor of the situation escalated.
I heard Caine’s voice somewhere behind me. I checked Mac with a sideways glance to avoid his eyes. I could still see his shoulders trembling as I did my best to look at the ground, and not back at the cause of the problem. I didn’t even trust myself to look at Lee.
Caine announced his presence with a small cough over my shoulder. “What do we have?”
No one spoke. I had hoped Lee or Mac would speak up.
“Ellie?”
He sounded as though he expected an answer. I tried to make my voice as normal as possible by taking a deep breath. “This could be Dhs. There’s a poem that suggests as much.” I could feel the laughter bubbling up in my throat. I clamped my hands over my mouth trying to control myself. I could barely remain upright, and my ribs ached as I struggled to catch my breath.
Caine bellowed, “Conway, get a grip!”
I caught his icy stare as he spun around and stalked to his car. We all heard the car door slam and the engine start. I tried to breathe deeply to calm down; didn’t work. I walked away to the edge of the lot to compose myself.
A few minutes later or maybe longer, it’s hard to know when hysteria takes hold, Mac and Lee appeared. Mac sat down on the cold asphalt beside me. He lit a cigarette and passed it to me. Slowly but surely calmness returned.
“We may still be down a body,” I said. “There was only one here, right?” I refused to let my mind go anywhere near the headless corpse thing again.
“Yep, only one,” Lee replied. “He’s probably saving the other for tomorrow.”
I grinned. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
“No problem.”
I reached over to Mac’s collar and turned the microphone off. He smiled at me but said nothing. I was tired of everything we said being broadcast to Caine and who knows who else. A cold gust of wind caused me to shiver. Mac draped his arm around my shoulders and hugged me to him.
Lee crouched down beside us. “You two may as well head off.”
“Don’t even start!”
He grinned. “It was unintentional, I swear! But seriously, you may as well go back to the motel and hang out there until Caine comes up with the next phase. We’re all going to be sitting around waiting for the medical examiner and forensics.”
“Okay,” I replied. Mac stood first and pulled me to my feet.
“You feel okay, Mac?” Lee asked as he scrutinized his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I kicked at a small stone with the toe of my boot trying to hit it into a nearby puddle. “Did anyone see anything?” I felt hopeful.
Lee shook his head. “You’re not going to believe this, but so far we haven’t found anyone from the café who saw a damn thing; apparently the trunk of your car swung open all by itself as that poor woman passed it.”
Maybe this Unsub is a ghost after all. “Surely he has to screw up soon and leave us something.”
“Let’s hope so. You guys want an escort?”
I shook my head. It wasn’t necessary. We were both armed, and the Unsub had probably had his fun for the evening. “Thanks Lee.”
“You’re welcome, take care. Watch out for each other.” He shook Mac’s hand then mine. I had forgotten how big Lee was, his hand swallowed mine. He walked back towards the throng of agents around our rental car. General Lee and Mr. T waved us off. We headed up the street. The wind picked up and there was a definite chill in the air. Winter was close. The shadows on the ground became darker as the weak sun gave up and hid behind large gray clouds. Reaching the creamy-brick motel, I looked up at the motel sign at the front proudly welcoming us to The Mountain Oasis. Why anyone would give motels names like Oasis or Mecca was beyond me. Every city I have ever visited had at least one Oasis, and often several versions of Mecca. I ended the train of thought before it derailed my already taxed mind.
Mac unlocked the door and swung it wide open. A wall of warmth hit me as I stepped over a folded newspaper in the doorway. Mac picked up the paper and kicked the door shut behind him. I flopped down on the bed, propped myself on one elbow and watched him. He dropped the paper on the table and then turned his attention to making coffee. He looked great and didn’t seem to be suffering any ill-effects from his trip. He turned back to the table and spread out the newspaper.
“I can’t believe it’s still Friday. Was this the longest day ever or what?” he said. I watched his eyes scan the newspaper headlines. Frown lines creased his forehead, deepening as he lowered himself into a chair.
“What?” I asked, sitting up.
“The Unsub has written to the newspaper,” he stated and seemed unable to believe what he read.
“Read it to me.”
‘“Hello to you all. What a game. What a prize. Ain’t it fun? Isn’t it time you opened your eyes? Let me introduce myself I am the Son of Shakespeare. Maybe I’ll write again, share a poem or two. My Post-it note poems were well received by the FBI. A word to the wise: the ones I protect must be left alone.’”
Mac paused, exhaled loudly, then said, “That’s all except the signature, Son of Shakespeare.”
I lay flat on the bed with my fingers laced behind my head and stared at the ceiling. Son of Shakespeare? The ones I protect? What a crock of shit!
“Took him a while to involve the media,” I said. “And now he’s made it more difficult for us all.”
“How?”
I heard Mac fold up the paper. He’d had enough news for one day. “Panic for one, it’s no longer a controlled scenario. Network news teams will be all over this like rats.” I lifted my head to see Mac’s face. “And now we may get copycat killers.”
“I can’t believe this dork thinks he’s a poet. Son of Shakespeare! Son of a Bitch, more like.”
I rolled over and crawled up the bed chuckling to myself. I stretched out on my tummy with my head on the pillow turned towards Mac. My hair kept falling over my face.
“You look comfy.” His voice was soft.
“You look too far away.” I smiled and reached my hand out to him. He stood up and moved closer taking my hand. I pulled him close to the bed then sat up.
“Take off your shirt,” I instructed.
He dropped it on the floor.
“Lay down.”
He blinked at me. I patted the expanse of bed next to me. “Just lay down on your tummy, right here.”
Mac raised an eyebrow but did as I asked. I climbed over him. Our bags were at the end of the bed. I unzipped my bag, removed a bottle of massage oil.
“What’re you doing?” I knew he couldn’t see me unless he sat up.
“You’ll see,” I replied. I took the top off the bottle and tipped some of the contents into my palm. I climbed back onto the bed, and straddled Mac at the hip. I rubbed my hands together for a few moments warming the liquid and releasing the aroma of exotic flowers into the room. I slipped my hands onto his shoulders and rubbed in the oil. Kneading the tight muscles under my fingertips, I worked all the tension from his shoulders and upper back. Mac groaned as I worked my way down his spine, radiating the warmth from the oil and my hands outward.
“Okay?” I asked as I unlocked the pent-up tightness and knots.
“Ohhh, yeah.”
He reached an arm back and took hold of my hand. “Come here.” His voice rasped. I let him guide me as I fell, landing next to him. Mac put one arm over my head and hoisted himself above me.
“You’re just full of surprises.” His eyes sparkled.
“I have my moments,” I whispered.
He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. The heat from his body burned through the thin fabric of my tee shirt.
Thirteen
Sound Of Silence
Irolled over as Mac pulled his arm out from under me.
“Mac?” I mumbled.
“Shush, just getting a drink, I’ll be right back,” he replied. I closed my eyes and heard him turn on the faucet, then place a glass on the counter. He rattled the windows and the doors. He opened the bathroom door, and I heard the light switch flip a few times, and then he cursed, “Useless fuc’n light bulbs.”
I crawled out of bed and poured myself a glass of water while Mac was in the bathroom. I didn’t bother with lights, the streetlights outside shed enough light. I stood by the tiny kitchen counter and drank a full glass of water. The bathroom door squeaked open.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. What’re you doing up?” Mac asked, he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around my waist. His chin prickled my shoulder in a pleasant way.
“Thirsty.” I leaned back on him enjoying the warmth and closeness of skin against skin.
“Bathroom light is out. Do you suppose they’d have spare bulbs anywhere?” he whispered and his breath tickled my ear. He kissed my neck in a most distracting manner.
“Cabinets under the sink?”
Mac flipped the kitchen light on and searched through the cabinets eventually finding a light bulb.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry, I need the bathroom.”
He reappeared seconds later, light shining from under the bathroom door. “There you go. The bulb was missing.” He shrugged. “Maybe they meant to change it this morning but forgot.”
“Yeah.” I hurried past him into the bathroom pushing the door almost shut behind me. I watched several flies from my seated position. They buzzed about the light bulb. It occurred to me there weren’t several flies at all; there were a lot of flies, and an unusual rank odor. I called out to Mac.
“What’s up?” he asked from just outside the door.
“One sec.” I flushed and opened the door. “Get in here and tell me why there are flies buzzing all over. Tell me you didn’t cause the smell in this room!”
Mac grinned at me from the doorway. “I swear it wasn’t me.”
