Flashbyte (Byte Series - Ellie Conway Book 4)

by Cat Connor

  “Description?” My heart was pounding. Two dead Conways didn’t sit well with my already unbalanced equilibrium. I wanted to shove my head between my knees to counteract the dizziness and encroaching gray, but didn’t want to draw attention to my ridiculous reaction.

  “Brown hair, blue eyes, five foot nine, slim.”

  A little bit of relief wriggled in at the brown hair. Not another clone of me then. It also opened up the possibility of it being unrelated. Different name. Not me. Weaseling its way to front and center in my mind was the shooting at the 7-Eleven. What if he was after me?

  “Cause of death?”

  “Strangulation.”

  The same as the other Conway woman.

  “Whose case?”

  “So far, Alexandria PD.”

  “Keep us posted.”

  I closed my phone and looked up at the settling cloud of doom as it drifted down from the ceiling. Below the cloud were the expectant eyes of Delta A. Sam raised an eyebrow, his signal that he was waiting.

  I cleared my throat.

  “A woman by the name of Greer Conway was strangled in Alexandria this evening.”

  The silence that reverberated around me was not good, but I used it to my advantage. “I need a few minutes to think.” I slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the living room, closing the door behind me.

  Six

  Blood On Blood

  Two dead Conway women is so not a coincidence. Twenty minutes of thinking about the safest place for Carla led me in a circle and landed back with Rowan.

  Who’d have thought the safest place for an impressionable teenager was with the lead singer of a rock band?

  Safer than with me.

  Safer than with my family.

  I rock this parent thing.

  Noel knocked on the living room door. “Everything shipshape in here?”

  “Sure.” My cell phone was cradled in my hand. “Maybe it’s time to cut the pretense and paint a big fuc’n target on my back and stick a flare on the roof.”

  He wasn’t smiling, but I glimpsed a spark in his eyes that suggested he was amused by my target idea.

  “You do attract aberrations.”

  “More than most?”

  “Nah, yours are just louder that’s all.”

  I nodded. “I need to make a call. Gimme a few?”

  “I’ll go on a coffee run.”

  I must have looked confused, because he grinned and pointed toward the kitchen. Noel pulled the door closed as he left.

  My fingers scrolled past Galileo in my phone directory and clicked on Grange. It rang and rang. I waited and counted each ring. Rowan answered right before the phone went to voicemail.

  “Hi, Ellie.”

  “Hey, how’s Japan?”

  “Haven’t seen anything apart from the airport, television studios, and the hotel.” He sounded tired.

  “What time is it there?” I glanced down at my watch. It was just after seven on Wednesday night.

  “Nine, Thursday morning.”

  “Shit that’s freaky, you’re in the future.”

  “You didn’t call me to ask about the time. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, crossing my fingers.

  “I’m not buying.”

  Big surprise: the men in my life never do.

  “When will you be home?”

  “Leaving here Friday, I’ll be home tomorrow night – time zones make things confusing. What’s the matter?”

  I sighed, I had to tell him. “I am once again the plaything for a fucktarded freak.”

  “And this is nothing wrong?”

  I ignored him, shrugged my shoulders, and said, “How good is your bodyguard?”

  “Don’t you shrug your shoulders at me.”

  How could he possibly know that?

  “I didn’t.” I crossed my fingers. “How good is your body guard?”

  “Uncross your fingers,” Rowan replied. “The answer is ‘very.’”

  Damn, he knows me better than I thought.

  “Credentials?”

  “Ex-SWAT.”

  Okay.

  “Are you going to be busy when you get home?”

  “Are you done with the light interrogation?”

  “For now.”

  “What do you need?”

  “A safe place for Carla.”

  “I’ll pick her up. Country or city?”

  “Country.”

  “All right. I’ll take her to my country house.” A no-nonsense business tone edged into his voice. “This must be serious.”

  “I could be overreacting.”

  He laughed. “You know, I can’t recall you ever doing so.”

  “There is always a first time.” Any minute now I might start acting like a girly girl and cry over a broken nail.

  “Where is she now?”

  “With Dad and Aidan.”

  I could hear his thoughts before he spoke them. But I listened without interrupting.

  “This is so bad your ex-navy father can’t keep her safe and your first thought is me – the one man in your life who is not armed.”

  Put it like that, it sounded nuts.

  “My brother isn’t armed.”

  “Ellie.”

  “Yes. It has the potential to be that bad.”

  “Do you want me on an earlier flight?”

  “No.”

  I could hear him tapping on the keys of his laptop. I knew what he was doing. Telling his manager and publicist he wanted an earlier flight. Moments later, I heard the phone ring in his hotel room.

  “Be right back,” Rowan said and answered the other phone.

  I could hear his side of the conversation. Listening to his tone gave me a clue how much resistance was thrown up by the other party. Quite a bit. He remained calm but firm.

  Then he was back. “Sweetheart, I can be home by lunchtime tomorrow.” He cleared his throat. “We’re done here.”

  “You’re done? You’ve been there two days.”

  “We’re done. I‘m cooling my heels waiting for the flight home. Four interviews, one live TV appearance. A few crazed public appearances. I’m done.”

  I knew the irritated tone in his voice. He hated sitting in hotel rooms waiting. It wasn’t as if he could go sightseeing or do anything like a regular tourist.

  “Your publicist is going to hate me even more now.”

  A smile crept into his voice. “That isn’t possible.” More tapping. “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. Flying into Dulles. I’ve emailed you the flight information.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If it’s not safe for Carla to be at home, it’s not safe for you either.”

  “Rowan.”

  “Just sayin’.”

  “I heard. See you tomorrow.”

  I hung up. I did hear. Long ago I perfected the art of hearing without listening.

  Noel knocked as he opened the door. “Coffee?”

  “Pizza? I’m starving.”

  “Both,” he said. He held a plate in one hand and two coffees in the other. Talented man.

  I took the plate and a large bite from the end of a cheesy piece of pizza. Lee and Sam wandered in with a pizza box each.

  “Pepperoni?” Sam said, dropping the box he carried on the coffee table.

  “Thank you,” I muttered between mouthfuls.

  Doc came in and dropped another pizza box. It was a regular pizza party.

  “I’ve had the package picked up by the lab. Didn’t think you’d want to spend the night with it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and shoved another chunk of pizza in my mouth.

  I had this theory that if I just kept eating I wouldn’t throw up every time I thought about the box’s contents. There were so many things wrong with the current situation that my mind wanted to shut down. I searched it for any hint of a migraine or other such trouble on my immediate horizon. Nothing lurking.

  When I looked up, I found Doc watching me stuff pizz
a in my mouth. My eyebrows rose, questioning his interest. He grinned.

  “Just amazed at how much you actually eat,” he commented as I reached for a third slice.

  I couldn’t answer: It’s rude to talk while feeding one’s face. My cell phone rang. I knew the song. It was Carla. She’d been playing with my phone and added a special ring tone just for her calls. ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’ rang out across the room.

  I answered before Lee could start singing. Carla needed her laptop and some clothes. I promised to pack them. I told I’d pick her up later. The hotel was still on.

  She hung up and I put my phone back on the coffee table.

  Noel slouched on the couch. “Where’s what’s-his-name, the singer?” He sat forward and peered under the couch.

  “Yeah, that’s right, I hide him under the furniture.”

  “Closet?”

  “If he comes out of the closet, there might well be tears.”

  Noel smiled. “Now that would be something new.”

  “Idiot.”

  “Where is he?”

  Damn nosy.

  “Japan.”

  “Does he know about this?” His arm waved toward my office down the hall.

  “No. I’ve asked him to take Carla for a few days though. She needs to be somewhere safe.”

  Noel’s cup slipped from his hand, bounced off the edge of the coffee table. Everything became slow motion as he reached for the flying cup. His fingertips just grazed the cup’s surface before it collided with Lee’s knee. Lee rubbed his knee and retrieved the cup from the floor.

  “No harm done. It was empty,” he said, passing it back to Noel.

  A sheepish Noel nodded then looked at me with surprise. “The safest place for your daughter is with a singer in a rock band?”

  “Yes.”

  “I could’ve …” He let the words trail off.

  “I know. I want her out of the DC area. Safe, secure, comfortable.” I held up my hand as he tried to find the words to countermand my decision. “It’s not a debate.”

  “Can I talk to you, alone?” Noel’s voice was quieter than usual.

  My radar was tingling up a storm. Something was up with Agent Gerrard.

  “Sure. In the hall?”

  He led the way. Sam, Lee, and Doc all pretended they were clueless and launched into an energetic discussion about the package contents and their theoretical origins.

  Noel closed the door. We were alone and, for the first time, being alone with him caused a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  I headed him off. “How’s the dead navy wife and missing husband case coming?”

  “Starting to look as though she was kidnapped and her body dumped. Large amount of money missing from his account and he took out an impressive personal loan before he went UA.” He shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t enough.”

  “Or it’s not about the money and she was dead from the get go.”

  “My people are working on it.”

  “Good. Let me know when you figure it out.”

  He paced a few steps away then turned to look at me. I swear I felt the air pressure change.

  “What’s going on?”

  “My gut tells me the second Conway woman makes the first one no coincidence,” I said with care.

  “Mine too. But neither of us have jurisdiction.”

  “If this is a serial killer we can.” Someone who kills Conways. I really hoped the target on my back wasn’t glow-in-the-dark paint.

  “I’ll look into it. There is someone I can talk to over at Alexandria PD.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure about sending Carla away with the rock star?”

  Bam. That was what he wanted.

  “Yes.”

  “I just don’t see how she’d be safer with him.”

  I blinked twice as I tried to figure out how it was any of his business. There was something else going on. There had to be. I chose to ignore the possibility of underlying issues. “I don’t want her in Virginia.”

  “You don’t trust any of us to help take care of her?”

  Whoa! Where did that come from?

  “Excuse me? This isn’t about who I trust. It’s about getting Carla out of the state. About knowing no one will find her or send her packages.” It’s about her not being killed because she bore my surname. “There is a possibility that the name Conway is some kind of killer trigger. We don’t know yet if the deaths are related. I don’t want to find out by finding my kid dead, or have her find me dead.”

  His face clouded with many emotions, even a few I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t comfortable with any of them.

  “She’s safe here. We can all be there …”

  I know he heard the words he splattered across the hallway, and I know he remembered just how safe she was six months ago in FBI care. The stuff nightmares were made of punched through into my consciousness: I heard my daughter shriek as she struggled against tape that bound her to a headstone. Terrifying didn’t come close to describing how I’d felt seeing and hearing that. I’d had Sam, Lee, and Doc with me. Misha and Joey had been behind us at a safe distance. The fucktard who had abducted Carla had shoved an explosive barrette in her jeans’ pocket when she’d refused to wear it in her hair.

  Being in protective custody and having a team of FBI agents taking care of her had not prevented her abduction. She’s not a toy. There are no second chances with her life. I took a breath and tried to decontaminate my psyche. The feelings of terror that had haunted me from that day had more arms than an octopus and were just as hard to escape.

  “El, we can all be there …” Noel was still trying.

  Trying my patience.

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t work so great last time, remember?”

  A smile flickered in his eyes. He conceded. “Agreed.” His posture changed, any anger dissipated. “Perhaps the rock star has a use after all.”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “He has a name. It’s Rowan.”

  “I know, El.” He took my hands. “Just be careful, he’s not one of us.”

  I nodded. “That’s a big part of his charm.”

  His shoulders shrugged as his head nodded. It was almost imperceptible. “You can do so much better.”

  “Better? He’s a good person.” Momentary confusion over his statement cleared to reveal his actual thoughts. “You? You and me?”

  A weak smile and quiet confirmation.

  And there it was, out there for us both to cower from. The loudest neon flashing yes, ever. Doomed from the initial utterance to haunt us for all time. The very notion of us was ludicrous.

  “You sound like my father,” I said, blocking all the other words that wanted to jump out. All the times I’d looked at Noel and wondered what was going on behind his blue eyes ran through my mind. Sometimes late at night I’d wake up thinking I could smell coffee, expecting to see him. It was fantasy, and that’s where it belonged.

  My internal voice whispered, Forward momentum, Ellie; you made a decision – no more Special Agents. Have you forgotten how it ended last time? I shook my head. It’s not something I will ever forget.

  “You okay, El?”

  “Sure.”

  A loud thud vibrated through the floor. My hand closed around the grip on my Glock. Noel pushed me against the wall. His body shielded me from the unknown.

  Someone outside had dropped something heavy.

  My mind played evil tricks as it enjoyed the closeness of Noel’s body and the comforting musky spice of his cologne. Concentrate. He smelled good. Concentrate. No more LEOs.

  My eyes focused on the front door. I willed them to look beyond the solid wood.

  The living room door opened a crack. Then swung wider.

  Lee stepped out. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered. “You okay?”

  “We’re fine.” I ducked out from under Noel. “What’d you see?”

  “A figure standing by the front door. Think it’s a male. About six foot, rangy bo
rdering on scrawny.”

  Sam’s deep voice flowed from the living room, coating the carpet and rising up the walls.

  “Chicky, a male, got him on the front surveillance camera.”

  He’d tapped into my security system. Nice.

  “Okay. If it’s a clear enough picture for an ID, try running it through the system,” I replied, watching my words travel back along the path his made. Cool.

  Noel grabbed my arm, I yelped. His hand dropped. “Are you injured?”

  “I’m okay, it’s nothing.”

  “El!”

  “The Blake Lane shooting. I got cut. It’s nothing.”

  He shook his head. With a crooked smile he whispered pointy sharp words in my ear, “Think about it – we’d be good.”

  My shoulder twitched upward, as if to stop the serrated assault on my ear drum.

  Seven

  We Rule The Night

  I motioned to Lee. Employing stealth mode, we moved in silence down the hall to the laundry room, which opened to the left about three quarters of the way down the hallway.

  The back door to my house was a side door, accessed from the laundry room. I needed to turn off the external motion-sensitive security lighting. My fingers ran along the wall in the dark laundry room until they found the switches and flipped them down. At the outside door, I pointed two fingers at Lee’s eyes then back at mine. Eyes on me.

  My left hand twisted the door knob. One click. Two clicks. Pull.

  The door released and sprang inward. I darted outside staying close to the house. Rather than stepping away from the security provided by my house and using the path, I opted for walking in what was left of the side garden. The weeds wouldn’t mind.

  We crept along the side toward the driveway. Darkness all around me softened as I moved, enabling my eyes to adjust. Ahead and to the right the outline of the garage created a deep, sharp line in the night. The weeds and grass underfoot deadened our approach to the front of the house.

  A faint glow emanated from the windows, sneaking out through gaps in the drawn curtains. Low noise. Television. An attempt at normal life sounds. So no one knew there were three armed men inside, ready to burst through the front door on my signal. The fingers of my right hand flexed one by one, then re-gripped the Glock I held.

  With a nod at Lee, I slid down the wall into a couched position and peered around the corner. The suspect was still by the front door. I stood up. Lee angled in closer, but still a good two feet away.