by Cat Connor
“Good idea.”
“How’s your daughter?”
I shook my head. “Not good. We might try an experimental drug, maybe ...”
“Hope it works.”
“Me too.”
I stood up and said goodbye to Iain Campbell. Then remembered the locker key we found in the cabin in the woods. I patted my jean pockets until I felt the outline of the key. I stuffed my hand into my left jeans pocket and pulled the key out.
“This is yours. I imagine you’d like it back.” I dropped it into his hand.
“Thank you. Did you?”
“No, turned out we never needed to locate your locker.”
“Okay.”
Once I was sure who he was, the locker was of zero interest to me. I knew it would contain money, passports, other assorted identity papers and maybe a weapon. Everything needed to start a new life. I understood his life and it paid to be ready.
“Did you ever come across a guy called Chad or Socrates?” I pulled out my phone and showed him a picture of Mac.
“No. New case?”
“Old case. I came across him a week or so ago, works for Tierney.” The whole thought of Chad being my dead husband wiggled around in my head poking holes in my brain. It made zero sense and wasn’t something I wanted to say aloud now.
“I’ll snoop around if you like, when I’m out of here.”
I nodded. Another thought occurred. We never found the shooter from F Street. Whoever it was didn’t want to kill me, just get my attention.
Thoughts rolled and gathered on my tongue, before long they were hitting air and free. “You … you shot me?”
A small smile settled on Campbell’s lips. “I winged you. You can hardly call it being shot.”
“Fuck. Why didn’t you just knock on my door and say, ‘Hey, Conway, I need your help?’”
His smile widened. “I didn’t do my homework well enough. I thought winging you would make you mad and you’d follow me, then I could lead you to a safe place and tell you what was about to happen.” A small laugh echoed in the room. “I did not know how serious you are about coffee.”
We shook hands.
I walked back through the corridors and smacked straight into Sean O’Hare.
“Ellie, can we talk?”
“Sure, make it fast. I need to get back to Carla.”
He looked around and then pointed out a bench type seat. “Over there.”
We sat.
“What is it? Is this something to do with the DNA?”
“I found him.”
“Who?”
“Chad. He’s very real. He’s also identical to Mac.”
“I’m not nuts?”
“Not in this instance.”
“How?”
“How much do you know about Mac, really, know about his family and early years?”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“I thought I knew a lot.”
Sean nodded. “But how much does anyone really know, right?”
“I guess.”
“My people worked on this all night. We’ve opened sealed files and now have a massive can of worms to deal with, but that’s our problem. You just need to know the answer to the DNA question.”
I took a deep breath and prepared myself.
“Mac was an identical triplet.”
Holy crap!
“How the fuck did that get to be hidden knowledge?”
“Beatrice Connelly and her weakened mental state. The babies were delivered by caesarian. Two of the babies were given up at birth. The decision was made by doctors and Bob Connelly. Beatrice never knew there were three babies. She was told she was having twins and that only one child lived.”
I chewed my lip and thought about it for a minute. Nope, never heard that before. Mac or anyone else in my presence had never spoken of a multiple birth.
“Why not take all three?”
“Far as I can tell it was a medical decision agreed with by Bob Connelly. I found a comment from a doctor saying taking all the babies would be too traumatic. She was deemed capable enough to take care of one baby but not three.”
“How is this the first time I’ve heard of it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Mac didn’t know. They fed the Connelly woman a line about how the other child was terribly deformed and died at birth. Meanwhile the babies were adopted by a family in Manassas.”
“Manassas,” I repeated. “Mac hated Manassas, really, did not like that town.” I rubbed my temples with my fingers. So dumbass Eddie really did think he saw Mac in Manassas. But it was Chad or the other brother?
“You all right?”
“Sure, what the hell. This thing with Mac being a triplet, par for the course really. I told you things got fucky when Tierney was involved.”
“They really do. Chad was recruited two years after Mac.”
And there it was. The first confirmation that Mac was agency well before he met me and supposedly went through Quantico to become an FBI agent. The secrets we bury always come to light eventually.
“So what’s with the scar on Chad’s arm?”
“He’s working the same case Mac was on before he was killed.”
I held up my hand to stop Sean.
“Mac was working with me when he died.”
“He was working for the CIA too on a long running case.”
I didn’t know him at all.
“Go on.”
“They, the CIA, needed Chad to be Mac.”
“Did they replicate the scar for real or used some amazing latex movie-type scarring?”
“For real.”
That’s dedication to the job.
“Can I meet him?”
“That would not be a good idea.”
“And the other brother?”
“His name is Jay, he’s a contractor … owns his own building renovation company and lives in Manassas.”
So it was probably Jay that Eddie saw in Manassas and not Chad. My head spun with the new knowledge and the secrets kept.
I wanted Sean to hurry up so I could get back to Carla but I had questions.
“The fingerprints on the glass?” I snapped.
“Mac’s not Chad’s. I checked out the rest of those glasses, they were Mac’s, yes?”
“Yes.”
“There were prints on most of them, both yours and Mac’s. Some smudged but some okay. Did you ever use them?”
“No, not since his death.”
“Where have they been?”
“They were packed away with other pieces of crystal and stored in Dad’s garage before Carla and I moved into the new house.”
“There’s your explanation.”
Very few things were packed and stored, and they became the only things left after the explosion.
“What about how the glass full of tequila got to the table? What about the sofa being tipped over?”
“I have no explanation for how the glass arrived on the table or how tequila got in it. Could you have poured the drink and taken it into the living room?”
“No. I know I didn’t.”
“It wasn’t your Dad, the only prints on the glass were yours and Mac’s.” Sean frowned. “What happened to the sofa?”
“Kurt and I found it up ended, about half an hour or so after you left.”
“You got me. I have no answer for that.”
“Guess you can’t answer how my bedside lamp rocked off the nightstand or how a plate slid off the kitchen counter or how a dining chair tipped into the wall.”
“All on the same night?”
“No, the lamp and plate were Monday night and the chair was not long before I found Carla and Joey.”
“Hate to say it, Ellie, but maybe you do need a ghost buster.”
“It’s starting to look that way.”
My fingers rubbed my temple again. I felt time ebbing away. Or was it life. I stood up and took the small bottle from my jeans pocket. I unscrewed the top and inhal
ed the vapor.
“You’re hitting that stuff pretty hard.”
“I haven’t had the best few days.” I took another long inhalation then screwed the top back on and put it back in my pocket. My mind whirled through the information from Sean. Jesus, what a mess. “I need to get to my kid.”
Panic surged. I needed to get to Carla.
“You want me to come?”
“No, I just need to go. We’ll talk when I can … when I can process everything.”
Might be a long time.
“I’ll check in on you and Carla later.”
I pushed the elevator button and waited. Looking around I saw the door to the stairs. I needed to be moving. Change of plans. I flung the door open and ran up the stairs two at a time. At the ICU floor, I shoved the heavy doors open and ran to Carla’s room.
Drawing in a ragged breath, I rushed into the room and heard the monotone beep of an alarm. All the organs in my body froze at once.
Leon and two nurses were working on Carla. Dad was leaning on the wall trying to keep out of the way. His expression carried more pain than I could cope with. Kurt rushed into the room behind me.
“Kurt.” My voice croaked.
“How long as she been down?” he asked.
A nurse glanced up at the clock on the wall and replied, “Six minutes.”
Kurt looked at me his eyes glistened. He shook his head.
Leon said, “What do you want to do?”
“Let her go,” I said. “Let her go.”
She doesn’t want to be here.
The beep ran on and on until Leon turned off the machine.
Everyone backed away. I climbed onto the bed and pulled her lifeless body into my arms. As I hugged her, my tears fell upon her face.
I closed my eyes, trying to stem the flow of stinging salty tears and imagined her laughter. The sound that always filled my heart with joy. When I opened my eyes, one last lilting laugh spiraled down from the ceiling and covered us both. The sound became a string of silver dragonflies that disappeared out the door.
“…Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
William Shakespeare
Macbeth Act V Scene V
Acknowledgments
Y’all know who you are - thank you.
If you’re not sure; Chris, Caleb and Lizzie, Becky and Duane, Trish and Tim, JoJo and James, Joshy and Tash, Caoilfhionn, Brianna, Deaglan, Caeden, Connaire, Tori, David, my parents, The Admins (Rosanne and Megan), Rebel, Anna, A Writer’s Plot, Dwight, Eric, Romeo, Cleo, Missy the fat grey cat. (And the folk I hang out with on Twitter and Facebook – you most definitely know who you are!)
About the Author
Cat divides her time between her family, writing, and a retired racing greyhound, Romeo, who is her constant companion. Despite this, she has found the time to write twelve novels, including seven so far in The byte Series. She lives in New Zealand.
Also by Cat Connor
Killerbyte, Terrorbyte, Exacerbyte, Flashbyte, Soundbyte, Databyte, Eraserbyte
And for more from Cat Connor …
Please turn the page for a preview of the next exciting book in the byte series,Databyte
One
Poker Face
“Special Agent Ellie Conway,” said the suit standing in my office doorway. He wore a visitor badge clipped to his lapel.
“Yes, and you are?”
He held up identification. Looked like a gold shield. Every man, dog, and parrot has a shield in DC.
“Dylan James, can I come in?”
“Please and show me that again.” I moved my mouse pointer so my desktop was visible but my work was hidden. Just in case. “Have a seat Mr. James.”
He showed me his shield again. He was a metro cop. A detective.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
It sounded like a request but it really wasn’t.
“What can I help you with?”
“This morning we found a hand…” He paused, gauging my reaction.
A hand? He didn’t get sent boxes of ass then, or have pizza delivered by a torso? A solitary hand is not going to impress me much.
“A hand? Do you have any more information than that?”
“Yes, ma’am. Finger prints tell us the hand belongs to Edward Connelly.”
What now?
“Hang on, you’re saying it is Eddie Connelly’s hand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I chewed my lip. I knew a smirk would tweak my lips as the news set in. It’s very hard to explain to people who haven’t met Eddie how awful a person he is and how much I wouldn’t miss him, should he die a horrible slow death. I dared not hope that that had happened.
“That’s pretty damn careless of Eddie.” People don’t usually lose their hands. They’re not the sort of thing that you put down and leave without. “Where is the rest of him and do his parents know?”
“We don’t know where the rest of him is. I was hoping you’d be able to help us locate the rest of Mr. Connelly.”
“I haven’t seen him in two years. There is/was an on-going protection/restraining order against him to safeguard my daughter.”
“We know, ma’am. We also understand you threatened to kill him numerous times prior to taking out the restraining order.”
How would they know that? The times I threatened Eddie we were alone or at the parents’ home. Oh, of course. Beatrice Connelly, the ex-mother-in-law from hell. Bet she couldn’t wait to drop that on the cop. The restraining order also included her.
“What can you tell me about the hand?”
“I can’t tell you anything. You’re a potential suspect.”
Well that was honest of him.
I sighed. “I didn’t kill Eddie. Nor did I chop his hand off.”
If I’d loped off a body part it would’ve been his poisonous tongue before his fat gross hand.
He looked a little uncomfortable.
Oh. Yuck.
“He wasn’t dead was he, when the hand was removed?”
“I can’t talk to you about the case.”
I moved my mouse pointer. Work filled my screen. At the bottom corner sat the icon for our intranet chat program. I double-clicked Delta A. The window opened. I typed one word, trouble, and then closed the window.
“Do you have any leads or any suspects, you know, real ones, not me?” I asked rocking back in my chair. Kurt appeared in my open doorway. “Come in Kurt.”
He walked into the room followed by Sam and Lee. The feel of the room changed, it tipped more in my favor.
James turned his head and was faced with a wall of men. He scrambled to his feet and stuttered, “Dylan James Metro PD, Detective Dylan James.”
Lee shook his hand. “What are you detecting?” he asked with a good natured smile.
“Not much,” I interjected. “Seems Metro found Eddie Connelly’s hand and think I chopped it off.”
Detective James sat back down. I think he was trying to pretend the room wasn’t stuffed with large men. Good luck.
Kurt suppressed a smile. “That’s not likely.”
James honed in on Kurt. “Why do you say that?”
“Because Agent Conway would be more likely to shoot him. She doesn’t like being close to Mr. Connelly.”
Eddie Connelly smelled like the bottom of an ashtray filled with bourbon and all enhanced by vomit inducing body odor. Attractive.
Sam stepped forward. “So where is the rest of dear Eddie?”
James swiveled his head the other direction to see Sam. “We don’t know. We only have a hand.”
“Is he dead or alive?” Kurt asked.
“We think he was alive when the hand was removed.”
Possibly by someone wearing a level A hazmat suit. I thought about th
e hand removal for a moment. Bet someone loping off his hand stung. I knew there was a stupid grin on my face.
I looked up to see Kurt run his thumb under his chin and point to his mouth. I worked harder on trying to dislodge the smile. Sam was doing a great job of keeping Detective James attention off me.
“Where and when was the hand discovered?” Sam asked.
“I can’t discuss the case in front of Agent Conway, she’s a suspect.”
Sam smiled, it wasn’t pleasant.
“When was the hand discovered and when was it removed from the body?” Sam continued. “If Agent Conway is a suspect then she should be allowed the chance to refute the claims and provide an alibi.”
James really looked uncomfortable. I think he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Delta A sucking all the air in my office.
“Where were you last night Agent Conway?” he said.
“I was at home Detective James.”
“Can anyone confirm you were at home?”
I smiled. “My house.”
He looked confused.
I could have told him that the house monitors all comings and goings using a sophisticated computerized security system and stores data on an off site server. I could have.
“You’re not being very cooperative.”
“I was at home. I didn’t expect to require an alibi, so I was at home, alone.”
James leveled his eyes at me and made a last ditch attempt. “I’m asking you to accompany me to the police station to continue the conversation.”
“You know, Detective James, I think I’ll give that a miss.”
“Do I have to arrest you?”
That was ballsy.
“If you want to arrest me, go ahead. I’d like to see your evidence and also, you might like to share your findings with SAC Grafton and Director O’Hare.”
“I, ah, just need to ask you some questions to rule you out of the investigation.”
“You did, I answered them. You won’t tell me anything. I’m done.” I swung in my chair. “Just a heads up, Eddie had more enemies than anyone I’ve ever met. The list includes his ex-wife and his children.”
“I hope you have another line of inquiry because this one just dried up,” Lee said, leaning over James just a little.
James stuttered, “Don’t leave town.”
