by Cat Connor
The fields rimmed with pine trees and hedges led into suburbs that changed to denser neighborhoods and inner suburban streets. There didn’t seem to be any hills, or even rises, in the land until a bluish haze in the distance. I found it uncomfortably flat and devoid of landmarks. Foreign soil it really was. From my short time in Christchurch, I considered the possibility I could become lost, a thought which didn’t fill me with delight.
There wasn’t much time to take notice of the hotel description when I booked it on the way to the airport back home. When you need a place to stay that’s central and don’t know the town, it really can come down to the first place that seems half-decent.
The taxi pulled up at the front entrance of the hotel. Sam sucked air noisily through his perfect straight teeth as he stood outside and looked up at the faux-medieval castle frontage.
“This is nice,” he crooned, closing the taxi door behind him.
Lee and Kurt hoisted our bags from the trunk while I paid the driver.
There it was again, the feeling of eyes watching. I glanced over the top of the taxi, but couldn’t see anyone around.
Lee took my bag and his, Sam and Kurt picked up theirs and, as we approached the door, we watched it open, magically, in front of us.
Lee whispered, “They have a doorman, this is nicer than usual.”
I whispered back, “Do you have that bug detector toy with you?”
“Yes. You all right?”
“Paranoid.” I shrugged it off
The concierge greeted us at the front desk. They were fully booked and there was a mix up with our booking. Sam and Lee were sharing, which meant Kurt and I were also sharing. The concierge promised to notify us once two more rooms became vacant. We followed along behind a porter to our rooms via a long corridor. A knight in armor stood to the right and on the left beyond glass walls was a large Koi pond. A bridge crossed the expanse of water leading to a restaurant and bar. The thick, deep, red patterned carpets absorbed all noise from our feet as we traveled the corridor to elevators, concealed within stone turrets.
Sam hissed at me in the elevator, “We have adjoining rooms?”
“Adjoining suites and it makes life easier.”
The elevator stopped and we followed the porter down a spacious well-lit, dark-carpeted and tastefully decorated hallway. Fresh flower arrangements punctuated the hall at regular intervals filling the area with a sweet old-fashioned rose fragrance. And the feeling of eyes watching. I scanned the walls and spotted a security camera. That explained the creepy eyes watching in the hallway. The porter indicated we’d arrived and opened the first door. Lee and Sam ambled in. Kurt and I took the next room. We had a kitchenette which comprised a small countertop, sink and microwave. I opened a cabinet under the sink and took a look. A filter coffee machine and electric kettle.
I opened the bedroom door. One double bed and one single. Great. We’d have to flip for the double. That could wait. I wanted to unpack, freshen up and enjoy the small amount of peace I found while checking out the view. No one watched me. I’d left the eyes outside.
The knight in armor we’d passed in the hallway stuck with me. Hadn’t visions of knights filled my head just a few days ago? Was it ironic or a sign? Ironic seemed the obvious choice. That’s how my life went.
I just wanted to catch Hawk and go home. Hopefully before he moved any more kids. ‘Moved’ was easier to cope with than thinking of them as lost victims of a pedophile.
The fantasy threatened to escalate until I was the only possible savior of every missing kid in the world. I stopped it and stared out the window.
About five minutes of view-gazing non-thought was all I enjoyed. A banging on a door jolted me from my abstraction. I reached for my hip, my fingers slipped around the grip of my Glock.
Another bang followed by Kurt’s voice. I investigated the ruckus.
It was one of the internal doors. Sam and Lee’s room.
Kurt unlocked the door and stepped back. Sam spilled over the threshold.
He frowned at me and said, “This time thing is screwy. What day is it?”
“It’s Monday,” I replied, dropping my hand from my hip.
He chuckled. “That’s crazy shit.”
“It’s going to take some getting used to,” I said nodding in agreement. “Everything else okay?”
“These rooms are mighty fine,” Sam said with a pronounced and exaggerated drawl.
“We sure landed on our feet.” I scanned the hotel brochure. “There is room service.”
“There is room-fuc’n-everything plus a gym and a pool,” Sam replied. “The kitchenettes in our suites will be handy. Microwave, sink, haven’t looked in the cabinets under the sink yet.”
I noticed Kurt’s bag still sitting on the floor in the living area. “Take your bag into the bedroom, there is plenty of drawer space and room.” I was almost certain we could share a room without a problem. “There’s one double and a single – flip for the double.”
Sam produced a quarter and spun it in the air.
I called, “Heads.”
Sam caught the coin and slapped it on his hand. “Heads it is.”
Kurt grimaced. “Single it is.”
“Is there coffee somewhere, Sam?”
“There a coffee machine?”
“Yep.” I had looked under the sink.
“Then I’ll find us coffee to go in it.”
I don’t know when Sam became the coffee guy but he did. He had a talent for locating and even for making a fine cup of coffee.
Seven.
Pretty Maids All In a Row
I peered groggily through the peephole in the door. You really could have bowled me over with a feather. I swung the door open to be greeted by a familiar voice, “Look at what the cat dragged in.”
Charming.
But not Prince Charming.
The steel-grey eyes of Sean O’Hare met mine. He was the twin brother of the Director of the FBI. I hadn’t seen him since Mac’s funeral and I sure as hell didn’t expect him in New Zealand knocking on my door.
“Sean.”
“Ellie. Going to invite me in?”
“Sure.” I stepped aside, let him in and shut the door behind us. My tired eyes searched the room but Kurt was not there.
“Coffee?” I offered. Someone must’ve taken the coffee machine out of the cupboard and turned it on while I napped. Guess that meant Sam found coffee. There was a full pot waiting.
“Sure, black no sweetener,” he replied inspecting the room. “Nice place.”
I set a cup of coffee on the small table by the armchairs in the sitting area and glanced at the closed door leading to Sam and Lee’s room.
“Jackson, Davenport and Henderson are giving us a few minutes,” Sean said.
So Kurt was next door.
“Why exactly are you here?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Seems some Americans sailed into Christchurch airport this morning like a three-ring goddamn circus,” he said with a quick smile. “By all accounts it had something to do with the lead guitarist from Grange and ended in the death of a police officer.”
“And you heard about this how?” I asked sipping my coffee. I surmised everyone in the South Island had heard about it by now. I was grateful for the time reference he threw in. I’d managed to nap when we’d settled into our rooms, which had completely muddled my sense of time. Now I knew it was still Monday.
“The sergeant you met,” he said leaning back in his chair. “He gave me a call.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because the dead cop was supposed to work with you and now no one else wants to.”
Awesome. “New Zealand?”
“Libby and I were in the process of moving back last time I spoke to you. That was my last day in the District.”
Convenient. “You were at Mac’s funeral.”
“Yes, this amazing invention has happened, I think you’ve even been on one recently. It’s called an
airplane.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Now back to business Ellie. Without putting a too fine a point on it, you need my help.”
I didn’t deny it. If we were after Hawk as we suspected, he was already playing a deadly game. Pretty much how my life goes.
Sean grinned at me. “A little blonde like you flanked by two huge guys like Sam Jackson and Lee Davenport … didn’t you think that would draw some attention?”
“I’m not little,” I snapped. “I’m five foot nine”
“Compared to Davenport and Jackson you are little.”
“I didn’t think of it like that.”
Stupid!
“I heard there was some mix up and someone thought one of the guys was from Grange.” Sean smiled. “I’m figuring it was Lee, he’s got some kind of stadium rocker thing happening. You ever stepped back and really looked at your team? Davenport has that rocker thing. Jackson looks like LL Cool J on steroids. And what’s with Henderson doing a Kevin Costner impersonation? What was that movie he did with Whitney Houston?”
I’d never noticed the LL Cool J thing and thought the Kevin Costner thing was just me. Seriously, did Sean have to mention The Bodyguard? That’s exactly who Kurt reminded me of: Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard.
“Okay.” My mind was shutting down. It was all too weird.
“You want my help?”
“I want your help.”
“You better tell me what you’re doing here, so I know what you need by way of assistance.”
There seemed to be no point withholding anything. And as he lived there, he’d know a few things about the way the country worked.
“I need someone who can liaise with New Zealand Police and knows how they work. Can you do that? I have the name of the officer who called us in.”
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“The detective in charge; not the poor sergeant who was supposed to be our liaison.”
“Not a problem.”
“Can we salvage our professional reputations and fix this?”
Sean laughed. “Not sure about your reputations as tough FBI agents but Lee has a new one, as an impersonator. What this are we talking about?”
“This is hopefully finding Hudson Hawk.”
“Hudson Hawk?” he grinned. “You’re not talking about a copy of the movie, right?”
What a day. First Grange and Kevin Costner, then LL Cool J and now Bruce Willis.
“I’m talking about the maybe-Russian-possible-terrorist who killed Mac.”
And now he’s responsible for Cassie’s death and a cop.
“The Virginia Butterfly Murders: wasn’t that the case you were working when Mac was shot?”
“Mac was murdered. He was gunned down in the back of my car protecting a kid.”
Sean ignored my outrage.
“Same guy as the Butterfly Murders?” he asked again.
“Yeah, we think he did those too. So, can we fix this?”
“I think so,” Sean said.
“You want in on this?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because when I needed help to protect my little sister, you were there.”
He didn’t need to remind me and he certainly didn’t owe me a debt. I did my job.
Helping protect his ‘little sister’ sounded rather innocuous. Knowing his little sister was an award-winning novelist changed the statement completely. The family secret I knew changed things even more.
My life is a strange and sometimes wonderful place. Mostly just strange.
“I’ll get the boys in here and we’ll bring you up to speed on the case.”
I knocked on Lee’s door. Within a few seconds, all three men were sitting on the sofa in my suite as we ran through the information and case notes with Sean and Kurt. It was timely; Kurt needed briefing and it was the ideal opportunity.
“This is about the three missing kids here?” Sean asked with a certain knowingness to his tone.
“Yep.”
“I heard New Zealand Police had requested help from the FBI. I should’ve made the connection as soon as I heard about the airport disturbance,” Sean said with a small smile, which faded quickly. “People are panicked. Kids don’t go missing in this country and sure as hell not three within a week. It’s all over the news; has been since the first kid disappeared.”
“With a bit of luck we can find them.”
I called room service and ordered us all some dinner and drinks, while Sam bounced Sean and Kurt through the worst of the crime scenes we’d come across during the case. I didn’t need to hear that particular re-hash. I lived it. The nightmares will always be with me.
“I recall another swathe of destruction that followed Conway,” Kurt said in a slightly raised voice, to make sure I heard him. “What is it with you?”
“Guess I just piss people off,” I replied.
“I think there is more to it than that.”
“Can you hear that?” I asked, cupping my ear in my hand. “That’s the sound of no one caring what you think.”
I leaned on the counter in the small kitchen and watched the guys talking. ‘Intense’ was the best word I could come up with to describe the way they all leaned into one another. It seemed forever before Sam reclined back on the sofa and began to look semi-relaxed. Lee continued discussing something with Sean. From where I stood, it looked like Sam was done.
That was possible; he did miss a good deal of the investigation due to a liver laceration, courtesy of the Unsub, so he probably didn’t have as much to impart as Lee.
Sam caught my attention with a small wave. He stood up, stretched and came over to my side of the room.
“’S’up?”
“Waiting for dinner,” I said.
“Everything okay?” he asked then grinned, his perfect white teeth gleamed against the deep brown backdrop of his face and the fading sunlight.
“Yes,” I replied. “It’s okay.”
“You’ve worked with O’Hare before, yeah?”
“I have.”
“What gives?”
“Seems a little too convenient having him here.”
“Did O’Hare send him?”
“I don’t think so.” It smacked of being babysat. I changed the subject. “The sun’s setting.”
The colors in the sky changed from blues and whites to deep pinks and mauves. It was pretty but the prettiness barely registered in my mind. I could hear Lee explaining how Mac died; no amount of colored clouds could take his words away.
I wished on streaks of red and orange that he’d come back and help me take care of Carla.
Eight.
Story of My Life
“Wake up! Come on, it’s Tuesday morning. Let’s go!”
A voice reached into my subconscious and wrenched me from my sleep. My first reaction was uncharitable. “Go to hell.” I rolled over away from the intrusion.
“Ellie!”
“Go away,” I grumbled and pulled the covers over my head. “Ellie’s not in.”
There was a whooshing noise and a sudden draught and my blankets disappeared.
“That was not necessary,” I said and grabbed the blanket back from Lee’s hands. “You’re lucky I packed pajamas.”
“Nah, Kurt’s lucky you packed pajamas. Get up,” he said. “We’ve got a lead.”
I jumped out of bed. “I’m up,” I said, chasing all remnants of sleep from my brain. One day it’d be nice to get in more than two hours sleep a night. “Where’s this lead?”
“This morning three files arrived from the police – we have copies of the investigations regarding the missing kids.”
“Lead?” I repeated impatiently.
“Another kid was reported missing this morning – Nicola Gallagher, her mother has bipolar disorder – and your ping results came back from the techie at the Foundation. She’s the only kid who has been on the boards. She’s missing from Wellington.”
I felt the
blood drain from my head. That Nicola had been using the Butterfly Foundation had to be a coincidence, because none of the other victims was a member. Coincidence or not, it sucked out loud. I sat on the edge of the bed, hooked up my jeans from the floor and folded them.
“Is the mother dead or alive?” I asked.
“Alive.”
“Can we talk to her?” I fished a hairbrush from the bag near the bed and dragged it through my hair a few times then set it carefully on the nightstand.
“Maybe ‘alive’ is too strong a word. She’s in a secure psychiatric facility, here in Christchurch. She was admitted two days ago.”
“So we can’t talk to her?”
“Kurt’s spoken with her doctors and reckons not until she’s stable on her medication and coherent. Could be a few days.”
Okay, so having a team doctor could be handy.
“He could’ve got the kid to Christchurch with the promise of visiting her mother,” I replied. “If he is moving the kids south, that is.” Something else interested me. “Mother was admitted two days ago, yet the kid is only just reported missing?”
“That what’s I was thinking too.”
“Okay. Give me a few minutes to shower then we’ll get started on the files.”
“I’ll order breakfast,” Lee said and left my bedroom.
I hustled into the adjacent bathroom and took a hot shower. By the time I was done and had passed a mascara wand over my eyelashes, I could smell breakfast.
My stomach rumbled.
Lee, Kurt and Sam were eating when I made my entrance. Files were stacked in a neat pile on the coffee table. My cell phone buzzed frantically and danced all over the counter, its red light flashing.
Sam looked over as I picked it up. “It’s been going off every few minutes for the last half hour.”
“Fifteen missed calls and twelve messages.”
“Someone loves you,” Sam replied.
“They’re mostly from Caine,” I said with a sigh. I flipped through the text messages and paraphrased for the team. “He wants to know where we are and if we’re okay.”
