Exacerbyte (Ellie Conway Book 3)

by Cat Connor

  “Let’s do this. We’ll divide the area into thirds from this point.” I swept an arm along the street encompassing the churchyard and surrounding cemetery. Joey muttered something I didn’t quite catch. I announced, “We’ll take the middle third.”

  “We’re looking for a girl, Carla Torres: blonde, brown eyes, about five feet tall,” Lee said. “She may be in the company of a male with a New Jersey accent. He looks European. He’s wanted for murder and kidnapping.”

  Josh nodded. “Let’s go find the kid.” He and Philip moved off to the left of us. Bronwyn and Jessica took the right, which meant they covered the circle with tombs that looked like little houses. I wasn’t in the least unhappy about that, they were creepy and I didn’t want to go in one. The cemetery reminded me of the late seventies horror movie Phantasm. I expected to see things scurrying amongst the graves. Vigilance was required to keep an eye out for the Tall Man.

  The rector was a lovely woman who wanted to help. She gave us full access to all church buildings and assured us she hadn’t seen Carla. Why is it that no one ever sees the creepy scary goings on in graveyards? Bet she hadn’t seen the Tall Man either and couldn’t understand how graves were being robbed.

  Slowly we made our way through the church; I was reluctant to yell out in the building but did it anyway. Somehow yelling for Carla slammed the imaginary door on Phantasm. I was relieved to see the door didn’t have a mirror. “Carla Torres!”

  Joey and Lee echoed her name as we searched each pew and every inch of every room.

  Nothing.

  Sam’s voice bounced off gravestones outside as he called Carla’s name.

  I called out to the Rector to let her know we were leaving her church in peace and exited the back of the building, looked right and saw the creepy little crypt houses and Jessica leaving one. An involuntary shudder caught me by surprise.

  The five of us spread out across the middle section of the graveyard. Misha had Joey with him. We began to scour the gravesites. Calling out every few minutes. The calls from the other teams floated on the cold wind as we all moved deeper into the cemetery.

  I heard a small noise. I listened carefully. It sounded like crunching.

  Crunching plastic. Perhaps a food wrapper trampled underfoot.

  “Did either of you hear that?”

  Apparently only I did.

  I listened again then pointed. “Over there, there is someone over there.”

  My hand rested lightly upon the butt of my Glock. We were all close, no longer spread across the graves. I whispered to Misha, “Keep Joey with you. I’m going to the right.”

  “I’ll take Joey back a little,” Misha said.

  “Thank you.”

  Misha grabbed Joey by the arm and took him back behind a sturdy gravestone. Sam, Doc, Lee and I closed in on the place where I’d heard the crunching.

  Behind a large, old and ornately carved gravestone, I caught a glimpse of red fabric. On the ground near my foot was a granola bar wrapper. Somewhere farther to the north, I heard heavy running feet. I could see no one.

  With my gun drawn, I rounded the grave marker. A red sweater lay on the ground. I holstered my gun and lifted the sweater. I recognized it as the one I’d bought for her at Christmas. There was a cell phone in the pocket. I took the cell phone and gave Lee the sweater.

  “No one here,” I called to Misha. “Bring Joey over.”

  Again, I heard running footsteps, this time fading into the distance.

  Joey looked at the sweater in Lee’s hand. “That’s hers.”

  My fingers held Carla’s cell phone tightly, hoping it would tell me where she was and be the talisman that would get us to her in time.

  “Someone was here, we have trash on the ground; whoever it was left running,” Lee said.

  Nothing is going to grab us and pull us down.

  “Why leave her cell and sweater. It’s cold out here,” Joey asked.

  “We don’t know yet,” I replied.

  When I asked Misha to take him back to the church. Joey exploded with rage.

  “I’m not leaving!” he screamed, waving his arms frantically.

  Misha stepped behind him and pinned both his arms to his body. The boy fought and as he started to yell, Misha clamped a hand across his mouth and whispered in his ear. It took a few minutes for Misha to subdue him. We couldn’t hear what he was saying as he spoke quietly into Joey’s ear but within a minute or so, he’d averted a potentially nasty scene.

  Somewhere in the distance, I heard a girl scream. Carla. The scream physically hurt me. Pain seared through my heart.

  Joey struggled free. Misha lost his grip on him as he snaked out of his hands.

  “Joey stay behind me!” I said curtly, brooking no argument.

  “I can get her …”

  He tried to pass me – I ankle-tapped him. He crashed to the ground, grabbing at me on the way down. I shook him off and regained my balance.

  Misha swooped in and dragged Joey out of the way.

  “He’s trying to throw us off,” Sam said. “I doubt Carla left this stuff – he planted it.”

  I pulled my cell phone from my belt and called Josh. “Get hold of all police. Tell them to back off. Let us bring him in, there is child’s life at stake,” I instructed.

  “How about the cops at the amphitheater and Rock Creek Park?” Josh asked.

  “Stand them down, await further instructions.”

  “Take care.”

  I closed my phone and clipped it back on my belt.

  “He uses bombs,” I muttered, looking at Doc.

  “I know. Let’s do this.” He adjusted one of the straps on his field kit.

  “You think she’s wired?” Lee whispered as we covered the open ground fast, heading in the direction of the scream.

  Breathing hard I replied, “I don’t know.”

  We were closer now.

  Another scream. This time it was cut off. We edged slowly forward using trees and gravestones as cover. It was cautious going, which made it slow. Every now and then, I glimpsed Carla. The Unsub had her sitting with her back to a headstone. He circled around her. Looking out, keeping watch in all directions.

  I was fighting flooding adrenaline. My body wanted me to hurry up but my mind knew better. Forcing slow deep breaths, we edged closer. Dropping to our bellies to prevent detection, we moved across the hard ground, littered with broken marble, stones, sticks and glass.

  Agonizingly slow.

  We maintained a steady forward movement, only stopping when the Unsub faced our direction.

  My heart thumped hard against my rib cage. Each slow deep breath took extreme effort, slithering with handguns and in desperate need of our Hostage Rescue Team and their kick-ass snipers to take Abbasi out of the equation.

  I sat back behind a broken headstone. Doc crawled up beside me. Abbasi was about sixteen yards away. I looked for the shot. A hand signal alerted me to Sam’s position. He flashed two fingers twice and pointed. He and Lee had eyes on Carla.

  I inhaled slowly and made a fist. Silently I scooted a few feet closer followed by Doc. He shucked off the backpack he carried. Another headstone provided better cover, I moved closer. The good thing about old graveyards is the abundance of ornate large headstones and trees.

  Lee signaled telling me the Unsub was agitated. Not good.

  Stay calm.

  Breathe.

  Doc was right next to me as I peered from my cover and saw a clear head shot. With my arm supported on a broken and eroded piece of marble, I aimed and squeezed the trigger. A shot rang out from beside me. Two other shots rang out. So close, I almost missed them.

  He fell.

  Carla screamed.

  I scrambled to my feet and ran to her with Doc on my heels. The Unsub lay crumpled on the ground about three feet away. I reached out and placed two fingers on his carotid artery. Nothing. He had a tidy hole in the center of his forehead, and blood spreading from three bullet holes in his chest. Four
wounds, four guns.

  Doc spoke from beside me, “Nice.”

  I looked at Carla.

  “Mom!” she shrieked struggling against the tape that bound her to the stone.

  “Right here, hush now.” I holstered my weapon. My heart pounded. “Did he give you anything?”

  “You mean pills?” she asked, as Sam cut through the tape. I could see her terror dissipating.

  “No sweetie, a hair clip or anything?”

  “Yeah, a really ugly barrette. I wouldn’t wear it. He shoved it in my jeans’ pocket.”

  “Lee, Sam, Doc … back the fuck away,” I said, maintaining eye contact with Carla. They took two steps back. “Move!”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Lee said.

  No time to argue. I pulled latex gloves out of my pocket and put them on.

  “Which pocket?”

  “Right front.” Panic crept into her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  I didn’t answer her question. “I’m taking the clip out of your pocket now.” I lifted the fabric away, opening her pocket. The clip shone as the light caught it.

  I eased my fingers around the top and extracted it slowly.

  As I lifted it free, I noted it was thicker than most hair clips. I saw a tiny light flash in the back. I needed somewhere to put it.

  Sam ripped the last of the tape from Carla’s waist and hauled her to her feet. With much care, I set the barrette down on the ground and took Carla’s hand. Doc took her other hand.

  “Now we run!”

  We ran back the way we’d come. Lee and Sam were close on our heels. Doc pulled Carla and I behind an enormous ostentatious headstone. Sam and Lee hunkered down next to us.

  All our cell phones rang at once. I answered mine.

  A loud explosion made me jump. My head banged back onto a protruding piece of an angel’s foot. Carla grabbed my arm and almost jumped into my lap. I hugged her and spoke into my cell phone. “Misha she’s safe.”

  I hung up.

  Lee and Sam were talking to various police teams, calling off the hunt once and for all.

  “Carla, what was his name?” I asked.

  “Hudson Hawk. Said he knew Mom.” She shivered. I took my jacket off and wrapped her in it.

  I’m sure he did, he may have been the one who killed her mom.

  “Why was he so agitated before we got to you?”

  She smiled. “Because of you. He kept saying he was late and you were ruining everything.”

  “Didn’t say what I ruined?” If I was ruining something, I’d like to be able to take credit for it.

  She smiled slightly. “He wasn’t real chatty, ya know?”

  Something in her mannerism told me she might have made a few comments to help his anxiety along.

  “He has a brother and whatever he was late for, has something to do with him.”

  I looked up when I heard Joey’s voice. He was running toward us, yelling, arms waving. Not a trace of the cool sullen kid from the classroom remained as he whooped and hollered with joy, barreling full tilt toward us, while dodging gravestones and jumping graves.

  Carla hugged me and stood up. “Can I?”

  “Go!” I smiled.

  She ran to him; they almost collided. Sam and Lee laughed. Doc shuffled closer to me.

  “You okay – you hit your head pretty hard?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. What could he have been late for?” I wondered aloud.

  “His own death?”

  “Nope, he kept that appointment,” I replied.

  “We may never know now.”

  “Maybe not. So why Carla?”

  Lee had an answer. “To fuck with you, Chicky. It pissed him off you saved her last time. This time around, he could really twist the knife by grabbing her again. He’s been tracking and listening to you since the day we left New Zealand. He knew exactly how to fuck with you.”

  “Something’s not right, Lee. We’re missing something vital,” I replied. “We’re missing something. Everything they’ve done to date has been carefully orchestrated; this feels unfinished. He doesn’t leave loose ends … what have we missed?”

  He nodded. “You’ll figure it out SSA. You always do.” He grinned. “He’s most definitely finished, that was one helluva shot.”

  You do what you have to do to save the ones you love. People should not fuck with my family.

  “SSA Chicky Babe,” Sam said to get my attention.

  “Yes,” I said, looking up at him.

  “The medical examiner will be here soon.”

  “Good,” I said.

  We all watched Joey and Carla.

  “Cute, huh?” Doc said nudging me.

  “Yeah, cute.”

  Misha shepherded them toward us, wrapping his coat tightly about himself as he walked. His actions reminded me how very cold I was.

  Forty-One

  Let Me Be The One

  “Go home Ellie,” Caine said perching on my desk. “It’s been a hell of a few weeks and an adrenaline-pumped Wednesday.”

  “Tell me again where you found her?”

  “We found Agent McQueen in her car with her throat cut. The car was parked at Regan Airport.”

  “Loose end.”

  “Go home.”

  “Not until Joey has somewhere to stay,” I replied. “And what the hell was Boris late for?”

  Caine leaned closer to me. “Go home.”

  I moved a stack of papers. “Soon.”

  “Where’s Carla?”

  “She’s at home with my dad.”

  “Go home to your kid, Ellie. She’s needs to know you are there.”

  I read a report from Detective Jones in New Zealand. When I was done, I handed it to Caine. He glanced over it quickly.

  “Two kids still missing,” he replied, handing it back. “What do you suggest?”

  “Interpol. They not in New Zealand. They left with Boris or Viktor, whichever brother took them.”

  Lee knocked on the doorframe then stuck his head into the room. “Rowan showed up at reception. I escorted him up here.”

  “Is he with you?”

  Lee nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’m just winding up loose ends, he can come in.” I dished out top marks for Rowan’s persistence.

  Lee and Rowan entered the room. Caine shook hands with them both and then turned to me. “Go home. You can finish the report in the morning.”

  We’d successfully cleared him and Grange of any wrongdoing or hint of involvement in the Hawk saga. It helped having Noel Gerrard let us in on some of his surveillance.

  “Soon,” I replied and shifted my attention to Rowan. “Pull up a chair. I have something to show you.”

  Lee and Caine blended into the background until they no longer existed. I placed a set of documents on my desk and pushed them toward him. Rowan pulled a chair closer, sat down and picked them up. “What is it?”

  “That’s what it looks like when we sign off on a line of investigation. That there …” I tapped the paper. “That officially says you and Grange were never involved with Hudson Hawk – or as we now know them – the Abbasi brothers.”

  “I’m not a suspect?”

  “Yep, that’s what it means.” I waited to see if he’d ask if I ever thought he was involved. He didn’t.

  “Do you know why they did what they did?” he asked.

  “Nope but knowing that one Unsub is now identified and in the morgue is a good feeling.”

  I didn’t imagine I’d ever know why the Abbasi brothers turned against their country of birth and did what they did. Boris’s corpse didn’t talk much. We did know that none of the family was left in New Jersey. Their father returned to Saudi Arabia after the death of his wife. She’d died of cancer eight months earlier. Viktor Abbasi remained at large and on our Most Wanted list.

  “Where do we go from here?” Rowan passed the papers to me. Our fingers touched, sparks flew.

  “I’m going home,” I replied. “To my daughter.”r />
  Someone knocked on the door. I looked up to see Doc wearing a clean dark grey suit and white shirt. He didn’t look as though he’d been crawling through a graveyard. I beckoned to him.

  “Do you want me?”

  He grinned. “There’s a dangerous question.”

  “Only the answer could be dangerous.”

  “Just dropping in to see how you are.”

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  Rowan stood up to leave. “Call me when you have time. I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

  He extended his hand to Doc, they shook. “Thanks for everything you did.”

  “My job,” Doc replied.

  Rowan turned to me. “Call me.” He leaned over my desk and kissed my cheek.

  A spontaneous madness came over me. “Hey, you wanna come and hang out with me and Carla?”

  He smiled, one of those smiles that could melt the Larson ice-shelf. It no longer felt like the world was about to end.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Y’all be good now, ya hear,” Doc said, as I turned my computer off and slipped out from behind my desk. “Rowan, you’ll have to drive. Conway is not driving for another few days.”

  “See you, Doc. Welcome to Delta A. I saw you requested to be permanent and I approved it,” I said as I left.

  Rowan took me home. For my first official night as a parent, Rowan, Carla and I hung out. We were like a regular family. I helped Carla with her homework then we played Play Station. Rowan sucked at Guitar Hero. Carla went off to bed at nine, tired and happy. Rowan and I waited until she was sleeping then tiptoed upstairs. We talked and watched a few movies. As he told me about his fabulous childhood, memories of my mom’s less than stellar performance surfaced. Or maybe they surfaced because I now have a child to take care of. “What was your mother like?” Rowan asked as he looked at photos on my bookcase.

  A ticking time bomb.

  “On the outside, like anyone else’s mother …” I smiled. “She was good at appearing normal to the outside world, for short periods at least. But we didn’t bring friends home.” I want Carla to bring friends home, to laugh and to embrace life.

  “This is your mom?” He pointed to a photo of mom and dad together. “She’s very attractive. I can see her in you.”

  God, I hope not.

  “Was attractive. Now worm food,” I replied, trying to find a new subject before the memories flooded back. Mom’s voice squawked in my head, ‘He’s not your husband, you hussy! What’s he doing in your bedroom?’