Fireflies: A Katie Bell Mystery (book 1) (7 page)

T
he only thing
Katie could hear over her ear buds was the sound of her own breath, coming in deep and urgent gulps as she circled the track. It was her twelfth time around the giant loop, and as her feet crossed the white line on the outside lane, Katie finished her fourth mile and started into her fifth.

Even though it was Sunday morning, Katie was surprised to not see another soul on the school track. School didn't start till Monday morning and most of the athletes that would populate the track wouldn't arrive till that afternoon at the earliest. Either she had already missed the freshman athletes or they had been busy partying the night before while Katie had slept. Either way, it left her to enjoy the brisk morning air all to herself.

At least it had been brisk when she had started but the only shiver Katie would get now would be from her own sweat. Katie wiped her wet brow with the back of her forearm.
I’m On One
by Drake ended and Kanye West started rapping angrily over an industrial beat, pushing her to pick up the pace.

K
atie was fully drenched
in sweat as she ran through mile five, but she kept going, enjoying the sound of the bumping base that was almost in time with the thump-thump of her heart. Katie loved to sweat. It was a strange thing certainly, but it was the truth, especially from working out. Just sweating from overheating was not her favorite, but when it was a little planned ahead, or when it was from her and Luke spending time in bed…

She increased her pace and kept going hard, tapping her phone to skip to the next song. The current one wasn't fast enough, at least not to help her keep her rhythm. The music was supposed to help her tune out everything else. It was just supposed to be Katie, the music, and the track ahead.

As soon as she thought about Luke though it was like a virus. Multiple thoughts about him came pouring into her mind, and Katie couldn’t help it.

She ran faster.

Katie was frustrated and unsure what to do about Luke. The cramps weren’t doing her any favors either, and her mood in general was irritable. Running was supposed to help, but no easy solution to her relationship came to mind. The run wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. It was supposed to calm her, clear her mind. If anything, Katie felt more muddled than she had when she had started.

She ran faster.

They had gone through so much together, and he had been such a strong support system for her working through … Well, the dark times. Luke had been there, a stoic good luck charm, standing firmer even than her father. The truth was Arthur couldn’t be there for Katie, no matter how hard he had tried. His other love, his
job
, hadn’t allowed it. After all, even back when things had been simple and Katie had just been some naive teenager, they used to joke, and all three of them around the dinner table about how Arthur was in two marriages. One with Katie’s mother and one with his job. Not that Katie wanted to think about
that.
Her brainstorming was supposed to be about Luke, her rock for the last two and a half years.

She ran faster.

Deep down she already knew what she was going to end up doing. It was just the doing it, the when she would do it Katie hadn’t settled on. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to admit that to herself, even if she had made a decision in her heart of hearts. Knowing what was inevitable and making it happen were two very different things.

Katie had planned on only running five miles, but when she started to slow down she realized she had run six. She stopped, bent over and tried to regain her breath. The last lap around the loop had been a full sprint and her legs were burning. She glanced at her iPhone on her armband and her eyes got big. She had run just under a 10K in just under forty minutes, beating her personal record by a solid five minutes.

Her breathing returning to normal Katie made her way to the bleachers where she had tossed her gym bag and water bottle.

After gulping half her bottle, she took a seat on the bleachers, pulling her phone free from her armband. Katie took a sip from her digital cocktail: seven Facebook posts from her friends bragging with self satisfaction about their own particular schools of transformation they were currently attending across the country, two annoyed political rants, one social political rant, and one from her old favorite lab partner only bragging about eating at the best burger joint in the entire
world
.

Katie took another digital sip. Plenty of the usual on Twitter, though one of her best friends who was at Sarah Lawrence had tweeted
missing the old days
with a picture of all of them, from a camping trip long ago. Six friends, gathered around a bonfire on the beach, huddled close, laughing.

She stared at the picture for a long time, mildly stunned at how much
younger
she looked. So much
lighter
too. If anything, Katie now weighed less than she did then, give or take a few pounds, but it was the weight of the world, the weight of events that she carried.

Katie liked and re-tweeted the photo of ancient history and took another drink from her bottle, before blowing a strand of sweat soaked red hair out her face. Her stomach grumbled. Food at some point in the future did sound good, but a shower sounded even better.

T
he rest
of the day went by in a bit of a blur. A shower and breakfast followed by more exploring the campus and running into some other friendly freshman at the coffee shop consumed the rest of Katie’s morning and early afternoon, and by the time she went back to her dorm room the only thing Katie wanted was some peace and quiet.

Tiffany had set up her desk in a very similar fashion to Katie's except that on the window directly between the two desks she had placed an iPhone music docking station, where she currently had her phone plugged in and was playing Taylor Swift.

Tiffany was dancing around in an aqua-colored thong and an oversized T-shirt singing to herself and so wrapped in it she didn't even notice Katie enter the room.

Katie took in the whole scene and started beaming. The music wasn't her first choice, but the charisma fit fine.

Tiffany spun around and saw Katie and paused the music.

Her face went bright red and she grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, I get carried away."

Katie didn't say a word but went over to the iPhone and pressed play, only adding a few clicks to the volume.

She tossed her messenger bag on her bed and tossed off her shoes before she started dancing herself.

W
hen the playlist ended
, they both fell on Tiffany's bed in a fit of giggles and hugged each other.

Tiffany went out that evening while Katie stayed to finish catching up on her reading. Her thoughts often turned to Luke as she lay on her bed, listening to utter silence as she read, but she did not call or text him, and for once he did not call her either.

Katie went to sleep around midnight and Tiffany was still not back.

That night she dreamt of her mother, smiling at her and reaching out, whispering something Katie could not hear as she ran toward her, and only when she got within arms’ length did her mother grab her by her shoulders and lean in, her words no longer a whisper but a yell, but Katie heard the loud crackle of TV static blocking out whatever her mother was trying to tell her, and the pitch of the static hurt Katie’s ears. As Catherine started to yell at her daughter, her eyes began to bleed, long drops of blood spilling out like tears down the older woman’s smooth skin, at first just a few droplets, but quickly her cheeks were stained a ghoulish hue of black and red.

Katie did not remember the dream the next morning.

T
he next morning
after she had finished her run, Katie was slick with sweat as she finished her stretches. Just as Katie was wrapping it up she noticed two others had joined her in the stadium. They were on the other side of the track in the opposite bleachers. One was a student who was a strikingly good-looking jock. The other wasn’t a student, but clearly a teacher. It took Katie a second to place him. It was Kyle Briggs, the football coach. She had seen his picture on both the campus and around campus. They were arguing and it was obviously quite heated, with Briggs yelling in the jock’s face. The jock just shook his head and walked away from Briggs. Katie watched as the coach clenched and unclenched his hands several times and then walked in the opposite direction of the jock. Neither of them seemed to have noticed Katie Bell watching them.

A
s Katie walked back
to her dorm room, she saw an athletic Greek god dressed in black running pants and a dark green sweatshirt heading in the direction she had just come from. He was wearing ridiculous green Volt Nike's everyone had worn at the Olympic games back in July. Katie had read an article saying how since Nike wasn't an official sponsor at the games they had given away the shoes to the athletes instead, since the color was scientifically tested and researchers had found the human eye spotted it before any other color. Apparently other sponsors had been furious at the marketing gimmick and the article had taken the tone that it was all a little dirty. Personally, Katie was impressed and would have loved to talk to whoever had thought of the marketing strategy.

However, being impressed by a sales strategy was not the same as actually buying the shoe in that color and then flaunting it. Did the Greek god really think he was hot shit or something? Probably. Because of course he was.

Katie considered not going by just his shoes alone, but by the time she was done showering after getting back to the dorms she felt utterly silly for the thought. She was not one to judge a book by its cover and it wasn't like he had approached her. It had completely been the other way around and now she was thinking of bailing on a party because of what kind of exercise shoes he was wearing? She seriously needed to relax. Or get laid. It would certainly help with the relaxing part, and the cramps.

T
hursday
, Sept 27
^th

K
atie leaned back
against the streetlight and exhaled. A cloud of smoke spread around her and she closed her eyes. Katie was waiting, waiting for her iPhone to ring. She took another drag on her cigarette.

The first week was going about as smoothly as she had expected. If anything Katie was surprised at how slow her classes were to get going. Tiffany and her were continuing to get along swimmingly. It was just … There was burr in Katie’s mind, and one that she had to pick.

Luke.

It was too much, and Katie knew it had to be over. It was time to rip the Band-Aid off.

There were too many distractions around her, and she didn’t want to feel like being tempted by the new sweets on the table was actually a bad thing. It wasn’t like she was ever going to
marry
Luke.

It was just….

He was her first. Not just at sex but … a lot of things. Katie had loved him, and they had been together for so long it was just familiar. But he was not there with her and … there was the very cute guy that sat behind her in psychology, with brown hair and deep brown eyes, and there was the Greek god and … Katie shivered.

She wasn’t afraid to admit she was attracted to Tiffany. She was surprised how much she had written about it in her journal. It was probably a bad idea to mess around with her own roommate, but there was something there … something warm and comfortable and familiar with Tiffany.

Katie took another drag on her American Spirit and exhaled. The cigarette helped. It was her first one that week. The Weeknd and Drake kept her company, a song filled with melancholy and loss and regret and hope, which basically perfectly encapsulate how Katie felt.

The song was cut off as Luke started calling. Katie dropped the half smoked cigarette on the sidewalk and stamped it out with the heel of her Tom’s, and answered.

“Hey,” she said, feeling a lump in her throat.

“Hi,” he said.

L
uke knew even just
from the tone in her voice. The following conversation was more a formality, two players agreeing to play out the final moves of a chess game out of courtesy
rather than out of need. Katie ended it saying simply she needed a break, and Luke agreed wearily.

When Katie hung up she bent down and picked up the cigarette butt before heading back towards Everwood, The Weeknd and Drake consoled her.

Pulling off Band-Aids was sometime necessary, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell.

A
rthur Bell tapped
the touch screen on the giant display in the conference room and brought up a grainy photo. Behind him at the table the entire department was present, ten agents in total including Agent Tapscott and Agent Fields. At the other end of the long table Margaret Ruben sat, her arms folded across her chest.

The picture on the giant monitor shimmered for a second and then became mostly clear. Arthur moved to the side and pointed at the display. The picture showed William Seaborn, getting out of a black Chevy Malibu.

“That photo was taken of Seaborn an hour after Maria Rivas, aka Charity, was murdered. He and this unknown associate were picked up on three different street cameras in the Malibu heading in a trajectory away from the parking garage where Miss Rivas was killed. Seaborn parked the Malibu, and went into the subway. We lost him on cameras right after that. Normally this is just something my division would take care of, but due to the nature of this case I’m asking everyone to start looking for him. Emails of the photo are in all your inboxes. I want us to catch Seaborn as fast as possible.”

Arthur nodded at Ruben and took his seat. She cleared her throat and stood up.

“Now we all know how little Agent Bell likes to ask for help, so let’s oblige him. Remember, Seaborn is the jackass that thinks he can just copy one of the worst criminals we in this department have ever had the pleasure of taking down. We’re not about to let him just start up where his mentor left off. Now, switching gears, Agent Pilsner has a few friends he’d like to introduce us to on the more traditional major crimes side of things. Agent Pilsner?”

Agent Pilsner, who was one person to Arthur’s right, stood up. Pilsner was a short man with thinning hair and was the same age as Arthur but looked about ten years older. There were heavy lines on his face from stress and seeing things people simply should not, but he moved with a quiet and self-assured grace that was befitting a long career with the FBI.

He moved the display and tapped it, bringing up mug shots of five individuals. They were all male, all white, and all nasty looking.

“There’s a new crew on the scene. We know these four are all in it, but the man at the bottom, Corey Cox, we’re just guessing is involved. They started up North with our friends in Vancouver, but as of last month they’ve moved south of the border and are now in our neck of the woods. They’ve hit two banks that we know of, both in Seattle, but we have reasonable intelligence that they are now here in our fair city.”

Arthur tuned his peer out, and instead focused on the grainy photo of William Seaborn. He looked nervous getting out of the Malibu. Maybe he was reading into it, but Seaborn did not have the body posture of a man that had just gotten away with his second successful kill. Arthur felt eyes on him and glanced up. Ruben was looking at him, and simply raised an eyebrow.

“
T
his is a bad idea
, Agent Bell, and you know it.”

“I don’t really see another way around it,” he said.

They had moved to Ruben’s office after the meeting. Arthur had closed the door behind them.

“I am hesitant about having you anywhere close to that man.”

“Ruben, you know if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary I wouldn’t go. The thing is though, it is necessary.”

“Why don’t you send one of them instead?”

“Because neither of them are suited to deal with him.”

Ruben leaned against her desk. “Arthur…”

“You want me to stop this guy? I need this to stop him.”

“No. I think you want it.”

Arthur looked away for a second. “With me isn’t it kind of the same thing?”

His former partner sighed. “Fine. But you’re taking both of your kids with you.”

“Agent Ruben…”

She held up her hand. “That’s an order, Agent Stubborn.”

“
S
o are
you now running field trips, Arthur?” Martin Snow asked, staring at the three similarly clad FBI agents standing in front of him in his cell.

“Just showing a few of my peers some of the ropes, Snow. You know how it is having to teach. Students take time. They can be awful sloppy at the beginning.”

Martin smiled and took a step towards the glass. “You always liked insinuating things. I however, despite being a relatively well-educated man, am ignorant of whatever you’re trying to imply. After all, I don’t really get much news in here, minus the times on Sundays.”

“Somebody has been killing girls on your anniversaries, Martin. Doesn’t that bother you? Even if it’s a fan boy? Trying to paint over your past works with acts of their own,” Fields said, taking a step forward towards the glass.

“Agent,” Arthur snapped.

Snow looked away from Arthur and glanced at the female agent. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Agent?”

“Fields. Now answer the question.”

“Fields. A fitting name for a black agent. First to graduate college from your family? Was your mommy and daddy so proud? But you went into law enforcement, was that a conflict? After all in your line of work you must be cracking the skulls of a fair amount of your brother’s and sisters.”

Snow asked Fields these questions and kept a completely straight face. Fields, to her credit, displayed no emotion at the comments. She did take a step back from the glass.

“My dad graduated from Oxford, actually, you racist piece of shit.”

Agent Tapscott took a step towards the glass and his hands were bawled up. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, and Tapscott glanced at his boss, and then took a visibly deep breath.

Martin Snow looked back and forth between Fields and Arthur and started to smile. “It must be so lonely for you now,Arthur. Your daughter off in college, and your little pets don’t even listen to you properly. You really should relax some. It’s the only way to make new friends.”

Arthur moved forward, close to the glass divider as Snow was on the other side. “Is that what you have out here, Martin? Friends?”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t know what they’ve been up to, aside from knowing we have similar interests. And as for answering your question, Agent Fields, sometimes an artist needs to copy one of the greats over and over again to find their own voice. It’s a sign of respect, and certainly not something to be jealous of.”

“That’s all well and good, Martin, but what about him needing help? Are you comfortable with that?”

Snow held up his hands. “Sometimes my friends need other friends, since I’m not available to be there for them. Nothing wrong with that.”

“You never needed help. You saying that you’re better than they are?”

Snow moved even closer to the glass, so his breath fogged on his side of it, obscuring half his face, making him look a bit like an abstract painting.

“Who’s to say I didn’t have help? Besides, Arthur, is that what you think of me? As better than my friends? It’s sweet you hold me in such high regard. I certainly do of you.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Arthur said and turned away from Snow’s cell.

“Bye, Arthur. It was nice to meet you, Agent Fields. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all again real soon.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Tapscott said before following after his boss.

Fields hurried after them, even as Martin started to hum to himself.

T
hey were
through the first hallway with the door securely shut behind them before Arthur turned to his two agents. “Nice work, both of you.”

“But we didn’t learn a damned thing,” Fields said.

Tapscott shook his head. “You weren’t listening. Sure we did.”

“Okay, Agent, impress me.”

“Snow hasn’t been in communication with Seaborn, at least not currently. He didn’t know about his friend either. Which means this isn’t a cult, this is one loner that has been taken under Snow’s wing.”

Arthur gave him a thumbs up. “What was he humming at the end when we were leaving?”

Tapscott shrugged. “Just some random tune. It almost sounded like a nursery rhyme. You think it means anything? And what about the crack about him having friends?”

“He was just trying to rattle us, and I doubt it.”

“Fine, but that still doesn’t give us any leads on who Seaborn is working with.”

The senior FBI agent grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”