Psychobyte (9 page)

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Authors: Cat Connor

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BOOK: Psychobyte
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“Good work, Conway. Scary but good,” Kurt replied. “Now we just have to find him and prove the theory.”

My phone rang showing Sandra’s image on the screen. I touched the speaker icon. “You’re on speaker. What do you have, Sandra?”

“The ad was placed right before the deadline last night. They won’t divulge who placed the ad but say the person paid by credit card.”

I liked those words. “Credit card. Get a warrant, Sandra. You’ve got the case number. I want that credit card information.”

“I’m on it! Judge Hartwell is on standby.”

“Good work.”

Sandra hung up. I knew I was smiling. The use of a credit card might just be the break we needed.

“Haven’t seen a smile like that in a few days,” Lee said, nudging my arm.

“I’d like to get back to the office and start piecing together what we know before something else happens,” I said. “And Sandra might have information for us soon.”

The three of them shook their heads at me.

“Seems you’re supposed to be at a pretty important dinner tonight and we can do this,” Lee said.

“Kurt?” I said, hoping he’d back me up.

Surely he knew there could be an answer in my head just waiting to be discovered.

“Take a couple of hours, Conway. We’ll keep the campfire burning.”

A couple of hours? The pain behind my eye sharpened, requiring effort not to press my hand to my eye. I could do a couple of hours. All night? No.

I checked my watch. I could make it to dinner. Under lights. Is roast lamb an emergency? It would be without mint sauce.

“If I say yes—”

“You’ll make your fiancé a happy man.”

“I’m out of here. I’ll catch up with you all in about three hours. Have something for me?”

“Deal.” He turned me around and pointed me to the door. “Go!”

I dragged my phone from my pocket calling Mitch as I ran to my car. “I’m on my way!”

“See you soon.”

Rosanne stood by the car.

Damn.

“Hey, can we do this later?” I said, unlocking the car and clambering into the driver’s seat.

She looked through the open door. “You in a hurry?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I miss a briefing?”

“No, I haven’t had time. It’ll happen.”

“You look exhausted. Long hours on this case?”

Choosing to ignore both her comment and question, I said, “I promise I’ll give you as much as I can later tonight.”

She looked skeptical. Then conceded. “Okay.”

Good, because I wasn’t about to argue. Kristopher Lette slithered to the fore of my mind. I took advantage of the opportunity in front of me.

“Does your son work for a power company?” I asked, hoping it sounded casual.

Her face froze for a few seconds then her expression switched to neutral.

Odd.

“No,” she replied.

My gut said yes. I’ve long since believed my gut over people. “I’ll call you when I’m back at the office.”

Rosanne waved, I pulled my door closed. CHalf an hour to Mitch’s folks’ place in traffic. Twenty minutes tops under lights. I hit the switch on the dash and pulled out.

Screw it. Sometimes roast lamb is an emergency.

 

Thirteen

It’s My Life

Dad’s and my brother’s cars were on the road, I pulled into the driveway behind Mitch’s car.

With a quick check in the rearview mirror, I deemed myself passable. I took a moment and turned off the ringer on my phone before jumping out of the car. The front door opened. Mitch stepped onto the porch. Grinning. My heart thumped wildly.

“You’re dressed,” I said, allowing disappointment to coat my words. “Such a shame.”

“Thought pants were a good thing for the office and dinner with the folks,” Mitch replied as he waited for me to walk up the porch steps. “You made good time.”

“Amazing what can be achieved under lights.”

He laughed. “Seriously?”

Mitch hugged me.

“Uh huh. I’ve got a few hours off, then I’m going back to work.”

“Tonight?” A twinge of disappointment stuck in his voice.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Tell me you’re not going back to work next Saturday evening.”

“I’m not going back to work next Saturday evening. If this case isn’t done by then, the boys are on their own.”

With one last squeeze, he let me go. We walked into the house hand-in-hand. My phone vibrated audibly in my pocket before we made it to the dining room. I ignored it.

The whole family had waited for me so we could eat together. I said hello to everyone and slid into the chair Joan pointed to. Mitch would sit next to me. Nice.

Aidan and Holly were at the other end of the table with baby Lucy. She chortled happily in the highchair next to Holly. Dad, Alan, and Mitch’s brother, Chris, were talking. Mac’s Dad, Bob, and Chris’s wife, Susan, were deep in conversation. I watched and listened. Family noises. Happy sounds. Joan floated in and out of the kitchen placing dishes on the table. She refused assistance. Mitch helped anyway. They chatted and laughed. Mitch filled my glass with white wine and set a glass of water next to it.

“Thank you,” I whispered, not wanting to break the spell.

“You okay?” Mitch spoke softly in my ear.

“Yes. Just enjoying this.” I smiled and stole a quick kiss.

Dad caught my eye and smiled.

Before long everyone sat down and passed bowls and platters around the table. Filling plates. Talking. Baby Lucy squawked indignantly a few times as things were passed around her. Her little hands opened and closed trying to grab everything that came into view. Guess she didn’t want to be left out. Holly reached down. A plush chicken toy appeared in her hand. She plopped it on the highchair tray. The baby considered the toy for a moment before throwing it to the floor. Even I knew she didn’t want the toy chicken.

My phone vibrated again. I sipped my wine and ignored the insistent buzzing in my pocket.

Mitch heard it. “Do you need to check that?”

“Nope. It can wait. Dinner. Family. Us. Not work.”

Lucy wailed. Holly lifted her from the highchair and rocked her. A few minutes later Aidan took the wailing bundle and let Holly eat.

Mitch nudged me. “Noisy but very cute.”

“Yes.” I chewed the tender roast lamb and watched Aidan with his daughter. He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

“Will you take her for a few minutes, Ellie?”

Yay, let’s playing pass the parcel with the baby.

Mitch intervened before I said something inappropriate. “Give her here, let Ellie eat.”

Aidan dropped Lucy into Mitch’s outstretched arms.

“What’s all the fuss, little lady,” he said, adjusting his hold on her and sitting her down on his lap.

Lucy looked up at him, blue eyes wide. A gummy smile spread across her face.

I laughed. “Uncle Mitch’s magic lap.”

“Works on Special Agents too,” he replied with a wicked smile.

I moved my head closer to his and said. “We sit in your lap for completely different reasons.”

Mitch laughed.

My phone buzzed like a trapped blowfly.

I carried on eating.

The conversation around the table flowed with ease. Everyone had comments regarding the upcoming wedding. By the time dessert appeared, all the plans were sorted. Everyone knew what they were doing on the big day. Joan produced a satin horseshoe with ribbons and lace and gave it to Holly. I pretended not to see. It was good luck to give the bride a horseshoe after the ceremony. Lucy would give it to me.

They’d need good luck. I’d seen the child in action. There would be no getting them out of her vice-like grip once she had a good hold.

The doorbell rang. Alan rose from his chair but Dad was quicker. He pressed Alan’s shoulder.

“I’ll get it, Alan.”

Alan didn’t argue. He sat down and carried on his conversation with Aidan. Curious. I watched Dad leave the room. The hum of conversation started up again. I found myself with one ear on the table conversation and the other listening for Dad in the hallway.

Lucy snatched Mitch’s fork. He couldn’t get it out of her chubby little fingers and in danger of losing an eye.

Joan swooped in and switched the fork for a cookie and hurried out of sight with it before Lucy realized what happened. Clever.

Voices in the hallway paused by the dining room door. I listened. Dad and a woman continued talking in hushed tones outside the closed door.

A woman?.

“What’s the matter?” Mitch asked, touching my elbow with his.

“Visitor …” I replied.

“Are you aware you have your hand on your weapon,” he said, his voice low and barely audible.

I glanced at him and then at my right hand. Yep. It was on my weapon. I picked up my glass of water instead. “Better?”

“Yes,” Mitch replied. “Why are you jumpy?”

I moved my head a fraction from side to side. “Work. That’s all.”

My eyes focused on the door as I heard the handle move. The door opened and I knew the voice that drifted on the sudden breeze.

“Rosanne,” I whispered. “What the hell …?”

Mitch nudged me. “Who?”

“A journalist I know.”

Dad ushered her into the room, his hand protectively in the small of her back.

“Looks like your dad knows her too,” Mitch replied.

The cold dread was back. Could she be the reason for the spring in his step, secret dinners and the strange smile that had resided on his lips in recent weeks? My mind scrolled back. Not weeks. Months.

Holy crap. Dad had a secret life.

Really?

I stood up. “Rosanne, you know I said I’d call once I was back at the office,” I said, hoping there was lightness in my voice.

Dad intervened. “Rosanne isn’t here to talk work, Ellie. She’s my guest.”

I sank into my chair, wrapped my hands around the glass of wine and took a big sip. Regret was instantaneous. I switched to water.

So it was her. The mystery lady. She was a minimum of fifteen years younger than dad. Aidan hadn’t moved but leaned forward on his elbows, watching.

My phone rang and this time, I knew I had to answer it.

“Conway,” I said into the phone.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m picking you up,” Kurt replied.

“Something happened?”

“Easier if we talk in person. Wait for me out front?” I pressed the end call icon and sat my phone on the table.

Mitch slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Work?”

“Yep. Kurt is picking me up. Can we have a few moments?”

He nodded. “Come on.”

Mitch passed Lucy to his mom then took my hand. We excused ourselves. Mitch led the way to the conservatory.

“You’re going to be gone a while, aren’t you?” he said, pulling me into his arms.

“Could be. This case is not going well … we need to get a profile and some solid leads.”

“Roz?”

“See what you can find out? Find out if she has a son and what his name is and if he has a job.”

“That’s a pretty specific list, El.”

Yeah, it is.

“See what you can find out during the rest of the evening, please?”

He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll take notes.” Mitch’s voice ruffled my hair. “You think it’s a coincidence that he’s seeing her?”

“No. But I hope it is. I really do.”

I stood wrapped in Mitch’s arms for a few minutes, enjoying the scent of his skin and his beating heart.

 

Fourteen

Bed Of Roses

I moved my car out onto the road so I didn’t block Mitch and noticed a piece of paper under the wiper blade. I took the paper and unfolded it as I pressed the button on my keychain and locked my car. Expecting a flyer of some sort, the handwritten contents gave me pause.

I read and re-read the note in my hand in the vague light from the street lamp overhead. Bone-chilling cold trickled into my being. Leaning on my car, I read the joke again.

An old blind guy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake. He finds his way to a bar stool and orders a shot of Jack Daniels.

After sitting there for a while, he yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?”

The whole bar immediately falls absolutely silent. In a very deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says,

“Before you tell that joke, Cowboy, I think it is only fair, given that you are blind, that you should know five things.

1. The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.

2. The bouncer is a blonde girl with a ‘Billy Club’.

3. I’m a six-foot tall, 175-pound blonde woman with a black belt in karate.

4. The woman sitting next to me is blonde and a professional weightlifter.

5. The lady to your right is blonde and a professional wrestler.

Now, think about it seriously, Cowboy ... Do you still wanna tell that blonde joke?”

The old guy thinks for a second, shakes his head and mutters, “No, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”

Five blonde women. I really don’t believe in coincidence. We had five blonde victims. I pulled up a picture of one of the crime scene notes on my phone. A sigh of relief escaped when I realized the handwriting didn’t match. The relief was short-lived.

If one of the Unsubs didn’t place the note on my windscreen, then who did? And why? Who came into the house after me?

I stuffed the piece of paper into my bag.

Rosanne Lette.

Who knew where to find me?

Delta A and apparently Rosanne Lette.

Shutting down that thought process, I walked past Aidan’s car in the rapidly dimming light and saw his
my family
stickers in the back window. I muttered unflattering comments to myself. Those stickers were stupid, right up there with having your kids’ school on a bumper sticker or stickers on the car that indicated where you parked or worked. People make it too easy for stalkers. What did Aidan’s car tell me? I checked it out while I waited for Kurt.

Adding up all the stickers I came up with a profile. Married, to a woman who liked to read; they had a female baby and a cat. No guard dog to worry about there. He worked in the insurance industry and parked at Vienna Metro. He liked to visit one particular bookstore or maybe his wife worked there and they were affiliated with The Butterfly Foundation. All that from a few stickers.

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