Invaded

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  “This is bullshit,” Art said. “Why is it their jurisdiction?”

  John’s veins turned to ice as one of the suits turned toward them: Agent Clark from the Ambient Custodial Division of Homeland Security. Shit.

  Agent Asshole’s gaze centered on John before turning to his partner. “We’ve come into new information on this case. This is now a Homeland Security issue.”

  “Homeland Security?” Art said. “This is a murderer, not a terrorist.”

  He seemed to disregard the comment. “When can we get the files?”

  John lurched toward the agent’s face. “When you tell me what this new nugget of information is.”

  “That’s classified.”

  “Of course, it is.” And if Clark was involved, ‘classified’ meant otherworldly. He’d met a lot of ACDHS agents over the last five years, but none out for blood like Clark.

  Dak shuddered within, keeping quiet. Hiding. John didn’t blame him. The last time they’d seen Clark, an Ambient died. No. An Ambient was executed and Clark seemed to enjoy it far too much.

  Biggs moved between them. “The files and evidence will be ready within an hour.”

  “Like hell they will be,” John said. “This is bullshit, Biggs, and you know it.”

  “It’s out of our hands, Peters. Let it go. We have enough other cases to worry about.”

  “Enough other cases? Are you shitting me?” This was the case. These shitbags didn’t care about South Jersey. These people were names and numbers to them, not neighbors. Federal agents had no business being here.

  Art grabbed John’s shoulder, giving him a tug toward the door. “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here.”

  John’s narrowed gaze latched onto Clark’s. The agent’s lips curled in a malevolent grin as Art ushered John from the room.

  35

  Tracy leaned over her laptop, holding her temples.

  “Not feeling well?” Kyle Olson reclined on her doorframe, his brow furrowed.

  She blinked herself from her stupor. “Oh, umm, no. I mean, yeah.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” What was she supposed to say, that an alien forced her to be intimate with a total stranger? That her personal life was a complete mess?

  He shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. Even sick, you put out more work today than we normally see from your old department in a week.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Only a little.”

  Something oozed across the plane of her diaphragm. The entity slithering inside her could still take hold at any time. For all Tracy knew, Adonna might decide she liked Kyle, and all of a sudden, Tracy would be attacking her boss right there on top of the desk.

  She shuddered. There had to be a way to control her Ambient. There must have been others with this problem. Maybe she just needed to take some pills to keep Adonna sedated.

  Sighing, she let her head fall into her palms, making it look like she was staring into the reports strewn across her desk.

  Kyle stepped over the threshold and slid one of the charts toward himself. “Do you still think parents of grade schoolers should be our target?”

  God, sales data seemed so inconsequential compared to everything else in her life. But things were finally happening for her. She was not about to let her wayward Ambient ruin her first big chance to prove herself.

  Tracy straightened. “Definitely, and I had a great idea: add a stamp to every can saying double box top points for your school.”

  His brow shot up. “Do you want to give my father a coronary? That’s a lot of liability to hang out there.”

  She nodded. “But statistics show that even parents who buy groceries with the intention of cutting out the box tops forget all about it and throw them away.” He didn’t look convinced. “It can be a secondary campaign. ‘Giving back to those who matter the most.’” She let the idea sink in. “I guarantee you, sales will increase, and you probably will see a minimal increase in corporate charitable donations.”

  After a moment, he nodded. “I like it. Why don’t you prepare a pitch for Monday’s meeting?”

  She shuddered. Despite her unscheduled show of bravado last Monday, standing in front of McNulty and his stooges was far from her idea of a fun time. “The sales team will shoot me down.”

  “They won’t. Not if I’m up there presenting with you.”

  Tracy fought her eyes from widening. If Kyle stood, giving his approval before the presentation even began, Daddy would certainly stomp any negativity from her jealous coworkers. This could be it: the chance she needed to prove she deserved this promotion.

  Something swirled within her stomach.

  But, first, she needed to make sure she was herself. Completely.

  She considered Agent Clark’s business card in her purse. Would her relationship with John and Dak be over if she had this thing ripped out of her?

  If she did make the call, would she even be alive Monday to give her presentation?

  Tracy rubbed her damp palms on her slacks. She couldn’t live with this creature inside her, but there was also a chance that she wouldn’t live without her. God, it was too much.

  She needed to clear her mind. Focus.

  A run: that’s what she needed—a good, long run in the park.

  36

  Art shoved the last of the war room photographs into a manila folder. “You gotta stop stewing over this. It ain’t anyone’s fault.”

  No, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but their case had been taken over by a government agency set up for the sole purpose of policing alien lifeforms.

  He’d gone over every piece of evidence hundreds of times. If there were Ambient involvement, he’d have picked up on it. These women were raped and murdered. Ambients were sensitive to emotions. They wouldn’t be able to cope with the fear that kind of violence would cause another. They’d lash out—unless it was a latent Ambient. Then there wouldn’t be a goddamn thing the alien could do about it. Shit, just the thought of it was royally screwed up.

  But there had to be something that linked all the cases, something that had drawn Agent Dickwad back onto John’s doorstep. Whatever it was, it had been there, staring him in the face.

  Shit. He slammed his fist on the table. “We missed something. Something important.”

  “John Peters doesn’t miss anything,” Art said. “You’re a big pain in my promotion-less ass in that way.” He smiled in that fatherly way that reminded John that Art trumped him in years of service, if not in detective skills. “Good cops get taken off cases all the time. You can’t let it get to you like this.”

  Too late for that. Maybe if he’d spent more time on the job…

  John closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Second guessing himself wouldn’t help, and being pissed off wasn’t going to change anything.

  Tracy’s face eased into John’s thoughts—the warmth of her hands when they touched, the relaxed way she made him feel. Yes, she’d been a distraction. A major distraction, albeit a pleasant one. How had she gotten so far under his skin in only two weeks?

  Dak tingled beneath John’s right shoulder blade, soothing the soreness.

  Maybe getting off this case was a blessing in disguise. Tracy was a mystery he was more than ready to lose himself in. He could take her to dinner. Real dinner, not this fast food crap. He could give her the time she deserved, and if everything worked out, he and Dak would both be getting what they so badly needed.

  As long as he didn’t get another life-sucking assignment.

  Art’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “I gotta take this. Give me a minute.”

  John nodded as his friend strolled from the table with his phone to one ear and his finger in the other.

  They’d been out of the loop for a while. John had no idea what kind of caseload Biggs had piled on his desk. While his adrenaline rushed at the thought of another, hopefully easier murder investigation, a nice, easy breaking-and-entering would be good, too.

 
His phone buzzed.

  Tracy Seavers: Hi! I’m at the park.

  Tracy Seavers: Just had a great run.

  John’s face flushed. He glanced at Art to make sure he hadn’t noticed. Damn, the last thing he needed was for his partner to think he was whipped.

  This was perfect timing, though. This was his chance to start over. He ran his fingers down the side of his phone. He should do it. Ask her out, let her know how he felt, no pussy-footing around.

  The muscles in his neck tightened. It was Thursday. Statistically, they’d find another body any moment now.

  But that wasn’t his problem, anymore, was it?

  He shuddered as a wave of guilt coated him. He owed it to those girls, to their families, to find the bastard that murdered them. He couldn’t just stop because someone told him to.

  He glanced at the door as Sergeant Biggs strolled by with Agent Dickhead and the younger one. What was his name? Brown? Whatever. Didn’t matter. This was their problem now. Dak was right. He needed to get a life, and here he was, off the case and still letting his job get in the way of what he wanted.

  And Tracy—damn. With those ample hips and that tiny pout that drove him crazy, yeah, she was definitely what he wanted. And John needed to act on that before someone else did.

  Dinner tonight?

  He double checked his spelling before hitting send.

  Tracy Seavers: That would be great.

  Tracy Seavers: I’d like to tell you something.

  Tonight was definitely looking up.

  Will pack you up at 7:00 OK?

  Pack? Pick you up, you idiot. Goddamnit!

  Tracy Seavers: Just enough time to get home and take a shower. Perfect.

  She hadn’t even noticed the typo. He smiled at his phone. Yeah, this was good. He’d make it work this time.

  He tapped a ‘K’ and flinched as he looked up from his phone.

  Art’s brows were stitched together and sweat ran down the side of his face. “Mom,” he said into his mobile. “Get a hold of yourself.” He glanced at John then to the floor. “Can you put Dad on the phone? Can he talk?”

  Art’s face reddened. Shit.

  “All right, all right,” Art said. “Listen, I’m on my way. Hang up with me and call 911. I will be there in fifteen minutes.” He lowered his phone and turned to John.

  “Just go,” John said. “I can finish up here. I’ll tell Biggs.”

  Art patted his shoulder twice. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  37

  Tracy finished stretching and eased onto her favorite park bench, perched atop the highest point in Gloucester Township Park. Refastening her ponytail, she breathed deeply, allowing the smell of fresh-cut grass to ease her tension. A run had been just what she needed.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the soccer game in the fields at the bottom of the hill and the kids giggling in the playground somewhere far behind her.

  The everyday. This is what she needed. This, and to talk to John and Dak again.

  Somehow, someway, she needed Dak to help her get through to Adonna. She needed her Ambient to understand there were certain things that were off-limits. And taking Tracy over was definitely off-limits. And if that wasn’t possible, then she’d make a date with Homeland Security. She would take control of her life again—any way she had to.

  “Holy Hell. You actually are here.”

  Tracy opened her eyes and found Sean standing a few paces down the hill. Every embarrassing moment from the previous day flooded her thoughts.

  Her lips parted, but she couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a string of words.

  He took another step toward her. “When we met at the library, I thought it was chance. But it was the same today: I felt this tug and my car just drove into the parking lot, and then I walked right up this hill. What in tarnation is going on?” He rubbed his torso and gulped like something had settled into his chest that he needed to dislodge.

  Something was inside him, but a massage wasn’t going to fix it.

  His gaze returned to hers. “Yesterday, you just left.”

  A heaviness surfaced in her own chest. “I know. I-I’m sorry.”

  He piffed. “You’re sorry?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “That whole afternoon is a blur. I mean, it was like having an out-of-body experience. I was on auto-pilot. I felt everything, but it was like I sat back and watched while…”

  While their entities twisted, turned, and kneaded each other like taffy. Yeah, she knew exactly how it felt.

  His lips thinned. “That’s the first time I’ve felt out of control in a very long time.” He kicked a mound of grass at his feet. “I can honestly tell you I have no idea what happened. I didn’t like it.” He looked up and grinned half-heartedly. “Well, I liked it, but you know what I mean.”

  Yes, she knew exactly what he meant.

  Damn. He had to be even more confused and upset about all this than she was. At least Tracy knew what was going on. Sean was completely in the dark, and he didn’t deserve to be. She wasn’t supposed to talk about her entity to anyone, but this was different. Sean needed to know the truth.

  “This is going to seem like a very strange question,” Tracy began. “But have you by any chance had a near-death experience?”

  He stepped back, nearly falling down the hill. “What are you talking about?”

  “Has something happened to you recently? Were you hurt badly and recovered quickly?”

  His nose flared, and his gaze traveled over his shoulder, back toward the parking lot below. “How-how did you know that?”

  “I can explain, but I need you to have an open mind.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “This happened to me, too. I almost died, well, maybe I did die, and an entity jumped inside me and healed my wounds.”

  Sean’s brow furrowed. “An entity?”

  She nodded. “They’re called Ambients. They’re an alien race. They need our lungs to survive.”

  He folded his arms. “An alien, as in outer space? You have to be shitting me.”

  “I wish I was.”

  “Okay, I get it. I was an easy lay and now you’re looking to get rid of me.” He held out his hands. “It’s all right. I do the same thing to girls all the time, but I don’t make up cockamamie stories.”

  “It’s not a story.” But he was right about one thing, she really didn’t want anything to do with him. His face would always remind her of what Adonna could do if she wanted something bad enough.

  She shouldn’t even be near him now. It wasn’t her responsibility to tell Sean what he was. The government would find him, eventually. And she needed to get away before Adonna decided she wanted round two.

  Tracy stood and started down the hill. “I think I should go.”

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm. “Do you really think you have something inside you?”

  “An Ambient.” She shrugged him off. “And yes, I do. I know I do. I realize it sounds crazy.”

  “Not too crazy.” A chorus of cheers erupted from the soccer field below as Sean took a step toward her. “Do you hear this thing talking in your head, trying to get you to do things you don’t want to do?”

  Tracy smirked. “Like having sex with a guy I just met?”

  He laughed. “So you really are a nice girl with a slutty alien inside you?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Adonna jittered, sliding along Tracy’s skin. The movement was slow, encumbered. John said Ambients get tired after taking control of their hosts, and yesterday she’d definitely taken control, but it probably wasn’t a coincidence that the entity’s entire being seemed flattened as close as she could get to Sean. “So, you believe me, then?”

  He pressed his temples. “Shit, I thought I was going crazy, hearing things. It makes sense now, all this weird stuff in my head.” He squinted, as if trying to see the entity beneath her skin. “So, this feeling that I want to get in your pants again. That’s all this thing inside me?”

&nb
sp; Adonna quaked, spinning through Tracy’s psyche. No. Never again. To Sean, she said, “Yes, but that’s done now. I have someone special in my life. A really great guy. A cop. I’m not going to risk our relationship because my Ambient has a roving eye.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend.”

  “Well, I do.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Damn. He’d be pretty pissed if he knew what we’d done yesterday.”

  A cold dread slipped through Tracy’s gut. “I guess.” Yes, John would be pissed. And he’d have every right to be. But then again, he was maybe the only one who could comprehend losing control of your own body. “John would understand. He has an Ambient, too.”

  Sean’s gaze shot up. His expression hard, before he lowered his eyes. “I’m guessing this boyfriend thing is coming up now because this is goodbye. Are you saying we can’t see each other again, ever? I mean, you just dropped a bomb on me. I have questions.”

  Adonna pressed against the inside of her chest. A sound similar to a hiss banged through Tracy’s head like a ping-pong ball. Tracy ignored her. “It’s better if we don’t. I don’t think the entities inside us could handle us being together without, you know.”

  “Fucking.”

  Tracy flinched. “Yeah.”

  Sean shook his head. “I’m usually the one doing the dumping when I’m done with someone.” He sighed. “This is a pretty unpleasant feeling.”

  She reached into her purse and fingered Agent Clark’s business card. She could understand needing answers, but she couldn’t be the one to provide them.

  “I have something for you.” She pulled out the card and took a photo of it with her phone. Then, shaking, she handed the card to Sean. “These are the people who talked me through all this. They know all about the Ambients. They can probably answer your questions better than I could.”