Invaded

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  A syrupy, decayed smell wafted from the dumpster. The cat’s call heightened to a howl, and someone behind the wooden fence shouted for it to shut up.

  John took a step back. The kid was right. What the hell was he thinking?

  He hadn’t been thinking. Not with his head, at least.

  Green’s hands remained splayed at his sides, nowhere near the gun he had tucked in the back of his imitation leather belt. The kid did trust him, but he was right not to trust John with Sean. Not until he calmed down.

  “How about you give me that family heirloom, and I give it back to Sean tomorrow when we question him? Maybe I can also hint that it would be in his best interests to keep away from Ms. Seavers.”

  “You’re going to question him?”

  “Of course. He’s a host. I may not have an Ambient inside me but that doesn’t mean I can’t spot the symptoms.” His expression turned stony. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention it, knowing what we were looking for.”

  Dammit. The kid was smarter than John gave him credit for, but there was no sense in lying at this point. “Tracy told me about him, but I didn’t want to go in guns blazing on a hunch.”

  “Unlike tonight?” A crooked smile crept across his lips.

  John stifled a laugh. “Okay, you’re right. Me and Sean face-to-face is not a good idea, but I’d like to observe if you’re bringing him in.”

  Green nodded. “You got it.”

  An agonizing three more hours of reviewing evidence at the precinct turned up nothing. Exhausted, both John and Agent Green headed out for the night.

  Dak had grown quiet, probably giving John more time to think. The Ambient depended on his friend’s lungs for life and now he also depended on John to catch this criminal to avoid being eradicated like a common pest.

  Agent Clark couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to have another life inside him. Anyone wielding an extractor should be required to host an entity first. Just because Ambients didn’t have bodies did not make it okay for them to be exterminated.

  Part of him felt sorry for Sean and what he would face during the interrogation tomorrow. But only a small part.

  John pulled into his driveway. Green parked right behind him, blocking his ability to leave.

  The agent leaned his head out. “I’ll hang here until an overnight surveillance team arrives.”

  “Like hell you are.” John lifted his take-out bag. “We still have left-overs and I want to discuss the cases some more.” He walked to the agent’s window. “I have a comfy couch. Sleep here, plus have agents watching the house. That way there is undeniable proof that I didn’t leave.”

  Green’s wide eyes were almost comical. “So much for my fluffy down pillows back at the hotel.”

  “Yeah, well, my lumpy pillows will put some hair on your chest, kid. Now get out of the car.”

  58

  Pans rattled in the kitchen and Tracy’s mother laughed when Laini said she didn’t know where the cooking spray was. Her mom was beginning to make Saturday breakfast a habit. Not that either she or Laini minded. Pop-Tarts were great and all, but there was something dangerously adult-like about eggs and bacon.

  Tracy knew she should be in there helping, or pretending to help, but she couldn’t keep herself from jumping when her own voice sounded in her head, speaking words that were not her own.

  She closed her eyes and the swirling gray-purple cloud encompassed her thoughts. She steadied herself for what she knew would come next.

  “Don’t say it. I don’t care what you want. Unless it comes wrapped in a nice, respectable police detective, you’re shit out of luck.”

  *Need.*

  “I don’t care what you need.”

  Mom walked in from the kitchen, placing two paper plates of eggs onto the coffee table between them. “You’re talking to yourself again.”

  “Yeah, except I’m not my own best friend.” And maybe she never would be.

  Why couldn’t her entity be more like Dak? John seemed happy, comfortable with someone inside him. Why did her Ambient have to end up being such a one-centric, myopic pain?

  “I know you’ve been through a lot but Laini is very worried about you.”

  “True that.” Laini plopped on her recliner, balancing a plate piled high with bacon.

  Tracy covered her eyes. “What did you tell her?”

  Her roommate shrugged, scooping food into her already packed mouth.

  “Enough to know that things aren’t back to normal yet,” Mom said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Little did she know that things would never be normal again. There was no way to make her understand that. “Lately, I’ve been two people; two people who want completely different things.”

  Mom giggled behind a bite of her eggs. “It’s called being young. There are so many choices out there for you. Far more than when I was your age.”

  “When you were my age you already had a teenage daughter.” Tracy cringed when the words left her mouth. Attacking her mother was the furthest thing from her mind but it was too late to take it back.

  Her mother stared at her plate. The air seemed heavy.

  Clearing her throat, Laini stood slowly. Her gaze darted between Tracy and her mom. “You know what? I just remembered, I’ve got that thing in the…” She gestured over her shoulder with the plate. “Well, you know.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door, plate still in-hand. “Thanks for the breakfast, Ms. Seavers.”

  Tracy’s mom watched her go. “Wow. Mention teenage pregnancy and she bolts faster than your father did.”

  Tracy cringed but her mom just took another bite of egg. Why couldn’t Tracy be so poised in an uncomfortable situation?

  Her mom swallowed and placed her plate on the table. “I made a big choice when I was fifteen years old. Everyone said I should get an abortion. I’ve never regretted my decision, no matter how bad things have gotten.” She folded her arms and reclined, as if their discussion was about nothing more serious than the laundry. “Now, what are we really talking about here?”

  Tears formed in Tracy’s eyes. Thirty years ago, her mom had transitioned from child to adult with one decision and in that instant, she’d grown up more than Tracy could imagine.

  She covered her eyes. “Oh, Mom, I’m so confused.”

  Within moments, her mother’s arms engulfed her. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

  Tracy soaked her mom’s shoulder with tears as her mother rocked her like she’d done when Tracy fell and skinned her knee at her mom’s best friend’s high-school graduation party. Tracy didn’t actually remember but there was a picture on her mom’s nightstand. She’d always wondered, why that picture? Why that moment, out of the last thirty years?

  Maybe that moment was significant to her mother. All of her friends were there, celebrating a normal teenage event, but her mother was aside, taking care of Tracy.

  Her mother had given up so much for her. How could Tracy turn around now and try to hurt her? Why would she say something so heartless, something she didn’t even mean?

  Mom patted her head and smiled. “Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ve probably been through it.”

  Tracy bit her top lip. How exactly does one explain having an alien inside you without actually saying so? “Remember that guy I told you about?”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “John, right? So, you do have a boyfriend.” She clapped her hands once. “Fess up. Tell me all about him.”

  Tracy smiled as Mom retro-spiraled into a teenager again. Maybe that’s what she needed: a friend. “He’s wonderful. You’d love him. Handsome, polite, honest.”

  “Sounds fantastic. What’s the problem?”

  That was the million-dollar question. “I think I may be falling in love with him.”

  “I’m still waiting for this problem.”

  And what a problem it was. The problem of the century. “I met this other guy, too. I can’t stop thinking about him.” Or at least the other me ca
n’t stop thinking about him.

  “Ah, choices. Tell me about this other guy.”

  “He’s nice-looking.” God, she hated admitting that. “But he’s such a dick. I knew I should keep away from him.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  She lowered her eyes. “No.” But she wanted to. She shivered.

  “It’s not unnatural to be tempted, honey. It’s called hormones.”

  “I want to think about John. I want to be with John, but the other me can’t get this other guy out of my head.” She tugged at her hair. “I hate the other me, sometimes. I swear it!”

  “Well, I might not be the best person to ask for romantic advice, but I think you need to get the second guy out of your system.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You love one guy, but you’re tempted by the other. Give your hormones what they want. I guarantee you, they’ll stop asking.”

  Tracy balked. “Did you just tell me to sleep with a guy I don’t even like?”

  “Believe it or not, I did.”

  Adonna did somersaults along Tracy’s diaphragm. The Ambient and her mother would probably be great friends under other circumstances.

  Mom rested her elbows on her knees. “Chances are, the sex will suck, and you will want to puke afterwards. You’ll realize that the grass is not greener over in hot-jerk-land, and you’ll never look back.” She raised a brow. “If John is meant to be your guy, a quick fling isn’t going to do anything to change that.”

  “This isn’t the sixties, Mom. If I cheat on my boyfriend, he’ll be pissed.” But would he be pissed? He seemed to understand that it was Adonna the first time. Yeah, he was upset, but he respected that there was someone else involved.

  Wait, was she talking herself into this?

  Adonna slithered below her ribcage.

  Whose thoughts was she thinking, hers or Adonna’s?

  A vision of swirling, grayish purple flashed through her mind. *Want.*

  Tracy shook her head. No. No want.

  The very idea was ludicrous. If Adonna wanted to get it on, she’d have to re-wire those alien hormones to sizzle for Dak. That’s the way it had to be. Tracy was not going to sacrifice herself or take a chance at losing John just to placate an over-sexed alien.

  59

  John dragged a razor across his face. Images of each item in evidence flashed through his mind. What was the missing link? There had to be something.

  *They’re going to extract me, aren’t they?*

  Dak’s perpetual question did little to settle John’s nerves. “How about you quit worrying and help me think?”

  The killer in the first case left huge amounts of evidence at each scene, the biggest of which was his DNA. He made no attempt at hiding it. Didn’t even use a condom. Of course, that was good news in that it would clear him and Dak eventually. DNA evidence also proved there were no copycats. It was the same guy every time. But the rest of the clues he left seemed to mean nothing. Was he planting them on purpose, leaving a rabbit trail that always led to an empty hole?

  And then there were the cop murders. So different, but the crime scenes had the same feel. The same resonance. Not that a feeling was the kind of evidence that would hold up in court, but his intuition had never steered him wrong. Whatever it was, it was big and bold and blaring, yet just out of their reach.

  John’s jaw tightened as he finished dressing and slid on his blazer. Maybe he was overthinking the clues. Maybe they were all left behind to keep him off-kilter. But it wouldn’t last for long. Eventually, this creep had to make a mistake.

  The stairs squeaked as he made his way to the kitchen, past the neatly-folded bedding on the couch. He had to hand it to Green, the kid was a great house guest. The room was probably neater now than when they got home last night.

  “Yeah, we’re on our way,” Green said, speaking into his mobile. He shoved the phone into his pocket and handed John a cup of coffee. “We have to go. Agent Clark just called for backup. We got the asshole.”

  The ACDHS had their suspect cornered. John couldn’t believe it. What an incredible break!

  His ego puffed a little, but he ignored his own idiocy. It didn’t matter who caught the scum bag, as long as the creep was behind bars. The women of South Jersey deserved to breathe a sigh of relief.

  Tapping the glove box in front of him, he willed Agent Green to drive faster. Screw the residential signs. Fifty didn’t even cut it at a time like this. “Turn left here,” he said, and grabbed on to his seat as the car skidded onto Teardrop Lane.

  Holy shit.

  At least a dozen marked and unmarked police cars congregated at the end of the street. Flashing red lights reflected off vinyl siding in the early dawn light. They pulled behind the last of the cars and jumped out.

  Uniformed officers loitered by their vehicles as John passed with Agent Green. John’s shoulders turned to stone. Was it over already?

  Sergeant Biggs tapped incessantly on his phone as he exited the house from the front door. He flinched when he saw John.

  Something was definitely up. “What happened? Did we get him?”

  Biggs shook his head. “No. The bastard got us.” He glanced at Green. “Sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Green said. “Sorry for what?” The agent continued into the house.

  Slipping his phone in his pocket, Biggs gestured to the door. “Please tell me that kid had you under surveillance all night.”

  “Yeah, he slept on my couch. Why?”

  “Then I guess you are officially off the hook. The Feds can’t blame you when they had their own man on you.” He continued toward his car. “Get your ass in there before the Feds trample more evidence. I’ll check on the perimeter teams. We might still be able to catch the perpetrator.”

  So, the asshole got away, anyway. The Feds were more useless than he thought.

  John continued up the walkway. The thickness of the air gave him pause. A coppery tang stung his nasal passages.

  Dak shook and twisted, as if trying to hide from the smell.

  Ignoring the solidity gripping his chest, John strode toward the door, but was blocked by a black suit.

  “This is a Federal case,” the man said.

  “Let him in,” Green called from further within. “He’s with me.”

  John passed the forensics team carrying bags from the scene and moved into the living room. The once light-colored carpet was splotched with crimson stains: footprints in a disjointed, erratic pattern. The creep had never been that sloppy before.

  To his left, agents taped markers around a severed arm lying beside the body of a blonde woman. Another man placed tape on the floor around her spread legs.

  Another life lost. When would it end?

  He moved to the other side of the room, where most of the agents seemed to be gathered.

  Green crouched beside a red puddle, rubbing his temples. There was no sign of the carpeting beneath the crimson stains on his half of the room. The rug had become so saturated that the blood had pooled in places.

  “The computers say it was fired off but there is no residue,” one man said. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” John asked.

  All eyes turned to him. The few who had been crouching, stood.

  “Why don’t you tell me.” The man who had spoken clenched his fists and stepped toward John.

  Green appeared by John’s side. “Peters didn’t do this. He was with me when Clark called for backup.”

  The first man asked, “Are you certain of his whereabouts?”

  Green’s nose flared. “Yes. I was on-scene and had two agents stationed outside. Peters is clean.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” He motioned behind him, and the agents parted, leaving a full view of the carnage.

  Body parts littered the floor without reason. Blood splattered up the walls and across the furniture. John counted at least two severed heads.

  He gulped down the need to puke as Dak twisted and rolled wit
hin him. “Who was this?”

  Green pointed to the head on the right, perched on the remains of a man’s buttocks. “That was Agent Clark.” He pointed to the left, where another head lay turned away in the middle of the couch. “That was Agent Evans.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible. We were here within twenty minutes of Clark’s call for backup.”

  “We were here within twenty minutes of the precinct’s call to us.”

  Meaning the dispatch didn’t happen fast enough. Dammit.

  But that still wasn’t enough time for any normal assailant to do this.

  Green covered his mouth as if holding back a wretch. “We need to officially label this an Ambient attack.” He stood. His face shone a pale yellow. “From what I can tell, Clark and Evans called for backup as they moved in to engage. I guess the killer had other plans.”

  “Everything is accounted for but the Ambient extractor,” another agent said.

  *That’s good, right?*

  John nodded. With the extractor gone, Dak was safe. For now, at least. Unless they had another one.

  Unfortunately, the disappearance of the weapon came at too high a price. He wasn’t fond of Clark or Evans, but neither of them deserved to be mutilated.

  John turned from the scene and followed the footprints out the back door. They ended in the sand a few feet from the house, right before the grass started.

  “They say he made off into the woods.” Green moved behind him. “Seems to be his M.O.”

  “But not this time. He left another way. The front door or maybe the garage.”

  Green’s brow furrowed. “But the prints are right there.”

  John crouched over a red print in the sand. The color had already faded to a hue closer to brown. “Look at the doubling of the image here,” he pointed. “And here.”

  “I don’t see it.”

  “That’s because you’re green, Green.” He stood. “The killer walked out this far and then doubled back on his own footprints.” He pointed to the grass. “See here? There is sand in this print. Like the other cases, he made it look like he went one way, while he took off another.” He nodded. “He did a damn good job of it, too. I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t done this before.”