[Alex Vane 03.0] The Mockingbird Drive

by AC Fuller

  I pulled away from the jail without another word, and we drove to the edge of town, stopping on a dusty side road surrounded by distant brown hills. Greta got out and sat on the hood of the rental. I followed and perched on the hood alongside her.

  It was only ten in the morning, but already in the high-eighties. I was happy to be alive, and sitting with Greta.

  "Do you want to tell me about what happened?" she asked.

  I did. I wanted to tell her everything. To go through the last week and a half moment by moment, to cry about James and tell her about Quinn. I wanted to see the look on her face as I took her through Vegas, Duck Valley, and ARDS. I wanted to display my storytelling chops and weave the whole thing into a narrative that would make her love me.

  And I wanted to apologize for the fact that she'd gotten wrapped up in it, and to ask for her help in undoing the damage done to me in that box. In that room. And, for the first time, I felt ready to talk about Rebecca.

  I opened my mouth to tell her everything, but, instead, I said, "Can we just sit in quiet for a minute? What I really want to tell you is…just thanks for coming. For coming with me."

  My cellphone rang, but I didn't move to get it.

  Greta smiled. "It could be your lawyer."

  I slid off the hood of the car to grab it from inside.

  "Alex, it's gonna be okay." It was my lawyer, calling from her car. "I'm on my way back to the airport."

  "Wait, aren't we going to meet? We're just outside of town. Can you get me in to see Quinn?"

  "Alex, listen. You're not going to get in to see Quinn. No one is getting in except her lawyer and direct family."

  "But she doesn't have any—"

  "Alex, I know, listen!" She was quiet until she was sure she'd shut me up. "Thank you. I was saying, it's going to be okay. I have good news. It's too early to know for sure, but I don't think they're even going to charge her with murder. The sheriff was a straight shooter, which I appreciated. He said they had security camera footage from outside the gas station. Said they had two witnesses saying it was self-defense. The people she shot weren't cops, and didn't identify themselves as such. It's still not clear who exactly they were, or who they were with."

  "They're private security contractors, cleaning up a very big mess they made themselves."

  "If that's true, they're operating illegally on U.S. soil, and self-defense is going to be a makeable case, if they even decide to prosecute. Other than that, Quinn's firearm wasn't registered, but in Nevada that's not as big a deal as it would have been elsewhere. I can likely get her probation for that. They have her on resisting arrest and trespassing, for driving off the highway. But with her mental health issues…I don't know. We might be able to get her off with a few slaps on the wrist."

  "What about bail?"

  "We'll know tomorrow. Just sit tight. Stay out of the press until we see what happens."

  "How did she seem?"

  "Better than expected with all she's been through." She paused, and I was about to hang up. "Oh, and there's one more thing. They're holding a dog at the local pound, under your name. Animals usually go to next of kin, but, since Quinn doesn't have any, she named you."

  I thanked her and told her I'd pay any bail or do anything else necessary to get Quinn out. She was going to get in touch with the best defense attorneys in Nevada to try to bring a local partner onto the case by the end of the day. Given the profile of the story, and the amount of money I was willing to spend, it wouldn't be hard to get the very best.

  Greta and I sat on the hood of the rental car for another hour, then drove south until we found a town big enough to have a hotel and a diner. We slid into a red leather booth and sat in silence until the waiter came from behind the counter. After we'd ordered, Greta excused herself to use the bathroom and I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

  I'd been wanting to check it for a while, but Greta's presence was enough to stay my hand. I wanted to see if there had been any new developments on any front, to check how the networks were covering the Gunstott deal and the China situation, and to check in with Bird and Mia.

  But when I opened my phone, I had a new text from a site called Text UR Buds Free. The message seemed to have no phone number associated with it and, when I swiped open the message, the official sender was listed as noreply@texturbuds.com.

  But I knew who it was from.

  If you're receiving this, I'm either dead or in jail. I set up this message to send automatically by installing a pretty basic script at a 24-7 Internet cafe in Boise. When I decided to drive back to Owyhee, I knew things might get ugly.

  I thought about Innerva and James. What they had. And I thought about who I'd want to know if something happened. If I died. Don't get too full of yourself. I was drunk when I made that pass at you. But you're not as bad as I thought you were. Also, if you're getting this, take care of Smedley for us.

  Greta eased into the booth and saw the smile on my face. "What?"

  "Quinn. She set up a Dead Man's Switch for me."

  "A what?"

  "It's a thing where…never mind. Doesn't matter. Quinn's going to be okay. And we're getting a wrinkly-faced brown dog." I looked up, realizing I'd said "we're" instead of "I'm."

  I felt encouraged that Greta didn't take her eyes off me. We both sipped our water awkwardly. It was one of those moments where there's so much to say that no one can speak.

  When our food arrived, I said, "We have time, Greta. I want to tell you what happened, and I will. But I know you're not my therapist, and I'm going to need one." I paused, then said, "Things happened. I was tortured."

  "Oh my God, I—"

  "It's okay, I'm okay. Well, I'm not okay, but I will be."

  "I'll help you find help."

  "Thank you."

  The food came a couple minutes later. Greta had ordered a half cantaloupe, filled with cottage cheese. Not her normal brunch. "I thought you didn't eat dairy," I said, just to break the silence.

  "Usually don't, but I've actually relaxed a little since we separated." She managed a slight smile. "Everything in moderation, right?"

  I nodded down at my plate. "You're okay with me ordering bacon?"

  She smiled. "No, but I was thinking, maybe we should start meeting for coffee again."

  All my ideas about saving my marriage were dissolving. What I wanted was to be with her, to spend time with her. To enjoy her at her best, with me at mine. I loved her enough in that moment not to care whether she was going to go through with the divorce. I just loved her. I said, "Sounds good. I'll have my people call your people in a couple days to set it up."

  We looked at each other and laughed, all tensions between us resolved. It might have only been thirty seconds, but it felt like forever. Finally, I asked, "What does ‘walk each other home' mean, anyway?"

  "You've asked me that a hundred times."

  "And you've never told me."

  "How does it make you feel when you hear it?"

  My eyes watered and I looked down, studying the bacon and toast and home fries on my plate as they went out of focus. I took a deep breath as Greta placed her warm hand softly on the side of my neck.

  "It makes me feel like I am home," I said.

  —The End—

  In Alex’s next adventure, he’s heading to Cuba...

  Flip the page for more info, or grab your copy here:

  The Shadow File—Coming October 24, 2017

  The Shadow File, Coming October 24, 2017

  America's intelligence security is in the hands of a million private contractors. Now one woman may bring down their entire system.

  Four months ago, Alex Vane lost his friend James Stacy, killed by private security contractors working for the intelligence-industrial complex. Though Alex exposed the killers, most of the system survived, including the amoral torturer known only as Amand. Now, he and others continue to operate a web of security companies worldwide, off the record and accountable to no law.

  James
's widow Innerva Shah is taking a different route to her revenge. From within Cuba's internet desert, she has quietly penetrated the system of contractors that run America's security. Now she's launching the largest ransomware attack in history, with the aim of burning that system to the ground.

  When he learns that Amand and his forces may be closing in on Innerva, Alex makes a desperate attempt to save her. With Innerva's surrender-or-die deadline only hours away, Alex finds himself in Cuba, threatened from every direction, and the only person he can count on is the wife he almost lost.

  Reserve your copy today.

  Thanks for Reading!

  Besides my family, nothing makes me happier than the thought of a reader finishing one of my books.

  So, thank you!

  As an indie author, I work hard to bring you excellent work as fast as I can. I've got many books in the works, and I plan to be at this a long time. I hope you'll come along for the ride.

  The best way to do that is by joining my reader club. I never sell or rent your e-mail address. I never send spam or junk, but I do send:

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  Check out the reader club to get a free book, The Cutline, a novella featuring Alex Vane long before the events in The Mockingbird Drive.

  If you enjoyed The Mockingbird Drive, please consider leaving a brief, honest review on Amazon.

  Until next time,

  A.C. Fuller

  Hansville, Washington

  Acknowledgments

  As always, there are more people to thank than I can possibly remember. But I'm going to make a go at it anyway. For all their love and support along the way, and for playing roles large and small in the creation of this book, I'd like to thank:

  Amanda Allen who, in addition to being my wife of fifteen years, is my first editor and greatest supporter. She deserves credit for many of the best lines in this book.

  My children, Arden and Charlie.

  My dad, Robert Fuller, who offered priceless advice and editing on this book.

  My extended family of Fullers, Johnsons, Allens, and Andersons.

  The staff and students of Northwest Indian College and the Suquamish and Port Gamble S'Klallam Tribes.

  The members of my Street Team, who offer invaluable advice and support.

  My proofreader, Sue Currin.

  My cover designer, Victoria Cooper.

  Series List: The Alex Vane Media Thrillers

  The Cutline

  (An Alex Vane Novella)—Available free, and only though my website

  The Anonymous Source

  (An Alex Vane Media Thriller, Book 1)

  The Inverted Pyramid

  (An Alex Vane Media Thriller, Book 2)

  The Mockingbird Drive

  (An Alex Vane Media Thriller, Book 3)

  The Shadow File

  (An Alex Vane Media Thriller, Book 4)

  ***

  Or get books 1-3 together in the boxed set

  The Alex Vane Media Thrillers: 1-3

  Introducing AMERITOCRACY

  What if someone harnessed the power of the internet to destroy the two-party system?

  After a lifetime of political disillusionment, Mia Rhodes created an alternative to the two-party system: Ameritocracy. Part American Idol, part Iowa Caucus, her online political competition promises to find the most popular independent candidate in America and give them a genuine shot to win the presidency in 2020.

  Anyone can run. The American people vote online. And the winner receives instant fame and a campaign warchest to battle the Democrats and Republicans in 2020.

  But her project flounders until Mia catches the eye of eccentric tech billionaire Peter Colton. With Peter's money and Mia's media savvy, Ameritocracy moves rapidly from punchline to possibility.

  But as the site grows, Mia's life threatens to spin out of control. And as the stakes rise crisis by crisis, Mia must learn that ending politics as we know it means saying goodbye to the Mia Rhodes she has always known.

  Discover the new series early readers are calling: "The West Wing meets Survivor" and "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington for the social media age."

  —Available Now—

  About the Author

  Once a journalist in New York, A.C. Fuller now writes novels about men and women at the intersection of media, politics, and technology.

  He also teaches writing workshops around the country and internationally. Before he began writing full time, he was an adjunct professor of journalism at NYU and an English teacher at Northwest Indian College.

  He now lives with his wife, two children, and two dogs near Seattle. For a free copy of one of A.C.'s books, check out: www.acfuller.com/readerclub.

  And he loves hearing from readers.

  www.acfuller.com

  ac@acfuller.com