snakebyte: book 5.0 in the Byte Series (The _byte series)

by Cat Connor

  “You done with this one? We’re getting hungry.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” I hurried back toward Lee and Rowan. I could understand no one wanting to eat in this particular clearing. As I joined them, I felt a sense of relief that came with knowing Lee wore a Glock 22 on his right hip and a SIG P226 in a shoulder rig. Maybe the woods were watching. As we moved on, a loud squawk pierced the air. A chill ran down my spine and my hand rested lightly on my gun.

  It’s a security thing.

  “We’ll head on over to the third scene, and then break for lunch,” I told them. As we walked this time, I paid close attention to the trail, looking along the sides for any signs of the bird. I figured if it was involved in the murders then feathers could be anywhere along the path. If birds dropped feathers like we dropped hair. I needed to know more about ravens. All I really knew was that they were clever, and akin to the carrion crow. This really didn’t fill me with joy. Anything that started with the word carrion wasn’t something I wanted to spend time with.

  Don’t die in the woods. Don’t let the animals, birds, and bugs get you.

  I caused a stir when I cremated Mac but he and I decided early in our relationship that cremation was the way to go. I cremated Carla, too. My intent was to have her ashes turned into diamonds and there was a proviso in my will that the same thing happen to mine. The idea of someone wearing me as a necklace really floated my boat.

  I slowed as the climb began to take its toll. My legs ached. Lee and Rowan didn’t seem to notice the steepness or even look tired. I was flagging and I knew it.

  “Hey, Rowan, did you bring water?”

  He stopped walking, shrugged a daypack from his shoulder, and set it on the ground. He produced two bottles of water, and handed us one each. Then he pulled out a third and took a drink himself. I knew he was watching me as he drank. He pushed his water bottle back in the pack, and then removed an apple. He handed it to me.

  “That might help more than the water.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You okay?”

  Lee quipped, “You still asking? Boy you haven’t been around long enough if you’re still asking that old question.” He grinned.

  Damn!

  Rowan smiled, he lifted his sunglasses up on his cap. His blue on blue eyes sparkled and I remembered how much I liked him.

  “You’re right, Lee, she’s always okay,” Rowan said.

  “Right here guys. And for your information, okay is a perfectly valid way for me to be.”

  I muttered under my breath, “I’m not okay, I’m fuc’n fantastic.”

  “Yes you are,” Rowan whispered.

  Note to self, his hearing is amazing for a rock star that has been playing stadiums for eighteen odd years. Who’d have thought?

  I remembered the noise from my brief stage appearance with him.

  “I think the next place is only about half a mile from here. Let’s go.”

  Sunglasses slid back on faces, caps adjusted, and the daypack slung on Rowan’s shoulders and we set off once again. My eyes roamed the track and the area we walked through. Beady bird eyes seemed to follow us.

  Imagination?

  At the third site, which was really the second actual physical site, I set the men folk to pretending to be a five foot one woman. The victim at this site was five-one. With the same game plan as before, I began taking photographs of the area, walking in all directions, trying to find a way for someone to spot another person in the small clearing. Again, there was none. It can’t have been an ambush.

  I walked farther into the woods, looking for feathers, or anything that seemed to call me.

  I couldn’t see much difference between the places we’d visited so far. Both were concealed from prying eyes, both were clearings.

  Nothing stood out as to why he killed two people in the same location but shifted for the third. I guessed it could be as simple as opportunity. Maybe the third victim didn’t go by the same place.

  A twig snapped behind me. I held my breath and spun around. There was no one there.

  A little voice in my head told me ravens walk on the ground. As I listened, I wondered if a raven was heavy enough to snap twigs under its feet. The urge to run back to Lee and Rowan took great willpower to overcome. Another twig snapped. It was closer this time. Someone tripped, the ground shook at the impact.

  A raven couldn’t shake the ground. Someone was crashing through the woods. Then I heard it, a sob. My first instinct was to move quickly toward the sound.

  A cold chill stopped me. Ravens can mimic human noises and speech. I could be moving into a trap.

  Scrabbling, sobbing, and still no one came within my line of sight. I moved off the trail to get a better view of the path behind me. One hand rested on my gun, the other fished for my cell phone, ready to call Lee.

  On the path behind me, I glimpsed red hair and flailing arms. A child yelled for help.

  Instinct took over. With gun in hand, I headed toward the shrieking child. Ravens don’t have red hair and arms.

  Then I saw him, a short man tending toward fat, about five foot seven with thinning hair. He had one hand wrapped around the child’s upper arm. Half dragging, half lifting the kid back toward him.

  “Halt, FBI,” I called out. I hoped my voice would carry and Lee would hear me as I tried to recall how far I’d walked from the clearing and in which direction.

  The child’s feet dangled in midair as he hauled her off the ground in his haste to pull her closer.

  “Helping my daughter here,” he replied and shook her arm making the kid’s body jiggle like a marionette. “Aren’t I, honey?”

  The child nodded. I had my phone in my left hand and my gun in my right. I held the phone in front of me. Using my thumb, I hit the two-digit code and called Lee’s phone. The speaker kicked in automatically. “I have a situation, south east of your position.”

  Chapter Four

  Crazy Love.

  I disconnected the call and pushed my phone back into my pocket.

  “That’s not necessary. I’m a United States Marshall.” His left hand moved.

  “Don’t,” I cautioned.

  “I’m going for my badge.”

  “Not if you want to live,” I countered. “As a Marshall, I am sure you appreciate my concerns. I need to talk to the child. Let her go.”

  The kid looked terrified. I had to wonder how much of that was due to me pointing a gun at them, and how much was due to the retard squeezing her arm. My gut told me it had more to do with the retard than me.

  “Everything’s fine, Agent.” He tried a soothing slimy tone. I figured it worked on kids and those adults of less than normal intelligence. His own kind?

  “That would be Supervisory Special Agent, and I don’t think so, sir.”

  I adjusted my aim, using a two-handed grip. The kid stamped on his foot and dove toward me. I stepped over her small body without looking down at her.

  “Stay there,” I said.

  The man struggled to open his jacket. “She’s my kid!”

  “Then you’ll want to do what’s right.”

  He tried again to get his hand into his jacket, this time going up from underneath. Again he failed.

  “On the ground! Hands in front of you.”

  He tugged the zipper. His jacket fell open, his hand moved, and I clearly saw the butt of a gun. His right hand strayed toward the gun as he stared at me.

  I squeezed off a round. It hit his shoulder. The child screamed. He straightened up with a sneer and pulled the gun. I fired again as footsteps came up behind me. My bullet hit an inch below the first shot. His shoulder would need some reconstruction.

  Lee’s soothing drawl announced his presence. “FBI.”

  The man dropped onto one knee with a pitiful moan. His gun dropped from his hand into the leaf litter. Lee stepped around me and kicked the gun away from the man’s reach. The man with no name sat clutching his arm. Sweat beaded on his pale face.

  Lee
picked up the gun and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans.

  Bleeding and breathing and moaning. I didn’t much care if he lived or died. The kid swapped screaming with sobbing.

  The man’s voice struggled from his mouth, “You bitch. You shot me twice.”

  “You’ll live,” Lee said. “When the FBI tell you to stop, pal. You stop!”

  “She’s my kid.” His voice quivered.

  “Doesn’t give you carte blanche to behave like an ass,” Lee snarled, as he holstered his weapon. “Name?”

  “Glen.”

  Lee called for paramedics. I helped the kid up.

  “Is that your father?”

  “No,” she whispered. “No.”

  “Why are you with him?”

  The child whispered again, “He took me from my school.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kate.”

  “Heads up, Ellie.” Lee threw me a wallet.

  I caught it and opened it. Inside I found a driver’s license, two credit cards, and a wad of cash. The credit cards interested me: one MasterCard, one American Express. The names on the cards were different and neither matched the driver’s license.

  “Apparently Glen Sykes is also known as Colin Phillips and Shelby Gibbs,” I said and shoved the cards and license back into his wallet. “Guess you have some sort of identity crisis. Nothing here suggests you are a Marshall. Where are your official credentials? Whoever the hell you are.”

  Lee hauled him to his feet. The man with too many names groaned louder and clutched at his shoulder while Lee patted him down again. No more weapons. “Seems he’s a confused guy,” Lee commented and pushed him back to a sitting position on the ground. “You’re lucky my partner didn’t want you dead. If I were you I’d keep pressure on those wounds.”

  “Must be hell to be as confused as you are,” I said. “So many names and I just bet none of them are yours.”

  “Where’s your vehicle?” Lee asked.

  Glen sneered; I felt tempted to slap him, or poke something hot into one of his wounds.

  Kate spoke up, “He chased me from the car park. There are three more of us and another man with a gun.” She paused and looked at Glen. “He said …” she pointed a slim dirty finger at him, “he said he was a police officer, but he isn’t.”

  I took my badge from my pocket and gave it to her. “Did either of them have anything like this?”

  “No. I didn’t see a badge or a card with the photo on it.” She handed it back to me.

  Lee walked over to us. “The other guy might come looking or leave with the kids.”

  I nodded. “Call it in.”

  “What kind of car, Kate?” Lee asked punching in numbers on his cell phone.

  “A blue one, it’s big like a truck with four doors and door at the back too. There’s no trunk like a car.”

  Lee smiled. “Good girl.”

  The kid smiled back. Lee called local police and then the park rangers. The exits were closed and rangers would stop anyone leaving the park on foot or in a vehicle. He also let them know paramedics were on their way and gave our position. I love GPS.

  The kid kept smiling at Lee. I figured she was about thirteen. That’s how old Carla was when I first met her. I closed my eyes for a moment and told myself she wasn’t Carla. When I opened my eyes, Kate’s expression had changed. Her smile became almost demented as she stared at Lee. It’d been a while since I’d seen that sort of reaction but I sensed the inevitable building.

  At that moment, my cell rang. I answered the call as the kid squealed, “Tony Sharron!”

  “Everything okay?” Rowan asked. I’d forgotten he was with us. Yep, I’m definitely girlfriend material. I sucked.

  Lee’s eyes widened in panic as the kid yelled again.

  Rowan laughed in my ear. Guess he heard the kid, too.

  “Shall I come over there?”

  “And rescue Lee or fuel the fire?” I inquired.

  “Coming.”

  I looked at Lee. “Brace yourself …”

  He sighed and readied to grab the kid when she saw Rowan. Lee’s phone jangled. Park police found a group of girls in a blue SUV, and one male claiming to be a United States Marshall. The male occupant showed credentials but they were quickly determined to be fakes. It’s one thing fooling kids, it’s quite another to attempt to fool fellow LEOs.

  A noise made me look over at the man sitting on the ground. He was complaining and clutching at his shoulder.

  “Lee?” I heard Rowan’s voice from somewhere beside the path we were on. “Ellie?”

  I looked at Rowan as he emerged from the trees beside us. Lee greeted him as movement caught my eye. I spun around to see the wounded man waving a gun at me like some kind of handicapped drunk.

  “Gun!”

  Lee pushed Rowan and the kid to the ground.

  Enough bullshit. I had a clear head shot when the round left my gun. The man’s tongue fell out of his mouth as his head hit the ground with a sickening thud. Brains and blood sprayed into the air and fell back on him. He lay motionless.

  Chaos erupted. The kid screamed. Rowan jumped to his feet. Lee caught the kid as she launched herself at Rowan. The kid was hysterical and sobbing.

  “Cancel the paramedics,” I said, but no one heard me. I holstered my gun and looked around the scene. Color faded from Rowan’s face when I moved and opened the body to his line of vision. I quickly stepped back to block it. Blood was slowly moving towards my feet. I didn’t want to be there too long. “Where the fuck did he get a gun from?”

  “I dunno,” Lee replied. “I patted him down, there was no gun.”

  “Clearly, there was a gun somewhere.” I turned my head to Rowan. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t feel like lunch now,” Rowan replied.

  “Same here,” Lee replied, adjusting his grip on Kate who was sobbing in his arms. “So where did the gun come from?”

  I shook my head. “No idea. Ask her,” I said, pointing to Kate.

  “Kate, did the man have more guns?”

  She looked up at Lee, tear-stained and sobbing on alternate breaths.

  “There was one in his belt …” She dragged in a breath. “And when he got in the car I think I saw one in his jacket pocket.”

  I looked at Lee. “You found one.”

  “Yeah, I took it from the holster on his belt.” Lee’s eyes roamed the woods. “He must’ve thrown the other one into the undergrowth at some stage.”

  When he had time to do that, I did not know. I couldn’t unshoot him and ask when he stashed the gun.

  “That could’ve ended badly,” Rowan said.

  “It didn’t exactly end well for him.” I replied. “Let’s move the kid and Rowan out of here.” I could hear people running toward us. Two police officers burst onto the scene, guns drawn. Little more than light sweat on their brows. Lee and I held out our badges.

  “SSA Davenport?” one of them asked.

  Lee spoke, “That’d be me. And this is SSA Conway.”

  The second officer turned toward Rowan. “And you are …” He stopped and blinked, his jaw dropped and then with a sharp intake of breath he righted himself. “You’re not, are you?” asked the police officer.

  Rowan grinned. With his baseball cap and aviators there was room for confusion, but not when he grinned. “Yes, I am.”

  “Wow.” He stepped back. “So the magazine stories are true.”

  “Officer?” I attracted his attention with a small wave. “You’re standing in a crime scene. I’d like you to take statements, from Mr. Grange and the child, for me. Can you do that?”

  I needed the kid the hell away from me.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I looked at Rowan. “If we get your statement out of the way then we can get you out of the way before the media circus arrives.”

  “Thanks, Ellie,” he replied with his trademark grin. “I appreciate that.”

  Not about you. I just don’t want to deal w
ith the craziness and the speculation.

  An hour later we were back in the parking lot. Rowan had given his statement, such as it was. He arrived as I discharged my weapon, so really didn’t have a lot to say. What he did do though was corroborate the reason we were there, and that I’d shot the man to protect the kid and him. We also had a confirmed name for the dead man. Glen Sykes.

  The parking lot crawled with police, FBI, crime scene technicians, day trippers, tourists, and media. It was hard to disguise my disgust at seeing the vultures swoop in so fast. I said goodbye to Rowan before the medical examiner and police took the body of Glen Sykes out of the woods. Fastest goodbye in history.

  Making my way over to our car was slow going. People kept getting in my way. Lee and I needed to wear our FBI jackets. The big yellow FBI on the back would prevent us being confused with bystanders or hikers.

  I pulled two FBI windbreakers from the back of our black Ford Explorer. Behind the car were more woods. Our car faced into the parking lot. I stood by the back bumper and pulled my jacket on. Across the parking lot, I could see what simply appeared as a crazed circus. A frenzy as reporters tried to get pictures of Rowan leaving. Police and FBI blocked them as best they could.

  Twigs crackled and scuffling feet in the underbrush behind me drew my attention away from the madness. I lifted my gun from my holster. Enough is enough. If it was a raven, it was going to become raven pie.

  Collective nouns sprung into my head. A memory from grade school surfaced. Collective nouns. A murder of crows, a mob of crows, a hoard of crows, a mischief of magpies, a tribe of magpies, a clamor of rooks, a murmuration of rooks, conspiracy of ravens, an eyrie of ravens, a bizarre of ravens, an unkindness of ravens. I couldn’t think of anything nice said about large black birds that belonged to the Corvid family. Something flapped. Wings beat a swooshing noise as the bird lifted into the air. Big and black. My gun tracked its flight into the sky. Why didn’t I shoot the thing?

  A raucous caw filled the air, turning my blood cold.

  I looked down as a man leaped toward me from the undergrowth. I tripped him with my foot. He crashed to the ground landing with all his weight on his right shoulder. I glanced around for the bird and spotted it wheeling over the cars, then it dipped out of sight. They really were creepy in a horror movie kind of way.