Exacerbyte (Ellie Conway Book 3)

by Cat Connor

“We really should have dinner. And soon,” Rowan said. His voice injected a much-needed lightness into my world.

  “You’d have to come here I’m afraid. I can’t bug out in the middle of a case.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “I think so.”

  I wasn’t entirely sure that was wise, knowing what I knew. No, probably not wise at all. But Mac said he was a good guy. Let’s listen to the dead.

  My ability to see an overview of the situation was missing. So I called Carla.

  “Hey kiddo. How’s your weekend?”

  “It’s all right, kinda boring. We have a field trip coming up for history class.”

  “Awesome, do they let adults go?” I’m up for a field trip; for fun I could trick Lee into tagging along and enjoy the screaming and hysteria that’d follow.

  “I have a permission slip and it has questions for parent-helpers to fill out. You have to agree to a police check.”

  We both laughed.

  “I didn’t know who to give the form to,” Carla said.

  “Hang on to it. I was planning on coming to take you to dinner tomorrow night.” I hoped I’d have some idea of where I stood legally by then. Dad had hired the best lawyer in the District and he had already petitioned the court for interim custody. We were meeting the judge at ten on Monday morning. Due to the sensitive situation, the judge was hearing the case in the privacy of her chambers.

  “Yay, dinner!”

  “I don’t want to freak you out but I need to ask, do you still feel like someone’s watching you?”

  “Yeah … when I’m at school or going to school and back here again. It’s worse on the sports fields.”

  “Okay, just do what the agents tell you. See you tomorrow. Be good!”

  “I will.”

  It was wonderful hearing her voice. I loved the tinkling sound of her laughter. As wonderful as it was, I could still hear Mac’s voice in my head, ‘It’s all about the music.’

  Thirty-Two

  Superman Tonight

  Sam and I arrived back at my place in the dark. Sam, Lee and Doc had drawn straws. Sam won or lost, depending how you look at it. It was dark when I’d left and dark when I returned. I felt like I’d missed an entire day.

  I called Noel Gerrard at NCIS intending to leave another message. Much to my surprise, my call didn’t go to voicemail. He was at work on a Sunday.

  “El?”

  “I had a conversation with my husband.”

  “You recently married again or are we talking deceased husband?”

  That was one of the things I liked about Agent Gerrard, he was a no-frills kind of guy and went straight to the crux of the matter.

  “Dead.”

  “Did he want something?”

  “Checking on me, so he said.”

  A patient silence flowed down the phone line. It blanketed the receiver in my hand and dripped over my body. A silvery glow embraced me.

  “What do you want El?” Noel’s voice sent the liquid silver scurrying out of sight.

  “To know I’m not nuts. Either someone is pretending to be my dead husband, or he’s not dead, ’cos dead folk don’t use MSN.”

  “Either way, that creates issues.”

  “No kidding.” I listened to his breathing for a second. “I know this isn’t an NCIS problem, Noel. Lee has someone looking at my laptop as we speak. Could have an answer within a year.”

  He laughed. “Backlogged huh?”

  “Oh hell, yes. Meanwhile I’m on my third laptop in as many days.”

  “You want me to look into something?”

  “No. I just wanted to tell someone.” I dropped my voice to a spooky whisper. “I talk to dead people.”

  “If my Great Aunt Ivy comes through, can you get her key lime pie recipe?”

  “Smart ass.”

  “It scared you a bit, didn’t it?”

  “Just a smidgen. What if it is him?” It’s not as if I don’t talk to Mac all the time, but usually it’s in my head or I whisper something. But twice now he’s appeared in a messenger window and we’ve had actual conversations. Am I that insane?

  “Some beyond-the-grave séance type communication, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then …” He paused. “Then El, I think it’s great that Mac can communicate and it’s less scary than it being some prick messing with you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you can answer once and for all the debate regarding life after death.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a stupid expression? How the hell can there be life after death. Death implies lack of life.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  That was the most I’d ever heard Noel say at once. We edged ever nearer a to philosophical discussion and that scared the bejesus out of me. New depths. It was easier to think the Messenger conversation was a lapse in my sanity, or a glitch in the software, than consider actual messages from beyond the grave.

  “I saw him, Noel.”

  “I think it’s normal to think we see them.”

  Yeah, maybe someone who looks like him from behind in the distance on the street.

  “In the Messenger window. We both used the web cam.”

  Silence.

  “Noel?”

  “I don’t know enough about computers, El. Could be it’s some kind of electronic memory?”

  “A glitch that repeated an old conversation you mean?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What do you suppose the odds are of that in a brand-new machine?” I mused aloud.

  “Even I know that shouldn’t happen. Do you think it was him?”

  “Looked like him, a bit thinner in the face but yeah, I think it was Mac.”

  “You lead an interesting life, Agent Conway. You want me to come hang out tonight?”

  Inside me was a ‘yes’ but it wouldn’t come out.

  “Nah. Just wanted someone to know I’m seeing things.” Someone I trust, someone who won’t use it against me and try to derail my adoption plans. Someone who doesn’t think I’m insane.

  Then I heard him whisper, “I see dead people.” He laughed for a moment. “How about I finish up here and swing by on my way home?”

  “You moved?”

  “Nope.”

  “You still live in Georgetown? Then you can hardly swing by Oakton on your way home from the Navy yard …”

  “I’ll bring coffee …”

  “Sold. To the man with impeccable taste in coffee.”

  I hung up and found I was smiling. God, I’m a sucker for good coffee. There were way worse things than having the very attractive Noel Gerrard bring me coffee. One of those was the situation with Grange concerts and missing kids. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, things were not looking good. Not only were they playing in Europe when seventeen kids disappeared, they arrived in New Zealand a day before the first kid went missing.

  Could Hawk be an employee in Grange’s tour? Is he using someone on the tour to snatch kids? How would they do that? What’s the lure?

  Memorabilia maybe? Backstage passes? Promises of meeting the band? I watched my theories swell uncontrollably in an enamel-baking dish. I poked them with a skewer. It came out sticky.

  Hawk could be blowing large amounts of smoke up our asses and using Grange just as he used the Foundation. I stabbed the metaphoric skewer into my theories once more. It came out clean. I figured I was done cooking that batch.

  Back to the recipe book in search of a new dish to create.

  Gerrard didn’t knock. He kicked. A booted foot tapped low on my front door. Upon opening it, I found Gerrard standing in front of me holding two coffees.

  “Come on in.”

  He gave the door a shove behind him. “You okay, El?”

  I took a coffee and led the way to the living room.

  “Yes. I’m …” I measured my response with care. “I’m awesome.”

  Gerrard smiled. “You are.”

>   “You flatter me.”

  He sat in one of the armchairs; I sat opposite him.

  “What’s going on?” Noel picked his cup up and sipped at the contents.

  I locked my eyes on his. “You avoiding me?”

  “Nope,” he replied, one corner of his mouth smiled.

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  There was a bang in the hallway. I glanced at Noel; his hand was on his gun. Sam’s head poked around the door. “Yo, Gerrard. Good to see you,” he said, grinning.

  “You too, Sam.”

  Sam shifted his line of vision to me. “Ellie – you’ve been getting a bunch of hang-ups.”

  “I have?” I didn’t recall hearing the phone ring at all. That meant nothing. I can tune most things out or maybe it meant the machine picked it up every time.

  “Same number has called and hung up four times this evening.”

  “Try calling it back.”

  “On it.” Sam disappeared again. Two minutes later he hollered, “Ellie, we got trouble!”

  Noel and I followed the sound of his voice to the kitchen.

  “Trouble. What a surprise.” Noel commented.

  “It sure as hell is trouble,” Sam replied and called the number again then handed me the phone. I felt the blood drain from my face as I listened.

  A New Jersey accent spoke, ‘She’s a bit older than I ordinarily like but I’m sure I’ll be able to get a good price for her. She’s beautiful. Little blonde Carla with dark brown eyes. Bet she will taste divine.”

  “Yes, that’s trouble.” I wholeheartedly agreed with Sam’s assessment and pressed re-dial then handed the phone to Noel, so he could hear it too. “I was talking to Carla a few hours ago.”

  “What’d she say?” Sam asked.

  “We talked about a school trip and dinner tomorrow night; she also thinks someone is still watching her.”

  “She doesn’t know about the photos?” Sam asked.

  “Nope,” I replied.

  “I’m concerned,” Sam said, his forehead creased in a way I’d never seen before. He was more than concerned.

  “Find out who pays the bill on that number. I’ll call police and get the patrols at school stepped up,” I instructed.

  Noel had something to say, “Make sure there is an escort following the car she’s in at all times.”

  “Is it Hawk?” Sam asked. I gave him back the phone.

  “That would be my guess. Record the message, please.”

  Back in the living room I made some more calls from my cell phone, leaving Noel with Sam.

  Seventy-five percent of me wanted to bring Carla home, declare the spare room to be her room and never look back.

  A chime from my replacement laptop made me jump. A Messenger window opened. Galileo signed in and typed a message.

  Galileo: Babe, you doing okay?

  Otherwisecat: Maybe

  Galileo: Maybe’s ass. What’s wrong?

  Otherwisecat: You’re dead, Carla is in protective custody and Hawk is threatening to grab her. What could be wrong? Oh by the way – your retard brother wants to stop the adoption.

  Galileo: Still a smart ass I see.

  Otherwisecat: Nothing gets past you.

  I called out to Noel and Sam, “Can you two come here please?”

  They didn’t mess around. “What do you need?” Sam asked, bounding into the room. Noel walked in behind him. Noel did not bounce along like an overzealous puppy dog. He walked with purpose.

  “Look at my screen and tell me what you see.”

  I moved the laptop over on the coffee table so they could sit on either side of me and view the screen.

  Galileo: That you Sam? Hey Noel! Good to see you man. Where are Lee and Kurt?

  If it were physically possible for Sam to go pale he would’ve. He exhaled sharply and shook his head. “This makes no sense.”

  “Tell me about it,” I replied. “But I’m thinking the three of us aren’t sharing the same hallucination, so something fucky is going on.”

  Noel said nothing.

  Otherwisecat: Lee is working with Misha. Kurt is at the hospital. I got the music thing. I get that this is about Grange. Now help me find Hawk.

  Galileo: I’m dead, not magic.

  Otherwisecat: I thought dead people knew everything. Can’t you just ask around and find the fucker?

  Galileo: He’s going to grab Carla.

  The messenger window faded to grey and the message on the top of it said, Galileo has signed out. I tried to leave an off-line message but the Messenger service told me that Galileo didn’t exist.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, I know that already!” I turned to Sam. “I’m not nuts?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not nuts.”

  “What music thing?” Noel asked with restraint after re-reading the conversation.

  “I kept hearing Mac’s voice tell me, ‘It’s all about the music’ – it started in New Zealand while we were …”

  Sam interrupted, “While we were trying to figure out how Hawk convinced the kids to go with him or whoever grabbed them.”

  “Yeah. The lure – Grange concerts,” I replied.

  “Don’t forget the Grange chat room, Hawk’s new hunting ground,” Sam added.

  “Okay, I get the music thing now too,” Noel said. “But I can tell you, without a doubt, that Rowan Grange and the rest of the band are not involved with Hawk’s operation.”

  I smiled. “And you know this because you have them under surveillance?”

  Half a smile twitched on his lips. “And you know that how?”

  “A ghost didn’t tell me, if that’s what you think. Hawk did. He photographed Rowan being photographed – we ran it through facial recognition software.”

  “And you were told to back away …” Noel said but didn’t offer any more insight into why we were told to back off.

  “Yep.”

  “It seems to me that we have an interesting situation with your dead husband. Shame he couldn’t give us more information. It’s possible the voice on the phone was Hawk and he implied he was going to take Carla,” Noel said, his voice quiet and thoughtful. “I’m heading off.”

  “Too spooky for you?” I asked as Noel reached the door.

  “Nope. I wanna go tap some spooks on the shoulder and see what they know about ghosts, Hawk and Carla.”

  And with that he was gone.

  Thirty-Three

  Welcome To Where Ever You Are

  Sam dropped me off. I hurried into the family court building at nine forty-five on Monday morning and found Dad waiting outside the judge’s chambers with an expensively attired lawyer.

  “Karl Mansfield,” he said, thrusting his hand at me.

  “Ellie Conway, nice to meet you.”

  A door opened. I recognized the woman who stepped out and smiled at me.

  “I wondered if it was you when I saw Gabrielle Conway on my docket,” Judge Hartwell said. She introduced herself to my father and acknowledged the lawyer, whom she knew.

  “Is this a problem?” I asked.

  She smiled. “No, not at all. This is not criminal court, this is family court – you’re not on trial.”

  My heart thumped hard. My palms felt wet.

  “Okay.”

  Judge Hartwell was kidnapped a few Christmases back by a disgruntled grandfather, after she declared him a pedophile and stopped all the access he had with his grandchildren. It was my case. I got to bring her home to her small son and Special Agent husband.

  “Come on in Ellie, I know time is of the essence in this case. I’ve already spoken to the young lady in question this morning and a rather unfortunate man called Eddie Connelly – he seemed to think he’s a relative of yours.”

  “Brother-in-law,” I replied. Soon to be deceased if he keeps up his interfering shit.

  “So I gathered. I’m issuing a restraining order. He is not fit to be let loose on society in general, let alone a child. I trust you have no
objection.”

  “None, whatsoever.”

  “Attached to Carla’s file was a letter from Cassandra Smith. She stated that in her opinion as a senior social worker and as someone with firsthand knowledge of the relationship between you and Carla, that you are the ideal mother for the child.”

  A sneaky tear rolled down my face as I remembered Cassie telling me she’d written a letter.

  Twenty minutes later, I walked out with a piece of paper stating I was now Carla’s legal guardian, pending formal adoption. Easy money for Karl this time. He was going to handle the adoption papers and they were apparently very straightforward.

  Dad walked with me out of the building. “I’m taking Carla out for dinner tonight, I’ll tell her then,” I said to him.

  “You tell her Grandpa can’t wait to spoil her rotten.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said and gave him a hug. “I will.”

  Out on the street a car horn tooted. I looked over and saw Sam behind the wheel of a black SUV. He waved. I ran over.

  “How’d it go?” he asked as he pushed the door open for me.

  “What? The big-assed grin not enough of a hint for you?”

  “That means I’m an uncle. But – I’m not uncool, so maybe we should change …”

  “Uncle to aunt?” I said with a chuckle.

  Sam grinned. “You walking home?”

  I shut the door and put on my seat belt. “Where is everyone?”

  Sam looked slightly uncomfortable as he negotiated traffic and tried to avoid my question by ignoring it.

  “Sam? Lee and Misha? Doc?”

  “Lee wanted to go back to Fort Belvoir. Misha said he shouldn’t, so he went with him.”

  Of course he did. “I can hardly wait for the explanation.”

  “Lee reckons we missed something. He was ranting about the Fort being pivotal to the case and he thought he could snoop around a bit.”

  “This won’t end well.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Let’s pretend I never heard that. Is Doc still at the hospital?”

  “Nope, he’s meeting us at your place.”

  It didn’t take long before Sam and I were back at home. All the way home I felt eyes on me. Sam assured me no one had tailed us. What surprised me was that the feeling hung around once I was inside my home. I was used to feeling Mac around me watching, but the feeling I’d had since Cassie’s death was sinister.