by Cat Connor
It was a possibility.
Tea. Hot, sweet, tea. Tea never tasted so good. I listened to Kurt tell me what I’d said. It could’ve been a lot worse. I’d remained noncommittal. It was what it was. I just didn’t know what it was.
I finished the tea and slid back down under the covers.
“You had the perfect opportunity,” I said, hoping I hid my smile.
“I prefer my dates to be awake,” Kurt said, his voice quiet. “I need to take blood.” Kurt opened his case.
“Tomorrow?”
“Depends what the drug was, could be gone by then. Let’s do it now.”
I extracted my left arm from under the blankets.
“Go on then.”
I didn’t even feel the needle but I did watch the vial fill with blood, then another, then another.
“You leaving me with any?”
“You’ve got plenty.”
“Why so many vials?”
“Running bloods, may as well run everything.”
Great.
Kurt made a phone call to a courier while he sat with me for a few minutes. “Sleep, you’ll feel much better in the morning.”
I don’t think that’s an assumption that can be made.
“Goodnight.”
When I opened my eyes, it was daylight. Kurt sat in the chair by the window.
“Breakfast in the dining room when you’re ready. How do you feel?” Kurt said.
“Okay, I think.” Breakfast in the dining room. “Do we know how the drug got into me yet and what it was?”
“Yes, we do. Sam is good at getting information out of people.”
Understatement of the century. “And?”
“The waitress we had last night spiked your hot chocolate with powdered Ketamine. She initially spiked your coffee but you didn’t drink it. I think you only had about a third of your coffee after dinner.”
Which could’ve been enough. So she doped me twice. I had a feeling I was lucky to see the morning.
“How did she know I’d drink the hot chocolate?”
“The waitress overheard a comment I made in the restaurant about you drinking hot chocolate.”
“I’m pretty sure they call them servers now,” I replied letting his words sink in. Ketamine in the hot chocolate powder. Ketamine in coffee has been done before but hot chocolate that was new. A step up from spitting in the coffee I guess. She’s one sick bitch. Just glad I didn’t see rainbow people and sing like Mac did. Because vomiting is so much better than singing? Keeping it classy.
“Did we talk about hot chocolate?” I asked Kurt.
“Yes, we were discussing how you should drink less coffee at night and you said you’d developed a taste for hot chocolate,” Kurt replied. “There was also a discussion about who would pay for dinner, and you told the server to put it on your tab, that way the Bureau would pay. From that conversation the server leaped to the conclusion that you weren’t sharing a room.”
“Hang on, I don’t remember drinking hot chocolate?” I realized my mouth was still moving too late and the rest of my thought tumbled from my lips, “Why would anyone do that? What the hell? I mean, really, what the hell?”
“That’s how she gets her kicks. Last night the same server delivered tea, coffee, and a hot chocolate sachet to our room. I didn’t notice until after I’d made you chocolate that there was only one. I suppose she noticed you didn’t finish your coffee and figured you didn’t get enough of a dose.”
“You’re fucking with me …”
“Nope, she’s a complete psycho and picks people at random to drug. She got the room number when you charged dinner to our room. While you were sleeping we found a camera in here.”
“You what?”
“She chooses a woman from the restaurant. Someone who charges the meal back to their room, drugs the chosen woman, usually by adding the drug to the meal, sets up a camera, and sells views over the internet. Once the drug starts to take effect she sends in someone to …”
I swallowed hard. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah, she’s been doing this for about six months … that’s a lot of women who have been sexually assaulted and raped and have no fuc’n idea.”
“You guys have been busy.”
“We have. She’s been charged by us and is being taken to the nearest field office by local police.”
“You did take my blood, yes?” Considering the night, it was smart to ask.
“Yes. Results will be back tomorrow.”
“Was I alone long enough for anything …?”
“No, you called me. I came straight back and I never left you.”
“We don’t need to do a rape kit?”
“No. Nothing happened to you. I was there. I think her plan fell over when she realized we were sharing a room.”
He cleared his throat. “It didn’t fall over completely though. She was still selling views.”
“That’s not good …”
“Well, no fun for the viewers – nothing was happening except for you vomiting.” He smiled. “Although I guess some people like that kind of thing.”
“Yuck.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel. Lucky. Relieved that I wasn’t alone. Sad for the victims who’d lived happily unaware, because now they would know. Now someone had to find them and tell them what happened to them. Life has a way of being both sucky and lucky all at once.
There I go again being a human target. Albeit an unwitting one. Where the hell was Chance when I needed him? A small smile broke free.
Chance meet Kurt, and he’s very very real.
“Give me half an hour.” Then I had a thought. “Cameras are gone, yeah?”
Kurt’s smile returned with added cheek. “Yeah. I’ll be with Lee and Sam. We’ll wait.”
The End.
3. I’m With You
Sam ambled into my office carrying a pizza box.
“Yo, Chicky, hungry?” He grinned, set the box on the coffee table, and planted himself on the sofa. “Look who I’m asking. Is water wet?”
“What are you saying?” I closed the file on my desk. My chair slid back as I stood.
His smiled beamed at me. Sam opened the box and folded the lid back.
“Just an observation on your appetite …” Sam’s voice trailed off as his gaze settled on the contents.
“I burn a lot of calories,” I muttered. “Active life.”
“Chicky you need to see this,” Sam said pushing the box to the middle of the table.
I joined him on the sofa and looked into the box.
Gross.
“What the hell is on that?” Sam didn’t respond. His head shook from side to side. “On second thoughts, I’m not hungry.”
“I’m with you, Chicky.” Sam leaned back on the sofa. I knew the look on his face. He was trying to detach.
“What did you order?” I had my phone in my hand and a pen in the other. I flicked one of the lumps in the pizza with my pen. Nausea washed over me. Dropping the pen, I made a call.
“Kurt, my office, now.” I hung up.
“Pepperoni,” Sam said. “I ordered pepperoni.” He hauled himself to his feet and walked across the room. I watched as he leaned on the edge of my desk. He didn’t look good. His usual Denzel Washington meets LL Cool J look washed out.
“Not eyeball then?”
He shook his head.
“You okay?” That was new. I’d never seen Sam so shaken. “Get some air, Sam.”
He nodded and headed for the door. I took pictures of the pizza with my phone. Kurt walked in as Sam left.
“Should I go after him?” Kurt asked motioning to the door. “He did not look good. We having pizza for lunch?”
“Sam needs some air. Pizza was for lunch. Check this out,” I replied.
Kurt leaned down and peered into the box on the table. He picked up my pen and pushed one of the lumps. Mozzarella strings stretched from the eyeball as Kurt rolled it over. He repeated the process with the second lump.
Saliva welled in my mouth and not in a good way. I swallowed hard and tried not to think too much about what I saw.
“Interesting choice in topping,” Kurt said putting the pen down. He folded the lid over and looked at the name on the box. “Field trip?”
“Yep.” Anything to get away from what was in front of me.
I called the techs.
“It’s SSA Conway. I need a crime scene tech in my office, please.”
“I’ll send someone, might be a few minutes ma’am.”
“Okay.”
I ended the call and stood up.
“You didn’t ask,” Kurt said pointing at the pizza box.
“I don’t want to know?”
Kurt laughed. “You have a pizza with a matching pair of eyes nestled in the mozzarella and you don’t want to know?”
I stood up and walked over to the window. Steading myself with a hand on the wall, I watched the street below. A minute ticked by in silence. One deep breath and turned to face Kurt.
“You don’t look so great Conway.”
I shrugged. “Are they human?”
“Probably.”
“That’s what I figured.”
A noise at my open door attracted my attention. Sam and a tech. I beckoned them in.
Kurt called the tech over to him and the box. Sam and I stayed by the window. Seemed safest that way. We’d both developed sensitive stomachs all of a sudden.
I ignored Kurt and the tech, focusing instead on Sam.
“Where’s Lee?”
“He’s following a lead on a case that came in yesterday.”
A case that came in yesterday? My mind stumbled about in the dark looking for a light switch. All it found was partially cooked eyeballs.
“Enlighten me …”
“Metro wanted a hand with a missing person.”
Nope, not ringing any bells.
“Was I even here when that came in?”
Sam regarded me for a moment. A smile spread across his face.
“You might have been out. The call came in about lunchtime. Lee said he’d look at the case and see if he could help.”
Lunchtime. I was out. Running with Mitch.
“Okay.” Another thought popped into my head. “Do you have the receipt for the pizza?”
“You going to get my money back?” Sam asked, only half a smile made it to his eyes, the rest fell away.
“Hell yes – they got your order wrong. It’s the time and who served you that interests me most.”
Sam pulled out his wallet and found the receipt. He pressed it into my hand.
Kurt approached us. “Ready?”
We nodded. I was happy to leave the tech to whatever the tech was going to do. It looked like he was taking the box and its contents back to the lab. Fine by me.
We walked in the door of the pizza place ten minutes after leaving my office. The girl on the counter had both eyes.
A shudder ran through my body leaving me cold. She might have but someone didn’t. I looked at Sam, he shook his head indicating her didn’t recognize her.
I showed my badge and ID.
“Point me to the manager.”
The girl faltered then pointed behind her. “She’s out back.”
“Call her over here please.”
The girl obliged and the manager appeared. I noted the name on her uniform. Caroline.
She had eyes. I showed her my ID and asked if there was somewhere we could talk. A quick glance at Sam told me he recognized her. Interesting.
“My office,” she replied. “This way.”
Caroline opened a gate in the counter and let us through.
Sam and Kurt went into the work area.
They would speak to other staff members and locate the person who took Sam’s order, while I handled the manager. The smell of the cooking pizzas made me feel ill. I was done with pizza.
“Take a seat, Agent. How can I help?” Caroline sat behind her desk.
I opted to stand and handed her the pizza receipt.
“One of my agents ordered a pepperoni pizza.”
A frown crossed her face. “Yes, I can see that.”
“We found extra toppings that weren’t ordered,” I said. “Any idea how eyeballs got onto the pizza?”
“There was what on your pizza?”
“This …” Scrolling through my phone I quickly located the pictures taken of the pizza and showed the manager.
She paled and leaned back in the chair. The same reaction that Sam and I experienced it. The need for distance.
“I have no idea,” she said. “None. How would that even happen?”
“If I was to speculate I’d say eyes were removed from someone and added to the pizza. But it didn’t happen at the beginning of the cooking process. The eyes were still quite soft. What sort of ovens do you use?”
“Wood fired traditional pizza ovens.”
“So the pizza can be removed part way through cooking?”
She nodded. “Yes, it can.”
“Who has access to the ovens?”
“All the staff.”
“No one person in particular?”
“No, on the busiest shifts I have five people in the kitchen making the pizzas. Whoever is closest when the timer goes is who gets the pizza out, cuts it, boxes it, and passes it to the person in the counter. Then it’s put in a warmer, or given to the waiting customer, or delivered by one of our delivery people.” She looked at the receipt. “This was a pick up. Did your agent wait?”
“Yes, he did.”
There was a knock on the door. The girl who’d been on the desk when we arrived entered.
She addressed me. “Ma’am there is another FBI agent here, he’d like to see you.”
“Thank you.” I turned to Caroline. “I’ll be back. Meanwhile, I’d like a list of all your employees and shift rosters.”
“Of course.”
I followed the girl out. Lee was leaning on the counter looking out the door.
“Hey, how’d you know we were here?” I asked, joining him.
“I didn’t. I followed a series of leads and ended up here. But your car is parked right out there, so I guessed.”
“We need to talk, outside.” At the door, I flipped the open sign over and called back to the girl on the counter. “You’re closed.”
She nodded. Fear settled on her face.
Lee held the door for me then followed me to the edge of the sidewalk. I wanted to remain visible from inside the store.
“This is the missing person case for Metro?”
“Yes. Male, twenty-two, attending George Mason. Didn’t show up for classes for the last three days. No one’s seen him or heard from him. Metro found his cell phone in his dorm room but not his wallet or car keys. No signs of a struggle or any misadventure in the room.”
“And how did that lead you to here?”
“It was a convoluted trail,” Lee said and went on to explain. “Timothy Claxton was last seen leaving the dorm four nights ago.” Lee flipped his notebook open. “Metro had nothing apart from a sighting of his car and a credit card purchase on that night. His car was captured on a traffic camera on Pennsylvania Avenue at nine-forty-three that night, at ten-twenty he bought something at a bar.”
“Bars often have cameras …”
“They do, not this one. It’s the kind of bar you go to when you don’t want anyone to know where you are or what you’re doing.”
I knew bars like that. Conducted a few meetings in places just like that over the years. Dodgy establishments.
“So he’s in a seedy bar drinking?”
“Rum.”
“He’s a pirate?” I could hear Christopher Chance so clearly I turned my head in case he was behind me. A modicum of disappointment surfaced no Chance. Just his disembodied voice-saying, pirate.
Pirates? They wear eye patches. What if the eyeballs weren’t a matched set?
Lee grinned. “I don’t think he’s a pirate.”
&
nbsp; “Shame. Love a good pirate story.”
“You like Mark Valley saying the word pirate.”
I shrugged. That was true.
“Back to your rum drinking non-pirate …”
“Timothy is in the bar drinking and that’s the last record of him.”
“And you turn up here?”
“The bartender was real helpful. He was less helpful to Metro.”
I knew exactly what that meant. Lee has a way of charming information out of people, in contrast Sam scared information out of people.
“Okay and the bartender told you what?”
“He told me Timothy was with someone, an older man. The guy was in his late forties or maybe thirties and life had been tough. Not my words.” Lee’s eyes met mine. “I got a sketch of the guy. He apparently only used cash at the bar. No name. No distinguishing anything. This morning I ran the sketch through everything we’ve got. I found a few possibilities. Two bottomed out, the third led me here.”
“A pizza place. Kids usually work in pizza places.”
“They don’t own the places though, do they?”
“No, they don’t.” I looked through the window and saw the manager at the counter. “Let’s go back in and ask Caroline where the boss is,” I said. “You got a name, right?”
“Yep.”
Lee got the door for me.
“Caroline, who owns this business?” I knew before she said that it was her husband.
“My husband and I own the business together.”
Lee referred to his notebook. “Is your husband’s name Theodore Romano?”
She nodded.
Lee showed her a photo on his phone. “Is this him?”
She nodded.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“He’ll be here soon, he takes over from me at two.”
“Does he come in the front door or the back?”
“Front.”
I walked back to the door and flipped the sign to open. “We’ll wait in your office.”
Lee accompanied Caroline while I went to find Sam and Kurt.
They were finishing up the last interview with staff. I waited until the staff member returned to work.
“Lee’s here, his missing person could be the owner of the eyes. He was last seen in the company of the owner of this store in a seedy bar across town.”