by Cat Connor
“Yes, but stay inside.”
“Okay Mom, bye.”
I hung up. Lee’s phone rang, my phone rang, and Sam’s phone rang. Sandra called out from her desk. “He’s not in Canada.” Bruyere arrived at Dulles two and a half hours earlier. Security cameras had him leaving the airport with only hand luggage. That would certainly speed up his exit. No taking escalators and a train to find the luggage carousal, for him. I walked over to her desk and leaned down. “Erase his trail.”
She looked at me for a beat.
“Starting the process.”
I smiled as I walked away. My phone rang again.
Kurt.
“So he’s here, do we know where he’s heading?”
“Nope, but he’s been online. So where ever he is, he has internet access.” Which wasn’t exactly helpful.
The sigh Kurt blew out was audible. “Yeah well this is Virginia; you can be online in coffee bars, malls, hotels, McDonalds ...”
I hung up and shoved my phone in my pocket. “Lee, can we get a fix on him?” I asked. Lee had planted himself in a chair by my desk and was using his laptop.
“Sure, sooner or later I’ll find him,” he replied. “I’m checking out your Twitter feed. Your little friend is insisting that you follow him.”
“Can you get him a chat room?”
“I like how you think Chicky.”
Yeah, me too. We have chat rooms that we activate occasionally. Over the years they’ve come in handy.
“You need to be me, Lee. @ reply him and send him a link to our chat room.”
“We might get some others following along,” he replied as he typed.
“That’s okay.”
“Yeah, makes it seem more legit, if there are other people in there.”
“You okay there Chicky?” Sam asked nudging me.
“Freaking wonderful,” I growled.
“I got your man in our chat room, pinging him now,” Lee said. “Standby.”
“Let’s hope he’s not clever,” Sam grumbled. He had car keys in his hand, they jangled impatiently. “Got him, he’s not clever,” Lee replied. He read out an address. “He’s twenty-five minutes away.”
Sam held up the keys. “Okay kids, let’s go.”
I said a silent prayer. Don’t let it take forever to get out of the city today.
I called Kurt and gave him the address. He would hopefully arrive at the address within a few minutes of us.
“We’ll wait for you, half a block east of the address.”
“See you soon.”
I hung up and watched traffic while Lee carried on a ridiculous conversation with Bruyere in the chat room. Maybe I wasn’t watching, maybe I was zoned completely out because it didn’t seem like twenty-five minutes before I heard Sam’s voice.
“Chicky – we’re cruising by now.” Sam He drove past the address. I scanned the front yard for signs of kids. I hate when retards do dumb shit with kids around. No toys in sight. Sam pulled over and parked.
“Honey, we’re home,” he said grinning at me.
“Kurt will be here in a minute or two. We’ll go in together.”
Tapping keys from the backseat meant Lee was still working on getting information. “The house is owned by Richard and Mary Arwood, they’re in their seventies,” Lee said. “He’s using their broadband.”
“And they are?”
“Mary Arwood is his aunt.”
“Let’s get the Arwood’s out.” My words were followed by more tapping.
“Currently on a cruise in the Bahamas and not due back for another eight days.”
Convenient.
“Excellent.”
Kurt pulled in in front of us. He walked back to our car and opened my door.
“Conway, all good?”
“Yep.” I indicated to the house down the block. “Owners are away on a cruise. He is still online, chatting to Lee.”
“He knows he’s talking to Lee?” Kurt asked. Amusement danced in his eyes.
I shook my head.
“He thinks he’s talking to Ellie…,” Lee said. “Gimme a minute.”
I climbed out of the car.
“Lee stay with the car and keep Bruyere talking. We’ll go say hello while he’s distracted.”
Sam, Kurt, and I walked up the path. I peered in the nearest window to the door. Bruyere was sitting on the sofa, his back to the window and us.
Sam slipped around the side of the house. We waited for a few seconds. Then I knocked. Kurt smiled. “He’s standing up.”
I glanced at Kurt and saw his Glock 22 in his hand.
I pulled my gun from the holster on my hip and adjusted my grip. A shadow moved over the frosted glass panel at the side of the door.
Breathe.
The handle turned and door swung inward.
There he stood blinking rapidly as our weapons trained on him.
“Clarvell Bruyere?” I asked.
He nodded dumbly.
“FBI.” With my left hand I flashed ID. He never had a chance to see the name. “We would like to talk to you about your work.” I was quietly impressed with myself for saying work and not something rude or derogatory. Despite the nasty thoughts that flowed unchecked through my mind.
“Why?”
Because you are a retard and you wrote about me, dick!
He found his balls and stopped blinking like a demented owl. His shoulders squared.
Here we go.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. One hand moved, as if to steady himself on the door frame.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” I sensed he’d summoned calm he didn’t really feel and that was my cue. “We’d like to talk to you about your work.” Again I felt pleased with myself for saying work.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Yeah you do. You wrote a book and used me as a main character.”
His face blanched.
“You got it now?” Kurt asked. “Let me introduce, SSA Ellie Conway.”
Fear oozed from his pores. He wiped his face with one hand. The other hand grasped the door frame. Knuckles white. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t collected. He was beginning to panic.
There was a small smile on my lips, as he focused on the Glock 17 in my hand.
“I didn’t, didn’t… I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Really,” I replied. “It was all a misunderstanding?”
Sam came up behind him. Bruyere had no idea. Sam was two feet away, how could Bruyere not know there was an armed walking wall behind him?
“It was a misunderstanding.”
I nodded. Sam winked at me.
“We require you to accompany us to our office.”
Panic flashed. He spun round and ran into Sam.
“Wrong way buddy,” Sam cooed. He turned him back to face me.
“Going somewhere?”
“I didn’t do anything… I didn’t…”
“Yeah, we’ll see, we need to ask you some questions about the things you didn’t do.” I beckoned to him. “We’ve got a car waiting.”
He stepped through the doorway then stopped.
“You must have a warrant?”
Stepping back I asked Bruyere to put his hands on his head. His eyes moved. I asked again.
His hand moved.
“Hands on your head,” I said.
Sam spoke from behind him. “You better do as she says.”
He resisted, and then slowly raised his hands to his head.
Sam’s voice bellowed, “Gun!”
Sam was on him so fast I had to jump back to get out of the way. He had him by one wrist and seconds later Bruyere was spread eagled on the ground, over the doorstep. Sam reached back and took a gun from the back of Bruyere’s trousers. He passed it to me.
“You have a permit for this?” I asked, trying not to smirk. It’d have been better if he’d tried to use it. The inside of his head splattered all over the living room amused
me. So clear was the image that I smelled blood.
“It’s my uncles,” he muttered.
“Great,” I replied. “Do you have a permit?”
“No.”
“Why are you carrying it?”
“I didn’t do anything … I didn’t …”
“Yeah, and we still need to ask you some questions about the things you didn’t do.” I moved back so Sam could lift the man to his feet. “There is a car waiting.”
Bruyere staggered trying to find his footing then stopped and leant on the door frame.
“You must have a warrant?”
Kurt waved folded papers at Bruyere.
“Right here.”
Sam took the paperwork and thrust it into Bruyere’s hands which were cuffed behind his back.
The warrant rustled as it waved behind him.
“I can’t read it!” he squawked.
“It’s okay, someone will read it to you. Later.”
Sam pushed Bruyere ahead of him out the door and down the path. I watched as Lee greeted him and then helped him into the car. Bruyere toppled sideways across the seat. He’d wake in about eighteen hours in a secure location completely unaware of our involvement.
Kurt waited until they were in the car, and then slipped inside wearing gloves. Moments later he had Bruyere’s laptop packed into its case and his carry-on luggage, he dropped everything into the trunk of Lee’s car and smacked the roof, letting him know they could go.
Kurt then hurried back into the house and erased all evidence of Clarvell Bruyere ever being there.
Bruyere was done – Sam and Lee would take him to a secure facility before another team picked him up for a long flight.
I wondered how often he fixated on women online and how often he’d taken his infatuation into life.
As much fun as it was seeing Bruyere sweat, it would’ve been more fun to introduce him to some water sports.
I called Dad, “Change of plans, I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
The End.
Other works by Cat Connor:
Novels:
Killerbyte (Rebel ePublishers, USA)
Terrorbyte (Rebel ePublishers, USA)
Exacerbyte (Rebel ePublishers, USA)
Flashbyte (Rebel ePublishers, USA)
Soundbyte (Rebel ePublishers, USA)
Databyte (Rebel ePublishers, USA)
Novella:
Snakebyte
Short story collections:
Archive
Torrent
Array
Cat’s short stories also feature in the following anthologies:
Tales for Canterbury - Random Static, NZ
Biohazard 2012 - Beanpods Press, USA.
Tales of the Nun and Dragon - Fox Spirit Books, UK
Love Stories - Beanpods Press, USA
Tales of the Fox and Fae - Fox Spirit Books, UK
The Girl at the End of the World, Vol 1 - Fox Spirit Books, UK.
Children’s stories:
Romeo and the Chicken
About the author.
Cat Connor is a coffee addict who loves greyhounds. She’s been described as irresistible, infectious, and addictive – and quite liked it. Connor believes music is as essential as a good red wine. She knows where to hide the body and what you did last week.
Connor lives in the Wellington Region of New Zealand with her husband, their youngest two children (The Girl Wonder and Breezy), Romeo the greyhound and Missy the Fat grey cat.
For more information about Cat Connor and her work visit her website www.catconnor.com
You can also find Cat on Twitter @catconnor