Psychobyte

by Cat Connor

  Imagine that?

  “Sure. Which car is yours?”

  I pointed to the first black Suburban. “Wait by the car.”

  Sam, Kurt, Lee and I donned gloves and booties then entered the house, following the Fairfax PD officer to the bathroom. Once again the victim was in the shower.

  I turned to the police officer. “You’re Officer Reid? Mendez’s partner?”

  She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Officer Reid, tell me what you know?”

  “This is Karen Frederick. She is twenty-seven and a teacher.”

  “Who called it in?”

  “The victim’s friend. She came by to pick her up for yoga.”

  “And?”

  She consulted her notebook and a witness statement. “Jessica Shannon knocked at forty-thirty and got no answer. She texted the victim. No response. She rang the victim’s landline. No response …”

  Why didn’t the friend assume she was out?

  “… Her car was in the driveway. Jessica walked around the house and heard the shower running. She waited twenty minutes. The shower kept running. After half an hour she called the police, fearing her friend had fallen and injured herself.”

  “First on the scene?”

  “ Mendez and me, ma’am.”

  “And you found?”

  “Karen Frederick dead in the shower.” She consulted the notebook again. “Access through a rear window. An upturned garbage can under the window.”

  “Was the window forced?”

  “No. I think it was already open.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Karen didn’t go to work today. She was home, sick.”

  “Thank you.” I passed her my card. “Email your report directly to me, please.”

  She nodded and moved away.

  I rested on the doorjamb and spoke to Kurt. “Guesstimate on the time of death?”

  “Maybe this morning. Reason?”

  “So far all the deaths have been morning and discovered in the morning. One a day. If Karen was killed this morning, then the Unsub has escalated the hell out of his killing. Two in one morning?”

  “The victimology is intriguing me,” Kurt said.

  Something niggled in my brain. Karen was in the shower. Karen was unwell. Or was she unwell? Wouldn’t she tell her friend and cancel yoga? What if the killer called in while she got ready for work?

  “I’ll be right back.” I hurried after Reid. “Hey, wait up. Got a question for you.”

  She spun on her heels and stepped toward me as I ran down the hallway.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Who called her place of employment and said she was ill?”

  She flipped open her notebook again, read something, and then looked up at me. “She texted her team leader.”

  “Thanks.” I turned to go back to Kurt.

  “You don’t think she did?” Reid asked.

  “I don’t know if she did or didn’t. I think it’s unwise to assume she did until we know for sure. Did you find her phone?”

  She shook her head. “What makes you think she didn’t send a text herself?”

  “I don’t know. I might be wrong.”

  Lee strode toward me and heard my comment. He grinned. “Might be wrong. Officer, if Agent Conway thinks something is amiss, it usually is.” He touched my arm. “A word, Agent.”

  “Thanks, Officer Reid.”

  Lee and I went back to the bathroom. “Problem?” I asked.

  “Kurt found the note,” Lee said, passing me an evidence bag that I hadn’t noticed he was holding.

  I read the words aloud through the plastic, “‘I watched you fade away.’”

  Sick bastard.

  I passed it back and wrote the line in my notebook underneath the others. And underneath the memorial from the newspaper. The newspaper contained more lines, an entire stanza.

  “Okay, so far we have,” I said rocking my right heel, “‘Everything that came before, lies fragmented on the floor. Don’t take it personally. It wasn’t easy. I broke when you looked at me.’” I paused for a second. “Those lines came from crime scenes. Then we have the rest of what I believe is that stanza, and we got that from The Washington Post today. It goes like this … ‘Life cracked wide open. Everything that came before. Spilled over the screen. Seeped into the keyboard. Shattered across the desk. Laughter replaced it all.’” I stopped and let the words sink in. “And now we have … ‘I watched you fade away.’”

  No one said anything for what felt like an eternity.

  “Sounds like the poem is going to get longer, Chicky Babe,” Sam said.

  His words rasped like a bastard file on my spine.

  “I thought he was writing the poem as he killed, but he isn’t,” I said. “The newspaper had more and the memorial was in today’s paper. Terri was killed today and her line featured in the stanza.” The words contorted and finally lined up again. “I think the line we found here is part of a new stanza.”

  “Terri was killed this morning and her name was in the paper, why wasn’t Karen’s?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. But it ramped up my curiosity. “And who was the anonymous tipster? We would’ve got a call anyway once police were on scene.”

  Images flashed before my eyes. I couldn’t distinguish clear boundaries to say how many images. They blurred then sharpened. Faces. Dead women. Then the male I’d seen through Terri and Serena’s eyes. Finally a glimpse of a different face.

  I held my hand out to Lee; as if knowing my thoughts, he dropped the evidence bag into my outstretched hand. I looked at it again. Satisfied the handwriting matched the others, I gave it back.

  “I need a few minutes with Karen,” I said.

  Lee and Sam moved out the door. Kurt stayed. “Do what you do, Conway, I’m just here to observe.” He moved back to the doorway.

  I dropped to one knee near Karen’s head and said, “I’m Ellie. I’m here to help.”

  An exotic scent emanated from the body, its warmth filling me. I knew that scent. I breathed deeply letting the overall aroma reach deep into my nose, allowing my mind to associate the components with names. Neroli, citrus, tobacco, pepper, bergamot and lavender. Dolce & Gabbana Pour Femme? My eyes were drawn to the shower caddy. Shampoos, conditioners, body washes. Nothing appeared missing. Nothing matched the scent I could smell.

  Maybe it didn’t come from her but from the Unsub.

  I breathed the scent again. Cedar. Dolce & Gabbana Pour Homme. It wasn’t from her. And I hadn’t smelled it at any other scene.

  “Karen, show me who did this?” I said in her ear.

  Her head turned to me. A spark ignited in her cloudy eyes as her hand reached up and pointed to the mirror. I clambered to my feet. From where I stood, I could see the doorway and Kurt’s reflection in the mirror. Steam filled the room, edging across the mirrored surface, leaving a gap in the middle that framed a face. No Kurt’s. Brown eyes, shaved head, strong jaw. His slightly tanned face lined with age and wear. The mirror fogged over and he disappeared. I sank down next to Karen, thanked her and promised to find the man responsible.

  Kurt stepped forward when I finally stood up.

  “From the outside there isn’t a lot to see, but I have a feeling you have something to tell us …”

  “Different Unsub,” I said. “This guy is older than the other one. Fifty to fifty-five. He has a shaved head, brown eyes, strong jaw and wears Dolce & Gabbana Pour Homme.”

  “We haven’t released details to the media so it’s a bit early for a copycat killing,” Sam said from behind Kurt.

  “It’s not a copycat. There are two Unsubs. They’re working together,” I replied, surprised by my own confidence.

  Pain behind my eye started up. It felt like a needle pushing into my brain. The sudden onset of pain reminded me I hadn’t slept in two days or eaten since yesterday. Things were on the way to getting pretty damn ugly unless I corrected one of those things.

 
; “Good work, Conway. Scary but good,” Kurt replied. “Now we just have to find him and prove the theory.”

  My phone rang showing Sandra’s image on the screen. I touched the speaker icon. “You’re on speaker. What do you have, Sandra?”

  “The ad was placed right before the deadline last night. They won’t divulge who placed the ad but say the person paid by credit card.”

  I liked those words. “Credit card. Get a warrant, Sandra. You’ve got the case number. I want that credit card information.”

  “I’m on it! Judge Hartwell is on standby.”

  “Good work.”

  Sandra hung up. I knew I was smiling. The use of a credit card might just be the break we needed.

  “Haven’t seen a smile like that in a few days,” Lee said, nudging my arm.

  “I’d like to get back to the office and start piecing together what we know before something else happens,” I said. “And Sandra might have information for us soon.”

  The three of them shook their heads at me.

  “Seems you’re supposed to be at a pretty important dinner tonight and we can do this,” Lee said.

  “Kurt?” I said, hoping he’d back me up.

  Surely he knew there could be an answer in my head just waiting to be discovered.

  “Take a couple of hours, Conway. We’ll keep the campfire burning.”

  A couple of hours? The pain behind my eye sharpened, requiring effort not to press my hand to my eye. I could do a couple of hours. All night? No.

  I checked my watch. I could make it to dinner. Under lights. Is roast lamb an emergency? It would be without mint sauce.

  “If I say yes—”

  “You’ll make your fiancé a happy man.”

  “I’m out of here. I’ll catch up with you all in about three hours. Have something for me?”

  “Deal.” He turned me around and pointed me to the door. “Go!”

  I dragged my phone from my pocket calling Mitch as I ran to my car. “I’m on my way!”

  “See you soon.”

  Rosanne stood by the car.

  Damn.

  “Hey, can we do this later?” I said, unlocking the car and clambering into the driver’s seat.

  She looked through the open door. “You in a hurry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did I miss a briefing?”

  “No, I haven’t had time. It’ll happen.”

  “You look exhausted. Long hours on this case?”

  Choosing to ignore both her comment and question, I said, “I promise I’ll give you as much as I can later tonight.”

  She looked skeptical. Then conceded. “Okay.”

  Good, because I wasn’t about to argue. Kristopher Lette slithered to the fore of my mind. I took advantage of the opportunity in front of me.

  “Does your son work for a power company?” I asked, hoping it sounded casual.

  Her face froze for a few seconds then her expression switched to neutral.

  Odd.

  “No,” she replied.

  My gut said yes. I’ve long since believed my gut over people. “I’ll call you when I’m back at the office.”

  Rosanne waved, I pulled my door closed. CHalf an hour to Mitch’s folks’ place in traffic. Twenty minutes tops under lights. I hit the switch on the dash and pulled out.

  Screw it. Sometimes roast lamb is an emergency.

  Thirteen

  It’s My Life

  Dad’s and my brother’s cars were on the road, I pulled into the driveway behind Mitch’s car.

  With a quick check in the rearview mirror, I deemed myself passable. I took a moment and turned off the ringer on my phone before jumping out of the car. The front door opened. Mitch stepped onto the porch. Grinning. My heart thumped wildly.

  “You’re dressed,” I said, allowing disappointment to coat my words. “Such a shame.”

  “Thought pants were a good thing for the office and dinner with the folks,” Mitch replied as he waited for me to walk up the porch steps. “You made good time.”

  “Amazing what can be achieved under lights.”

  He laughed. “Seriously?”

  Mitch hugged me.

  “Uh huh. I’ve got a few hours off, then I’m going back to work.”

  “Tonight?” A twinge of disappointment stuck in his voice.

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “Tell me you’re not going back to work next Saturday evening.”

  “I’m not going back to work next Saturday evening. If this case isn’t done by then, the boys are on their own.”

  With one last squeeze, he let me go. We walked into the house hand-in-hand. My phone vibrated audibly in my pocket before we made it to the dining room. I ignored it.

  The whole family had waited for me so we could eat together. I said hello to everyone and slid into the chair Joan pointed to. Mitch would sit next to me. Nice.

  Aidan and Holly were at the other end of the table with baby Lucy. She chortled happily in the highchair next to Holly. Dad, Alan, and Mitch’s brother, Chris, were talking. Mac’s Dad, Bob, and Chris’s wife, Susan, were deep in conversation. I watched and listened. Family noises. Happy sounds. Joan floated in and out of the kitchen placing dishes on the table. She refused assistance. Mitch helped anyway. They chatted and laughed. Mitch filled my glass with white wine and set a glass of water next to it.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, not wanting to break the spell.

  “You okay?” Mitch spoke softly in my ear.

  “Yes. Just enjoying this.” I smiled and stole a quick kiss.

  Dad caught my eye and smiled.

  Before long everyone sat down and passed bowls and platters around the table. Filling plates. Talking. Baby Lucy squawked indignantly a few times as things were passed around her. Her little hands opened and closed trying to grab everything that came into view. Guess she didn’t want to be left out. Holly reached down. A plush chicken toy appeared in her hand. She plopped it on the highchair tray. The baby considered the toy for a moment before throwing it to the floor. Even I knew she didn’t want the toy chicken.

  My phone vibrated again. I sipped my wine and ignored the insistent buzzing in my pocket.

  Mitch heard it. “Do you need to check that?”

  “Nope. It can wait. Dinner. Family. Us. Not work.”

  Lucy wailed. Holly lifted her from the highchair and rocked her. A few minutes later Aidan took the wailing bundle and let Holly eat.

  Mitch nudged me. “Noisy but very cute.”

  “Yes.” I chewed the tender roast lamb and watched Aidan with his daughter. He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

  “Will you take her for a few minutes, Ellie?”

  Yay, let’s playing pass the parcel with the baby.

  Mitch intervened before I said something inappropriate. “Give her here, let Ellie eat.”

  Aidan dropped Lucy into Mitch’s outstretched arms.

  “What’s all the fuss, little lady,” he said, adjusting his hold on her and sitting her down on his lap.

  Lucy looked up at him, blue eyes wide. A gummy smile spread across her face.

  I laughed. “Uncle Mitch’s magic lap.”

  “Works on Special Agents too,” he replied with a wicked smile.

  I moved my head closer to his and said. “We sit in your lap for completely different reasons.”

  Mitch laughed.

  My phone buzzed like a trapped blowfly.

  I carried on eating.

  The conversation around the table flowed with ease. Everyone had comments regarding the upcoming wedding. By the time dessert appeared, all the plans were sorted. Everyone knew what they were doing on the big day. Joan produced a satin horseshoe with ribbons and lace and gave it to Holly. I pretended not to see. It was good luck to give the bride a horseshoe after the ceremony. Lucy would give it to me.

  They’d need good luck. I’d seen the child in action. There would be no getting them out of her vice-like grip once she had a good hold.

>   The doorbell rang. Alan rose from his chair but Dad was quicker. He pressed Alan’s shoulder.

  “I’ll get it, Alan.”

  Alan didn’t argue. He sat down and carried on his conversation with Aidan. Curious. I watched Dad leave the room. The hum of conversation started up again. I found myself with one ear on the table conversation and the other listening for Dad in the hallway.

  Lucy snatched Mitch’s fork. He couldn’t get it out of her chubby little fingers and in danger of losing an eye.

  Joan swooped in and switched the fork for a cookie and hurried out of sight with it before Lucy realized what happened. Clever.

  Voices in the hallway paused by the dining room door. I listened. Dad and a woman continued talking in hushed tones outside the closed door.

  A woman?.

  “What’s the matter?” Mitch asked, touching my elbow with his.

  “Visitor …” I replied.

  “Are you aware you have your hand on your weapon,” he said, his voice low and barely audible.

  I glanced at him and then at my right hand. Yep. It was on my weapon. I picked up my glass of water instead. “Better?”

  “Yes,” Mitch replied. “Why are you jumpy?”

  I moved my head a fraction from side to side. “Work. That’s all.”

  My eyes focused on the door as I heard the handle move. The door opened and I knew the voice that drifted on the sudden breeze.

  “Rosanne,” I whispered. “What the hell …?”

  Mitch nudged me. “Who?”

  “A journalist I know.”

  Dad ushered her into the room, his hand protectively in the small of her back.

  “Looks like your dad knows her too,” Mitch replied.

  The cold dread was back. Could she be the reason for the spring in his step, secret dinners and the strange smile that had resided on his lips in recent weeks? My mind scrolled back. Not weeks. Months.

  Holy crap. Dad had a secret life.

  Really?

  I stood up. “Rosanne, you know I said I’d call once I was back at the office,” I said, hoping there was lightness in my voice.

  Dad intervened. “Rosanne isn’t here to talk work, Ellie. She’s my guest.”

  I sank into my chair, wrapped my hands around the glass of wine and took a big sip. Regret was instantaneous. I switched to water.