Novacaine.

This is the final installment in the SSA Ellie Conway trilogy.

Novacaine:

Special Agent Ellie Conway tracks an Unsub known only as Hudson Hawk to New Zealand, where she reunites three children with their parents. The fourth wasn't so lucky. Ellie may never completely recover from an explosion in a stadium. While in New Zealand she ran into Robin Grange, a well known singer-song writer. A friendship forged with a working relationship contemplated once the case was closed.
Back in Virginia, it's discovered Ellie's computers were compromised, Robin was used, and Misha arrives from Russia with new leads.  But the strongest of all leads was one found by Ellie, it blew on the wind in the stadium and reappeared in her living room in Virginia.

Novacaine- excerpt from chapter one

“You could run,” he said, slouching against the doorframe with one hand on the door handle. A blade glinted in the sunlight as he picked at a chipped piece of flaking paint from the wood with a knife held in his other hand. A small patch of light danced on the ceiling. He smirked as he said, “Or I dunno… you could comply with my request.”

“Or I could take that freaking knife and slit your throat,” I said with calmness I didn’t feel.

Until he had taken up the slouched position across the doorway things had moved a little too fast. I needed to gather some wits and get a handle on the situation, and stop thinking like Caine.

I forced my self to stare into his eyes and noted the color. One eye was dark brown, the other a lighter more amber in color. He was a freak. I stored the information along with his height, weight, hair color, hair length, and a good image of his whole face. I intended to find this prick again, if he got away.

Then it hit me with such force I felt my body sway, what if he killed me? A million thoughts crashed my mind and the last one, the very last one was a calming dreamy realization, I didn’t care.

Everything he said fell to the floor.

I didn’t care.

There was nothing left to fight for. I’d sooner die than live on knowing I may not get another chance to be with Mac for years. This could be my chance to exit this fucked up world.

An exit sign flashed in my mind as an airhostess ran through the emergency procedures. The whole thought amused me. I was familiar with the term death-by-police, but not death-by-Unsub or even death-by-perp.

An empowerment arrived with the clarity of my thoughts. In one brief instance, I’d gone from flight to death, and I thought I didn’t need to talk to the department shrink.

One-step closer to heaven.

excerpt - chapter two

I stood in the empty hallway between my office and the stair well clutching my cell phone in one hand. There was no one around and no noise coming from any of the offices or meeting rooms.

I tugged one strap of my handbag off my shoulder so I could look inside. My phone slipped from my fingers falling into the dark cavern created as I opened the bag and I struggled to find the business card case I hoped was in there. My fingers scrabbled through the contents and I peered into the deep trying to catch a glimpse of the silver case I carried. Under umpteen receipts and scrawled notes, several notebooks, a candy bar, a juice box, my wallet, a pocketknife, pepper spray, and a glasses case I finally spotted the sheen of silver. My fingers curled around it, bringing it to the surface and daylight. I flipped through the cards until I found the one I wanted.

With the card safely held in between my teeth, I searched again, this time for the missing phone. I found myself quietly berating my choice in phones as I looked for a black phone hiding in the black interior of my bag. It didn’t take too long, considering the rubble that needed sifting through.

It was almost too easy.

I glanced around, the hallway was still empty. That was a good thing. I didn’t want anyone over hearing my call. I scanned the area again just to check and pulled the business card out of my mouth. I slipped the phone from my hand into my pocket. The hallway was empty. Delving into the corners I hadn’t yet searched I fished another phone from my handbag, a pre-paid phone. I held the phone tightly with the business card.

Excessively paranoid.

I glanced at the pre-pay in my hand and pulled my phone from my pocket. From my phone I called Lee.

“Where are you?”

“Office, you?”

“Leaving. Meet me, bring Sam.”

“Where chicky?”

a further excerpt...

The three of us stood in the airport baggage claim waiting for our bags to bump along the conveyor belt. Customs was over and done with in Auckland. Here we were in Christchurch collecting bags and tired as hell.

I observed people milling about, some were waiting like us, others were greeting friends and family, a good percentage were scurrying to check in, and then there were the lucky ones heading off out the doors to their lives.

Sam and Lee stood out like dogs balls. It amused me. They weren’t so much covert material, especially in this country.

Sam nudged me, “Give?”

“Look around. I think we’re kinda obvious.”

Lee over heard and turned to me. “Hiding in plain sight, damn we are good!”

“Damn we are American,” I replied with a chuckle. “Although people will probably think you two play football, and I’m your fuc’n groupie.”

Sam’s head lifted he bellowed out a snorting laugh. “We can only dream babe. And anyway Lee’s too pretty to play football.”

“Pretty? I don’t think I’m pretty,” Lee scoffed as Sam roared with laughter. “You’re full of shit.”

“Settle you two,” I said noticing half the airport had turned to see what was happening. Tiredness took its toll and I was in danger of losing the plot at the thought of Sam and Lee arguing over the pretty thing.

Suddenly two girls screamed and ran for us. Sam and Lee stepped toward them, blocking me.

I loved when they did that shit, as if I can’t shoot straight.

“Whoa little ladies, what’s going on here?” Lee asked. He turned on some Southern charm. Any self-respecting girl would swoon in the presence of Lee, his smile could melt ice, and his southern manners made most women weak at the knees.

Luckily I was immune.

I stepped around the boys and noted both girls clutched autograph books.

Go figure, kids still collect autographs.

 

copyright Cat Connor 2005-2007