Free Terrorbyte by Cat Connor

that all the crime shows like to throw out: exsanguination, the fatal process of total blood loss. We’d best stick to ‘bled to death.’ At least we can all spell those three words. I thought some more about our killer and opted to share my thoughts out loud. “He’s organized: bringing his weapon with him, displaying the bodies, the writing on the walls, limiting our trace evidence. He knows what he’s doing and he’s taking his time to do it.” I leaned back in the chair, then sat forward to stretch my back. “How’d he get in?”
    â€œTool marks were found on the locks of both victims’ homes.”
    â€œSo he may have lock-picking skills too. Isn’t he the talented little freak?”
    Caine slid a baggie across his desk at me. “Take a look at that.”
    I could see it from where I sat: a small paper evidence bag. I read down the chain of evidence documented on the front of the bag. Lee’s writing was first, along with his signature, a lab stamp and signature, then Caine’s. It wasn’t a copy at all; it was the original evidence.
    â€œI can see it.”
    He handed me a sterilized packet containing disposable forceps and a pair of latex gloves.
    â€œOpen the bag.”
    I put on the gloves, opened the bag and pulled out a piece of square blue paper with the forceps. It was the Post-it I’d heard about.
    â€œRead it.”
    My stomach flipped as I held it in the forceps and read the words aloud.
    â€œ ‘Special Agent Conway. Gabrielle, we need more chlorine . ’ ”
    I dropped the note back into the bag and resealed it.
    â€œThe chlorine reference is interesting,” Caine stated. From his desk drawer he retrieved another bag. He dropped it on the desktop.
    Again, I was in no hurry to touch it.  My stomach lurched, my heart sank and memories of a not-too-distant past flew into my consciousness. I didn’t want to be there again.
    â€œTake me off the case!” Even I heard the hysterical tone that edged into my voice but I seemed unable to prevent it.
    He completely ignored me.
    â€œTwo messages, Ellie.”
    â€œI know.”
    Mac reached for a pair of latex gloves as Caine held them out. He took a fresh pair of forceps and opened the new baggie. “Is this a fluke? Or did the killer know Ellie would be working this?”
    Caine spoke quietly making us strain to hear him. “All he could know was there was a chance Ellie would work the cases. The nature of the crime means we would be included. This falls within our task force perimeters and we’re currently split between two other major cases, in Maryland and Georgia. With only Delta A still in Virginia, we don’t publicize who is in which team.”
    Mac read the note aloud, “ ‘Gabrielle, cleaning takes time . ’ ”
    â€œThat seems fairly personal to me,” I muttered.
    Mac lifted his eyes to meet Caine’s. “Do you think he committed these heinous acts to get Ellie involved?”
    Caine pressed his fingertips together. “We can’t know that at this stage, Mac.”
    Mac’s voice hardened. “Best guess?”
    â€œIt’s possible.”
    â€œHe uses her name!”
    â€œCould be a fluke, could have easily used any of the agents’ names in Delta team,” Caine replied, his voice low and calm.
    I listened as Caine downplayed the little detail of the notes bearing my name. He was doing a good job. I wasn’t buying and I knew he wasn’t either. The Unsub could’ve used any of our names. He could have; we’re a high profile team. But he fuc’n didn’t. He used mine!
    â€œHe had me with the Post-it. The use of a Post-it note has to be a blatant attempt at reminding me of the Son of Shakespeare case. That evil son of a bitch left messages on yellow Post-its for me, and now we have messages addressed to me on blue Post-it notes,” I said. “You still