Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Snakebyte
    Snakebyte
    Snakebyte
    Ebook167 pages2 hours

    Snakebyte

    By Cat Connor

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Several weeks (and a lot of tequila) after the suicide of her teenage daughter, FBI Supervisory Special Agent Ellie Conway goes back to work with the Delta A. With her personal life in tatters, she throws herself into a new case, a murder in Rock Creek Park and the possibility that a raven is involved. A CIA officer known to Ellie appears on the street moments before her partner is wounded. Tracking him down unwittingly endangers a former colleague and his family, and brings a terrifying crime to the forefront, requiring the FBI to look harder at the Rock Creek strangler case and the involvement of a raven and a ventriloquist.

    This novella comes between Soundbyte and Databyte. (Byte Series novels are written by Cat Connor and published by Rebel ePublishers)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCat Connor
    Release dateJan 3, 2018
    ISBN9781370345830
    Snakebyte
    Author

    Cat Connor

    Cat Connor is a multi-published crime thriller author. A tequila aficionado, long black drinker, music lover, fruitcake maker, traveller, murderer of perfectly happy characters and teacher of crime writing via CEC at Wellington High School.Described as irresistible, infectious, & addictive, her passion for creating believable multi-faceted characters shines through her work and teaching.She enjoys the company of Diesel the Mastador and Patrick the tuxedo cat, and more recently, Dallas the Birman kitten while writing, Netflixing, or reading. (Surely by now Netflixing is a word?)In April 2021 Connor signed with Crazy Maple Studios - they've serialized the Byte Series! How cool is that?Her Byte Series is available on the Scream App and the KISS App - both apps are available free from your favourite app store.Connor is now working on spy/PI novels set in New Zealand. The Veronica Tracey Spy/PI series.A little bit about the Byte Series:The Byte Series follows SSA Ellie Conway on her journey as a member of an elite FBI team that functions on dark humour, close relationships, and strong coffee.And a smidge about the Veronica Tracey Spy/PI series:Ronnie Tracey is a former-NZ intelligence officer turned private investigator; with a knack for finding people and a Nana with a predilection for trouble.

    Read more from Cat Connor

    Related to Snakebyte

    Related ebooks

    Thrillers For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Why Do My Eyes Look Like Nipples?

      Aug 25, 2021

      Jem Clarke is in his very, very early fifties, is five foot zero inches tall and has never left the family home in Cleethorpes, which he still shares with his parents... ‘It’s a shame there’s not a nicer word for nipples,’ my Great-Aunt Jessie once t

      3 min read

    • Article

      Let The Bones Talk

      Jun 16, 2021

      Let The Bones Talk
      6 min read

    • Article

      Let The Bones Talk

      Jun 16, 2021

      Let The Bones Talk
      6 min read

    • Article

      Storyteller

      Nov 4, 2021

      Storyteller
      11 min read

    • Article

      Performance

      Nov 10, 2022

      “Wait here,” the guard said as he shut the door behind him, leaving me by myself. The floor inside the lab was polished, and the air smelled of disinfectant, and yet the room felt unclean. Leaves shook on a tree outside the window, making shadows on

      18 min read

    • Article

      The Turn

      Aug 14, 2019

      HERE’S a story. In college I entered the spring semester of my freshman year on academic probation. There wasn’t one reason this happened. There were many. I had signed up for a computer science class called Digital Security with no programming knowl

      5 min read

    • Article

      Prey

      Mar 10, 2024

      As I drove slowly toward the mob of angry protestors and my meeting with 200, I thought of 199. The ashes of a once hard man, staring at me with wide eyes that pleaded for hope like a dog begging for treats. I’d somehow found a way to give him that h

      41 min read

    • Article

      Prey

      May 10, 2021

      As I drove slowly towards the mob of angry protestors and my meeting with 200, I thought of 199. The ashes of a once hard man, staring at me with wide eyes that pleaded for hope like a dog begging for treats. I’d somehow found a way to give him that

      41 min read

    • Article

      Crossed Wires

      Feb 23, 2024

      Crossed Wires
      5 min read

    • Article

      Puppy Love

      Mar 19, 2021

      Puppy Love
      5 min read

    • Article

      Intelligent Creatures

      Jul 6, 2023

      Intelligent Creatures
      19 min read

    • Article

      A Temporary Arrangement

      Oct 2, 2023

      A Temporary Arrangement
      19 min read

    • Article

      Now That I’ve Arrived

      Dec 30, 2020

      Now That I’ve Arrived
      5 min read

    • Article

      Dark Tales

      Dec 2, 2021

      Dark Tales
      6 min read

    • Article

      Where Night Stops

      Jan 15, 2018

      Where Night Stops
      6 min read

    • Article

      A Survey of My Right Arm

      Sep 1, 2019

      A Survey of My Right Arm
      11 min read

    • Article

      Unwante Guests Ed

      Aug 3, 2021

      Unwante Guests Ed
      4 min read

    • Article

      Cricket League

      Sep 1, 2022

      First prize 10 and under Tang Li, age 9 Palmetto Bay, FL My name is Anisa. I was in Hawaii on vacation. I enjoyed sipping refreshing drinks, overlooking the turquoise ocean, and dancing with others, before I overheard that the priceless Fire Ring wa

      10 min read

    • Article

      We Don't Talk About That Here

      Nov 4, 2021

      We Don't Talk About That Here
      4 min read

    • Article

      Come with Me

      Dec 1, 2022

      Come with Me
      12 min read

    • Article

      Pleasure Palace

      Sep 1, 2022

      Pleasure Palace
      15 min read

    • Article

      Mothers As Makers Of Death

      Aug 14, 2018

      Mothers As Makers Of Death
      8 min read

    • Article

      Love, Lust, and More

      Feb 12, 2020

      Fleetwood Mac was singing She is dancing away from you now, and I squirmed in my seat. Kabir was rubbing my thigh as he drove, a gesture I once thought was reserved for me. Bah! I also used to think he only took naked selfies in bed with me, but then

      11 min read

    • Article

      Don’t Have A Bird

      Aug 2, 2020

      There are so many rites of passage you’ve already missed out on, and the school ball is destined to become another item on that ever-growing list. You try to delay the inevitable until every breath from your lungs sounds as if cystic fibrosis is cack

      12 min read

    • Article

      Love And Other (chemo) Drugs

      Apr 14, 2019

      Love And Other (chemo) Drugs
      12 min read

    • Article

      Out Of My TREE

      May 11, 2021

      Out Of My TREE
      3 min read

    • Article

      Shame Is Ever-Present When You’re Sitting in a Cell

      Oct 23, 2020

      Between a strained relationship with my family and the death of a good friend, I’ve struggled to feel like I’m worth something.

      5 min read

    • Article

      Fighting Time When You’re Doing Time

      Jan 10, 2020

      “Time has made it abundantly clear that my ability to exercise patience—or not to—doesn’t sway it in the least.”

      6 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Snakebyte

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Snakebyte - Cat Connor

      cover-image, snakebyte

      Snakebyte

      (A novella)

      Cat Connor

      This is a work of fiction.

      All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons,

      living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      All rights reserved.

      Copyright © 2013 by Cat Connor

      This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by any means, without permission.

      Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

      contact:

      9mmPressNZ@gmail.com

      ISBN: 978-1-7385851-9-9

      ISBN: 978-1-7385851-8-2

      This book is intended to follow SOUNDBYTE.

      For Sue,

      For whom there are always chickens …

      I have learned two lessons in my life: first, there are no sufficient literary, psychological, or historical answers to human tragedy, only moral ones. Second, just as despair can come to one another only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings. - Elie Wiesel.

      Chapter One:

      On the edge of a broken heart.

      I tripped over a tequila bottle on my stumble to the bathroom. Light streamed through the window hitting my eyes with its full force. I winced. The morning was going as well as could be expected considering the empty tequila bottle. A long hot shower improved things enough that I could clean my teeth without throwing up.

      The phone in my room rang as I emerged from the steam.

      I threw two aspirin into my mouth and swallowed fast before they made me gag, ignored the phone, picked up the empty tequila bottle and went down stairs. Drinking alone in my bedroom, that’s a new low. I placed the bottle in the recycling bin outside the backdoor with utmost care.

      No sudden movements or loud noises.

      Fragile best described my being.

      Self-inflicted is another way of putting it.

      The lid on the bin closed. I opened it again and peered inside. I counted four tequila bottles. Four. They were on the top and clearly visible. The bin was over three-quarters full of empty bottles, both wine and tequila. Not good. Seems I’d been drinking myself into a stupor for quite some time.

      No wonder I felt so ill.

      I headed to the kitchen and made coffee.

      The kitchen phone rang. I ignored it. The coffee maker grumbled, hissed and spat. I leaned on the kitchen counter and stared at the flashing amber light on the phone while the smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the room.

      Coffee.

      The amber flashing light taunted me.

      Somewhere down the hall, I heard my cell phone.

      I’m not fucking home! I hollered into the empty house. My fingers dug into my temples trying to work the headache away that spiked shards of glass into my skull with my yelling. Oh God, I groaned. Never again.

      The phone on the counter rang again.

      Shut up!

      My hand flew out and smacked it. The phone fell and smashed onto the floor. Pieces of plastic bounced across the tiles and pain soared through my head.

      I said, shut up and I meant it.

      My cell phone started up again. I poured my coffee and went to my office. From the shelf above my desk, I took a pair of sunglasses and put them on. There was a bottle of aspirin on the shelf.

      I took two with my coffee. The message light on my office phone flashed. Every phone in the house held messages and was alternating between ringing and flashing. I sipped my coffee and pressed the power button on my laptop while I considered sitting at my desk.

      I tried my chair. It felt normal. I set my coffee on the left of my laptop. It felt normal. Absently my right hand pressed the message button on the phone.

      The robotic voice announced, You have seventy-five messages.

      Seventy-five, I whispered to the computer.

      It didn’t care. The screen changed. Skype signed in automatically. An orange square flashed in my task bar. Twenty-six Skype messages. A quick right-click and ‘quit Skype’ got rid of that problem until next time I fired up the laptop.

      The phones down the hall started ringing again.

      Being a sucker for punishment, I clicked on my email program icon. I finished my coffee before the hundreds of emails finished downloading. Glancing at the subject lines as I scrolled told me all I needed to know.

      Everyone was sorry for my loss.

      Fuc’n awesome.

      Didn’t bring her back. Didn’t make it go away. Didn’t help at all.

      The date at the bottom of the screen caught my eye. It was confusing. My last real memory was second week of April. The computer said it was now late May.

      Where had I been?

      I pulled my drawer open. My gun, a paddle holster, my badge, handcuffs in their black leather case, my belt. My life or at least the bit that made sense.

      With a shove the drawer slid shut, paused, and then bounced back.

      I lifted my holster and gun then laid them on my desk. I unfurled my belt. The badge fitted beautifully into my shirt pocket.

      The phone rang. My hand hit the speaker button without conscious thought on my part.

      Conway, I said.

      You all right? Kurt replied.

      That’s the question you’re going with? I asked deleting a bunch of emails.

      I don’t know what else to say.

      Me neither. I stood up, and threaded my belt through the loops on my jeans and fastened the buckle. I slid the holster into place. Life felt a little more normal as I pushed my gun into the holster.

      You are coming into work today?

      Yes.

      That was the plan when I stumbled out of bed and it hadn’t changed.

      I’ll pick you up.

      Thanks.

      You’ve got time for another coffee.

      Good. I need it.

      There is a good chance I’d fail a Breathalyzer. That wouldn’t go well. I hung up. The amber light still flashed telling me I had messages. I hit the reset button. It was a better option than having to delete the messages one by one. I didn’t want to hear them I just wanted them gone.

      The decision to go back to work was easy because it was nine times better than rattling around an empty house with tequila as my new best friend. I gave alcoholism the old college try but it was a fail. Time to pull my shit together and face the world.

      Chapter Two:

      Sympathy.

      Three hours after arriving at the office, I was in the field. Investigating the latest of a series of murders in Rock Creek Park. Work mode encompassed me. Nothing else mattered. It felt good to be useful. Better than feeling nothing.

      The sun settled just above the trees that hung over the stream. Rays bounced off slick rocks and into my eyes. Sunglasses didn’t help the sun rays attacked from odd angles. A tired and distraught man stood in front of me. I squinted trying to see him with more clarity then offered my hand.

      I’m Supervisory Special Agent Ellie Conway.

      We shook briefly. His manicured nails and soft palms suggested he didn’t do a lot of outdoor work.

      I indicated to the tall muscular man on my right. This is Senior Special Agent Sam Jackson.

      Sam stepped up and pumped the man’s hand firmly. We’re very sorry for your loss, sir.

      Thank you.

      Lee attracted my attention with a quiet cough as he approached from behind us. Excuse me, I said to the man. I didn’t catch your name.

      Alex Creswell, he replied. He was pale and shaken, exactly what I’d expect of someone who came across a loved one’s body.

      I turned to see Lee. You need me? I asked.

      I’ve been talking to some park rangers. You might like to join us when you’re done.

      I nodded at Lee.

      Mr. Creswell, this is Senior Special Agent Lee Davenport. Now you’ve met most of my team, I’ll leave you with Agent Jackson for a moment, I said. I need to have a word with Agent Davenport.

      I stepped away and Lee followed. We moved out of earshot and kept our backs to Sam and Alex Creswell.

      What’s up?

      Bird poop.

      Pardon?

      Lee sighed his shoulders slumped as if it was hard work. The ranger found bird shit on the body.

      We’re in the woods. I failed to see any relevance to bird poop. From what I could tell by the state of the roof of our cars there were many birds in the woods. Many pooping squawking dive bombing car dirtying birds.

      He nodded. They also noted hair pulled from the back of the scalp.

      Okay, so a bird shit on the woman and pulled out some hair … you might want to put a BOLO out. I knew there was smirk lurking on my lips but was powerless to control it. There it was the image of Lee asking law enforcement in the area to be on the lookout for a bird. Do they know what sort of bird? Catbird? Sparrow? Cock-a-fucn-too?

      I hate delivering messages, Lee grumbled.

      Is the bird a witness or an accomplice? Are we looking at a bird for murder?

      Lee growled then grumbled, I wish it was Sam who’d talked to the Rangers. They said it was a biggish bird. I’m guessing not a sparrow.

      What about the other victims? Do they recall any other bird evidence?

      One reckons he saw bird poop on one other body for sure.

      You see how much more info those Rangers can dredge up. We’re going to need to review the autopsy report. I adjusted my tone to contain my amusement. And any forensic reports with regard to bird excrement and missing hair. I’ll go back to Mr. Creswell. I could not prevent a spreading grin. Amazing, you told me about bird shit without flinching, I am in awe. You’re an incredible man.

      I know, I know, the bird shit will haunt me almost as much as screaming tweenies.

      Lee and I smiled at each other, good times. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, he headed back across the parking lot toward the nest of police cars.

      Hey, find Kurt will you? I called after him. I hadn’t seen Kurt since he brought me into the office. Unless things had changed during my absence, his disappearance was unusual. We kept tabs on each other. Close, didn’t begin to describe my team.

      My team. Yet I felt like an outsider. It was as if the world moved on and I couldn’t catch up.

      He waved an acknowledgement of my

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1