Fireflies: A Katie Bell Mystery (book 1) Read online

  Fireflies

  A Katie Bell Mystery (Book 1)

  BG Archer

  Contents

  Copyright

  Fireflies

  Prologue

  1. 11:09 AM Thursday, Sept 20th

  2. 11:39AM Thursday, Sept 20th

  3. 12:19PM, Sept 20th

  4. 12:42PM Thursday, Sept 20th

  5. 6:32PM, Thursday Sept 20th

  6. 9:45 AM, Friday Sept 21st

  7. 2:38PM, Friday Sept 21st

  8. 9:06AM Saturday, Sept 22nd

  9. 10:40PM Friday, Sept 21st

  10. 2:28AM Sunday, Sept 23rd

  11. 8:30AM, Sunday, Sept 23rd

  12. 3:19PM Tuesday, Sept 25th

  13. 8:41 PM Saturday, September 29th

  14. 11:32AM Sunday, Sept 30th

  15. 7:45AM Monday, October 1st

  16. 1:35AM Wednesday October 3rd

  17. 9:10PM Wednesday, October 3rd

  18. 10:20AM Thursday, October 4th

  19. 12:35PM Thursday, October 4th

  20. Friday, Oct 5th

  21. 12:33AM, Sunday Oct 7th

  22. Part Two: Puzzle Pieces

  23. 10:14AM Monday, Oct 8th

  24. 10:30AM Monday, October 22nd

  25. 10:36AM Monday, October 29th

  26. 11:37AM Friday, November 2nd

  27. 1:36 PM Saturday, November 17th

  28. 3:18PM Saturday, Nov 24th

  29. 7:52PM Tuesday, December 4th

  30. Saturday, December 8th

  31. 4:53PM Saturday, December 8th

  32. 8:45 PM Tuesday, December 11th

  33. 9:17PM Wednesday, December 19th

  34. 8:49AM Friday, December 28th

  35. Part Three: Dangerous Instincts

  36. 5:45PM Thursday, Feb 14th

  37. 10:12AM Friday, Feb 15th

  38. 2:37PM Thursday, May 16th

  39. 2:50PM Thursday, May 16th

  40. 2:59PM Thursday, May 16th

  41. 7:45AM Friday, May 17th

  42. 10:30AM Friday, May 17th

  43. 8:32PM Friday, May 17th

  44. 3:20PM, Sunday May 19th

  45. 9:40PM, Friday May 31st

  46. 10:10PM Friday May 31st

  47. 10:20PM, Friday May 31st

  48. 11:14PM Friday May 31st

  49. Tuesday, June 4th

  Coming Soon

  Author’s Note

  50. Frostbite

  Fireflies

  A Katie Bell Mystery

  (Book 1)

  BG Archer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © BG Archer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission by the Author.

  Cover Design By BG Archer

  Fireflies

  A Katie Bell Mystery:

  (Book 1)

  By BG Archer

  Prologue

  10:30AM, Thursday, Sept. 20th, 2012

  The man sitting on his bed in cell six of Section G watched an orderly set up a folding chair in the hallway. The imprisoned man didn’t recognize the orderly. Ever since the incident four months ago the hospital had done a decent job of rotating the orderlies so he never got too “friendly” with the staff.

  Moments later a man dressed in a tailored suit sat down in the folding chair.

  The orderly walked down the hall, leaving the two men. This was unusual. It was against regulations to leave any guests alone with patients in Section G.

  The man locked in the cell had his head bowed. He was resting his forehead on the tips of his long fingers, hands clasped together like he was a priest engrossed in silent prayer. It was only when the man in the suit reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Moleskin notebook and a Parker fountain pen that the imprisoned man looked up.

  The man in the suit was struck again by how good looking the imprisoned man was. He was the kind of man who could enter a room and everyone would at least look, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. He had strong, clean features and a dimpled chin women liked to touch, and a peculiar scar the size of a dime on his left cheek. His eyes were unnerving. They looked like they belonged more on a jungle cat than a human being.

  Aside from that odd scar, there was nothing particularly macabre about him. There was no dark and brooding presence that would send a chill down someone’s spine if they passed him on the street.

  That was one of the reasons he was terrifying.

  The imprisoned man had done an impressively good job of hiding his true nature for a long time. It never occurred to him to actually try to change his nature, even though that’s why he was in cell number six. He would have taken the suggestion of rehabilitation as an insult. He was who he was, and when what he was had actually surfaced and been realized by others, he soon found himself behind the glass at the Gibson Mental Institution And Research Facility For The Criminally Insane.

  In some ways Arthur Bell was similar to the man in the cell. They were about the same height, and both had a striking presence when in a crowd. Arthur, however, held himself differently than the man in the cell. Most people would remember Arthur if they passed him on the street. Confidence and a strict sense of self-control practically oozed out of his every pore. Everything about Bell was crisp and precise, down to his notebook and hundred-dollar fountain pen. He was stocky as if he had played football in college, but now carried that strength with a controlled, mature grace. Even just sitting there at the end of the hallway at the top floor of GIRF, Arthur had a quiet intensity he could flick on and off at will.

  Arthur did not react when the man in the cell stared at him with predatory eyes. Instead, he undid the cap on his fountain pen. He set the pen down on the blank page and looked up, his crystal blue eyes meeting the man in cell six’s green ones.

  For a long moment there was silence in the hallway as the two men stared at each other with blank expressions.

  In the silence, Arthur wondered, if the other man had simply chosen differently, would he too would be wearing a suit by Ballstaff and working for the FBI, instead of being locked up serving twelve consecutive life sentences?

  Arthur dismissed the idea. The man in the cell was intelligent and attractive enough, but something truly horrible was lurking just below the surface.

  The man in the cell smiled and rubbed his left shoulder with the palm of his hand, like he was nursing an old sports injury. The spot probably still itched. After all, it was one of the places Arthur had shot him.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, how long has it been, Arthur?”

  It had been just over two years. Arthur knew there was no point in saying it. The other man had meant it as an opening line.

  “That depends on your definition of time,” Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “And what would your definition be?”

  Arthur paused before replying. He wanted this conversation to be over as soon possible, but due to cruelty and boredom the other man was likely to drag things out as much as he could.

  “Probably far too long in your eyes, and not nearly long enough in mine. Is there a particular reason you asked me here today?”

  The man in cell six smiled. “Actually, I recall I asked you to come yesterday, since that’s our anniversary.”

  Arthur did some mental calculations and came up blank. September 19th was in no
way special to anything he could remember. Still, he lifted his Parker and jotted down the date, in a neat draftsman’s hand.

  “Oh, you don’t remember, do you?”

  Arthur waited.

  “It’s the anniversary of when I woke up Dara Blue.”

  Arthur was annoyed with himself for not realizing that was the date of the killing. He hadn’t been brought on the case until much later, when it became clear the other man wasn’t going to be stopped by local authorities, and once it had jumped state lines and officially become a federal matter. Back then Arthur only knew him by the nickname the media had given him: The Crucifix Killer.

  Still, the mental slip up on the dates was an easy mistake to make. Dara Blue hadn’t been found until September 20th, 2004.

  “You remember I wasn’t assigned the case until almost a year later.”

  “Right. But if you think about it, Dara was the ball that got it all rolling, you know? If I hadn’t assumed my … celebrity identity then, who knows where we would be now? Of course I think we both know she wasn’t my first, but I suppose that’s when it really started to count.”

  “So what would you have called those before Dara Blue? Practice?”

  The smile vanished from the other man’s face. “It’s what makes it perfect.”

  “So you asked me here to hash out all those horrible things you’ve done in the past?”

  “It’s always saddened me that you can’t appreciate another man’s craft, Arthur, even if you don’t have the same particular tastes I do.”

  Arthur said nothing but un-posted his Parker. He put the cap back on the pen and slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

  “I just figured you’d want to be here for my anniversary. I had something special planned for it.”

  “Okay, well, that’s lovely, but I’d rather travel through eight levels of Hell than hang out with you,” Arthur said, closing his Moleskin in his lap.

  “There’s only seven levels,” the man in the cell said, frowning.

  “I’d bring a jack hammer and drill through the ice,” Arthur replied.

  The other man’s lips twitched. Arthur focused for the first time since he had sat down on the dime-sized scar on the man’s right cheek. It had faded surprisingly well in the three years since he had received it, another gift from Arthur.

  Arthur’s BlackBerry rattled in the breast pocket of his suit. He pulled it free and checked the number before thumbing the quadrangle green button.

  "Bell."

  He listened in silence for a few moments, his eyes never leaving the other man's face. “Are you sure? Because this wouldn’t be the first time … I understand. Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

  Arthur hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.

  The imprisoned man was smiling again, and this time it was a real smile, which somehow made it much worse. He was a shark, smiling at a seal he was about to devour.

  “I didn’t invite you here to rehash old memories, Bell. I thought we should be together when we start making new ones.”

  Arthur snorted. “There’s no way--” Arthur started, and then stopped himself. If there was a way, the man in cell would have found it.

  “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  The man in cell six stood up and approached the glass. Down the hall Arthur heard the sound of the main door being buzzed open. He didn’t have to turn his head to know the big orderly was making his way towards them. Chances were good his hand was on his long white plastic billy club. The man in the cell stood at arm’s length from the glass barrier, and touched it with his open palms.

  Since his hands had been clasped together during the entire visit, Arthur hadn’t seen that the man in the cell had written two words, one on each palm. On his left palm it read new, and on his right it said friends.

  “Charming,” Arthur said, before standing up.

  The orderly was one cell over, and shot Arthur a nervous look.

  “Time to go,” Arthur said, walking away without looking back.

  The orderly picked up the chair and hurried after Arthur.

  At the end of the hall the door was already closed again. Arthur noticed that the card swipe had been upgraded to a hand scanner.

  “That’s new.”

  The orderly nodded. “Just got ‘em last month. Still got crews

  installing them throughout the rest of the building,” he said, resting his hand on the light blue screen. “I’m Ray by the way. It’s nice to meet you, Agent Bell.”

  “Right. Ray,” Arthur said, and left it at that.

  The palm scanner flashed and the door buzzed and opened.

  The next hallway was absent of cells but had two more orderlies. Both had the look of former military, armed with billy clubs and bright yellow-black tasers.

  The man in the cell watched as Arthur Bell and the orderly went through the door at the end of the hall. He saw just a glimmer of natural light from the skylights in the adjacent hall. It wasn’t much of a view, but it was enough for the moment.

  He was confident he would see plenty of open sky soon enough.

  1

  11:09 AM Thursday, Sept 20th

  "This place is a disaster,” said a woman in a yellow two-piece suit, carrying a small fan. Her son following a few feet behind her like he was her aide. He wobbled as he walked after her, his size suggesting he didn't need to look at the menu of any fast food restaurants because he’d be able to recite them by heart.

  The woman in yellow pushed past Katie Bell as she examined a patch of peonies. Katie decided whoever was head of the landscaping department had excellent taste.

  Katie brushed a strand of burgundy hair out of her face. She agreed with the woman’s statement. First day of freshmen moving in and it was a “chaotic mess.” It seemed like a thousand little ants in groups of two or three carrying cardboard boxes to and from the campus buildings. Students barely older than Katie dressed in red polo shirts and carrying clipboards tried to direct the flow of human traffic, but for the most part, it appeared that they were failing miserably.

  Katie was not carrying any boxes. She had a navy blue messenger bag slung over one shoulder but otherwise was empty handed. She wore tight jeans with frayed knees, comfortable chucks, and a baby blue tank top. If the weather permitted she would be clad in her trademark green jacket, but it was bright and borderline hot out, unusual for late September. In the past, despite the almost unpleasant temperature, Katie would still have worn her jacket simply out of habit and principle, but this was a fresh start, and she wanted to try something new. Instead, Katie was taking a page out of her father’s book about function over form and so her jacket along with her boxes of stuff were packed in the back of her Camry.

  Katie glanced at the purple face of her G-Shock. Just after eleven. Her mysterious roommate was probably already in the dorm room. Katie couldn’t help but feel a small sense of dread, and once again wished that whoever it was would be someone she could get along with.

  As Katie walked along one of the many pathways, she passed an underwear model look-alike of maybe twenty wearing a red polo and carrying a clipboard. Unlike most of the others, he did not look confused and flustered as he scanned over his board; in fact he was actually laughing with the boy he was helping direct.

  Katie was a dozen paces past him before she stopped and turned back. College was supposed to be about meeting new people and experiencing new things. She might as well start with a guy that made her feel a few butterflies flutter in her stomach.

  It only took a few more moments for him to finish up and he turned his attention to her, smiling. Katie regretted coming up to him. She felt flustered, and no matter the outcome with Mr. Model, it was too soon for her.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Yeah, I'm looking for Everwood Hall?

  "You were headed in the right direction. Keep along this trail path and it's the third building on your left. You know your room number?"

  "Yep. 307 C.”r />
  "On the third floor. My boyfriend’s room was one floor up last year. It's great. Has one of the nicest views of the entire campus."

  “That’s great!” she said, hoping her fake enthusiasm didn’t come off as sarcastic.

  Katie walked away, feeling slightly stupid. Of course Katie already knew where to go. She had studied a map of Southern Central University and had been on a tour of the campus, though her actual decision to attended SCU had been made at pretty much the last conceivable minute.

  Everwood was one of the oldest dorms on campus, originally built in the seventies and remolded in 1998. The exterior looked dull like most of the buildings on campus, but it had a lovely commons area with real hardwood floors. The main double doors had a security pad with a keycard required to get inside, but two bricks had been placed on either side, propping the doors open.

  Katie entered Everwood and had to go flat against the wall as a couple of frat boys carried a futon couch frame past her.

  “Coming through!” said the bigger of the two.

  He looked about twenty-one to Katie and had an unruly blonde beard and thick arms in a tight grey wife-beater. He and the other frat boy who looked closer to Katie's age aimed for the stairway door.

  "I got it," Katie said, and slipped past them, opening the door ahead of the large frame.

  "Thanks," they said in unison.

  They moved through the doorframe and headed up the stairs with a sort of controlled stagger. Both of them seemed accustomed to lifting heavy objects, and if Katie were a betting woman (she wasn't) she would have bet they were both football players. They also looked related.

  Behind them a man sprinted to catch up with the open door. He was too old to be a college student but looked too young to be a parent or faculty, and he was sharply dressed in a light grey linen suit and brown loafers. He even had on a white button up shirt and a maroon tie, which made him far more put together than anyone else Katie had seen so far on the campus. He looked out of place, but he moved so quickly he was out of sight almost as soon as he was in it.