FLASHBYTE – the 4th SSA Conway thriller.
Flashbyte is the 4th Byte novel, featuring SSA Ellie Conway.
Released March 17 2012 (Rebel e Publishers).
Paperbacks from all leading online retailers. For New Zealanders and Aussies, it’s cheaper to buy from Bookdepository (no shipping) or fishpond. (no shipping) American’s can choose from Amazon or wherever else you desire!
Woken by the news that she’d been strangled in a parking lot, SSA Conway knew it was going to be an interesting day.
The incident escalated into a week from hell with bank robberies, snipers, truly bizarre packages, and more reports of her death. What Ellie did not expect was old friends (good and bad) reappearing, see-sawing with more than the usual amount of kickass energy. Just so Delta A didn’t get bored, the universe tossed in an extraordinary rendition, lost memory, and a visit to the past that anchored the present.
“El?” Noel spoke, forcing the unwelcome memory aside. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere; I’m right here.”
“Uh huh, and you don’t know Habib Faisal Arbab?”
“And yet I get the feeling that’s not entirely true, El.”
I tested my smile. “Really? Sorry I couldn’t help.” It occurred to me that someone who didn’t know who they were might have some questions. From the depths I dragged up an innocent voice. “Who are these men?”
“A dead man and someone the system says was involved with him prior to his death.”
“And this concerns me how?”
“Habib Faisal Arbab is a person of interest in the missing JAG lawyer case. We found laptops belonging to both Mr. and Mrs. Conway. His contained emails from someone calling himself Habib Faisal Arbab. Arbab said he had kidnapped his wife and wanted hundreds of thousands of dollars in return for the woman.”
“He believed Gabrielle Conway was someone he used to know, a woman called Demelza.”
“Just Demelza, no surname?”
He shook his head. “He only referred to her as Demelza.”
My insides were like jelly being whipped into a maelstrom. The more he talked the more memories surfaced and the sicker I felt. I finished the coffee and threw the cup into the trash. My fingers massaged my temples hoping to stem the brewing headache. It’d been a long time since I’d heard that name. That name hung on the desperate voice of a colleague and warped with memories of Ameer Reza Sedghian.
copyright Cat Connor 2011-2012