2nd Cycle of the Harbinger Series: The continuation of the #1 Hard-boiled/Police Procedural smash Plain Jane

by Carolyn McCray

  He knew there was inherent risk to turning his back on Martin. The man after all had killed over one hundred and fifty people. But if this was going to work, Kent had to exude ultimate ignorance. And no concern for Martin whatsoever.

  Kent didn’t nearly get char-broiled for nothing.

  * * *

  Ruben grunted as he rose. Maybe Nicole could watch Kent nap all day, but he couldn’t.

  “How exactly is this helping the case?” he asked, knowing he’d get that glare from Nicole. She did not disappoint.

  “Well?” Ruben urged.

  Nicole might want to keep tabs on her husband all day, but her sense of duty would always win out.

  “It doesn’t,” she finally responded. “But I’m not sure where to go from here.”

  That was an extremely accurate statement, unfortunately. So many deaths and yet no real clues.

  “The Moonies certainly were a bust,” Ruben said, shifting his gaze to Jimmi who held up his hands.

  “Hey, Nicole hung up --”

  Nicole swung around, pointing a finger at the Asian techie. “You buried the lead on purpose, Jimmi.”

  The man couldn’t look her in the eye.

  Before either one of them could lay into Jimmi, Joshua stood up. “Wait…”

  Ruben wasn’t exactly sure what he was waiting for, but he didn’t have anything else to do. The seconds stretched on as Joshua typed and typed and typed. Apparently he was working on some sort of thesis while they all just stood around.

  “Did you notice that each crime leads to a different cult?” Joshua asked.

  “Notice? We investigated each,” Ruben stated.

  “And each was a bust…” Nicole said, although it felt like she might be thinking beyond her statement.

  Joshua nodded. “I think that’s exactly what we were supposed to do.”

  “Well, it was protocol,” Ruben replied.

  Nicole held up her hand. “No, Joshua means the killer wanted us chasing our tails, looking into the wrong cults.”

  Joshua vigorously nodded his head. The way that annoyed the heck out of Rubin. Kent, however, would have been cooing to his favorite tech pet.

  “So what does this mean?” Ruben asked.

  “It means we need to look exactly where the killers aren’t pointing.”

  Ugh. Ruben’s head hurt already.

  Where was Kent when you really needed him?

  * * *

  “Oh. My. God,” Kent stated.

  He rolled back to face Martin who had been regaling him with tales of his past exploits.

  “Does it seem like I care at all?” Kent demanded.

  “But you should. You should study me,” Martin retorted. “Why hadn’t you come to interview me?”

  Kent rolled his eyes again, flopping back to the bed, scrunched up the pillow to prop up his head. “Because you are one of the ugly, stupid ones.”

  Kent didn’t need to see Martin’s face to know exactly how his words had affected the serial killer. A serialist’s Achilles’ heel was always his ego. Always.

  Lolling his head in Martin’s direction, Kent continued. “Studying serial killers in prison is a bit like taking riding tips from the jockey who came in last. In most other subjects we study the best of the best to see how they tick, not the losers.”

  Martin’s cheeks billowed in and out, his skin blotched and that little vein at his temple throbbed in and out with his ever-increasing pulse. Just how Kent liked it.

  “I…I…I…”

  “You’re in here, buddy. Proof is in the pudding.” Oh, how Kent liked to rub it in. This was almost more fun than baiting Ruben. Almost.

  “They never would have caught me if it hadn’t been for my blown right turn blinker.”

  Kent smiled. “You got picked up for a traffic violation?”

  Kent could tell that Martin knew where this line of discussion was going. You could almost make out the little wheels spinning in the serial killer’s head, trying to spin his fact into Martin being some kind of badass.

  “Well?” Kent asked causally, with the slightest sneer.

  “Screw you,” Martin said, rising from his throne, pacing the cell.

  “So can I go back to sleep or what?” Kent goaded.

  “You are going to pay for this,” Martin growled, getting his serial killer look on.

  “I’m sure,” Kent replied, then closed his eyes once more.

  CHAPTER 5

  Nicole stared at the large screen that displayed the map of the crimes. She swore that the image was etched onto her retinas. The area outside of the crime scenes was quite large. She had been hoping that there would be some overlap between them, giving them a well-defined area to search.

  That’s how it would have happened if Kent were here. He’d get that look, raise an eyebrow, ask her something cryptic then run off. She used to hate that behavior, but now, now, she’d give anything to be running after her husband because it meant he’d solved the case.

  Instead, here she was with the others feeling completely inept.

  “Sorry,” Jimmi moaned, laying his body over his keyboard. Yep, that was about how Nicole felt.

  Ruben stood up and stretched. “Okay. Time to think outside the box.”

  Joshua shook his head. “No, outside the store the box was bought in.”

  Kent’s favorite tech was right, they weren’t stretching the boundaries of logical thought, nor were they contemplating doing something illegal, so they weren’t even close to Kent’s playground.

  “We’ve checked every cult on the FBI’s watch list in the area,” Ruben stated.

  “Yes, but this cult is on the down low. I mean, super down low,” Joshua said. “My bet is they stay off the grid and the only illegal actions they do is the murders.”

  Nicole nodded. This cult was devious. They weren’t going to be all willy nilly. They would stay off law enforcement’s radar.

  “They’ve got to eat though, right?” Jimmi asked, raising his head off his desk.

  “And cultists eat something special?” Ruben queried.

  Jimmi waved the detective off. “But they have to stay somewhere. And it isn’t just one or two of them, there could be up to a dozen cultists.”

  Nicole narrowed her eyelids, following Jimmi’s train of thought. “And they would live together, because, well, that’s what cults do.”

  Jimmi nodded vigorously. “And they are not going to want to buy any property, not even with cash.”

  “Nor are they going to want a background or credit check,” Joshua stated, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

  “So we think they are squatting?” Ruben asked.

  No one bothered to respond to him. They really were channeling Kent.

  The map changed, morphed, red lights flashed then disappeared as the two J’s did their thing. In the end eleven markers glowed a steady red.

  Eleven. Eleven was a manageable number.

  “What are they?”

  Jimmi pointed to the markers. “These are all abandoned properties around the city, and not just that, but reports of squatters.”

  Nicole got out her keys. It was time to go out into the field. Even if these leads were a bust, it was better than sitting in here smelling licorice and Red Bull.

  * * *

  Kent’s stomach churned. Prison lunch wasn’t quite what it was cracked up to be. He could slam down enough greasy spoon food to give an elephant a coronary, but two meals in prison and he was ready to go to the infirmary. Although that would undercut the badass vibe he was going for.

  So no Pepto-Bismol for him. He’d just have to suffer in silence.

  Unfortunately, Martin wasn’t allowing for much quiet. The man truly did love to hear the sound of his own voice.

  “You really are as arrogant as they say,” Martin commented.

  “Ah, such flattery Martin,” Kent said leaning his head back against the wall. Laying down was not the position his stomach wanted right about now.

 
; “You could learn so much from me,” Martin continued, because you know, he was Martin.

  “About what?” Kent sighed. “How to get caught by a street cop? I think I’ve got that down. Just don’t maintain my vehicle and leave a bunch of heads laying around the backseat.”

  Kent cracked an eye open. Oh, Martin’s face was as beet red as he’d hoped.

  “You think you are so much better than me?” Martin demanded. “You are in here for murder just like me. Premeditated murder.”

  “Really?” Kent said really piling on the sarcasm. “I was wondering how I ended up in here.”

  Martin’s lips pulled down even further.

  The man thought he could actually rile Kent? Um, no.

  “You’re a murderer,” Martin pressed.

  Kent shrugged. “Do you really think Paggie is my first kill? Do you really think this is the first time some eager beaver DA, during an election year has tried to convict me?”

  Martin took a step closer to the bunks. “I do know the last time they tried, you took a deal. A deal to admit yourself into a mental institution.”

  While a part of Kent wanted to argue that point, to give all the explanations around that institutionalization, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Martin get to him. So again he shrugged the attack off.

  “At least they had better food than in here.”

  * * *

  Ruben followed Nicole back out to her car as uniformed cops streamed into the building behind them.

  “Well, at least that is our third drug bust of the day,” Nicole commented as she unlocked her Mustang.

  “Maybe we’ll get a commendation,” Ruben teased. She glanced over and grinned at him. Not a glare or frown, but a grin.

  Finally, she was starting to forgive him. Kent did kill Paggie in cold blood after all, and Nicole knew it.

  “But no cultists,” Nicole sighed getting in the car.

  They had been to seven of the eleven properties and hadn’t found anything more than some junkies and a couple of meth labs. Vice was going crazy over the discoveries, but it didn’t get them any closer to the Debbie Downer cult.

  “Lunch or hit number eight?” Nicole asked.

  “Do you want to head home to nurse?”

  Nicole shook her head. “I pumped this morning and Dad loves to feed the baby, so I’m probably good until later this afternoon.”

  While Ruben’s belly was empty, he really just wanted to see this through, then go to his favorite taco truck and stuff himself to the gills.

  “Where’s the next one?”

  Nicole didn’t argue, she simply revved that Mustang’s horsepower and pulled away from their latest drug bust.

  Time to go find some serial killers.

  * * *

  Joshua felt butterflies in not just his stomach, but his chest, lower extremities and now his brain.

  Watching Kent in the cell gave Joshua and apparently Jimmi relief, knowing exactly what was happening was the only thing keeping his nerves in check, yet it was a harrowing experience.

  Kent was good. No, Kent was damned good. But 24/7 with one of the most gruesome serial killers of all time?

  That was some post-graduate shit.

  But Kent was, as ever, cool as a cucumber. Except something was off. Joshua couldn’t put his finger on it, but Kent was not one hundred percent on his game. What could throw him off like that? It certainly didn’t seem to be Martin. Then what?

  God, how Joshua wished that he was in there. Well, not so much with Martin, but with Kent. They should have sent Joshua in first then have Kent bunk with him. How amazing would that have been?

  “If you are tired of fanaticizing about your and Kent’s life together on cell block D, could you help out?”

  Reluctantly, Joshua shook off the happy thought of being locked in a cell with Kent for a few weeks, and watched what Jimmi was doing.

  Security footage from the previous crime scenes. Places like the honky-tonk bar out in the middle of nowhereville didn’t have cameras, but the clubs in the city did and Jimmi was reviewing it again.

  “We’ve gone over every frame of footage a dozen times, Jimmi.”

  “I know,” Jimmi responded, “But that was before we knew about the little old ladies.”

  True, true….except

  “No matter, we checked for any repeat faces, old or not. None of the crime scenes had overlapping faces.”

  Jimmi put up a finger. Joshua was going to have to get a signature move like that. “But what if they rotate their scouts and their disguises?”

  “Then how are we going to recognize the killers?”

  Jimmi’s lips slowly spread into a grin. “Would Kent ask that question?”

  Um, hell no.

  * * *

  “Martin, Martin, Martin,” Kent said shoving his fingers through his hair. Nicole was going to make him get a haircut after he left here, so he might as well enjoy his locks while he could. “Give it a rest, dude. Seriously.”

  Martin pouted in the corner. The guy had thought he’d lucked into the best captive audience ever, yet that wasn’t the way it was going.

  Boo. Hoo.

  “Then tell me about you and all those other people you killed,” Martin stated.

  “Self-defense against assholes like you,” Kent reflected back.

  That should shut the guy up for a few minutes.

  A trustee rolled a book cart up to the door. “Harbinger?” the man asked.

  Kent leaned forward and jumped down from his upper bunk. Interesting. “That would be me.”

  “I’ve got a book here for you,” the older black man, bent over from years of institutionalization, said.

  “You do?” Kent’s radar went up. This wasn’t planned. Not planned by him anyway. He seriously doubted that one of his compatriots had sent him some light reading.

  “Fifty Shades of Grey,” the man replied. “Someone must really like you. I’ve got a hundred-man waiting list.”

  Kent reached his hand out through the bars. The older man put a very beat-up copy of the bestseller in his hands. Kent almost didn’t want to touch the cover. Lord only knew what secretions were on that book.

  The spine felt a little slick.

  “I’ll be back by tomorrow to pick it up,” the trustee said, wheeling his cart away with a squeak.

  Yes, Kent doubted that most of the men in this establishment took much time to savor the prose.

  Funny, Joshua was constantly bugging him to read the book. The techie kept saying that the novel was better than it sounded, which seemed impossible to Kent. But here he was with nothing to do but avoid his roommate. He might as well find out what the phenomena was all about.

  Climbing up to his bunk, Kent propped himself up against the wall and cracked the cover.

  The book had cut out pages which were replaced by a pack of Tums.

  Kent slammed the book shut.

  “Too racy for you?” Martin asked. That guy didn’t miss a beat, but then again the guy was an apex predator.

  “Yes, because I am such a prude,” Kent shot back, maybe a little too fast. Martin smiled as if he’d hit a nerve.

  That couldn’t be further from the truth. Having his mind read is what spooked Kent. So this was how it felt to be on the other end of a Svengali move.

  Kent looked up to the camera. Somehow Joshua had not only figured out that Kent had a stomach ache, but figured out how to get medication to him.

  Giving a wink, Kent rewarded his trusty side-kick.

  Sometimes Joshua was good to have around.

  * * *

  Nicole felt a distinct difference between this abandoned warehouse and the others. The other locations certainly had their own distinct sketchy vibe, but this one, this one felt ominous.

  Was it only because she knew that a vicious cult of serial killers might be inside? Or did the building truly seem foreboding.

  She glanced over to Ruben, whose lips were drawn down in a deep frown. So he felt it too. The other wareh
ouses had been littered with trash, newspapers, used needles and human debris. Junkies too strung out to seek shelter. There had been a sense of life there. A decrepit, despairing kind of life, but life nonetheless.

  Here? Here, there was nothing. The street was clean as if a strong wind had blown through here, taking away with it all signs of life. There was something empty and hollow about this place. There might be life here, but certainly no soul.

  “Well?” Ruben asked.

  For the first time on their quest amongst the abandoned sections of the city Ruben popped the strap off his gun. How many drug dens had they walked into today? Yet neither of them had drawn their weapon until they were deep into the building.

  Now, without any signs of drug activity, they both wanted their weapons handy.

  Ruben, being Ruben, took the lead. Nicole didn’t argue. It was useless. Ruben was going to do everything to protect her. She just had to accept it. Now with a baby at home, Ruben’s chivalry didn’t rub her the wrong way quite so much.

  Walking up at an angle, ready to draw, Ruben reached the door. He tested it. Unlocked. Why did that bug Nicole way more than if it had been locked? Ruben must have felt the same way. He drew his weapon, holding it down in proper form. You didn’t raise your gun unless you were ready to shoot it.

  Nicole did the same. There was just too much silence. It didn’t bode well.

  Ruben swung the door open, propping it with his foot so it didn’t bounce back at him. Using the light attached to the top of his gun, he swung back and forth. Looking over his shoulder, Nicole watched the narrow beam cut through the darkness.

  It looked just the way it should. Dank, dismal, abandoned. Sheets covered old equipment and inventory. The place looked undisturbed for years.

  With the door unlocked in this neighborhood?

  Right.

  * * *

  Ruben stepped into the warehouse proper. He signaled for Nicole to take the north wall and he’d go south. They needed to clear this large central area. There were way too many hiding places amongst the stacked boxes and ghoulish covered equipment.

  Although there was a thick layer of dust on it all. The place seemed truly deserted for a long period of time, but of course, wouldn’t a rabid cult want it to look exactly that way?

  Silence clung as tightly as the dust to the room. Even his footfalls were muffled. He couldn’t even tell where Nicole was on the other side of the room, if it weren’t for her light slicing into the blankness of the room. It was as if someone had constructed the room to be perfectly abandoned.