“Look, let’s just find the laundry.” It couldn’t be far. They were at the basement level of the prison, navigating through a maze of pipes and steam conduits. From the dust, grease and spider webs, no one had been down here for a very long time. It could take search parties hours to find them.
“I think we took a left instead of a right at the last juncture,” Nicole stated, backtracking their steps.
“I’m not quitting. I am moving,” Ruben said, not moving an inch.
Nicole held up a hand. “Not now.”
“If not now, then when? I leave in the morning,” Ruben said.
Nicole closed her eyes. She thought she’d have more time for this conversation, you know, when Kent wasn’t trying to kill someone. Wait, that pretty much was all the time.
She spun around on her heel to face Ruben.
“Is it too much to ask, that I want what you have?” Ruben asked. “I have dreams you know. I want to be Captain. I want my own precinct. I want a wife and kids and everything that goes along with that.”
“You can have all of that here,” Nicole retorted. Was now really the time to be having this conversation?
* * *
Ruben shook his head. “No, no I can’t.”
Nicole crossed her arms, frowning. Her non-verbal throw-down. Ruben had to admit that he would miss this. Nicole telling him how he felt and should feel, and act.
“I don’t have the men’s respect anymore.”
“The Paggie thing will blow --” Nicole tried to interject, but Ruben overrode her.
“This happened long before Paggie, Nicole. It happened the day Kent walked into the station. The beat cops, hell the other detectives think I’m a joke compared to your husband.”
“Or is the bigger problem the fact that Kent is my husband?” Nicole cocked her head, which meant she thought she already knew the answer to her question.
“On the personal side, yes, Nicole, yes it is,” Ruben responded, then took a deep breath. What better time for the truth than lost deep in a prison trying to find a rogue profiler trying to kill a serialist? In the scope of his and Nicole’s relationship this was about par for the course.
“Nicole, there is no surprise here. I’ve been in love with you from the moment I met you. Through everything. Our ups and our downs. To Kent stealing your heart to breaking it, to putting it back together. To yes, your wedding and the birth of Logan…”
Ruben had to stop as his voice cracked and his throat swelled with emotion. He hadn’t ever said any of that out loud before. But after Paggie, he was learning no one but he could live his life.
“Good,” Nicole said. An odd answer to all that he had just said. “Get it out. Say how much you hate Kent. Just say it. How much you resent him. How you don’t understand at all how I can care for him. What a mistake I’ve made.”
Ruben squared his hips off. This was going to take girding his loins a bit. To come at Nicole full force? To really say what he thought? Not the occasional barb or sarcastic remark, but his real feelings.
This was going to be interesting.
* * *
Kent savored this moment. He almost forgot in-between fights, how much he enjoyed the pre-battle. Those moments before the physical conflict when the enemy realized his mortality.
Martin’s hand shook, he was holding the knife’s hilt so tightly. His first mistake. Then how the serial killer’s pupil’s dilated. The blanching of the cheeks and flaring of the lips.
Kent recorded it all for posterity’s sake.
“Well, Martin?” Kent asked. “You ready?”
“I’ve been ready,” Martin hissed, although his voice cracked in the middle, which kind of took the bite out of the words.
Without further preamble, Kent lunged, slicing as he went. He hit Martin’s knife arm, cutting through the flesh. A line of red ran down that perfectly white skin of his.
After a strangled scream, Martin leapt out of the way. Clutching his arm to his chest.
That’s right, effer. That’s how it feels.
Kent didn’t allow Martin to regroup. Instead, Kent grabbed the corner of the surgery tray and hurled it at the serial killer. Shaken, off balance at the impact, Martin stumbled to the side. Kent was there with another surgical strike, cutting the man’s upper arm.
Now clutching both arms to his chest, Martin’s eyes darted back and forth, trying to find a safe place. There were none. Not with Kent in the room.
Kent fake charged. Martin tripped over his own feet, falling back into a medicine cabinet. Good thing it was there or the serialist would be spilt over the tile.
“Was this how you toyed with them, Martin? You with all the power and them with none?”
“Oh, I am not powerless,” Martin whispered. That creepy serial killer whisper. Was that supposed to strike fear into Kent’s heart. Memo. It didn’t.
But Martin wasn’t without his tricks. The man had killed over hundred people after all. He wasn’t without his skills. Martin faked a dodge to the left, then came back across his body for a slash.
Kent danced just millimeters from the blade, having to abort his own counter attack.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
* * *
Nicole felt time as if it were a true physical pressure. Yes, it was time to have this conversation with Ruben, but she couldn’t help but want to get back to finding Kent and you know, either save his life or stop him from taking another. More than likely the latter.
Ruben had looked like he was going to come back at her, then stalled. Staring at the wall behind her. She’d tried to give him his time, but come on. This was a bit much.
“Ruben?”
His eyes jerked over, glaring at her. “Am I not doing this right, either?”
Nicole put her hands up in surrender. She’d opened this can of worms. Now she had to see how it played out.
“Kent is a prick,” Ruben stated, slowly as if he couldn’t believe the words were actually coming out of his mouth. That he was saying them aloud to her, of all people.
“And?” Nicole challenged. Because come on. Kent being a prick was an unassailable truth. No one would argue with that statement. Not even Kent.
“And he treats people like crap. No, like chattel. Even you,” Ruben paused, searching her face.
“And?”
Ruben’s face scrunched up. He wanted to rile her up, but he was simply skating on the surface of his feelings. “You deserve better.”
Nicole let her head loll to the side. “Really, this is the best you can come up with?”
“With all of his issues, Nicole, Kent has a ceiling on how much he can care about anyone outside of himself. The guy is emotionally crippled. Ruined.”
That was a little better, but not much. She hated to do this to him, but Ruben needed to dig until it hurt. “And what if his ceiling is enough for me?” she asked.
At first Ruben seemed confused, then he took a step back. Perhaps reality was sinking in.
* * *
No.
No. Ruben refused to believe it. Nicole hadn’t said it, but Ruben got the message loud and clear. He refused to believe it though. It couldn’t be true.
“Did you ever love me?” Ruben asked. The first time he’d ever considered that fact might be in question. He’d always thought that Kent stole Nicole from him, but what if Ruben had never had her in the first place?
“Yes,” Nicole said. “But never how you wanted me to.” Ruben put up a hand, trying to get her to stop, but she didn’t. She couldn’t and he knew it. “Not how I love Kent,” Nicole finished.
So he’d never had a chance at the white picket fence happy ending. He’d never had a chance with Nicole. Did this make it better or worse?
The way his chest tightened and his vision tunneled, worse, definitely worse.
“Ruben, you have to let me go. Our future. This rose-colored glasses fantasy.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Ruben challenged.
“You
are running from it and that is something else entirely.”
“Maybe that is the only way I have,” Ruben shot back. “You two flaunting your happiness.”
A slow smile came to Nicole’s lips. “Ruben. This is so beneath you. We aren’t flaunting anything. We are just happy and showing it as we should be.”
Nicole’s rebuke stung as sharply as if she’d slapped him.
The worst part? She was right. He was being petty. And isn’t that what he complained the most about Kent. Ruben staggered back a step. All his dreams were based on a lie. A lie that Nicole had ever been happy with him. That they would ever build toward something meaningful.
What did that leave him with? Failure. Abject failure. He’d clung to the idea of him and Nicole because he had nothing else. No wonder Paggie had such an easy time manipulating him. He’d been ripe for the picking.
“Can we go find my husband now?” Nicole asked, not unkind.
Sure, why not? The perfect capper to a horrendous day.
* * *
Kent spun, for a moment leaving his back exposed. Martin took advantage of the situation, slicing across the surface. But what better area to take a hit. The pain actually helped Kent focus without it damaging his ability to fight.
The wound was well worth it, as Kent brought his knife up and out, streaking across Martin’s face. Blood poured over the serial killer’s left eye. Now there was a place you didn’t want a wound.
Kent allowed the follow through of his attack to carry him away from Martin. The killer grabbed a surgical towel and put it to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.
“Still thinking victory is in your grasp?” Kent challenged.
“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” Martin countered, sneering.
Oh, so many people warned of that, yet when had it actually happened?
Could it? Sure. Today? Not so much.
Martin was keeping the folding tables between him and Kent. A smart move. Yet it only delayed the inevitable.
Time to get to work.
Kent took several steps back. The show must go on.
He took a few more steps, then charged. Martin’s knife went up, but that wasn’t the direction that Kent was going.
Down. That’s where Kent was going.
Like sliding into home, Kent bent his leg and allowed gravity to do the rest. His hip hit the tile hard. He wasn’t getting any younger, that was for sure.
Sliding, Kent ducked his head under the infirmary bed. Did he have enough velocity to make it to the other side? Stalling out mid-bed would be a tad embarrassing.
Kent had luck on his side, as he slid past the edge of the bed and out the other side. Martin was trying to get away, but not fast enough.
Kent drew the blade low. He wasn’t looking for a mortal wound, but an injuring one. He couldn’t reach Martin’s left ankle, but cut through the serial killer’s right Achilles’ heel.
Just how Kent planned it.
Martin’s retaliation wasn’t expected. The man picked up a large bottle of antiseptic and poured it over Kent’s exposed face. Despite his eyelids closed tight, the burn overwhelmed his senses.
This was not how Kent had planned it.
CHAPTER 16
Joshua did a little jig. They finally figured out the prison security system hack and countered it.
Goodbye static. Hello live feed.
Jimmi and he were flipping through screens, trying to find Kent. He could be anywhere. Well, anywhere you could go hide to kill a mass murderer. That did narrow it down. A tad. It turned out that prisons this large had a million little hiding place. Some not so little. They tried all of Kent’s favorites.
The kitchen. The laundry area. Nothing.
They were now working their way down to the other rooms.
“Is that Nicole and Ruben?” Jimmi asked, scrolling back several screens. Sure enough. There were the two detectives. They clearly didn’t seem to know where Kent was. As a matter of fact, they looked lost.
“Strobe the emergency light,” Joshua instructed his friend. “Let’s at the least get them out of the boiler room.”
Jimmi did as asked and soon Nicole and Ruben were climbing out of the bowels of the prison. Joshua turned his attention to the other screens. They had checked every location and hadn’t found Kent. Which meant Kent had really gone that extra mile to maintain his privacy.
Interlacing his fingers, then stretching them backwards, Joshua cracked his joints, ready for the challenge. Kent might want to be left alone, but not for long. Not for long.
* * *
Partially blinded in one eye, a nasty gash across his back and now an annoying rhinitis, Kent kept his blade up. It was probably the only reason he was still alive.
Martin might not be all that strong, but he was crafty. Kent had to give the guy that.
Using the inside crease of his jacket, Kent wiped most of the antiseptic off his skin. He would probably need a few dozen showers to really get the job done.
Martin circled as if he were the predator. “How does it feel?”
“Inspirational.”
Martin snorted, getting closer. Kent’s left eye wouldn’t open. And Martin knew that, clearly trying to position himself in Kent’s blind spot.
Good. Like Kent didn’t understand the concept of negative space. If Martin tried to stay in one specific spot, Kent certainly would know where he wouldn’t be. Kent had to rely on his years of honing his peripheral senses. The scuff of a shoe on tile. The smell of sweat tinged with adrenaline.
Martin might as well have been wearing a spotlight.
The serial killer made his move. A bold one. Coming at Kent with full force.
Bracing his hand on the folding counter, Kent prepared for the attack.
He waited until he could hear Martin’s rather loud exhale before pivoting. Kent brought his knife around his side, sinking it into the serial killer’s belly.
Granted he could only see half of Martin’s facial expression, but it was quite satisfactory. Kent pulled out the blade, it made that slippery, sucking sound. Ah, how he’d missed it.
Martin hadn’t. At least not the way he clutched his belly. A look of agony and shock mixing on his features.
“Still feeling cocky, Martin?” Kent asked. He just couldn’t help but toy with these serial killers. They really did deserve to feel exactly how it felt on the other side of their psychosis.
Martin took one hand off his belly, pointing his knife at Kent. “It isn’t over.”
Oh, that’s what they all said. “Seriously, you couldn’t be a little more original than that?”
“I’m saving it for your tombstone.”
There it was. That serial killer wit.
“What are you waiting for then?” Kent asked just as Martin leapt. Not nearly as strong as before.
This was going to be over quickly.
Then the fire alarm went off and the sprinklers showered them with cold water. Martin slipped, skidding out to the side. The only reason he was still alive.
Damn it. Joshua.
Kent thought he’d neutralized the technicians, but clearly they found a way to thwart his perfectly laid plans.
Damn those two. Why did he rescue them in the first place?
* * *
Nicole raised her arm over her head to give whatever paltry protection to her hair she could give as the water rained down.
“Exactly how is this helping us?” Nicole asked Joshua over the phone.
“Somebody with mad skills, made a looping tape to cover where Kent is.”
“Okay…” Ruben added.
“We had to change the environment to see which screen didn’t update. Kent is in the infirmary.”
“And that is where, exactly?” Nicole asked. She really didn’t want to be meandering through these dank, and now wet, hallways.
“Take your first right, then your second left,” Joshua explained.
“Then we’ll be there?” Nicole asked, suddenly hopeful
.
“Oh God no,” Joshua answered. “But you’ll be within five minutes of the infirmary.”
Nicole sagged inward. That was not what she wanted to hear. “Can you at the least turn off the sprinklers?”
“Yeah, we’re still working on that part,” Joshua stated.
Great. Just great.
Picking up the pace, Nicole broke into a trot, water splashing her pants.
This was turning out to be an extraordinarily long night.
* * *
The one good thing about the sprinklers, they had washed the last of the antiseptic’s residue off his face. Kent’s eye still wasn’t working properly, but that was a minor detail. One that would resolve itself with time. Hopefully. Although Kent felt pretty sure that he could rock an eye patch and that was the important thing, wasn’t it?
Where Martin had gotten off to was the greater problem. In the initial rush of water, Kent had seen the man go down under a bed, but now he couldn’t find the serial killer.
These guys were slippery under the best possible circumstance. Now that it was actually slippery, physically slippery?
Compensating for his lack of vision in one eye, Kent had to swing from right to left and back again. And forget his honed sense of hearing. The flood of water hissed so loudly, Kent could barely make out his own footsteps, let alone someone else’s.
Apparently Joshua was thanking Kent for saving his life by getting Kent killed.
He felt a shift behind him. Funny how the body knew when another body entered its personal space. Martin was close. Behind him.
No, the feeling came from above him.
Martin, Martin, Martin.
He had taken the high ground. And was now coming down at Kent, fast. Jerking open the supply locker door, Kent protected himself with the metal. Martin’s blade hit the door, driving the hilt into Martin’s hand. That had to hurt.
Kent wasn’t done though. He had Martin squarely in front of him. He wasn’t letting him go again.
Pulling the door back, Kent slammed it into Martin, again and again. The serial killer’s head snapping back, cracking into the metal door, distorting the surface. He did that a few dozen more times. Until his arm got too tired to continue.
2nd Cycle of the Harbinger Series: The continuation of the #1 Hard-boiled/Police Procedural smash Plain Jane Page 33