Winter Song (Seasons Pass Book 1)

by Susan C. Muller

  Looked like the cop had been on a gang task force when a seventeen-year-old pulled a gun and aimed it at a civilian. The kid’s age caused the driver to pause. Apparently youth alone wasn’t enough to make the cop hesitate. The kid had lived, so maybe the cop wasn’t that good a shot.

  Still, he’d been willing to take a life. They did have that in common. The driver felt himself come awake. This was enough to stir his juices. Maybe he could make it to threesies tonight after all.

  His door flew open without any warning. He jumped and clicked off his computer. It wouldn’t do to have anyone see what he was researching.

  The shooter grinned at him. “Hey, the sun’s out and I’ve been suffering from cabin fever. Let’s see if we can gather up a crowd and walk over to Burger Barn.”

  “I thought you were short of cash.”

  “I figured I could count on you to spot me a burger. If that old man doesn’t pay us soon, I might drop by his house some night and remind him we have a contract.”

  Ah, fuck. The jobs were easy. It was dealing with people that always tripped him up. He didn’t trust his partner enough to tell him what had happened to the cop, and he couldn’t risk having him decide to visit the client on his own. “Don’t do a thing. I have it under control. Come on, I’ll carry you till we get paid.”

  Half an hour’s drive from the last house they visited, Rice University was an oasis of calm in a city of four million people. The campus itself was shielded from view by thick hedges of wax leaf ligustrums. Towering oaks clasped hands above winding paths, and red brick buildings housed a student body comprised of only the brightest minds the country had to offer. It might have been harder to gain admission to Harvard or Yale, but not by much.

  All that serenity and elitism set Noah’s teeth on edge.

  As a courtesy, Noah and Conner checked in with the campus police when they arrived. The officer on duty was about three weeks short of ninety. His white hair and beard made him look more like a skinny, ill-tempered Santa Claus than a cop. Even a rent-a-cop.

  He had a meatball sandwich spread out on his desk. A soft drink, chips and a pickle were arranged at ten, two, and four, with a container of Parmesan cheese marking twelve o’clock. The smell of garlic hit Noah like a slap across the face and drove any remnants of dirty-diaper from his nose.

  Conner left the office door open while they talked.

  “You guys sure you’re not going to arrest anyone? I’d have to go with you if you do. I’ve got one guy out––that ice storm dropped a tree on his house––and two guys checking into a disturbance over at the athletic compound. Then there’s Marvin. He’s supposed to be patrolling the science building, but I know damn well he’s hiding somewhere. I just haven’t been able to find his spot.” The guard sucked meat sauce through yellow teeth.

  “Nope. It’s just a fishing expedition. We have to eliminate several dozen dark cars before we can convince a hard-nosed judge to issue a warrant for the guy we like.” Noah didn’t want the old guy walking around campus with them. That could turn a one-hour job into three hours spent with someone whose breath made his toenails curl. Besides, the faster they checked this kid off their list, the sooner he could move on to a real suspect.

  “Well, you go on then. But be sure to let me know if you decide to arrest one of the little Einsteins. It’s the fourth building on the left. I’d say the old, red-brick one but that wouldn’t be much help.” The guard either laughed at his own joke or had some type of seizure.

  Noah glanced back as he pulled the door closed. The guard already had his face buried in his sandwich.

  Rice operated on an old English model––students lived in colleges, not dorms. The walk to the college took less than ten minutes and Noah relished the chance to stretch his legs after a morning spent in the car.

  Conner lifted his head and studied the sky. “I told you this would happen.”

  Noah glanced around. The day was ideal––cool, but not cold, sunny, with only a few white puffy clouds. “What are you talking about?”

  “Groundhog Day. That old fella is gonna see his shadow for sure. Six more weeks of winter.” Conner stepped in a puddle of melted ice and cursed under his breath.

  “And I told you. Fuck the furry rodent. I’m done with winter. I’ll give it two more weeks, tops.” This winter had lasted way too long already. He felt like his insides had frozen over.

  He needed to take Sweet Pea for a long walk, or to the dog park. Maybe invite Rachelle and her family over for hot dogs in the backyard. A couple of hours playing with his nieces and listening to Rachelle laugh was exactly what he needed. He’d even put up with his brother-in-law for that long.

  But could he keep them in the yard and out of his house?

  Noah pushed open the heavy wooden door and stamped his feet on a worn mat before entering the lobby. After the fresh air outside, the lobby smelled musty. Like a wet dog.

  Conner glanced at the paper in his hand. “Second floor. Number 217.”

  Noah looked left and right. “Elevator?”

  “In a building this old? What do you think?”

  The stairway echoed as they tromped up to the fire door. Conner nodded toward the left. “I think it’s this way.”

  “I’m not worried about finding the room. I’m more worried there won’t be anyone in it when we get there. Shouldn’t the little geniuses be in class or at lunch this time of day?”

  “If he’s not in, we can cruise the parking lot. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can find his car. If not, we can check the room again. He might be back from lunch by then. Besides, you’re the one who wanted to keep moving, not stop to eat.”

  Noah kept his mouth shut. Conner was right and if he disagreed, it would only be for the sake of starting an argument. And he was tired of doing that. Acting like an ass simply because his life sucked, pulled him down as surely as if he had a weight tied around his neck.

  Boards creaked in old hallways that took off in no logical direction as Noah and Conner searched for room 217. The numbers ran in a pattern understood only by some long dead architect. Noah realized his mother, with her love of antiques, would probably have appreciated the old lighting fixtures, but in truth, they cast only a shadowy glow that failed to illuminate the patina-covered number plates on aging doors.

  “I guess the first test in determining if you’re smart enough to come here is if you can find your room.” Noah was ready to locate this kid and move on. The dark, narrow hallway was stirring hints of claustrophobia. The cop in him rebelled at tight places with only one exit.

  “That must be why I went to A&M. The corps likes everything in straight lines. Numbered consecutively. Like an orderly mind.”

  “I could be wrong, but I don’t think this university values an orderly mind. I think they encourage students to let their minds run free. To see what discoveries they can make. All the things that make the world go round.” Noah debated pulling his penlight from his coat pocket to see if he could read the room numbers any better.

  “Well, I’m not going round one more time. If this isn’t the room we’re looking for, I’m going to pull the fire alarm and interview students on their way out.”

  Wow. Conner must feel the same about dead ends to make a statement like that.

  Two-seventeen was the last room on a short hallway with a window overlooking what Noah supposed was called The Quad. The kid that opened the door had caramel skin and black hair. He was tall, but on the chubby side, with wire-rimmed glasses and a bad case of adolescent acne scarring. His blue and silver Rice Owls sweatshirt exposed a sliver of doughy stomach.

  The room was small, simply but adequately furnished, and had a large window with an excellent view. If not for the overwhelming aroma of Cheetos, Noah would have said the room was nice.

  The fact that he could recognize Cheetos from one whiff worried him. I need to change my eating habits or I’ll end up looking just like this guy.

  The kid’s computer was running, and a stack
of textbooks lay open beside it. And yes, there sat an open bag of Cheetos.

  “Ignacio Ramos?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The kid looked irritated at the interruption, but not frightened.

  Noah introduced himself and Conner but didn’t specify what department they represented. No point in putting the kid on edge if he didn’t have to. He’d learn more that way. “May we come in for a moment?”

  The kid shrugged and stepped aside. “Sure, come on.”

  Either the kid didn’t know to ask questions before he let them in or he didn’t have anything to hide. Unless he had a lot to hide and didn’t want them to know it. Anyway, the room was university property, and a case could be made that they had the right to enter if they wanted.

  “Could you make this quick? I only have an hour till my next class and I haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

  Noah tossed out the same lie he’d already used twice that day and held his breath. Would the kid cooperate or try to stall them? “We’re trying to track down a dark sedan that was in a hit-and-run accident last night. Do you mind if we look at your car?”

  “My car hasn’t been out of the parking lot since I got back from Christmas break. You can see it from here.” He peered out the window and pointed to a parking area beside the building. “It’s the,” he counted, “one, two, third row from the front and the fourth car in.”

  Noah leaned to the side and spotted the car. “Where do you keep your keys?”

  The kid pointed to a small basket on a table near the door. “You’re welcome to look it over, but it wasn’t me. I was in study group last night.”

  “You have study group on Sunday night?” Conner’s brow narrowed and Noah smiled. He knew that look all too well.

  Ignacio wiped his hands on his pants and Noah realized it was the first hint of nervousness he’d seen from the kid. “I’ve got a full-ride scholarship. If I don’t keep my grades up, I’ll lose it. So yeah, I have a different study group every night except Friday and Saturday. My dad’s an auto mechanic. No way I could afford to come here without help. I can print you off a list of all the groups if you want to check.”

  Conner smiled. Back to being the good cop. “That would be very helpful. Thank you.”

  Ignacio sat at his computer and with a few keystrokes, a list of his study group partners, complete with contact numbers, rolled off his printer.

  The door was still open, and Noah stood behind it, checking the contents of the basket holding the kid’s keys and spare change so Ignacio handed the list to Conner.

  The door swung in several more inches, almost hitting Noah. “Hey, Icky, my buddy. Want to head over to Burger Barn for lunch?”

  The hairs on the back of Noah’s neck stood at attention. He couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but he could see Ignacio flinch.

  “Not today, Ryan. I have company.” Ignacio gritted his teeth as he spoke.

  “We won’t be more than a few minutes, if you want to join your friends.” Noah stepped around the door and got a good look at the two intruders. Now his whole body was on alert. “In fact, we can all walk down together.”

  The kid in the back seemed surprised that Ignacio had company, but the kid in the front, the one with the high-pitched, squeaky voice, dropped his books and a can of Coke. The brown liquid spread across the floor and onto the kid’s shoe, but he didn’t seem to notice. He tried to speak several times, his mouth opening and closing like a trout dropped on the deck of a boat, but no words came out. His eyes doubled in size behind thick glasses and his face turned the same shade of red as his hair. He reached down and grabbed his books, but left the soda can.

  “Well,” he finally stammered. “We’re in a hurry. You can join us when you’re finished here.” The kid spun on one foot and slammed into the boy behind him as he hurried down the hall.

  Conner’s gaze followed the boys as they disappeared, but Noah kept his eyes on Ignacio, watching for his reaction to the two visitors. “Sorry to keep you from your friends. . . Icky. Is that what you like to go by?”

  Ignacio slumped in his chair. “They’re not my friends and no, that’s not what I like to go by.”

  Conner pulled his pocket spiral out and flipped through his notes. He tapped a page near the front and held it out for Noah to read. Under the notes about Noah’s conversation with Rosaria was the word ‘icky.’ Underlined three times and followed by a question mark. Noah gave a barely perceptible nod, but he didn’t need reminding.

  Noah pulled the extra chair around and sat, facing Ignacio. This day might not be a waste after all.

  “If he’s not your friend, and your name’s not Icky, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us what’s going on.” Because something sure as hell is going on, and I intend to find out what.

  There wasn’t a number large enough in the universe for two people named Icky in one case to be simple coincidence.

  Noah didn’t move. He’d sit here all day if that’s what it took. But he wasn’t leaving until he knew what this kid had to do with Crystal Hudson’s death and the attempt on his own life.

  “So who are those two guys, and why did they call you Icky if that’s not your name?”

  “Ryan Howell and Derrick McAllister. Ryan’s supposed to be my tutor, but he hates me, and the feeling is mutual. He resents having to work for part of his expenses, he resents that I have a scholarship and he doesn’t, although his IQ is probably the highest on campus. And that includes the professors, some of whom have Nobel Prizes. He really resents that I got into this university at all. I went to a second-rate high school in the Valley that didn’t prepare me for a school of this caliber. But I did finish first in my class, and I did pass the admission standards. I’m working like the devil with his tail on fire with no real help from my assigned tutor and so far, my GPA is 3.9, thank you very much.”

  Noah nodded. For some reason, that always seemed to keep a story going. But inside, he longed to grab the kid and shake him until the information he wanted spilled out. “If he hates you, why’d he invite you to lunch?”

  “He doesn’t want my company. He gets paid by how many hours he spends with me. At lunch, he’ll ask me how I’m doing. I’ll say fine because if I actually admitted how hard this is, he’d say something derogatory to make me feel worse. Then he’ll turn in that he worked with me for two hours.”

  Conner paused in his note-taking. “So what’s the deal with the name?”

  Ignacio pinched the bridge of his nose. “The first day, when I introduced myself, he said, ‘Just how dumb are you, Iggy, and how much of my time are you going to waste?’ When I said I preferred Ignacio, he laughed and has called me ‘Icky’ ever since.”

  His chair scraped against the hardwood floor as Noah pushed it back and stood. “Do Ryan or Derrick ever borrow your car?”

  “No, Ryan has his own car.” Ignacio stopped. “Well, he borrowed mine once, when his wouldn’t start. Didn’t even put gas in it. Derrick doesn’t have a car. He just tags along wherever Ryan goes. I don’t know why Ryan likes him, but he’s the only one who pays any attention to him. Derrick has plenty of book sense, but somehow still manages to be a misfit in a school full of nerds.”

  “Can you see Ryan’s car from here?” Noah jammed his hand in his pocket and fingered the worry stone he kept there as he peered out the window. Something wasn’t adding up here, but if he planned to settle this case himself he couldn’t let on to Conner.

  Ignacio craned his neck. “Same row as mine, two down. The pale blue Volvo. Now you have me worried. I’ll walk down with you and check my car for damage.”

  Noah let Ignacio lead the way out. He hadn’t left a trail of bread crumbs and wasn’t sure he could find the stairs on the first try. The outside air was a relief after the wet, musty smell of the lobby.

  Ignacio hurried to his car and circled it several times. “I don’t see any damage. Where would it have been?”

  “Right front fender.” Noah squatted in front of the car and studied t
he fender with fake enthusiasm. “Looks good. I guess we can write you off. The impact would have left a dent for sure.” He ought to feel guilty about lying with such ease, but like it or not, that was part of the job.

  “Jeez, I was so worried about my own stuff, I forgot about the guy who got hit.” Ignacio twisted his head from Noah to Conner. “Is he okay? Was he hurt bad?”

  Noah waited for Ignacio to glance away then ran his hand over the license plate.

  Conner put his arm on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s banged up, but it’s not serious. We don’t like to let someone get away with something so dangerous. Next time it might be worse. It was nice of you to ask though.”

  Noah glanced at Conner and winked. Time to ditch this kid so they could study the car closer. Then he needed to ditch Conner so he could study Ryan’s car.

  “Come on, partner,” Noah said. “We better move on to the next name on our list. Good luck in school, son. Don’t let a couple of assholes get you down. Sounds like you’re gonna do just fine.”

  Conner flipped his notebook closed and fell into step beside Noah. Halfway to their car, they paused and glanced back. Ignacio was nowhere to be seen. They pivoted and started back to the parking lot, double time. “The sticker was the same size and shape and in the right spot. What could you tell about the license plate?”

  “I felt a sticky spot, but I’d like to get a better look at it. For a car that hadn’t been driven in two weeks, the dirt in the tires and sprayed up the side was still damp, and there was a puddle of water sitting underneath it.” Noah tried to keep the excitement from his voice, but he could feel his heart picking up speed.

  Conner made no attempt to hide his excitement. He rubbed his hands together as they approached Ignacio’s car. He studied the back license plate from several directions. “I can definitely see where he’s used some type of tape to change the three to an eight and the seven to a nine. And look at this. The P has marks indicating it’s been changed to a B. I think we’ve got him. The right car, the name Icky, he needs money. Now that we know who, we’ll find a connection to Hudson. You can bank on it.”