A Critical Tangent

by Reily Garrett

  “Careful not to trip over your third leg, partner,” Nolan taunted.

  Coyote pointed to something specific on the periphery of the scene. “What’s that shiny thing poking up through the dead branches?”

  Blowing out a breath, the tech shuffled back and squatted near several broken limbs. “Ah, I’ve no idea. Almost looks like a tiny mechanical arm.” Turning to her assistant, she instructed, “Bag it along with the leaves and debris nestled around it.”

  “Where’s Doc?” Nolan shaded his eyes against the rising sun topping the trees and firing up the valley in beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow.

  Returning to his hometown as part of the small force was worth it. The quiet county offered year-round beauty and a peacefulness he couldn’t enjoy in the city.

  The area’s average crime rate was tame enough that the chief didn’t micromanage their hours. The resulting comradery between partners felt more like family.

  “Pictures are done. Doc is en route but not happy about the early morning call.” Their part-time photographer recapped her lens.

  “Who is she?” Coyote stood several yards away on the opposite side of a well-tended, fifteen-foot square woodland flowerbed. “And what’s she doing tending a flowerbed in this clearing?”

  “Found her wallet. Two IDs. One license said Shelly Harock, age twenty. The other declared her Shelly Harold, age twenty-one. Both are local addresses. She also had a dorm keycard. It doesn’t name the college that issued it.”

  The tech repeated the home address as Nolan took notes.

  “College kid. Damn.” Coyote, the younger of the two detectives, used his cell to snap pics of the IDs. “They’re always in such a damn hurry to grow up.”

  “Problem is, last I checked, we have twenty-eight colleges within a fifty-mile radius.” Snow bunny bagged the victim’s hands to preserve trace evidence.

  “Right up Nolan’s alley. He’s the graduate destined for greater things.” Coyote hiked his eyebrows up and shrugged a shoulder when Nolan flipped him off.

  “I have a business degree, swamp donk. No big deal.” Nolan approached the victim and sunk into a crouch. Three years partnered with the southerner had fathered an easy and familiar relationship. “It appears she, or someone, tended this patch of flowers on a regular basis. It’d be nice to know its significance.”

  “Out here in the middle of the woods? I find that a little strange.” Coyote scrutinized the plants tended with loving care.

  “Think it’s symbolic to another place?” Nolan pointed to foam around the girl’s lips. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Could be. I collected samples. If it is Fentanyl, that would put her death within the last few hours. Lab analysis will give us specifics, but either way, she hasn’t been gone long. She’s still warm.”

  “Results won’t come back for four to six weeks, unless we get lucky.”

  “Why stab and strangle her if he wanted to kill her with Fentanyl-laced smack?”

  The tech glanced from one detective to the other. “God only knows. Looks to me like you’ve got a killer with a whole lot of crazy sending a strong message.”

  “Message to whom? Her party friends who like to get high, a jealous ex-boyfriend settling a score, or an escapee from Bedlam trying to quiet the voices in his head?” Coyote murmured as he studied the scene before him.

  “Could be a message to her family. If her father is Franklin Harock, then she’s the local heiress. I was called to her sister’s scene—a climbing accident three years ago.”

  “Which might explain a flower garden along the hillside. We’ll have to see who owns this property.” Coyote shook his head. “Such a waste.”

  Nolan froze, then jutted his chin toward the southern ridge. “You guys hear that?”

  His partner stilled. “What?”

  “Sounds like someone using a weed eater off in the distance.”

  “In the woods? I don’t think so.” Coyote stood and strode to the edge of the small clearing.

  “Look, it’s a drone.”

  It wasn’t uncommon for criminals to want to watch the results of their handiwork with the police present. It was the first time Nolan ever witnessed a drone doing the spying.

  Against the sky’s azure backdrop, the black and silver collection of propellers and parts stood out, but not as much as the round lens suspended several inches below the main body. Its slow approach indicated caution more than morbid curiosity.

  “Our voyeur is getting closer but doesn’t want his technology identified.” Nolan studied the electronic snooper.

  “Damn drone has a camera attached. I wonder if it’s a zoom.” Coyote slid his hand slowly to his back waist.

  “Have the news stations started using these damn things?” Nolan looked from his partner to the tech for clarification.

  Each shrugged.

  Coyote unholstered his Glock and took aim at the incoming device, his expression transforming from curiosity to determination.

  “What the hell are you doing, Coyote? You can’t shoot down a drone.” Nolan reached for the gun hand slowly rising. “It’s not a gator in the sky, it’s someone’s tech. If you shoot it and it lands in a tree, we’ll never find it in these hills.”

  “I won’t pull the trigger. I’m just proving a theory,” Coyote defended.

  “Hey, how about a picture?” Nolan turned to the photographer who’d already pulled the cap from its lens and hoisted her camera into position.

  “It’s too far away for much detail, but I’ll do what I can,” she replied.

  In rapid succession, the mechanized spy arced in a tight curve and ducked amid the treetops for cover.

  “Damn, swamp goblin,” Nolan muttered under his breath. “We do things a little differently here up north. I’m surprised you didn’t learn better during your military stint.”

  “It wasn’t going to get close enough to see specific markings anyway.” Coyote returned his service weapon to its holster.

  “Shit. What could a college kid do to deserve this?” The southern accent deepened when his attention returned to the victim, his index finger hovering above the girl’s throat. “What a strange way to kill someone.”

  “It’s possible the killer’s sending a specific kind of message,” Nolan suggested. “We need to figure out what it is and for whom it’s intended.”

  “The sooner we get back to civilization, the sooner we find out.” Coyote nodded to the tech. “Can you ask Doc to give us a call? Here’s my card.”

  “No need, detective. I’ve got your number.” Snow bunny smiled. “And you know how grumpy he gets when anyone tries to rush him. This may be a small borough, but he’s from the city.”

  “I wasn’t dinging his competency, just his timing.” Coyote grinned, his affection for the crime scene investigator increasing the crinkles about his eyes and mouth.

  Nolan nudged his partner toward the deer trail leading down the mountainside. “Reel in your eyes, Romeo.”

  When they left the small plateau, the steep grade required attention to footing. He’d hiked in the area on several occasions, never crossing anything more dangerous than a sunbathing rattler or frightened black bear.

  Once out of earshot, Nolan egged his partner. “Why don’t you ask her out? She wouldn’t turn you down.”

  “She thinks of me on the same level as a hibernating alligator, not a southern gentleman.”

  “Alligators don’t hibernate. Do they?”

  “Mm-hmm, there’s some in North Carolina that do. You can see their snouts frozen in the ice during freezing snaps. It’s how the cold-blooded buggers breathe.”

  “You are a storage barn of useless facts.” Nolan stared at his partner, unable to reconcile the varied facets of his personality.

  “What can I say? I like ’em.”

  “You would. You’re an endless reservoir of data on gators. Did you moonlight in wildlife management in the glades or grow up hunting them?” Nolan stepped over a log and slippe
d, scrambling to avoid landing on his butt. As in the hike uphill, branches snatched at his suit pants and jacket while sprawling vines conspired to trip him into face-planting. He loved hiking, but not in Dockers and loafers.

  “Or something. I’ll tell you about it someday, but I’ve never wrestled a gator. And yes, I know that in this neck of the woods, wrestling the alligator is a euphemism for eating at the Y. You northerners and your sexual innuendos…”

  Nolan grinned, ever amazed at his partner’s viewpoints. Over the course of their partnership, the younger detective seldom spoke of himself or his past, leaving Nolan to piece together a haphazard sketch of the man’s life. A range of scattered clues left him guessing most of the time.

  “Stop thinking so much, Nolan. You’ll start a forest fire.”

  “You need a date, and a muzzle. Maybe at the same time. How is it you made it through the military intact?”

  “Easy. There weren’t many of my type women on base, so I found other outlets to expend energy and vowed to make up for it after discharge.” Appraisal and calculation softened his tone. “I was lucky to be assigned near home after being overseas.”

  “Three years must have felt like an eternity. At least you were near family after...” It was a rare occasion when fishing for information produced results.

  Defining where his partner had been stationed or what horrors he’d endured remained off limits.

  Nolan blew out a breath as they reached the base of the mountain. They’d parked in the lot where a local news van now waited. Turning to his partner, he groused. “Time to put those southern dimples to good use.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Despite the sour tone, Coyote turned up the amperage on his megawatt smile.

  No doubt, easy charm still held sway with the inexperienced reporter who directed her questions to the younger partner. The realization he never took advantage defined his moral aptitude.

  Chapter Two

  “Did you make any headway while I was working?” Coyote dropped into the passenger seat and slammed his door, waving to the reporter who lingered after her camera man turned to pack up his gear.

  “Yeah, according to his assistant, Franklin Harock is home with his wife. I pulled up the information and ran Shelly through LEJIS. No hits.” Nolan hated this aspect of investigating. “No one should outlive their child.”

  “Agreed. Hey, speaking of family, did your sister finish her paper on first responders and stress? I could help if she needs it.”

  “Ah, how’d you know about Jenna’s assignment? I don’t recall that conversation over the family dinner last week.” Nolan flicked a glance at his partner before cranking the engine.

  “That’s because I helped the women do dishes while you sat on your ass watching the game.” Coyote turned to observe the passing mountainside blazing with fall color.

  “I like you. I do. But if you fool around with my sister, no one will ever find all the pieces of Coyote Waylin. She’s nineteen.”

  Whenever his partner joined the family gatherings, sparks flew between his youngest sibling and his partner. His mom had made note of it, going so far as to admonish Nolan for warning the man about romantic entanglements.

  “Is it because I’m a southern boy or because you think I’m poor?” A new challenge existed in the smooth accent local women loved.

  “I don’t give a damn how much money you do or don’t make. She’s in college and needs to focus, to figure things out for herself.”

  “Your family loves me.”

  “Yeah, more so than me. Even my dad accepts you, which is kinda rare. He hasn’t liked many guys where his daughters are concerned. I think the fact you help out at mealtimes has earned you a few extra points. However, with four sisters and my mother in the kitchen, it’s not big enough for two men.”

  It was a well-known fact the sun rose and set on Coyote’s shoulders where young Jenna Garnett was concerned.

  “She’s too young for you, Coyote. You’d do well to keep that in mind.”

  “How can I forget, given your calculating glare every time she grinned at me? I felt like you were sizing me up for a homemade coffin. And by the way, she does it to piss you off.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Since you’re a local, tell me about Shelly Harock’s father and his business dealings before we get to his house.”

  Nolan detailed his sparse knowledge of the tycoon’s holdings and current operations. Returning home and wanting to settle down, he’d almost invested in the local tech company himself.

  Coyote whistled low as they passed through ornate iron gates with a decorative scroll top. The estate looked like a forbidden fortress. A long winding driveway snaked around well-tended, colorful flowerbeds of the large Harock manor.

  “I hear this guy’s quite the shark. Keep your eyes open.” Nolan estimated the manicured lawn, sculpted hedges, and surrounding specimen trees required an entire team of gardeners to maintain.

  When the house came into view, Coyote sucked in a breath. “Now there’s a sight you don’t see every day. I think I want me one of them.”

  “Huh. You finally ready to buy a house? Kudos. I didn’t know if you were going to put down roots or flee back to the swamps of southern Florida.”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time and the right woman.” Coyote smirked as he hopped out of the vehicle. “I look forward to having your family over to my place next year for Thanksgiving.” A chuckle accompanied the obvious certainty of a man intent on one-upping his partner and enjoying every minute of it.

  “Looking forward to soda can wind chimes and alligator fingers.” Nolan imagined a cottage surrounded by southern oaks dripping Spanish moss. Though the swamp setting wouldn’t fit in Pennsylvania, his partner would somehow make it work. With style.

  It took a minute to switch mental gears, his mind circling his sister’s penchant for defiance and imagining her sitting on Coyote’s front porch with a mint julep in hand.

  From the house ahead, a dog barked and restored his focus on their task. Stately columns under the portico of the sprawling brick mansion failed to conceal the video cameras monitoring the home’s exterior. All would be scrutinized before entering.

  Brick quoins on each corner added detail while the parapet running the length of the home’s roof allowed second-story residents access to a beautiful view via the balcony. The home was built to impress.

  “You ever going to tell me how you got the nickname Coyote when you’re from Florida? They don’t even have coyotes, do they?”

  “Of course we do. As for the other, I might. Someday.”

  Marble steps led them to an arched double door entrance under a paladin window. An ornate brass handle situated at chest level offered the only illusion of normalcy.

  Before they could knock, the door opened. The manservant greeted them with a pseudo smile. His white mustache, trimmed close, matched bushy eyebrows shadowing his gaze. Time hadn’t yet bent the older man’s spine nor veiled his eyes with cataracts. Condescension complete with a frown and raised chin declared the visitors not up to par.

  “May I help you, gentlemen?” An accent steeped in British formality supported the air of authority and bulky frame. The slight dusting of gray in his hair acknowledged middle age but didn’t detract from his air of superiority.

  “We’re here to see Mr. and Mrs. Harock.” Nolan parted his suit to expose his shield the same time his partner swiped aside the flap of his bomber jacket.

  “If you’ll wait in the parlor, I will let Mr. and Mrs. Harock know of your arrival.”

  A sweeping gesture ushered them into a well-appointed room with rich jewel-tone rugs anchored by two overstuffed sofas. Various duties had taken the detectives to upscale homes before, but never the likes of such elegance.

  Neither he nor his partner sat.

  Soft clicks marked the older man’s confident strides across marble flooring. The parlor equaled the size of Nolan’s kitchen and great room combined.

  Two
floor-to-ceiling picture windows comprised one wall while a massive stone fireplace divided the room from whatever lay beyond. Built-in bookshelves lined with tomes bearing antique spines took center stage in the back. It bore noting each section of shelf contained books of one hue, making a kaleidoscope of the whole.

  Who separates books by spine color?

  Coyote cast a dubious glance at the area rug then grumbled a derisive comment after assessing the couch.

  Nolan stood at the windows and compiled the list of normal questions he’d ask after the parents’ brunt of shock dissipated. He was about to change their worldview forever, and despite the ostentatious surroundings, no one deserved to receive such news.

  Franklin Harock’s confused mien belied his self-assured stride and outstretched hand. “Good morning, Detectives. What can I do for you?” The suit he wore could pay a cop’s salary for a year. “Please, have a seat.”

  A slim blonde stopped next to him and curved her lips to a semblance of a smile. Shrewd intelligence radiated from her hazel eyes, a mother’s analysis which discerned trouble before it was defined. Despite perfect posture, there existed a subtle if longstanding sadness in her demeanor. She didn’t speak.

  She’s already lost one child.

  It wasn’t difficult to read the worry lines etched in their faces. Concern marked his own father’s appearance every time his sisters’ lives veered off their chosen path.

  The father’s stiff shoulders and guarded assessment spoke volumes. He and his wife took a seat and visibly braced themselves.

  Both detectives sat on the opposing couch.

  The ensuing conversation never got easier. Denials and claims of misunderstanding and misidentification drove each detective to take deep breaths until the finality of the situation sunk in.

  Coming face to screen with the picture on Nolan’s phone of the girl’s ID card silenced their protests and steeped the room in mute apprehension. Long moments later, the beginnings of rage took root in both parents.