A Critical Tangent

by Reily Garrett

  He held her closer, murmuring against her hair and rubbing her back.

  Their integrated actions established a pivotal moment, one where she’d look back and say, “Yeah, that was when everything changed.”

  He was no longer a cagey enemy. Harbored suspicions fell away in the light of the ongoing investigation and his determination to keep her safe.

  The outcome was anything but certain, and she wasn’t sure what transpired now, just that it would define something specific about herself and her character.

  He’d earned her trust. In counterpoint, it didn’t mean she’d follow his lead, but she would respect his opinion and knew he’d put her life before his own. Something she’d never expect a cop to do. A secret part of her wanted it to be more personal, but her life didn’t work that way.

  An awkward moment ensued when she pulled back. “Ah, thanks. Sorry I soaked your shirt.”

  “No problem. You feel like telling me about drones, cars, anything?” He’d known she needed a diversion.

  “Nah, thanks. I think I’ve worn myself out. I’m just gonna go to bed.” Rare was the occasion she incurred awkward emotions around men. Despite her one failed relationship, she was self-assured.

  When she got into bed, she faced away from the chair but was unable to shut his warmth from her mind. She wasn’t some twit enduring her first crush.

  “Nolan? Would you…” The words stalled and wouldn’t squeeze around the knot in her throat. For the first time in years, she needed arms around her, shelter from memories of death, loneliness, and despair.

  The chair’s cushion rasped as he stood then settled in bed, on top of the covers. Timeless, wordless, it was a taciturn understanding between a soul ripped in two and another who stitched the tattered ends together with a mere touch on her shoulder. It wasn’t sexual, merely comfort offered from one human being to another.

  “I know you hurt, Keiki. I promise it will get better. It won’t be fast, and it won’t be a linear process, but it will happen.”

  “Because you have experience with four sisters?”

  “Because I have experience with a broken heart.”

  She had no energy to wrangle his tortured past in the quiet darkness. Instead, she let the pain wash over her and took simple comfort in the feel of his presence. It was a long time before sleep granted her peace.

  A guttural plea woke her from the nightmare of seeing her parents shot. She thought the hoarse groan came from her throat, but the heartfelt entreaty was decidedly male.

  “Nolan?” Keiki turned over to touch Nolan’s shoulder, a sliver of moonlight slipping around the curtain’s edge to highlight his pain.

  He jerked awake and bolted off the bed as if shot out of a cannon. He’d palmed his gun left on the nightstand and searched the room for an enemy. “What?”

  “Uh, nothing. I heard you talking in your sleep. It startled me.”

  “Oh, hell. Sorry.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve still got a few hours before daybreak. Go back to sleep, kid.”

  “Okay, if you’ll sit here again?”

  His uncertainty gave way to resignation as he again sat and rested against the headboard.

  Weak morning light outlined the curtain’s edge when something hauled her from the depths of a good dream. Vague recollections of rousing to feel Nolan snuggled against her back had given her solace and sent her back to sleep.

  Warm comfort dissipated with the loss of heat when he curled up and swung his feet to the side of the bed. With no sexual or hidden agendas, he’d offered security and the chance to rest without fear, in spite of having his own nocturnal demons to fight.

  “Morning.” Again, without explanation, he stood and checked his weapon as if needing a normal routine to dispel an unpleasant memory. “Feel better rested?”

  “Yes... How’d you know what I needed?” Her mouth engaged before her brain could decide on the best way to handle the awkward situation.

  Nolan on the other hand, slid into cop mode and typed out a text on his phone. “Four sisters. When the youngest broke up with her boyfriend, I sat with her most of the night. She talked until her voice went hoarse. I think—”

  The subtle knock at the door jarred her into motion. “Coyote?” Keiki asked as she bolted from the bed to the bathroom. She didn’t want to be found in Nolan’s sweats and give the wrong impression.

  “Yeah. He’s a bit early.”

  * * * *

  Nolan opened the door to see his partner with a corrugated cup holder and snicker. If not for the prior night’s sleep, he would’ve slammed it shut until an apology drifted forth.

  “I hope that coffee is hot.”

  The smell of fresh pastry granted a small leeway and one jibe. A bag dangled precariously below the cups of fragrant brew.

  “Because you didn’t get any sleep last night and need the caffeine?” Coyote nudged his colleague aside after handing him an insulated cup. His cursory glance took in the bed with the rumpled blankets along with the chair that had none. An arched brow delivered his inquiry.

  “No, I didn’t. She was having nightmares.” Nolan put the extra coffee on the small table and sat. His partner knew him better than that.

  “I haven’t seen you emotionally invested for, well, in a long time.”

  “Don’t bring Clare into this. It’s not the same.” Hot liquid spilled over the side when Nolan set his coffee down with a small thunk. “Keiki’s a college student.”

  “Plus a whole lot more. Captain wants paper work in ASAP.”

  “Imagine that. Thanks for filling him in. I owe you.”

  “Again. Preliminary tests showed the runner last night wasn’t exposed to the same combination of drugs as Harock’s daughter, but we’ll have to wait for a complete analysis.”

  “Well, shit. What was the game plan? Capture instead of kill?” Nolan listened as the water taps in the bathroom shut off.

  “Probably.”

  Neither needed reminding of Keiki’s convoluted involvement in the current case. In attending the race, he’d wanted to establish a rapport on which he could build, then ask tougher questions without running into roadblocks and lawyers. Even so, the web surrounding the young women drew him tighter.

  Their platonic time during the night fortified a basic rapport on which he wanted to build into—something greater. The more he learned, the less he believed her capable of underhanded dealings, much less murder. Her grief had been raw and genuine.

  Chapter Ten

  Keiki inched the bathroom door open to monitor the murmured conversation. Returning Nolan’s clothes didn’t mean she wanted to endure his partner’s false assumptions.

  Conversation stopped with the squeak of the door going wide. She nodded to the southern detective in passing, wondering if his cop instincts noted any of the changes she felt. Fate glued bad luck to her back. “What’s it like outside, Coyote?”

  “Soft sixties.” He nodded to the coffee cup on the table and curled his lips between his teeth when she returned Nolan’s sweat pants and shirt.

  Two wooden chairs offered a place to sit and sip a morning brew. Coyote took one and crossed an ankle over a knee while Nolan sat on the bed.

  “Sixty degrees with a northern breeze.” She smiled as a fond memory brought a little warmth. “My dad used to describe mornings that way if the wind came from the north.”

  Nolan nodded. “Feeling better this morning?”

  Heat crept up her neck with the memory of holding the detective tight and blubbering on his shoulder. He hadn’t seemed to mind, nor had he appeared uncomfortable with sitting on the bed while she cried again.

  He had four sisters and had spoken to her as if soothing a frightened child. He never asked which horror had disturbed her sleep.

  If Coyote was surprised at seeing Nolan in the room, he was gentleman enough to not show it. A glance flicked between Keiki and his partner had been the single clue of variance to his curiosity.

  “How’s Quinlin?”


  “Fine. All’s quiet.” Coyote’s shortened report came with a shrug. “She went into your apartment, sat on the couch like she said she’d do, then waited. No company, nothing suspicious. It was her first undercover experience and I think she found it quite boring.”

  “How close were Gabby and Shelly?” Agitated movements revealed underlying anxiety as the more experienced detective removed his cup’s lid and blew over the top of the steaming fragrant brew.

  He’s invested in solving the case. All in.

  “You think the killer will go after Gabby next?” Keiki couldn’t control her tone’s rising pitch.

  “Don’t know,” Nolan answered and gestured toward the door. “We’ll look for her today. On the way out, we’ll pick up something to eat while you fill us in about her habits, comings and goings, and whatever you think might help us find her.”

  His tone had softened. Their connection no longer mimicked wolf and prey.

  “Home, our apartment, or at school are the places she goes.” She couldn’t forge the connection between brain and mouth to challenge either man’s assessment that she knew more.

  The unspoken understanding shared between the two men came through loud and clear. They couldn’t find Gabby, and Coyote either suspected her a victim, too, or involved in Shelly’s death.

  “When was the last time you saw or heard from her?” Coyote paused, waiting for her answer.

  “I sent her a message Saturday morning and asked if she was okay. I never got an answer.”

  Nolan stood and stretched his neck. “Your living arrangements might need a temporary adjustment.”

  “I am going back to my apartment. You said yourself this might not be about me.” She knew better, but needed to get to her equipment and hand over a copy of the video.

  The possibility of finding a worthy clue was nil, but the longer she waited, the more guilty she’d look. First on her list included finding Gabby. Her drones could cover more area than the police could.

  Outside, cool air brushed the hair from her face despite being sandwiched between the two detectives. An eerie quiet allowed her to listen for the telltale hum of a drone. The skies were clear, the atmosphere quiet.

  “Have you spoken to any of your other friends?” Coyote, like his partner, cast frequent glances upward. The southern detective’s heavy boots scuffed at torn and damp leaf litter blown in from the surrounding forest.

  “Not since Thursday. As far as Gabby is concerned, it’s not too unusual for her to disappear for several days in a row when studying. Shelly and I got used to it.”

  “You’re going to use your drone to spy?” The teasing quality of Coyote’s grin didn’t negate his underlying speculation and search for truth.

  Keiki let a shrug speak for itself. She allowed Nolan to guide her to the SUV while Coyote headed for his truck.

  Her escort put the drive time to good use by explaining his need to know her whereabouts and planned activities. He also reaffirmed there’d be a uniformed officer stationed outside her apartment complex for the near future.

  The ongoing monologue entailed the same advice as one of her parents’ safety lectures.

  Back in the apartment, she took a deep breath and acknowledged the female officer. “Thanks, Quinlin, for swapping places with me last night. I understand it’s a risk you take in stride, but I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. ‘S good to get my feet wet.” In keeping with her assignment, she’d worn blue jeans and the color-splashed tee from the race. “It’s all been quiet since I arrived, Detectives.”

  Quinlin couldn’t be much older, yet she’d put herself in danger in swapping places. Her father’s mantra of “Respect is earned,” came to mind.

  Once alone, Keiki booted up her computer and listened to the horrific recording again. No spark of recognition and no hint of a buried memory lit her path to enlightenment.

  It was the nightmare that drew her in with the expectancy of solving the mystery. She was still in the dark as to the killer’s identity or how he’d chosen his targets.

  If she’d possessed hacking skills, she’d know more about the crime scene. Instead, she had to settle for spying on the police.

  Gabby had planned on spending the weekend with her newest boyfriend, hence should be sleeping off a hangover. It wasn’t surprising she didn’t answer her cell.

  A last check on her quietest device and she maneuvered it out the window toward school. Living close to campus cut down her walk to class yet allowed her the extra privacy she craved.

  Familiar landmarks and rooftops passed in quick succession with no one looking up and searching for the quiet hum. After a little look-see, she’d set the device on the roof of fraternity row and call her second part-time employer, Nick Tucker.

  This time, she’d be asking for his help. The private investigator had hired her to fly drones but then became a friend, one who’d taught her some tricks of the trade.

  Unlike the detective who forced her heart to beat a staccato rhythm, Nick’s easygoing attitude reminded her of the boy next door—the one who put thumbtack-sized holes in his friend’s water bottle then backed away when said companion unscrewed the top, or setting his buddy’s phone alarm for the middle of the night and hiding the device at the bottom of the laundry basket.

  Everyone should enjoy a sense of humor.

  The row of frat houses arose like squatting soldiers along a curved road. The two-story on the end was her target. Under ordinary circumstances, respect for privacy would keep her from aiming the lens through the second-story windows. This was not a normal situation. Starting at the back, she checked each room, glad so few bothered to pull their shades.

  On the end, she recognized a black-haired boy sleeping in a twin bed. She couldn’t remember his name, but Gabby had bragged about his good looks when pulling up his pics on social media.

  He was alone.

  Please be in the bathroom, Gabby.

  Several minutes passed, nothing stirred. Reality drowned hope until another thought occurred. They sometimes went to the meads to smoke.

  It was the clearing, or meeting place, where small groups could stay off security’s radar and not be reported when a distinctive odor permeated the air. Gabby had admitted to the occasional joint, but other than that and the periodic party, the trio held the same values and points of view.

  The clearing wasn’t a place Keiki went, and if not for traipsing through it while escorting Gabby home after a party, she’d never have known of its existence.

  Instead of zipping down the trail just above the treetops, the drone maintained a distance which ensured the little motors wouldn’t be heard.

  Two men stood in the clearing. Their size first tipped her off to the current oddity. She knew every student and faculty member. None were this large. Strangers were searching for something among the dead leaves.

  Hovering her drone at its current height didn’t allow their conversation to be heard. If she moved in too close, they’d hear it. It was a gamble, but she lowered it into the crook of a tall oak fifteen feet off the ground and behind the men. Snippets of conversation required intense focus to piece together. Some of it made no sense, something about formulae and rewards.

  The larger male, dressed in dark jeans and wearing a black leather jacket gave a small hoot and plucked something from the ground. “Found it. Damn. I win the prize.”

  Keiki’s blood ran cold when he held the device for his partner to see the screen. It looked like Gabby’s phone. Due to their stances and the phone’s angle, she couldn’t be sure. Instead, she picked up her own cell and called her roommate’s number.

  The phone in the bulkier man’s grasp erupted in a familiar tune with Keiki’s face lighting the screen.

  Bile rose in her throat, her fingers gripping the table until numb.

  Where was Gabby?

  “Damn. I wouldn’t answer that if I were you. Boss said to retrieve it, not use it.” Thug number two had long greasy hair tied back in a ponyta
il. His speech held less of an accent than his companion’s guttural rumble. Neither voice matched Shelly’s killer. “Looks like I’ll have the fun tonight.”

  “Well, when we find her friend, I get first shot between her legs. And we don’t have to tell the boss about it, either.”

  * * * *

  “What was a chem professor doing in his lab on a Sunday night?” Nolan surveyed the office from the door while his partner stepped around the body to examine the second-story window. The parking lot below contained one vehicle—the professor’s.

  “And why leave the window cracked?” Coyote examined the sill while the CSI tech dusted the frame for prints. “I’ll bet that’s gonna show a grab bag that’ll take months to separate.”

  The tech rolled his eyes. “I love optimism.”

  The corpse lay supine with sightless eyes taking in the fiber tile of the suspended ceiling.

  “There’s powder around his mouth.” The ME leaned back to catch the attention of the photographer packing up her camera. “Did you get this, Jansen?”

  “Yep. Shot my way in, around, then shot my way out.” Attention to detail had never numbered among her shortcomings.

  “You say the door was locked. From the inside?” Nolan turned to the campus security officer.

  “That’s right. We got a call from his girlfriend saying he wasn’t home and she couldn’t reach him, she asked us to check his office. It’s not unusual for these nerdy types to stop in at odd hours to pick up notes or whatever the hell they need. Heaven knows they’re always leaving a window open, especially this time of year. It’s not like someone’s gonna climb in the second story and steal equipment.”

  “No sign of forced entry. How’d the killer get in? An extra keycard?” Coyote scrutinized the room, dissecting each field of view with a keen eye. Cursory inspection of the bank of windows had him shaking his head.

  “No, sir. Our security’s tight on access to the science building. It’s even layered.”