Nolan stepped over to the one window where a small gap appeared to provide the room’s only other access. “Hell, this is what, a six inch space? Has someone got a ruler?”
“Looks like it. And yes, I do.” Indignation in the tech’s voice declared the question beneath contempt.
“Second story. Locked from the inside. No other doors and no escape via the ceiling since the grid isn’t strong enough to support anything heavier than fiber tiles.” Coyote stared through the dust-streaked glass, then at the one tile on the floor. “Damn.”
“One’s out and another set askew as if the place was searched,” Nolan added. “What the hell were they looking for?”
“Something lightweight and found in a chemistry professor’s office… papers? Someone looking for answers to a test in a room that was supposed to be empty?” The ME’s skeptical expression closed down after a minute of thought. “Doesn’t make sense. Then again, the why isn’t my problem, Detectives. It’s yours.”
Nolan’s gut churned with unanswered questions. “Our perp could’ve been searching for photos or a flash drive.”
“It’s too early to be thinking about midterms, isn’t it?” Coyote directed his question to the campus police officer kneeling opposite the ME performing his cursory examination.
“Midterms are a couple weeks out, and they’re scheduled all day and late into the evening.” Like many other colleges and universities, this facility had begun arming their security officers. The one in question grew paler with each minute passing.
“Did you have any luck in locating Gabby Kiernan?” Coyote gestured for the campus cop to step out in the hall before he desecrated the crime scene.
“No, but they tend to scatter over the weekend.”
Coyote kneeled to get a better look at the victim. “What are the chances that the white powder around his nose is the same makeup found on Shelly Harock?”
“Yeah.” The coroner’s disgust came with a sigh. “Not a lot there, but then again, many inhaled poisons don’t take much to do the job. Helluva lot of death for a quiet area.”
“So, we have one student murdered and another attacked at a race. Then, a professor is killed and his place is searched. On top of that, another student is missing,” his partner summarized.
“We need to figure out how the professor is connected.” Nolan studied the open window again. “When we found Shelly Harock, there was a drone keeping tabs on us.”
“Aw, shit.” Dawning lit Coyote’s expression. “I didn’t think her capable of this. I’m usually a good judge of character.”
“Damn. The window’s gap is enough to slip a drone inside. The MO would connect Harock’s murder to this… whatever this is.” Nolan didn’t want to stain the ME’s thoughts with conjecture, the case was already screwy enough.
“Yeah, but we didn’t find anything drug related in her apartment. There’s always something, even if it’s just a vibe. I got nothing when there.”
“You shoved her out of the drone’s path at the race. Any doubt she could’ve faked it?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Nolan mentally reviewed the events at the race and came to the same conclusion. “No, she’d have been the one in the hospital if I hadn’t shoved her. Considering the powder’s slight dissipation with space traveled, if it had nailed Keiki, we’d be looking at another body.”
“You have good instincts.” A sliver of doubt wove its way through the younger detective’s words.
“A mechanical arm might be strong enough to disrupt a tile enough to look around…” Nolan grabbed the one straight-backed chair used for visitors and dragged it to sit under the yawning black hole.
He’d been so sure of Keiki’s innocence, but new evidence now pointed in her direction.
Coyote shook his head. “We need to expand our search.”
“Let’s see if combined efforts can help us locate the other girl, Gabriella Kiernan.” Nolan took his pen light and scanned the space. “Nothing up here but undisturbed dust.”
“Strange that we can’t locate the pre-med student and now a chemistry professor is dead. What are the odds?” Coyote stepped back and tucked his notepad in his jacket.
“The other teachers describe Gabby as the type to stay above board,” Nolan advised, deep in thought.
“If we can’t find her by tonight, let’s take another run at our mechanical prodigy tomorrow.” Coyote winced, avoiding Nolan’s intense stare.
“What’s running through your head, now?” Nolan followed his partner down the hall to where a small crowd had gathered, murmured whispers and suppositions turning the late evening into a surreal episode of a popular horror movie.
“Let’s suppose Keiki isn’t directly involved. Why is the killer targeting her, and with her own type of devices?” Nolan asked.
“Not sure I buy that, now.”
“She could be a conduit to something else, in some fashion. With the professor’s murder, I’m less inclined to think Harock Industries is involved.” Nolan’s inward cringe sent a chill up his spine. “Those two girls looked a lot alike.”
“Ready to roll?” Coyote didn’t wait for an answer to the rhetorical question. “I’ll pick you up in the, unless you’re planning on having late-night company?”
“No, smartass. She’s a witness at best and possibly a suspect, although I can’t see how it all fits.” Nolan didn’t add a comment about having coffee ready, since he preferred to know exactly what was in his cup.
“You two looked pretty cozy in the hotel room from what I could see.”
“Coyote, no. Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen. Trust me.” He’d never had a partner question his integrity or ethics. There existed a damn slippery slope and a line he wouldn’t cross.
“I do. And, well, we’ll see what happens when the dust settles.”
Chapter Eleven
Keiki’s fingers shook as she sipped her morning coffee while contemplating her dilemma. On the table sat her new phone. It wouldn’t be the same without Shelly’s numerous texts chewing up the battery life.
The creeps in the woods had talked about a captive and needing information. But where had they taken Gabby?
Regardless, Nolan and Coyote needed to see the footage. She prepared to call them and turn over both videos.
Without sleep and unable to tolerate food, she always had work waiting. It kept her mind occupied while she figured out how to approach the detectives without earning their ire.
Her mechanical spider had wings to fly and hands to maneuver small objects. By adding more motors, she’d managed to make the drone quieter and increase its strength, but it also meant a larger size that defeated her purpose. She still didn’t understand Harock’s desire for such a small item, but he paid well and respected her rights to intellectual property.
She needed to design a more effective device while maintaining diminutive dimensions. The narrow gap of her window opening equaled the estimate for which she measured her creations’ size.
The drone she normally flew around college kept watch from the top of the Admin building, its video feed capturing the day-to-day activities of life on campus. Desperation to see Gabby strolling to or from class brought reality’s darker cousin to whisper in her ear. Deep-seated fear warned she’d never see either of her friends again.
Of note, the two detectives stood out like sore thumbs when ascending the Admin building’s steps. One dressed in jeans and bomber jacket, the other wore jeans and windbreaker.
The bear and wolf.
Furtive glances cast their way had to be a normal part of life for them, good looking as they were. The wolf set Keiki’s teeth on edge. What are they looking for and how can I help?
Her apartment’s relative quiet had become a soothing counterpart to her increasing anxiety. Music from the apartment below drifted up as white noise to complete the weekday routine.
Outside, a police cruiser parked at the curb, the officer’s head swiveling to inspect his surroundings.
>
Shelly’s killer would strike again. Skilled in the art of assassination, he used familiar technology as a weapon, something she never would’ve contemplated. If not for the detective, she’d be in the ICU or morgue.
What passed for a sixth sense lured her attention to the door once more.
She waited, her fingers tight on the table’s edge.
Faint metallic clicking sounds snapped her focus to the doorknob. Her pulse jumped to a sputtering beat and her breath froze. She didn’t see it turn but knew it wasn’t her imagination someone was attempting to pick the lock.
The killer was damn ballsy to attempt breaking in with an officer stationed out front.
Keiki stood, her heart pounding in her ears and panic drying her mouth as she thought, this can’t be happening. She didn’t have a viable exit or time to retrieve either gun. Neither was loaded.
The detectives were sincere in wanting to protect her from an unseen and what she’d come to think of as omniscient enemy.
The knob began to turn.
Bile rose in her throat. Terror gnawed at her gut.
In stunned horror, she couldn’t move—until the door’s hinges creaked and three gloved fingers slipped to the inside of the lock stile just above the lock.
Her breath whooshed out all at once in her scramble to pick up her new phone. Shaking fingers dropped the target as the door opened inch by inch, the device’s clatter to the floor inviting the intruder to throw the door wide.
Instead of wasting precious time retrieving it, she bolted to her bedroom and slammed the old straight-back chair under the knob after thumbing the weak lock. The second-hand furniture, a rickety piece purchased at a yard sale during her first semester, wouldn’t hold for long.
Muffled steps approached the hollow-core door. The handle jiggled, but held.
“Hey chickie-chickie. It’s time to party. Come on out and I’ll make it fun. Make me break the door down and well, not so much enjoyment. Know what I mean?”
Oh, God. It’s him. How’d he find me so quick?
“What do you want?” If he searched for the digital recording of Shelly’s death, he’d find her laptop but wouldn’t be able to gain access. She’d copied the videos on a flash and hidden it in the bathroom, which he’d probably also find if she couldn’t figure a way to scare him off. “There’s a cop out front.”
“Yeah, probably eating a donut. Turns out, trying to kill you was a mistake. My bad. I didn’t realize you had such value as opposed to just being the brawn of the operation. Tell me, did you record your friend’s death, perhaps give it to the police? I also want the address of your distribution center. Since my time with the chemistry teacher got cut short, you’ll have to answer my other questions.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What operation? Distribution center?” Confusion prevented her from prioritizing his other questions.
She considered opening her window and yelling for the officer, but the intruder would reach her long before the cop could. Then the cop would die for interfering.
“You know what I’m looking for. I’ll bet it’s here somewhere. I’m here to collect.”
What could I have that he wants?
Panic filled her chest. Nothing nearby resembled a weapon. Her father’s Glock was hidden in the living room cabinet, and her phone was on the kitchen floor. His steps receded, the soft shuffling on tile tracking his location.
His words didn’t connect to form sane thoughts, which wouldn’t stop him from searching and finding her gun once he left the kitchen. The apartment was small.
The thing about her work, she maintained multiple controllers. Keiki picked up the one on her bedside table and woke the drone on the rooftop of student admissions.
It didn’t have a lot of battery left and the audio portion had failed after landing.
Detective Garnett and his partner were exiting the building and heading across campus. If he were half as smart as she thought, he’d understand her message.
The daredevil dive equaled a risk. She swooped the drone low from behind, skimming above the students heading to and from classes. In passing, she tapped the detective on the head in a glancing blow.
His instinctive duck while drawing his weapon startled both his partner, who mimicked his action, and nearby students, who took off running and shouting.
It didn’t matter that he pulled out his badge and tried to reassure those hell bent on putting distance between themselves and two gunmen in their midst.
In keeping her device low, she didn’t give either detective a chance to shoot without endangering nearby students, which they wouldn’t do.
“Chickie-chickie… I know you have what I want. If I can’t find it, I’ll take you instead, and I promise you’ll not enjoy anything I do to you.”
Her intruder grew bolder in his search, slamming kitchen cabinets and dumping the drawers’ contents on the floor. The clatter of pots and pans came next.
“Let’s start with your infrastructure. I want to know who all’s slithering in on our territory.”
“Territory? What the hell are you talking about?” Her focus riveted back to her bid for the detective’s attention.
The next time her device approached him, it did so at a slow pace and at ground level so he could evaluate the situation. At a distance of five feet, she hovered it just above the grass. No audio meant a life-and-death game of charades.
Nolan tilted his head to the side and lowered his gun.
In a like move, she lowered the drone to the ground. To get his attention, she whirled it around, using frantic movements to convey panic.
If he guessed it to be one of hers, he might understand.
He reached for the device.
She moved it a foot away.
Coyote waited, watching.
Nolan moved to grab it again.
Keiki guided her drone toward the adjoining parking lot, praying for a break.
He gestured to himself and Coyote, then toward the vehicle, holding out his hands, palms to the sky. Universal sign language for, what the hell?
Another round of wild and furious whirling followed by a steady glide toward the other vehicles carried her message.
In spotting the familiar black SUV, she flew her emissary forward. Since the drone couldn’t match the vehicle’s speed, she’d need to get it inside.
Once beside the driver’s door, Nolan pursed his lips in indecision, then opened it.
She slipped it inside and set it on the dash to conserve energy. There was no way to convey her location.
Another round of whirly, frenetic movement created a sense of urgency, the same flaring in her chest. Her would-be assailant continued to ransack the apartment, the rip of fabric indicating his latest search methods.
As if reading her mind, Nolan picked up the handless mechanical spider and pointed the camera at his face. The words he mouthed resembled, “Keiki? Is this your idea of a joke?”
His grip knocked one of the motors askew. She couldn’t hover without it.
Directing her avatar to tap repeatedly on the hand which held it was the best she could do to answer.
“I’d call that a no.” Coyote had repositioned his partner’s hand so the tiny camera lens encompassed his face, then mouthed the words, “One tap for no, two taps for yes, got it?”
She used one of the legs to tap twice on Nolan’s hand.
“Is something wrong, Keiki?” Coyote mouthed.
Keiki slammed her finger down on the control repeatedly.
The angle changed again until she saw concern written in Nolan’s face.
“Shit. She’s in some kind of trouble.” Nolan cranked the engine and put the vehicle in drive.
It must have lurched forward for the camera’s angle to wobble.
Nolan lipped the question, “Are you in your apartment?”
Again Keiki rapped out a staccato drumming motion.
“Call dispatch…” Nolan’s regard bounced between the road ahead and her
drone that Coyote now held.
A lot could happen in a few minutes. Sounds of porcelain lamp shattering and fabric ripping didn’t bode well as her party crasher continued to issue vile threats in a singsong voice.
Recognizable, muffled warnings indicated an unbalanced mind. His Spanish accent became stronger with each thud and thump. The voice, the tone, each inflection sent quivers between her shoulder blades.
Images of her apartment in shreds flashed through her thoughts before picturing Shelly’s body in the woodland flowerbed.
Sudden pounding on her front door brought a measure of relief.
“Katherine Tallerman? I got a message to check on you.”
The officer posted out front for protection was now endangered because of her.
At the top of her lungs she screamed, “Help! He’s inside. Be careful.”
Quiet ensued.
Calm before the storm which holds its victim in thrall.
The kind that jettisoned vomit to the back of her mouth. Keiki swallowed hard then held her breath.
The explosion of her front door banging against the wall held her rigid. Her fingers on the control clenched as she waited, unable to help and not wanting another person to die.
The blast of a shotgun and the simultaneous crack of a pistol broke the silence. Their combined racket reverberated in her mind. Warning the officer was the best she could do but didn’t absolve her guilt.
Silence.
No sound suggested the end result. No telltale noise formed a picture in her mind, nothing to clue her into what transpired in her apartment.
Then, a heavy thud and long squeak as if something slid. Another, heavier thud. Finally, a silence that would haunt her for eternity.
The ensuing deep giggle which followed more so, for it embodied madness and a craving for blood. “Told you so, chickie-chickie. They’re gonna blame you for this one.”
In the back of her mind, she pictured her parents falling to the cold cement.
“This isn’t over, bitch. We’re not done until I say so.” The Spanish-tinged accent deepened before his rapid tread retreated.
Tears coursed down her cheek, her imagination supplying the image of a police officer lying in his own blood and gasping for breath. He’d been doing his job and trying to help.
A Critical Tangent Page 11