[Harbinger 01.0] Plain Jane

by Carolyn McCray

  “All right. Let’s see…” He tugged at the chains. “I’m chained up…” His glance took in the small room again. “In a dingy basement…” Sighing, Kent finished, “By a killer who targets brunette women.”

  He leaned his throbbing head back. “Nope. Definitely did not see this one coming.”

  Kent didn’t feel terribly bad about not divining his fate. Who would have?

  The reasons were incomprehensible. He had been seized by Plain Jane, of that he had no doubt. But why? More importantly, was Nicole safe? Had the killer already dispatched her and only took him to prevent any witnesses? Did Plain Jane have trepidation about killing a man?

  So many questions rattled around his mind that they only made his head pound more. A sudden light from across the room brought all of this conjecture to a halt. The illumination came from the computer screen.

  Once it bloomed fully, words typed as a mechanized Hal-like voice accompanied them. “How’s the head?”

  How many times had the profiler wished for just this opportunity? An opportunity to talk to Plain Jane. However, he had visualized it under drastically different circumstances.

  It was those circumstances that made garnering valuable insight into Plain Jane even more pressing. So against every grain in his body, Kent kept his tone light, almost casual, but inside he was anything but laid back.

  “You know, concussed.”

  “You’ll live.”

  The profiler within him perked at the choice of the killer’s words. His own voice took on a more serious tone.

  “Will I?”

  “Someone has to survive to make them understand why I had to do this.”

  Kent did not have to pretend to be relieved. “Absolutely, I am your guy. Give me a pencil and a piece of paper, and I’m your scribe.”

  “Don’t play me. I know all the tricks you use to lure people out.”

  Not only did the killer’s confidence not intimidate Kent, it galvanized the profiler to make sure he tricked the bastard. To ensnare Plain Jane in a tangle of psychological techniques. “So, no face to face? Man-to-man talk?”

  “No. I don’t think that will ever happen.”

  Quickly trying another tack, Kent acted as if he had given up. “All right then, shoot.” He looked up instantly. “Not literally, of course.”

  The computer screen remained blank. The killer had not risen to the bait. Perhaps he needed to try an even more direct approach. “Why kill women, then take their uteri?”

  Damn, Plain Jane could type fast. The words came faster than Kent could read them. “Why act crazy when you are saner than I am?”

  Kent snorted lightly. “That’s faint praise coming from a man who’s chained me in his basement.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  Kent decided to use his strongest interrogation method. Arrogant indifference. “My head hurts, and I’m not going to do this tit-for-tat Clarice thing with you.” He shifted his weight, getting comfortable for the long haul. “You want your story told, tell it, otherwise, log off.”

  “Trying reverse psychology on me?”

  “Nope.” Kent didn’t even open his eyes. “I’ve just got a screaming headache, courtesy of you, I might add.”

  There was a long silence. The profiler worried that he might have lost him. Perhaps acting bored worked well in an interrogation room, however, it might not be the best weapon to use when you were chained up.

  “Picture loading.”

  Kent kept his eyes closed.

  “Picture complete.”

  The profiler fought opening his eyes. Whatever the picture was, it was meant to throw him off-balance. Meant to rattle him. Horrify him. Throw him off his game. Kent could not let that happen. His life, and possibly Nicole’s life, depended on it.

  However, he could not ignore it forever. Taking in measured breaths, the profiler opened his eyes and looked at the screen. At first he did not understand why the killer had bothered to show it to him. It was just the picture he had taken of Nicole sleeping.

  Sure, it was blood smeared, but Kent already knew that. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust before he realized that there was a message.

  “I have him. Come alone.”

  The computer chimed again. “Copy of text message sent 4:05: Felter and Chayma way, convenience store, alone.”

  “No!” Kent threw himself against his restraints.

  “Oh, my. Do I have your attention now?” Plain Jane laughed. A tinny, hollow, computer-generated laugh that echoed off the barren walls.

  CHAPTER 89

  Nicole pulled up to the curb at the corner of Felter and Chayma Way, to find an all-night convenience store. Bars on the windows. Probably a shotgun under the counter. There were a dozen such in the city. Why had the killer picked this one? Was there some personal connection?

  Was it near his lair?

  Having none of the answers to those questions, the detective put the car in park and took in a few deep breaths. The car still held Kent’s aroma. It had only been an hour since he had driven off into the night. He must have come back while she and Ruben argued in the backyard. If only she had cut the discussion short. Could she have stopped the kidnapping?

  There was no real point in torturing herself anymore. She needed to get inside the store. Nicole tried to peer inside. Not only were the windows covered in bars, but the inside of the glass was lined with beer sales. Beer advertisements. Beer models endorsing the beer. There was not a clear view inside. Maybe that’s why the killer had picked it? She was going to have to go in half blind.

  Nicole picked up the stained picture. It didn’t seem such a travesty that Kent had taken the photo anymore. If anything happened to him, at least…

  No, the detective refused to go down that road. It was time to be a cop instead of a woman.

  Rising from her car, Nicole threw glances down the road. No one. The streets were deserted.

  Confidently, or at least she hoped she looked confident, she entered the store. A greasy clerk grunted in her general direction, not even looking up from his exercise machine infomercial. Unless her instincts were totally off, he was no threat. Quickly she took the first aisle to her right, then proceeded to the back of the store.

  Slowly she walked past each aisle, glancing down it as if she were looking for a hard-to-find item. Each empty except the row that housed car engine oil next to the soap and cold remedies. There, a tired mother tried to figure out which syrup would quiet her prepubescent son’s cough. He hacked and hacked, following Nicole with his eyes.

  Continuing on, she reached the end of the aisles. There was a bathroom, locked. No light spilled under the door. So far, besides the clerk, there were only the mother and child.

  No sign of the killer.

  On edge, as the anxiety amplified in her veins, Nicole asked the clerk, “Do you have a restroom?”

  The man grunted at a gold key attached to a large cardboard cutout of a toilet. Classy. Nicole took it and headed to the back corner of the store. Hidden from plain sight, she pulled her weapon.

  Jerking open the door, Nicole quickly surveyed the tiny, cluttered, dirty restroom. No one. Another dead end. Re-holstering her weapon, the detective felt close to tears. She was rapidly running out of options.

  CHAPTER 90

  Kent struggled against his metal restraints. This could not be happening. He took very little comfort knowing that Nicole was still alive, because he was pretty damn certain her clock was ticking down. Obviously he had interrupted the killer. Plain Jane had no choice but to take him, then use him.

  Use him as bait.

  “Hey!” Kent yelled again, yet the computer screen only showed a peaceful underwater scene.

  Ignoring the pain in his head and neck, Kent craned to look up at his shackle. Shit. It was a shiny new O ring, as thick as his thumb. His chains were older, but still solid.

  Jerking on them again, he watched the O ring. It didn’t budge. Not a speck of dust indicating that it might be l
oose in the wall. As a matter of fact, on closer inspection, the damn thing had been cemented into the brick. Short of pulling a power drill out of his ass, Kent doubted there was any way he could break his restraints.

  His anger grew. “Answer me, damn it!”

  In response, the screen filled with twirling hourglasses and flashed, “Busy at the moment.”

  Throwing all his weight forward, Kent only succeeded in nearly dislocating his shoulders.

  “Don’t do it, Nic,” he whispered to the dank room. He knew his appeal reached deaf ears. Nicole would be racked with guilt. Racked with “what-ifs.” What if they had not fought? What if she hadn’t let him walk out?

  With nearly a sob, he said, “Don’t go, Nic. Don’t go.”

  CHAPTER 91

  At the sound of the door chime, Nicole swung around. Could this new customer be him? Be Plain Jane? The shopper appeared to be a young male. It was hard to tell, as he wore his sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head, tied tightly around his face. Gangsta-style.

  While his attire screamed “street cred,” his manner was nervous. His steps came too close together. His shoulders slumped too far forward. His chin dipped to his chest as he made a beeline for the magazine stand. Instead of taking a few seconds to scan the racks, he picked one, apparently at random.

  Fairly certain he hadn’t seen her, Nicole slowly made her way across the back of the store, keeping the aisle displays between her and the new man. She stopped as she came to the last row. There was a good ten feet between her and the magazine rack. Ten feet where he could spot her. Ten feet and her cover would be blown. The man changed position, ever so subtly, shifting his weight to his right leg. His shoulder turned toward the front of the store. He was staking out the door.

  Knowing this was her best chance, Nicole cautiously came up behind him, shoving her gun into his ribs.

  “Where is he?”

  He tried to turn, but she dug the barrel into his side. “Eyes forward.”

  “Is that a gun?” the man asked. His voice high-pitched and crackly. Certainly not “gangsta.”

  “Yes, and I will use it if you don’t tell me where he is.”

  In a whirl of arms and legs, the man knocked the magazine rack onto her and tried to flee out the back door. Nicole slipped on a slick Playboy magazine and lost a good two steps on him. He was fast, sprinting for the exit like a rabbit. If he got out onto the street, he could easily disappear into the night.

  That wasn’t about to happen, as Ruben burst in along with three cops. They easily subdued the suspect.

  “Let me go!” he screamed, almost like a little girl.

  These psycho bastards didn’t hold up too well under real- life circumstances. With a certain amount of satisfaction, Nicole re-holstered her weapon.

  “Did you really think I’d come alone?”

  She wasn’t Kent. Every once in a while she did things by the book. Especially when someone’s life was on the line. When Kent’s life was on the line.

  Nicole walked up to the hooded man. Soon he could not hide in anonymity. Confidently she jerked the material away from his face, then took a step back. She knew him. Knew that face.

  It was the morgue attendant.

  “Joshua?” she asked.

  “Detective Usher, what’re you doing here?”

  “Me?” the detective asked perplexed. “What are…?”

  Then it registered. She looked at Ruben, whose mind was obviously processing this new information as quickly as hers. The question was on both their faces. Could the killer have been right under their noses the whole time? Could Josh be Plain Jane?

  “The missing uteri,” Ruben commented.

  “The knowledge of police procedure.”

  They both stared at the morgue attendant.

  “What?” he asked, as if he had not just been apprehended at the rendezvous point picked by the killer.

  “Joshua, you’d best come with us.”

  “Are you arresting me?” the young man squealed. “For looking at soft-core? If the bondage stuff bugs you, I’ll quit. I promise.”

  Ruben had obviously heard enough. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything—”

  “I don’t want to remain silent!” Joshua squealed.

  “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of—”

  Josh hopped up and down. “I don’t want to go to a court of law!”

  Nicole put her hand on his shoulder. “This is serious.”

  “You’ve got the wrong guy,” he implored.

  “Then why were you here tonight?” Nicole asked.

  CHAPTER 92

  Instead of answering Nicole, the morgue attendant squirmed. Ruben had seen enough. “I’ll call in for a search warrant on his apartment and locker at work.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa there!” Joshua shook his head violently. “That’s just crazy talk, that’s what that is.”

  Both he and Nicole glared at the morgue attendant. So far all of this had been crazy talk.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Josh conceded. “But if he strikes because of this, it’s your fault. The blood’s on your hands.”

  Nicole squinted. “What’re you talking about?”

  The attendant went for his pocket, but Ruben was right there. He cranked the man’s arm up and behind his back. ”That’s enough.”

  “Ouch! It’s in my pocket. The printout.”

  Ruben wasn’t about to let the attendant go, so he nodded to Nicole. His partner fished through his right pocket and came out with a condom.

  “Jeez! The other pocket,” Joshua protested.

  Nicole found a piece of paper carefully folded into quarters. She opened it and read it out loud. “I’m tired of all this. I can’t stop myself. If you wish to meet the real Plain Jane, come to the convenience store at…” Nicole skimmed a section. “Blah, blah, blah… Come alone or else you—” his partner indicated to the bottom of the torn page. “It’s cut off here.”

  “I spilled Jolt on it. He said I wouldn’t make it home alive if I didn’t do exactly what he said.”

  Ruben could tell that his partner was vacillating. She was considering believing him. He had to cut that impulse off at the pass. “He could have sent it to himself.”

  “But I didn’t. I swear!”

  “If this was real, you should have contacted either Torres or myself,” Nicole said.

  Damn right, Ruben thought.

  “Come on, like you would have taken me seriously.” Ruben tightened his grip on the attendant’s arm to let him know that excuse was not flying. Joshua hurried on. “I had a buddy of mine at Forensics trace the e-mail address, but the trail ended at an Internet café.” The attendant was nearly frantic. “Which didn’t have any security surveillance. I checked!”

  Bored by the attendant’s tirade, Ruben glanced at Nicole, but she seemed to be buying it.

  “So I thought I might as well try. I mean the meeting was at a public place. I thought—”

  Ruben had had enough and shoved the attendant into one of the uniform’s custody. “We’ll see what the search warrant turns up, then have another chat.”

  Joshua began to rant again, but Ruben turned to Nicole, but she was no longer beside him.

  Instead she strode out. “Usher,” he called after her. She didn’t stop so he grabbed her by the arm, forcing her. “We’ll find Harbinger, but we’ve got to stay calm. Rational.”

  But when Nicole turned to face him, tears welled in her eyes. “It’s a little too late for that.”

  CHAPTER 93

  Nicole turned away before Ruben could think of another clichéd, patronizing thing to say to her. She strode out and into the crisp night.

  Despondent, Nicole leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on her heels.

  Cops flooded in and out the door.

  Too little, too late.

  Or too many, too soon.

  She had blown her one chance, and she knew it. Nicole had thought she
was safeguarding Kent’s life by playing it by the book. Now she could see psychos did not follow any rules.

  Kent would have shown up alone. He would have followed the creep’s instructions to the letter. Then in a fit of brilliance, Harbinger would have sprung a trap. Of what type, Nicole had no idea. She wasn’t that damn smart.

  “You Nicole?” a young voice asked.

  The detective wiped the tears away and looked up. It was the boy with the cough. “Yes.”

  “The cop?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry if I scared you in there.”

  The boy shook his head. “Nah. He warned me that would happen.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  The kid acted like she was a little slow in the head. “He said you’d probably bring lots of friends with you.”

  Sitting straight up, Nicole pushed her hair behind her ears as if that would help her comprehend the boy’s cryptic statement. “Who said that?”

  “The man that gave me twenty bucks to pretend to have a cough so my mom would bring me down here.”

  “What else did he pay you for?”

  “To tell you to go down that alley, but this time, really come alone.”

  Was it possible that she was being given a second chance? Was this really a message from Plain Jane? “What did he look like?”

  The boy shrugged. “Some bum on the street. A guy gave him twenty to tell me from another guy.”

  Yep, that sounded like the psycho. Covering his tracks seamlessly. Nicole looked down the alley. It was dark and stretched well beyond her field of vision.

  Alone, huh?

  Down there?

  Nicole looked back into the store. Ruben was busy coordinating the cops. She couldn’t read lips, but knew procedure well enough to know he was rolling out a canvas of the neighborhood. Should she involve him?

  “Alone,” the boy emphasized the word. “He said he’d be watching.”

  The detective licked her lips. She bet the killer would be. Nodding, Nicole pointed inside to Ruben. “See that detective in there?”

  “The mad one?”