The detective shrugged. “Three to five feet?”
“No, that’s personal space. I’m talking about interpersonal buffer zones.”
Nicole sat down, both hating and loving these impromptu lessons. “Ten.”
Kent nodded. “For men? Married women in familiar surroundings? Single women in a grouping of three or more? Yeah.” The profiler nodded toward Rebecca, who had sat down with her sushi across the food court. “But a single woman, alone? She’s scanning and processing up to twenty feet of information. With an inverse relationship between how far away the stimuli is and the importance or weight her brain gives to that stimuli.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t you care more about something going on closest to you?”
Kent leaned forward. “Imagine you were sitting here alone. What would creep you out more? A guy walking by like that?”
Nicole looked up. She had barely noticed the bald man making his way to a seat only a few feet away.
“Or…”
The detective knew the answer before Kent had a chance to say it. Another man, about fifteen feet behind her, was crossing just out of the periphery of her vision. She had to stop herself from looking over her shoulder just to make sure he was really gone.
“Or the guy you think you saw, but aren’t quite sure?”
How Nicole hated it when he was right. Trying to salvage some dignity, she commented, “But we can barely see Rebecca from here.”
“That’s the idea,” Kent said as he leaned back in his chair. The profiler must have sensed her frustration and continued. “To be proficient at this, you have to know how the brain works.”
Nicole sighed and rolled her eyes a little. The profiler could be a bit preachy when he wanted to be.
Kent did not miss anything and leaned back. “Okay, Miss Too-Good-to-Learn-at-the-Feet-of-the-Master. What are the priority pathways the brain uses to differentiate friend from foe?” While Nicole blushed, he cocked his head from side to side as if eagerly awaiting her explanation. “Well?”
The detective tried to shrug it off. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“Excuse me? Go ahead, what?”
Okay, this was why just about everyone else on the planet hated Kent. He couldn’t just accept victory, he had to lord it over you. “Please…Great Master. Impart your wisdom.”
With a smirk, Kent began. “The brain identifies three main factors when determining a threat. Distance. Movement. Familiarity. Let’s take the tattooed gentleman from earlier. He was at the border of your zone, which should have made him less a threat, but he was moving and you had no familiarity with him, giving him a bullet up the charts. In addition, and this is what kicks you in the ass when you first start stalking chicks, the brain knows you got an incomplete look, which sets off an alarm in your head to fill in the picture.”
Nicole nodded. She had taken several surveillance courses, and they had explained this phenomenon. But, of course, Kent helped her actually understand it.
She reflected on the class. “The unconscious part of our brain wants to chalk up everybody as friend or foe. When it can’t make that call, it turns our conscious mind to the task.”
“Exactly. That primordial portion of our brain is really no more advanced than it was back in Neanderthal land. The more foreign and fast-moving a person is, the more dangerous.”
Nicole could tell where he was going with this. “So you use that knowledge to your advantage. Stay out on the periphery. Stay put.”
“Then ever so slowly move inside the perimeter,” Kent leaned in.
Nicole leaned forward as well. “Slowly enough that as you move in, you become more and more familiar.”
Leaning so closely that his nose almost touched hers, Kent whispered, “By the time you are right next to them, they don’t even notice you.”
Oh, Nicole noticed him, but that was not the point.
CHAPTER 41
Kent’s pulse was pounding in his ear as her scent filled his nostrils. Perhaps this wasn’t the best example to give her, as her pupils dilated and her breath came quicker.
Acting as if he didn’t notice the effect they had on one another, he said, “It’s called acclimation. If you do it slowly enough, they accept you. No red flags. No weird stalker-vibe.”
Nicole cleared her throat. “So how long do you think it’s going to take for us to get close to her?”
“About ten seconds.”
“What?” Nicole demanded.
Ah, how he loved to fluster her. It was almost as good as sex. Her cheeks flushed and even her lips darkened in color.
“What… What about the slow, creeping plan?”
“Oh, we don’t have time for that.” Kent savored having the detective in the palm of his hand. Savored her hanging on his every word. It was about time for another shock. “You’re going to walk over there and ask her if she’s had an abortion.”
Ah, there it was again. Nicole was so agitated that she couldn’t even form words. Yep, pretty much like sex.
“You’ll engage in small talk, then steer the conversation to abortion.”
Nicole found her voice again. “You expect me just to walk up and somehow segue into abortion?”
“You’re a chick. Chicks talk about stuff like that.”
“Kent!”
Clearly Nicole was past flustered. Time to reel her back in. Using his best scholarly voice, “Women react completely differently to a feminine presence. Especially if you can find some way to build rapport, common ground.”
“Why are we risking scaring her off? Why not wait for a background check?”
Kent settled back into his chair. This was his wheelhouse. “Because before you’re done with that taco, Ruben is going to call to confirm that the other victims have had abortions, but he can’t find proof that Rebecca has.”
He took a sip of his drink, then continued, “You two will wring your hands about how you’re going to get information from her family and friends without them asking awkward questions that you don’t want to answer.”
Pretending to be put upon, Kent continued, “At this point I would get up and refill my soda to give you time to realize the path of least resistance is to find a way to extract the information from Rebecca herself without tipping our hand.”
Dramatically he put a hand up. “But wait, Ruben would then insist that we warn this poor girl of her possible fate. At which time I get embroiled in the argument that if she knows that she is in danger, her altered behavior could tip the killer off and make him go outside his pattern.”
Kent ramped up to real storytelling speed. “After much wrangling, we all agree to find out about the abortion, then promise Ruben that we will tell Rebecca of the danger.” His tone dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “But secretly you and I agree to keep the information from her until I can see if I can’t pick out the killer first…”
CHAPTER 42
Nicole watched as Kent took an exaggerated breath, like he had just run a marathon. The man could put on a show. But a show was all it was.
“You are good, but not that good,” Usher accused.
“Oh, but I am.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Kent transformed cockiness into an Olympic event. “Remember, I’m the one who knew Rebecca would be here.”
How glad Nicole was that the profiler had chosen that fact to prove his point. She pulled out Dolores’s phone and flamboyantly hit the “last dialed” button. Two could play at this showmanship game.
A tiny voice answered on the other end. “Parking Regulations Main Office. How can I assist you?”
Nicole disconnected the call. “So much for your psychic abilities. You just called Rebecca’s office and asked where she was eating lunch.”
Despite having his legs completely taken out from under him, Kent smiled. “That Jasmine. She was quite helpful. Turns out that Wednesday is Rebecca’s sushi day.”
Knowing she had the upper hand, Nicole relished the rare victory. “Exact
ly my point. You can pull this swami crap with everyone else, but I know your limitations and—”
Nicole’s cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID.
Crap.
CHAPTER 43
From the way Nicole’s smug grin fell into a deep frown, Kent knew that it was Ruben, yet she let it ring again.
“Sure you shouldn’t get that?” he asked.
Nicole’s frown spread to the creases of her eyes as she answered the phone. “Yeah. Hi, Ruben.”
Kent didn’t need to eavesdrop, he already knew what Torres was saying. As did Nicole.
“All seventeen victims and at least another ten of the missing women from Montreal and Toronto had abortions?” She tried to look away from Kent, but their eyes locked. He wasn’t about to blink until the conversation ended.
“You can’t find any proof whether or not Rebecca has had an abortion, huh?”
Kent couldn’t keep his smirk from spreading and spreading as Nicole listened and shook her head, not believing what she was hearing.
Finally, she cut her partner off. “Ruben, I get it. We’ll find out on our end.” Kent could hear the hollow sound of Torres trying to argue, but again, Nicole stepped over him. “Ruben! I’ll figure out a way to get the information from Rebecca, quickly and quietly.”
Now was the moment of truth. Nicole looked up and held Kent’s gaze as she finished the conversation. “Of course I’ll tell her the danger she’s in if she’s had an abortion.”
As Nicole ended the call, Kent brought the straw to his lips and sucked until it made that annoying sound that meant it was empty. “I admit it. I was wrong. I didn’t even get a chance to get a refill.”
“Funny, Svengali.”
Kent smiled, but they’d had their fun. Now it was time to get to work. “You better get over there before she finishes her California roll.”
Nicole rose. “So what am I going to say to her?”
“Hell if I know.”
Even from across the table, he could hear Nicole grind her molars. “Kent, you’ve proven your mental superiority a thousand times over, so now is not the time to lord over us how much better you are than we lowly cops.”
“Hey, do you want to hone your deductive powers to the point where they seem clairvoyant, or not?” Kent asked.
CHAPTER 44
Of course Nicole did want that. She did want very, very, very much to glimpse into the mind of a killer. And worse, Kent knew it, so there was no point in lying.
Nicole simply nodded.
Instead of explaining himself, Harbinger handed her a food tray with chips on it. “You’re going to need these.”
Nicole stared at the guacamole. What was he thinking?
Kent, however, went back to his lunch. “No pressure, but Plain Jane is more than likely here.”
“What?” Nicole’s pitch had gone so high, dogs from miles away were probably responding.
He just shrugged. “If I’m right…well because I’m right and Rebecca is his next victim, the killer is here. Watching.”
Her pulse raced. Her heart was literally going to explode. Nicole had not thought past finding out if Rebecca had an abortion. Her hand flew to her phone. She needed to call Ruben, but Kent grabbed her wrist.
“We’ve got to lock the mall down and—”
“No,” Kent stated. “We can’t tip him off, anyway.”
“But—”
“If he’s here, he’s a hundred yards away. Up in one of those buildings with a telescopic scope.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He met her eyes. “Because that’s where I’d be.”
As he removed his grip, Nicole felt her hands shake, the gravity of her task double-fold. Her coaxing information from Rebecca was no longer simply a theoretical exercise, but was now a lifesaving operation.
“You’ve got to give me more to work with.” Unfortunately, Kent had gone back to his chimichanga. She wanted to shake him, rattle him from his superior cocoon but knew that she simply didn’t have the time. Bracing herself, Nicole gripped the food tray and headed toward Rebecca. The brunette read a book as she deftly maneuvered her chopsticks.
Nicole felt a tightening in her chest. The loud, pervasive chatter of the large cafeteria faded. Trays clattering on tables. Children begging for ice cream. The Hot Dog on a Stick girls churning away. Those and so many more sounds seemed to quiet as the world narrowed down to just her and Rebecca. This average, ordinary brunette could very well be Plain Jane’s next victim.
The meter maid looked so peaceful. So content. So oblivious to the danger she was in. Nicole had the sudden urge to not walk, but run to the table shouting for Rebecca to leave the city. To run for her life.
But she held her pace. Because if the meter maid knew of the threat, Rebecca would run. If not run, then hide. If not hide, then look over her shoulder every other step. And they couldn’t risk that, because the only thing they had going for them was Kent’s intuition. The only hope they had at stopping Plain Jane from taking his eighteenth victim was to follow Rebecca. Dangle her as bait.
Nicole could remember the look in the profiler’s eyes when he saw Rebecca’s picture. She had seen that look before. His posture radiated assurance. If Kent said this was the next victim, Nicole believed him, so she would stick to the plan.
With each step, though, she wondered: How did Kent do this? To have someone’s life in his hands, and the person not even know he existed? In this moment, Nicole realized just how much better a cop Harbinger really was. No one, not even she, had given the profiler credit for the extremely difficult choices he had to make every day, every victim, every killer.
Cell phone ringing, Nicole snapped out of her musing. She looked at the caller ID. Dolores Huffenfal. Instead of being pissed that Kent had stolen the DMV worker’s phone back from her, Nicole answered.
“Admit you liked being handcuffed out in the open last night, and I’ll help you,” Harbinger’s sultry tone even translated over a tiny cell phone connection.
She might be desperate, but Nicole wasn’t going to give in that easily. “Admit you like using people like puppets, and I’ll accept your help.”
CHAPTER 45
Kent felt a genuine smile spread across his lips. He could show his appreciation of Nicole’s spunk as long as she couldn’t see him actually appreciating it.
“Touché,” the profiler admitted. “Put in your earpiece and drop the phone in your pocket.”
Positioning himself behind a fake acacia bush, Kent had a great angle on the upcoming girl-on-girl action. The marionette strings were clearly coming off Nicole’s back. The detective would do as asked.
“Now what?” she asked.
He took a bite of a steak taco that Nicole had conveniently left. “Come on. Girls share everything. Clothes. Makeup. Gum. Figure it out.”
Kent watched the detective weave through the myriad of tables toward Rebecca. Even from this distance he could tell that Nicole’s shoulders were tense, worried that she was not up to the task.
To be honest, the profiler was a little worried himself. Strength, virtue, and the American Way were Nicole’s strong suits. Lying? Deception? Borderline psychosis? Those were definitely not in her wheelhouse. But at some point the detective had to leave the nest. She needed to figure out if she just wanted to be a gold shield or something so much more.
He watched as Nicole looked over her shoulder. He could see panic spread across her face as she searched for him.
“Kent?”
“I’m here,” the profiler answered, as a father might to a scared daughter in the dark of a storm.
“Where?”
“Don’t worry,” Kent intoned, no longer fatherly at all. “I’m watching.”
One last time, Nicole’s eyes scanned the tables.
“Move on, or people are going to notice a crazy woman talking to herself in the middle of the food court.”
A faint smiled crossed her face, then she moved on.
Ke
nt had never been so proud.
CHAPTER 46
Nicole quickly closed the gap between herself and Rebecca. She wanted to get this over with. Confirm that the meter maid had an abortion and move on. Move on to something she actually had some experience with.
As her insecurities mounted, it felt as if the volume in the food court had been dialed up. The laughs were too loud. Voices pressed upon her. The end of lunch was nearing and people milled around as they cleared their tables, picking up their trash. Too much activity. Too much noise.
How could she concentrate?
She still had no idea how she was going to break the ice as she neared Rebecca’s table. Nicole tried to will the meter maid to look up. To say something, anything, to keep Nicole from having to make the first move. But the brunette kept her nose buried in her book, even when Nicole stopped directly across the table from her.
Gaining some strength from the fact that Kent was close by, watching, listening, suddenly Nicole realized why the profiler had given her the food tray. Without saying anything, Harbinger had given her the “in” that she needed.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked Rebecca.
The woman looked up, startled, “No, um.” But the meter maid seemed equally unwilling to be rude. “I mean, of course not.” Rebecca quickly gathered her things together to make room for Nicole. “Please, sit.”
Kent’s voice mocked her. “Okay, that was awkward. Be a chick, not a cop, for hell’s sake.”
Nicole set her tray down and sat on the hard plastic chair. “Sorry…” She was not sure if she was apologizing to Kent or Rebecca. “I just…”
“Girlie girl stuff,” the profiler prompted.
Lips turned down at the chiding, Nicole continued. “I just hate eating alone.” Wow, that sounded lame, even to her ears. “It makes me feel like a loser or something—” Nicole realized how that statement might be taken. She rushed, feeling embarrassed, flustered. “Not to say that you are a—”
The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection) Page 14