Martin was pressed up against Nicole’s back. His hips thrust slightly forward so his crotch was practically between the detective’s butt cheeks. Still Nicole held her ground, finally understanding how you had to deal with these psychos.
“You like to take them from behind?” Nicole asked again. Again, Martin didn’t answer. Instead his finger traced the length of her neck.
Nicole’s face was angled away from Kent, though he knew she cringed. The detective wasn’t the most comfortable with physical intimacy under the best of circumstances. This type of contact had to be excruciating.
“Draw him out.”
Nicole’s tone was a little flat. “Where’s your knife?”
“We’ll get to that,” Martin said as his hand slipped forward, down her sternum and toward her cleavage.
“Show me,” Nicole urged. “Show me how you did it.”
“Do you really want me to?”
Oh yeah, we do, Kent thought, but it was Nicole who voiced the answer. “Yes.”
With a violence that startled everyone else, Martin grabbed Nicole by the neck and started choking her, screaming hysterically, “You bitch! You’ll pay, just like she did!”
Very un-Plain Jane-like. If there had been doubt in anybody’s mind this was the man, it should have been completely dispelled.
In a single bound, Ruben was over the table, pulling the psycho off Nicole. Glick seemed agitated, but Kent was almost bored. “Told ya so. The ugly, stupid ones are easy to catch.”
The captain rushed in as Ruben struggled with Martin.
“Tell Nicole, next time she should believe me,” Kent said to Glick as he strode out.
CHAPTER 72
Nicole sat on the floor, still choking a little, trying to convince her throat it was safe to breathe again while Ruben was busy slamming Martin against the wall. Her partner was cursing vehemently in Spanish. Seldom did Ruben let his Latin roots show quite so colorfully.
“He’s not Plain Jane,” Nicole croaked out.
With another good shove against the wall, Ruben answered. “Maybe not, but he did kill someone.”
Glick called two other uniforms in. At this point they were there to protect Martin from Ruben rather than the other way around. Nicole knew she should be angry at Kent or even scared of Martin, but she was elated.
She could still feel the killer’s hands around her throat. Still feel the adrenaline surge as he closed off her windpipe. It had been a rush. A rush that wasn’t over yet.
Martin was no Plain Jane. His actions under stress had proven that. A serial killer still lurked. A smarter one. A true predator. One that she was now ready to help take down.
“Yeah, but he didn’t kill our girls,” Nicole stated.
Even with Martin re-cuffed and a uniform on each arm, Torres still shoved the man before releasing him into the other officers’ custody. “Still, we caught a murderer tonight.”
Nicole knew how badly Torres wanted to be the one to bring down Plain Jane. Sadly, it was not to be. That killer was well beyond either of their skills.
“Where’s Kent?” Nicole asked, as she tried to rise.
Dizzy, she had to plop back down. Glick and Torres rushed to her side. “Pulled his ‘who was that masked man’ routine,” the captain replied.
Nicole leaned back, exposing her bruised neck.
“That bastard,” Ruben growled. Nicole was pretty sure that he was referring to Kent rather than Martin.
Now feeling sillier on the ground than excited, Nicole tried to rise again. Ruben put his hands on her shoulders. “The EMTs are on their way.”
“I’m good,” Nicole said as she purposefully removed her partner’s grip. Glick offered a hand also. Nicole declined it as well. She was not a damsel in distress. She was one motivated, ready-to-track-down-a-serial-killer kind of damsel who was not going to let anyone get in her way. “Did he say where he was going?”
Glick shrugged. “Just a ‘hi, ho, Silver! Away.’ "
CHAPTER 73
Ruben watched as the woman he loved walked out, again. Could he blame Nicole, though? He had failed, yet again. Failed so very publicly. Failed right in front of her. It had taken Kent, riding in on his white horse, to save the day.
Within a matter of minutes the profiler had completely debunked his theory that Martin was Plain Jane and secured a confession regarding whomever he did kill.
But Kent had degraded Nicole in the process. A process that his partner seemed to not only tolerate, but enjoy as well. Ruben never could have put Nicole in that position. Using her body like that? Forcing her to seduce a killer? Then to put her in such physical danger? How he wished the profiler were here. Ruben would show him what physical danger felt like.
Glick cleared his throat, bringing Torres back to the problems still at hand. “You better check the rest of the names on Harbinger’s list.”
“We’re that sure Martin’s not our man?” Ruben asked, knowing full well the answer to that question.
With a frown, Glick answered, “Uni’s just found his landlady in the Dumpster. He got evicted after losing his job.”
“Damn it. Then why was he at Nancy’s?”
Glick walked out of the room, indicating that Ruben should follow. In silence, they made their way to the captain’s office. Glick made a point to shut the door before turning back to Ruben. Still, his supervisor didn’t answer his question.
“Well?”
“Harbinger was…” The captain couldn’t finish.
“He was right? Again?”
How could this be?
Maybe the damned profiler truly was psychic after all.
“Martin told one of his friends last week that Plain Jane was nothing compared to what he was going to do.”
“The ugly and the stupid,” Ruben murmured.
“Yeah, something like that…” The captain paused long enough for Ruben to search his face. What else could there be? “And we have a new problem.”
“Kent is running for president?” he asked, somewhat sarcastically, and somewhat hoping he wasn’t right.
Glick grunted as he sat down. “No, but almost as bad. The uterus from last night’s Vic, Joann. It’s missing.”
Ruben stayed standing. “I thought the coroner confirmed it was intact?” A glimmer of hope arose. Had Kent somehow been wrong about Joann? “Harbinger’s whole theory rests on that uterus.”
“Don’t get too ramped up. The uterus was intact last night. The ME removed it, weighed it, biopsied it, and put it in a jar marked as evidence.”
“And now it has miraculously disappeared?”
Glick rubbed his dark-circled eyes. “Yes.”
Ruben sat down hard on the chair. “Great. So we think the killer got his trophy after all?”
“Who else would want a cut-up uterus?”
CHAPTER 74
Through the window, Joshua saw the coroner’s wagon drive up. Dropping his stack of paperwork on the desk, he rushed out to the delivery bay. A new body. It was sights like this that made him glad he ended up coming into work tonight. Especially after the night he’d had.
Punching in the code, Josh pulled his lab coat around his neck. The night had gone cold. The sliding doors opened, bringing with them a rush of frigid air. The driver was already out of the vehicle, opening the back doors.
“Seriously, dude. Tell them to stop dying,” Josh joked. Another perk of the job was yanking this slacker’s chain.
“I don’t think she had any choice.”
The driver, in an unusual show of personality, opened the zipper and pointed to the badly beaten woman with dark purple bruising around her neck. Obviously strangled. Joshua could tell the cops that without a freaking autopsy.
“Fine, but tell the killers to hide the bodies a little better. We are way backed up.”
Snapping open the gurney, the driver sounded so very unimpressed by Joshua’s dilemma. “Sorry, they need the prelim by nine.”
Shocked, Josh asked, “Why?”
Okay, that was the stupidest thing Josh had ever heard. It was almost insulting that anyone in his right mind could think Plain Jane would kill like this. What did they think he was? A cretin?
“You are kidding, right?” Josh asked as the driver just shut the wagon’s doors. The attendant pointed to the body. “This broad was strangled and beaten.” Josh was nearly speechless, he was that upset. “This isn’t Plain Jane’s MO.”
Sighing as if he were bored with the whole conversation, the driver locked the back of the wagon.
“You can never be too sure.”
“What do they think?” Josh was not about to let this travesty go. “The guy forgot to take his Ritalin and just started hammering away?”
“Look, I just drive ‘em, and you load them on the slab. What do we care what they think? An autopsy is an autopsy.”
Josh sucked in a breath. That was sacrilege. Just straight-up sacrilege. It took him a few moments to form the words necessary to counter such blasphemy. “Oh… Oh, you are so wrong. They are like—”
“Okay, if you give me your delicate flower analogy, I’m going to hammer you.”
As Josh stood there stunned, the driver got back into his wagon and drove off. The man obviously didn’t understand that death was as important as life. He went to close the bag back up, but patted the woman’s cheek before he zipped it. “No one understands us, do they, love?”
CHAPTER 75
Nicole drove toward the seediest motel on the outskirts of town. The neon “L” in motel was burnt out, so the sign flashed “Mote,” which pretty much summed up the place. She parked in front of the lopsided sign that announced the office. Now no mystery why Kent had never let her pick him up.
Setting her car alarm, something that she seldom did, Nicole went into the office.
Immediately her nose cringed.
She’d searched sewer tunnels that weren’t as ripe. Surprisingly, there was actually an awake attendant. It appeared that besides offering weekly and monthly rates, the “mote” also had a lively late night “hourly” business as well. The man’s greasy nametag read “Arty, Night Manager.”
Even though the cowbells attached to the door had rung quite loudly, Arty didn’t look up from his “Max at Night.”
“I need to know which room Kent Harbinger is staying in.” Through force of habit she flashed her badge.
Arty just yawned. “I would have told you without that. I’ve got no reason to protect that freak.” He nodded to the left. “He’s in number four.”
“Thanks,” the detective said as she exited.
“And tell him I’m not giving him any other towels until he returns the last ones!” Arty shouted.
Giving a polite wave, Nicole proceeded to room number four. Or at least she was pretty sure it was number four. The metal number was long gone, leaving an outline of rust and faded paint in the outline of a four.
Because of the late hour, she gave a soft knock, although she doubted any of the other guests would hear or even mind if she started yelling at the top of her lungs. Unit number five had porn blasting so loudly that Nicole did not need any visuals to know it was a three-on-one scene.
It was a little disconcerting to know that this was where Kent spent his “down” time. She knocked again. “Harbinger?” Giving up on formality, she said, “Kent?”
Still no answer. On a whim, she checked the doorknob. Unlocked. What profiler didn’t lock the door? Especially in the middle of an intense manhunt for a serial killer?
Uneasy, Nicole drew her weapon and entered. She felt for the light switch and flicked it. Nothing happened. She paused, half in and half out of the doorway.
“Damn it, Kent! Answer if you’re in here.”
Keeping her eyes forward, Nicole fished around in her coat pocket for her flashlight. Turning it on, she swept the room with its beam, looking for an intruder, or worse, a body.
She found neither, though the walls glistened strangely in the low light. Taking a step inside, the detective quickly learned why. Every square inch of the room was covered in photographs. Photos of all the women he had been following. There was Joann. Claudia before that. Maria was there, too. All the women that he had “stalked” and lost. Picture after picture lined the walls.
“Oh, Kent,” Nicole whispered to the sad, pathetic room. It had not been the urine smell that had kept the profiler from inviting her over, it had been this bizarre, twisted shrine.
A sound prompted her to swing around.
“Hey, hey. It’s me,” Arty said, hands up.
Nicole lowered her gun. “What’s wrong with the lights?”
Turning on a dime, the manager went from anxious to pissed off. “Tell him no electricity until he returns the lamps!”
“That’s illegal.” Who did this guy think he was?
Arty stepped into the room and indicated all the walls. “I haven’t turned him into the mental health department, so I figure we’re even.”
Giving up on him, Nicole quickly checked the rest of the room. A small closet and even smaller bathroom. No Kent. Even these rooms were covered in pictures. She turned around to find Arty right behind her.
“And if this tape damages the walls, he’s paying to have them repainted.”
“I’ll forward the information… Once I find him.”
Arty seemed done with the conversation and headed to the door. “So, you staying or what?”
Nicole re-holstered her weapon. “Yeah, for a while.”
“Whatever turns your crank,” Arty said as he exited.
She wasn’t even sure why she was staying, especially when unit three had live-action sounds that put the porn in room five to shame.
As she studied the room in more detail, she realized that many of the pictures were marked as she had been in the briefing room. Red slashes marred many of the pictures.
“Oh, Kent…” she said as she plunked down onto the sagging mattress. Nicole lay back even though she had a lingering concern about what might crawl into her hair. She closed her eyes.
This was all her fault. After his release from the hospital, Kent had been in the psychiatric halfway house for over six months, and the doctors said he was adjusting well. Taking his medications without incident. Beginning to socially interact with the other patients.
A stranger might have taken him for a normal person, but no, Nicole had to go and trash all that progress.
Over the reservations of Ruben, Glick, four doctors, two social workers, and an assistant district attorney, she had asked the profiler to return to work. What concern was Kent’s tentative mental status with so many women’s lives on the line? Brashly, Nicole had thought she knew the profiler better than them all.
Opening her eyes, she found hundreds more pictures taped to the ceiling, and realized just how wrong she had been. Obviously, she didn’t know Kent at all.
Mainly out of a morbid curiosity, Nicole pointed her flashlight upwards. Which victim had won the coveted spot above his bed? But as she studied the photos, she realized these weren’t creepy stalker pictures.
These were photos of her.
Sitting upright, she craned her neck for a better look. The ceiling was covered with images of her. And these did not have the impersonal feel of surveillance photos. They were great shots. There she was with her friend, Lisa, at a movie. Both laughing in the picture.
Another of her with Monty, a detective from the two-seven. They ran the reservoir weekly. The layout looked like a huge photo spread for a magazine. There was even one of her sleeping. Taking in the scene as a whole, Nicole made a realization, Kent wasn’t coming back tonight.
Standing up on the bed, she reached up and pulled down the center photo, knowing pretty damn well where Harbinger was camped out.
CHAPTER 76
Ruben shook his head, then shook his head again. “You can’t expect me to make the call,” he said to Glick.
The captain
looked around. They were the only two people left in the bullpen. After the flurry of activity surrounding Martin’s arrest, everyone was either back out on patrol or at home catching a few hours of shut-eye before coming back to work. They knew they still had a serial killer on the loose.
“Sorry. It’s you.”
“You could make the call.”
Glick shook his head. “There aren’t many perks to this job, but not having to make this call is definitely one of them.”
Sighing, Torres nodded. No one in his right mind would want to make this call to Nicole. Yet here he stood, hand on phone. Ruben dialed his partner’s cell phone.
It only rang once.
“Kent?”
He was unable to control his temper. “Wow, this must be a real disappointment.”
Nicole’s tone wasn’t nearly as sympathetic as her words. “Ruben, sorry.”
Trying to regroup, he took a breath before continuing. He had a job to do. “Look, the press is all over our arrest of the possible Plain Jane. Glick doesn’t want any dissenting comments until the autopsy confirms he’s not our guy.”
“You really called me at this hour to tell me to keep my mouth shut?” She sounded in no better a mood than he did.
Well, he’d had enough tonight. “Let me be more blunt. The captain doesn’t want Harbinger talking.”
“Tell him yourself.”
Who did his partner think she was talking to? He knew she was tired, they all were. He knew she was stressed. They all were. Ruben worried that Kent’s entitlement attitude had rubbed off on his partner.
“His voicemail is full, or I would.”
No answer. Ruben could hear the low rumble of the car engine as she drove. The soft sounds of the radio floated into his earpiece, so Torres knew he had not lost the connection. Why wasn’t she answering?
“Nikki?”
CHAPTER 77
It wasn’t her partner’s fault. As much as Nicole tried to make it his fault, it was not. As usual, it was Kent’s.
The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection) Page 20