The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection)

by Carolyn McCray

  “And now you are here to finish the job?” Kent asked.

  “I was so young, so unsure,” Lucky stated.

  “Be honest, you just couldn’t bring yourself to kill her. You knew her. You just couldn’t finish the job.”

  Lucky’s eyes got that far off look that one did when delving deeply into memories. His voice sounded wounded, hurt. “She begged me. Her jaw was broken but still she begged.”

  The serial killer’s eyes refocused and that laser sharp intent was back. “But look at her. I should have finished this long ago.”

  Delia put her hand out onto Lucky’s wrist. “Please, don’t. She’s all I have left.”

  Lucky looked to his daughter. “You don’t understand.”

  “Yah, I think I do,” Delia said. “But she communicated with Kent early today. Rudimentary, but that’s how they found me and you.”

  Lucky’s stern visage waivered.

  “And she squeezed my hand earlier. There’s hope,” Delia said. “And all I really have is hope. I know you care about me. You can’t take hope from me, not now. I’ll kill myself, I swear it.”

  Kent noticed that Lucky’s hand moved a few millimeters from Marcy’s neck.

  “I’m not turning myself in,” Lucky rumbled.

  “And I’m not asking you to. I know what happens next, I’m just asking for you to do it outside. Spare my mother, please, please, please.”

  Lucky looked up at Kent. “Deal?”

  Kent pushed Nicole’s arm down. “Deal.”

  Lucky burst into action, hurling himself out the window. The sound of shattered glass filled the room. Delia threw herself over her mother and Kent and Nicole rushed across the room. Nicole used her elbow to break away the last of the glass, then was out the window as well. Kent took just a moment to turn back to Delia.

  “Good job, kid.”

  “Go get the douche,” Delia answered back with a smile.

  * * *

  Nicole had lost Lucky 37. How could she be a few feet behind him, but lose him? But there was no one out here. Or at least none she could see or hear.

  Kent pointed to the parking lot. “Hurry before he gets on his bike.”

  Then they heard it, the roar of a Harley. Nicole ran forward, firing as Lucky 37 took off down the road. How could they have him, then lose him.

  Kent grabbed her phone off her belt and dialed.

  “Jimmi, work your magic. Lucky is on an un-muffled Harley heading west.”

  “And exactly what magic is that?” Jimmi asked.

  “Don’t, sass me,” Kent growled. “Use traffic cams, satellite, whatever you’ve got.”

  “Look, this isn’t Fallujah. I don’t have satellites,” Jimmi complained. “And out in that area, there aren’t a whole lot of traffic cams.”

  Nicole leaned over the phone, “What about the new shot locator the FBI just installed?

  Kent’s eyebrow went up so Nicole explained. “We’ve had enough violent crimes that the Feds put in a new set of microphones which listen for gun shots so that we can get first responders to the crime faster.”

  “And how is that going to help us?” Kent asked.

  “Well, that un-muffled exhaust is going to create a pretty unique signature sound that the microphones can pick up and track.”

  “Got him!” Jimmi cried out. “He just got onto the freeway, heading north.”

  Nicole beat Kent to the car and hopped into the driver’s seat and revved her Mustang’s engine. It was going to get a work-out tonight. Laying down rubber, she exited the parking lot, heading for the onramp.

  “Where now?” Kent asked

  “He just got off the Majorly exit heading west again.”

  “Turn here!” Kent yelled, pointing to an old country road.

  “Why?” Nicole asked even as she did what Kent wanted.

  “I know where he’s going,” Kent said. “Just step on it.”

  * * *

  “Slow down,” Kent instructed Nicole. “Turn off your lights.”

  Nicole complied as they eased down the street. This was a rough neighborhood. Chronic poverty did things to people and communities. All the houses were tagged without evidence that anyone had even tried to paint over the gang signs. The type of neighborhood where gunshots went unreported and victims bled to death on the streets. Which was why the city had gotten the shot reader.

  “Stop here,” Kent said.

  They rolled to a halt in front of an old burnt out house. “He’s come home.”

  Nicole nodded, getting out of the car.

  For all their cleverness, serial killers were trapped in their past. Constantly trying to right the wrongs done to them. In the most unhealthy ways of course, but still he felt a pang of sympathy for Lucky 37. Gerald didn’t have much of a chance growing up here with a crack mother.

  Gun up, Nicole carefully climbed the rickety stairs to the house. The full moon streamed light through the shattered roof. No one had the money to tear down the relic, let alone rebuild here.

  The mottled light gave the blackened room a silvery glint. Lucky stepped out of a doorway. Kent urged Nicole’s arm down. He wanted to hear what Lucky had to say.

  “You think you know my first victim, that Katie Terrance,” Lucky said, “But my first real victim was here. Here, where I was the victim.”

  Kent could see tears well in Lucky’s eyes. “You know what the worst was? When she was clean, she was a great mom. Fun, loving. But when she was on the pipe?”

  Lucky shook his head, flinging tears onto the charcoal floor.

  “And when she realized she could make money off a young boy like me for her habit?”

  Kent could imagine. Mothers prostituting their own children had to be the cruelest form of abuse.

  “And when I refused?” Lucky continued as he pointed to a corner. “That’s where she broke my nose.” Lucky pointed toward the kitchen. “That’s where she broke my arm.”

  “Then you got older and bigger?” Kent suggested.

  Lucky nodded. “One day she tried to use her belt on me and I just snapped. I did to her what those men did to me, then I choked her until she couldn’t yell at me anymore. Then I lit the whole place on fire.”

  The serial killer looked up at Kent. “I tried to exercise my demons, I really did.”

  “I believe you,” Kent said. “You didn’t kill again for years.”

  “I stayed away from people. Kept my distance, especially from women. I knew they were trouble, but Marcy was just so sweet. So nice.”

  “What happened then?” Nicole asked seeming to want to know as badly as Kent did. To hear the evolution of a serial killer from the killer’s mouth was quite heady. Especially when you could smell the soot, as it etched into your pores. You could feel both his suffering and his evil at once.

  “She would get me all worked up then send me home,” Lucky said. “The pressure just built and built.”

  “Why didn’t you just take care of yourself?” Nicole asked.

  “Ah, there again Mom wouldn’t let me. She said I needed to save it for my dates,” He snorted harshly. “Somehow getting myself off was a sin, but what she let those men do to me was her paycheck.”

  “So when you met Katie in that bar?”

  “She was so much like Marcy, but you could tell she wasn’t going to hold out on me,” Lucky explained. “Once we got out into the alleyway though, I honestly don’t know what happened. One minute we are having consensual sex, the next I’m standing over her bloody body.”

  Kent nodded. He had heard it before. Many times the first kill wasn’t even conscious. Some impulse that had been wound and wound and wound tight inside of them was suddenly released without their knowledge. A lifetime of abuse poured out onto their poor victim.

  “And Marcy?” Nicole pressed.

  “I tried to break it off, I swear,” Lucky said and Kent believed him. So far Lucky hadn’t lied once.

  “She came to my place to find out what was wrong. We argued and then
again, I came to, on top of her…”

  “So you are saying she was an accident too?” Nicole asked, not sounding convinced.

  “No,” Lucky said with a sob. “I knew what would happen if I let her live so I strangled her.”

  “But you couldn’t finish it, could you?” Kent asked. “You weren’t a cold blooded killer yet.”

  Lucky shook his head. “I ran off. I thought it was over. Until the pressure just got too much while I was in Detroit. Too many eager targets.”

  “Do you really think we’re going to be sympathetic?” Nicole demanded.

  “No,” Lucky said, “But you have to tell Delia, I wasn’t a born killer. I was forged into one. She doesn’t have to worry. She is a good person. I don’t want her to worry.”

  Kent had to steel himself. Lucky got to him every time. He was a vicious, heartless killer, yet underneath it all, he was still that innocent young boy before his mother pimped him out.

  “I will,” Kent reassured him.

  Lucky smiled, then without warning, flung a piece of pipe at Nicole, knocking her gun out of her hands. He launched at her, tackling her around the waist, slamming the back of her head against the wall.

  * * *

  With her vision swimming, Nicole knew she should have just shot the bastard while she had the chance. Kent many times overestimated how in control of the situation he was.

  She struggled against Lucky’s grip, but damn he was strong.

  He brought his lips up to her ear. “You aren’t my usual type, but I might make an exception for you. After of course I dispense of your husband.”

  Yah, good luck with that, Nicole thought.

  She brought a knee up into Lucky’s groin, forcing him to double over. More than enough of a window for her to slip out from his grip. Did he think she didn’t know self-defense? That he was the first serial killer who had snatched her.

  Please.

  With a sweeping kick, she went for his legs. Lucky had to jump out of the way, pushing him even further away from her. Then he had the pipe again.

  Where in the hell was Kent? Nicole leapt out of the way. Unfortunately she landed on a weak board which gave out from under her. Awkwardly she listed to the side, trying to keep from falling through. She might have succeeded if Lucky 37 hadn’t backhanded her. She backward fell into the dank, musty basement.

  * * *

  Kent had kept back. Nicole could take care of herself. And now she was safe in the basement. He couldn’t have planned it better himself.

  Lucky turned on Kent, his pipe high above his head.

  “This is going to be fun,” Lucky said.

  Kent couldn’t agree more.

  People, even an experienced serial killer always felt way too overconfident when they had a weapon. They invariably let down their guard, figuring the weapon would keep them safe. It wasn’t a conscious thought, but a deep sub-conscious one. The brain could only work on so many things at once and loved to check off boxes so it could move onto something else.

  Kent could tell that Lucky’s “I’ve got the advantage” box had been checked.

  Time to make that work for Kent.

  He fake lunged, inducing a sweeping swing from Lucky. Before he could reverse that swing, Kent threw a punch to the solar plexus. Lucky grunted but stayed upright, bringing the pipe back around. Kent ducked, letting it whistle over his head.

  Another punch, this time to Lucky’s groin. A groin already hit by Nicole. That had to hurt. Lucky stumbled, then gripped his pipe even tighter and launched at Kent. He side-stepped easily allowing Lucky’s momentum to carry him past.

  Kent used his elbow, right at the back of the neck. Lucky nearly splayed out, but kept his feet under him at the last moment.

  “A little different from fighting weak, alcoholic women, isn’t it?” Kent prodded.

  Lucky growled, actually growled, then took another swing. Not only had Kent seen it coming, but grabbed the tip of the pipe and wrenched it from Lucky’s grip.

  He relished the surprised look on Lucky’s face. He brought the pipe up and slammed it into Lucky’s temple. The big man tumbled over, then got to his feet.

  “I know you,” Lucky said. “This is your fix. You like to kill men like me how they killed. So what are you going to do? Rape me, then strangle me?”

  Kent smiled which seemed to unsettle Lucky even more. “I’ve already mind-fucked you, I can get to the killing now.”

  He went at Lucky with a fury, swinging, clanging that pipe on Lucky’s jaw, wrist, shoulder, cheekbone. Lucky wasn’t even trying to defend himself anymore, he just held his hands up over his face. Kent knew that Lucky had the body weight and muscle mass over him. He had to beat him down before he went hand to hand.

  Kent had no mercy. Just as Lucky hadn’t. His blows rang off the walls until Lucky slumped over. Kent grabbed Lucky by the throat and started choking him. It was only fitting.

  Lucky could have struck out. Going for Kent’s eyes or lips or neck. The serial killer had the reach, but he didn’t use it.

  He just let Kent choke him until his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against Kent. Lucky must have wanted it over as badly as Kent did.

  In the end, though, Kent let go as Lucky’s pulse weakened under his grip. He didn’t finish it. Lucky didn’t deserve that kind of release.

  Nicole came up from the hole in the floor and staggered over, holding her right arm close to her. “Is he dead?”

  “No,” Kent replied.

  * * *

  “No?” Nicole said as her voice cracked. Her elbow hurt like hell. She wasn’t sure if it was broken or not. “Why the hell not? You don’t think he can be rehabilitated do you?”

  Bad time for Kent to wimp out.

  “No,” Kent said sounding sad. “But think of how many other serial killer’s paths he has crossed. Think of how many cases we could close. How much closure we could give to victim’s families.”

  Nicole still didn’t like it. Lucky was dangerous. And just like a rabid dog, you had to put them down. Kent had taught her that. She could hear his reasoning, but it was almost as if he doth protest too much. Like he had to justify it even to himself. In the end, Kent just couldn’t bring himself to kill a man, that in some perverse way he respected.

  “But hey, if you feel strongly enough,” Kent said, “Go for it.”

  Could Nicole do it? She leaned over Lucky, watching his pulse pound in his neck. Could she squeeze it until his heart stopped beating? Nicole had killed before. But never this close. Never in cold blood.

  She rose. She couldn’t do it. She almost wished she could, but she couldn’t.

  Then Lucky was up, grabbing her by the neck, squeezing her windpipe closed.

  “You will be my last,” Lucky promised as his grip tightened, closing off her air.

  Then a shot went off and Lucky cried out. Then another shot and Lucky went down. Nicole stood there shaking, watching Kent lower the gun. Kent had used a gun to protect her. She probably shouldn’t feel quite so proud of that fact. Kent hated guns. He called them the weapon of the weak and uninspired. Yet he’d used one for her.

  “You okay?” Kent asked as she rubbed her neck. Funny, her elbow didn’t hurt so badly any more.

  She looked down at the now-dead Lucky. “Yah, I think I am.”

  EPILOGUE

  Kent draped his arm over Nicole’s shoulder. Her good one. Her other arm was in a sling. The elbow wasn’t broken, just badly sprained.

  They were back at the convalescent hospital. Delia was taking it all in stride.

  “So he’s dead, really dead,” Delia asked. “Not like Friday the 13th kind of dead, where he bursts from the closet in a few seconds and kills us all kind of dead.”

  “No,” Kent said. “The kind of dead where the ME is cutting into him as we speak.”

  “Good,” Delia breathed out and took her mother’s hand again. “She is really responding. It’s not just wishful thinking.”

  “Well, she’s got
something to live for,” Nicole said, setting her head down on Kent’s shoulder.

  “We will get the top neurologist out here,” Kent promised, “And see if maybe there isn’t some pharmacological help we can give her to rise to the surface.”

  “Like you said. Everything I’ve been through is going to help me reach her.”

  Kent wished he was close enough to hug her. “That’s right.”

  Delia smiled, kissing her mom on the cheek. “I’ve got so much to tell her.”

  Kent leaned his head against Nicole’s. Today had been a good day. A serial killer dead. A mother and daughter reunited, sort of. And Ruben was back at the barn, grumbling about the paperwork. Perfect.

  Nicole raised her head and brought her lips to his. “I think this is the right time.”

  “For what?” Kent asked even though he had an inkling of what she was about to say.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Finally,” Kent sighed. “I’ve flipped you into every pro-conception position I could think of, wifey.”

  Nicole elbowed him, with her bad arm. So she was the one to wince. She kind of deserve that though, his wife was a little fast and loose with that elbow.

  As she rubbed her injured joint she smiled. “So you’re happy?”

  “Happy?” Kent asked. “No, I’m not happy.” He waited until Nicole gave him a frown. Sometimes she was just so predictable. “No, I am elated. Like you are when Downton Abbey comes on.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty excited then.”

  “Yes, yes it is,” Kent said, kissing the top of her head and tucking her back under his arm as he watched Delia whisper into her mother’s ear.

  Like he said.

  Perfect.

  Afterword

  Thank you so much for reading the Harbinger collection. I hope it didn’t keep you up as many nights as it did me!