by A. J. Norris
The state government had settled out of court for the mishandling of his murder trial and subsequent unlawful incarceration. Cedric could afford to leave but chose to stay in his mother's old house. Being the only one with the brains in the family, she had moved out. Harry pulled up to the curb in front of the nicest house on the block. The front door was shut and a barred screen door was always kept locked. He knocked.
Harry heard a woman’s laughter then the door swung open. The woman leaned against the jamb. Her eyes met his and the smile slipped from her face. “There's a cop at the door,” she called over her shoulder.
“What's he look like? Is he wearing a cheap suit?”
The woman in fake leather leggings and midriff top looked Harry up and down. “Yeah. And ugly shoes.”
Booming laughter came around the corner from the living room. There were sounds of a cane stabbing the bare wood floor and a shuffling of feet then Cedric appeared. “Hey, Harry.” Cedric waved him in. “Veronica’s leaving.”
The woman Harry guessed was a hooker by the way she knew he was a cop waited with her hand out. Cedric handed her two twenties. “That’s it?”
“Woman, you already stole from me.”
“Whatever.” She spun on her heel and walked toward the door.
“See you next week,” he called after her.
Veronica ignored him.
“Tuesday.”
“Whatever, Cedric,” she said and slammed the door behind her.
Harry grinned at the exchange.
“Bitches steal, man. I have to lock everything up.” Cedric threw a hand up and shuffled back to the couch.
Hunter settled into the chair opposite him. The right thing would be for him to be concerned about the criminal activity, except he’d ignored it too long to say anything about it now. He waited for his friend to make his usual denial.
“She isn't one of them prostitutes,” Cedric told him.
“Of course not.” Harry swirled the no longer even warm coffee around the bottom of the disposable cup. He downed the last of it and stared at the empty cup. “Ced…” Harry paused and his friend knew why.
“Why don't you arrest him?”
“Can't.” Harry looked skyward.
“What if you're wrong and he did kill those women?” Cedric countered.
“What if he didn't?” Harry looked up at Cedric then down at his hands curled around the empty cup. “I wanna be sure.”
“Maybe you don't get sure? I thought you'd gotten over this shit, the past. Guess I was wrong.” Cedric eased his back on the couch and rubbed his jawline. “It's because you know him.”
Harry nodded. “I think it's clouding my judgment.”
Cedric pursed his lips. “Maybe you ought to have someone else interview him.”
“Maybe,” Harry said after a few moments of reflection.
His old friend rolled his eyes. “Don't tell me you're that broken up about just this?”
Harry shrugged.
“How's Grace?”
“Fuck you.”
“Thought so.”
Laughter filled the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mikey
“Detective Hunter asked me to have a chat with you.”
“I know. That's why I'm being questioned again. You said that already.” Mikey sighed heavily. “I don't have anything new to add, by the way.”
“Let us determine that,” Detective Brown said. “Are you waiving your right to an attorney?”
Mikey considered two things. One, he'd been questioned twice regarding the murders and now there was about to be a third time. The second thing was he really didn't know what his rights were and it was probably in his best interests to have a lawyer present. The police had already ransacked his house, searched his car. He was lucky they hadn't impounded his Escape. Either there had been an oversight or it had been a gift.
“No. I want to have an attorney here.”
“All right.”
Mikey hid a smirk behind a grimace. He really hadn't been too worried before but now that Hunter asked another detective to question him, there was more reason for concern. Mikey tapped his foot under the table in the interrogation room, smoothing his sweaty palms on his thighs. As he waited for the attorney to show up he thought again about where he knew Harry from and came up with nothing. The only attorney he could get on such short notice, Maxwell Harvey, showed up and the interview resumed.
“Mr. Hardin, can you tell us where you were the night of May 20, 2016?”
His attorney indicated he answer the question.
“At work. I stayed late working on some new designs. I get requests from time to time for specific things, so when I get enough clients asking for the same…” He trailed off because of the look on Brown's face.
“You indicated before that you were alone. Is that correct?”
“Yes. The other artists set their own schedules, so when they’re done for the night, they take off.”
“So no one can verify how late you worked?”
“No, I sent Suzie home around nine-thirty, nine-forty-five-ish. Sometime around then.”
“This Suzie, she's the receptionist?”
“Yep. Was.” Mikey was aware that his former employee had told police what time she left. He didn't know what she'd said but figured that the time was close to what he thought. His foot began to settle until Brown didn't say anything for a long moment.
Brown opened a brown folder and placed four photos of Felicia Potts out on the table side by side. The first was a high-school yearbook photo of her, the next two were of her at the crime scene, and the last was a picture taken of her during the autopsy. Mikey turned his head. His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily then he coughed.
“Mr. Hardin? Have you seen this woman before?”
“Yeah. I dated her a few times, but I hadn't seen her for about six months.” He glanced around the room trying to keep his eyes off the table. Looking the detective in the face would probably be a good idea, however, that would require him to get a vomit-inducing eyeful of the photos. The cop noted his reaction.
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” Mikey breathed. He faced Maxwell, who looked confused. “Can't stand to look at those.”
“What can you tell me about the victim?”
“What do you want to know?” Mikey moaned.
“Detective Brown,” his attorney cut in, “my client—”
Mikey waved his attorney off. “It's all right. I've been asked to tell you everything I know before and I already answered. I don't know anything more than the last time. We dated a few times. I moved on. Period. I feel worse than you could ever believe. How scared she must have been. How her family must feel not being able to see her again. I have a kid of my own. I can't even imagine someone hurting him. It's disgusting how someone could do that to another person.”
Brown put the set of photos away and opened another folder.
“Oh Jesus!” Mikey said when a second set of photos were laid out one by one.
“What about Jennifer Swanson? Did you know her?”
“You know I did. She worked at the restaurant I eat at regularly.”
“My client's alibi checked out for the time of death, Detective Brown,” Maxwell said.
“Did you kill her?”
“I'm going to advise my client not to answer the question he's already answered without an attorney present.”
“It's all right, Harvey,” Mikey said. “I didn't kill her or anyone else.”
Brown sat back in his metal chair and eyed his suspect. Then he shuffled papers and put the photos back inside the folder.
“Are you charging my client?” Maxwell asked.
Brown shook his head. Mikey didn’t smile, nor did he feel relieved.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Grace
“Oh shoot.” Grace tapped her forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Natalie asked.
“I forg
ot I needed to go to the bank. There’s a Bank of America up the street from the gallery. Do you mind?”
“No problem. I’ll stop. I have to get gas anyway.” Natalie pulled into the bank’s parking lot and Grace got out of the car. “Hey listen…mind if I head to the gas station on the corner while you do your thing?”
Grace looked over the roof of the sedan. An empty car, as far as she could tell, sat in the strip mall parking lot across the street. Most of the businesses were specialty shops and closed early on the weekends. Although the street was dim the ATM vestibule was lit up, as was the corner gas station. “Go ahead. I’ll be a few minutes anyway.”
Natalie’s older model sedan pulled into the gas station at the corner less than a hundred yards away. Inside the ATM enclosure, Grace readied her deposit. She swiped her card through the reader and entered her pin number. The machine showed an advertisement for home loan financing options. “Nope. I do not want to see your options,” she said aloud as she pressed ‘No, thank you’ on the screen. After a few more questions, the mouth to insert money opened up and swallowed her paycheck.
Headlights shined into the vestibule, lighting the small space. Grace glanced behind her. The car she had seen parked across the street pulled alongside the curb in front of the ATM.
A shadow of a body cast over the atrium. “Just a minute,” she called loudly over her shoulder so she could be heard on the outside. She hurriedly shoved her wallet back into her purse and turned around. A man adjusted the brim of his baseball cap low over his eyes, keeping his head down, shielding most of his face under the hat. He opened the door and stood inside blocking her escape.
Grace gasped. “C-Cody?”
“Don't you know there's a killer on the loose?” He narrowed his stared on her and licked his lips. She didn’t think he was sexually attracted to her so the gesture was a surprise.
“Yeah…I-I know that.”
“Do you?”
She remained in the same spot, frozen to the tile. “Are you going to let me pass?”
“What do you think?”
She groped around inside her purse and found the canister of pepper spray her overprotective father insisted she carry with her at all times. His eyes never left her face.
“Excuse me, my friend will be back any—”
Cody surged forward and snatched her around the waist.
“Noooo!” she screamed and dropped her purse.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Grace
Grace concealed her pepper spray in her fist with a finger on the trigger. Cody tried to push them through the door. When he lifted her, she brought her feet up and slammed them into either side the heavy glass door, halting his forward motion. She pushed off the door-jamb as hard as she could and forced both of them backward. He made a guttural sound when his back hit the ATM machine behind him. His grip loosened and she wriggled her hand with the mace free. She kicked back with her heeled boot into his shin.
“Bitch!”
She wrenched out of his hold with a twist of her body. Turning around, she brought the canister up and depressed the trigger.
Cody grunted. The smell burned her eyes and the mist poisoned her lungs. He staggered back and hit a glass wall.
Fleeing with both hands out in front, she slammed the door open. The fresh air was a relief from the choking fumes. She screamed; her throat stinging. She wasn’t sure if her heart worked anymore because she certainly wasn’t breathing. Tears streamed down her face. Blurry eyed, she sprinted up the street toward the safety of the gas station.
“Natalie! Natalie! Heeeelp!”
She didn't dare chance a glance behind her, she kept on running and calling out until she reached the Mobile station. Natalie's face went ghost pale when she saw Grace.
Grace darted across the road. Horns honked, tires squealed, but she was able to make it across safely. When she reached the older woman, she fell into her arms. “Oh God!”
“What happened? What happened?” Natalie asked.
“I was so scared. OhmyGod. OhmyGod.” Grace gasped, unable to get more words out. A man came over and surprised her. “No!”
The man backed up with his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I only wanted to see if there was anything I can do.”
Grace's entire body trembled. When she looked up again, the man still stood there except at a more comfortable distance, and had a cell phone up to his ear. She turned back to Natalie. “Police…my dad…c-call the police.”
“This guy is calling them.”
All Grace could manage to do was nod. Natalie broke the hug and took her hands. “It's all right. It's going to be all right.”
“I was so scared.”
“I know. I know.” Natalie scanned the street and down toward the bank. There wasn’t anyone there.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Harry
Harry placed a cup of hot chocolate in his daughter's shaky hands. He ran his palms down his face. His eyes were bloodshot and a tension crease in his forehead the size of the Mariana Trench throbbed. The way Grace sat made her look so small and fragile. He wanted to protect her.
He perched on the edge of his desk. “Tell me what happened.”
“Natalie dropped me off at the ATM and went to go get some gas.”
“Late at night when someone is out there killing women?”
She held up her hand. “Dad, don't start. She was just up the street and there's lights and a camera at the bank. I thought I was safe. Enough.”
Harry shook his head.
“Anyway, it was this guy I know, Cody. As soon as I saw him—”
Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. Hold up. You know this asshole?”
Grace gripped the cocoa in both hands and blew ripples across the surface. “Yeah. I met him once.”
“How? When?” Harry pressed.
“I don't know, a while ago. He creeped me out then, but…”
Harry raised his brow in question. “But?”
“I figured he was all right, I guess. The man I've been seeing knows him from work. Or…something.”
Harry knew his daughter was holding something back. “Who are you trying to protect here, Grace?”
“I'm not trying to protect anyone. His name is the only thing I know about the guy.”
Harry’s temples pulsated. He closed his eyes for an extended moment. “And you don't know his last name? Where did you meet him?”
“At Hector’s Coney Island.” Grace glanced at the clock over her father's head on the wall behind him. “Listen, I've already made my statements. I'm tired and I really want to go home.”
“Fine. We can’t review the surveillance tape until tomorrow anyway. But you're not going home. You said you lost your purse and we didn't find it at the scene. You'll be safer at the house. My house.”
“No thanks. I'll go to a friend’s.”
“Gracie, I don't—”
She got up to leave. “Save it, Harry. I'm still pissed at you.”
“Wait. I’ll take you to—”
“No thanks. Natalie’s waiting.”
* * *
Grace
Grace walked out of the station, grateful her father didn’t follow. Natalie waited out front for her. She sighed when Natalie turned out of the police station parking lot, relieved to be away from all the questions and overhead fluorescent bulbs. Her head hurt. Hell, her entire body ached, including her hair.
“Natalie?”
“Yeah?”
“My father doesn't want me going home, so can you drop me off someplace else? Do you mind?”
“Tell me where to go.”
Grace gave her the directions. Mikey's place wasn't much further from where they were. Five minutes later, they pulled up to the curb in front of his house. Grace flipped the visor down and checked herself out in the mirror.
“It's late. Maybe you should call him first,” Natalie suggested. “I mean before you knock on the door in the m
iddle of the night, in case he's sleeping.”
Grace slapped the visor up in disgust. There was no fixing what was going on with her makeup. She needed soap and water. “I don't have my phone, remember? And I don't have his number memorized.”
“All right. I'll wait here for you to make sure you get in all right, okay?”
“Uh huh, thanks.” She dragged herself to the porch.
Grace rang the doorbell, but didn't hear a chime. She pressed it again. Silence.
Great.
Not about to give up, she pounded on the door. And again. A light turned on, which shone through the glass side panels and sheer curtains. A few seconds later the door opened.
A ruffled looking Mikey stepped into view. “Grace, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry so late I—I lost my phone. Otherwise, I would have called.” Grace smoothed her hair with her fingers.
“Are you all right, what happened?”
“Cody is what happened.”
His fell mouth open. “What do you mean?”
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, shit. Sorry. Yeah, please come in.”
She knew not only was her hair a mess, her mascara had smeared down her cheeks, and her eyes were still red from the pepper spray. He pulled her to his chest and hugged her. The heat from his body warmed her. She sighed and sagged into him. He rested his chin on the top of her hair.
Natalie’s car was still idling at the curb in front of his house.
“Friend of yours?” he asked.
“Oh crap.” Grace stepped from his embrace and waved at Natalie. “That was Natalie. A friend of mine.”
Mikey took her hand and led her back to his bedroom. The master bathroom was what she wanted.