2nd Cycle of the Harbinger Series: The continuation of the #1 Hard-boiled/Police Procedural smash Plain Jane

by Carolyn McCray

Nicole didn’t get it fully either, so she watched the scroll that ran beside Hannah’s profile. It was her social media feeds. Twitter. Facebook. Pinterest. As an ADA, she didn’t have much there. She couldn’t give any perps too much info.

  However, the one thing she did like to post were pictures of pies.

  “She’s the one,” Nicole stated firmly.

  “Why?” Ruben asked.

  Nicole indicated toward Joshua. “You didn’t find any needle marks in Kent’s body, did you?”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “There was no evidence of drugs in Kent’s system,” Ruben replied.

  Nicole frowned. Sometimes Ruben was far too narrow minded. She could now see why Kent got so frustrated by her partner.

  “Joshua, there are a whole set of designer drugs that don’t show up on routine tox screens, aren’t there?”

  The morgue attendant nodded vigorously.

  Nicole turned to Ruben. “And we both know Kent would never drink anything he didn’t see poured, so it sounds like whatever chemical he ingested was eaten.”

  Ruben crossed his arms over his broad chest. “We don’t even know for certain he was drugged.”

  Smiling, Nicole reached out and put a hand on his arm. Ruben could get so rigid in his thinking. And that stiffness transferred to his body. “Didn’t we all agree the killer is probably a woman? And how do you think a tiny woman like Hannah could overtake Kent?”

  She felt him relax under her touch, and the creases in his forehead smooth.

  Still her partner frowned. “She couldn’t.”

  Nicole backed away and pointed at the picture on the computer. “And we all know Kent’s Kryptonite. Pie. Cherry pie, in particular. Kent wouldn’t pass up a slice to save his life. Literally.”

  Finally, even Ruben had to nod. Everyone knew of Kent’s pie obsession.

  “I’m going to interview her,” Nicole said, pushing up from the stool. As much as she hated to admit it, her body wasn’t back to normal yet. Delivery had really taken it out of her.

  Ruben’s hand was there helping to hold her up. “I can do it.”

  For so many reasons, she should probably let her partner walk this investigation forward, but there was no way she was going to let him. Only Kent and she could walk this path.

  “No, you track down the heroin angle,” Nicole replied. “I’ve got Hannah Montana.” Ruben went to argue but she put her hand up. “There’s no debate here, Ruben.”

  “At the least, go home and get some rest before you head to the DA’s office.”

  “I’ll go home and nurse the baby, but then I’ll head over to Hannah’s after lunch.”

  Ruben’s eyes begged her to reconsider, but there was no way, no how, she was letting anyone else talk with Hannah. She knew the woman. They had worked together several times on cases. How could Nicole not have seen what was going on? Did this wolf in sheep’s clothing kill her husband?

  Nicole, and only Nicole, was going to determine that.

  * * *

  Ruben didn’t bother to follow his partner. Clearly that ship had sailed. He headed down to the rougher area of their fair city. Lookouts were posted on each and every corner. The sellers were sheltered within the various parks.

  Ruben wasn’t flying blind. He’d contacted vice and gotten the most likely location of a drug dealer who had close ties to a supplier that sometimes sold large quantities to non-dealers. Stock brokers, nurses, individuals who didn’t peddle on the street, but could still move large quantities of tar.

  He also didn’t bother to dress down. He was in his suit that screamed detective. His gun was on his hip, as was his badge. He was certain that with every step, his jacket flapped back, flashing the gold shield.

  Ignoring the lookouts who were beating a path opposite of his, Ruben continued on to what looked like an abandoned, condemned apartment building.

  This place probably had more residents now than it had when it was open for business. A perfect cover for the supplier. Nice and close to his selling fields.

  Ruben removed a half-assed door and entered the dilapidated lobby. All the doors on the mail slots had been pried off. Some hung off a single rusted hinge. There was a shallow slick pool of rainwater on the floor.

  It didn’t look like anyone had been here for years, which was exactly what the drug dealers wanted everyone that glanced in to see. They must have a separate entrance. Ruben couldn’t worry about that right now.

  Using the intel from vice, he headed into the heart of the complex, taking the stairs to the third floor. So far, no lookouts. Again, the dealers didn’t want to flash that their stash was here.

  Ruben headed to apartment 302. He even knocked at the door. No reason to burst in. Not with his intention.

  There was some scuffing inside. The dealers probably freaking out that someone was at their door.

  “Police, but don’t worry, I just want to talk.”

  The dealer’s response was two shots through the door. Good thing Ruben had moved to the side. The sound of a toilet flushing over and over again resonated through the hallway.

  “Seriously, I just want to talk.”

  “Right! Pig!” a shout came from the other side of the door.

  “I won’t even come in,” Ruben responded. “Answer a few questions and I’ll just leave. You can stop flushing your product.”

  There was more scuffling inside the apartment, and the toilet stopped.

  “What do you want to know?” Another voice asked.

  Someone inside had clearly done the math. Better to cooperate than lose another kilo of heroin.

  “Have you sold any pure heroin to a solo female in the past few months?”

  “No,” the answer came from the apartment.

  “You sure?” Ruben asked. “I can get a search warrant and come back with SWAT.”

  “We don’t sell to honky chicas.”

  “Funny, I didn’t say she was white,” Ruben stated, keeping his back against the wall in case the men inside decided to start shooting again.

  “Once, three or five months ago. Uptight bitch, but good credentials. Good references. She said she was selling in the prisons.”

  It fit their profile of the serial killer.

  “Got a name?” Ruben asked.

  “Yeah, right,” came the response. “Now you going to boogie or we gonna throw down?”

  “I am slipping my card under the door. If you have any other information, call me. I’ll keep it confidential and if your information is credible, it will become a get out of jail free card.”

  Bending down, he pushed the card into the apartment. He didn’t have a lot of hope any one would contact him and he honestly hoped they didn’t. Ruben hated giving drug-dealing scum any preferential treatment even if they did cough up some intel.

  “I am boogying,” Ruben informed the men behind the door and headed down the hallway.

  He hoped that Nicole was having better luck with Hannah.

  * * *

  Nicole was bone-weary. It was like as the baby suckled from her, he drained her of all energy.

  How much she had wanted to curl up with her baby boy and just take a damned nap. Would that be too much to ask?

  But she had set herself upon this path, and this was the path she was going to follow. Kent’s killer had to be brought to justice. If that meant losing out on a few naps, so be it.

  She came to Hannah’s office. A shadow inside indicated that the ADA was in her office.

  “Come in,” a soft voice called out. Was that the voice of a serial killer? Her husband’s murderer? It seemed impossible, but wasn’t that what Kent always warned about? Don’t let outward appearances fool you. That psychopaths were adept at hiding their darkness, sometimes by appearing to be a ray of light.

  Nicole stepped into Hannah’s office. It was small and cramped, yet somehow the woman had made it seem cozy. There were embroidered sayings, framed up on the wall. Fresh flowers graced Hannah’s desk.

  “
Detective Usher, I mean, Harbinger, or are you going back to your maiden name?”

  “No, I am keeping Harbinger,” Nicole stated, even though she had only decided that right at this moment. The name had a lot of baggage. The Harbinger name wasn’t welcome in many, many places both here and abroad, but it also was revered around the world.

  More than that though, was the expectation that the name carried. If her son had to live up to his father’s hype, so should Nicole.

  “Detective Harbinger then, what can I do for you?” Hannah asked, indicating for Nicole to sit at a chair across the desk.

  Nicole froze. She really hadn’t thought this through quite as thoroughly as she might have liked. Nicole blamed nursing the baby. It felt like all of her energy and intelligence went out through her milk ducts. Maybe there was something to this maternity leave idea.

  “I…I…” Nicole sputtered. Dear God, she sounded like a rookie. Sitting across from her, Hannah gave a look of sympathy and perhaps pity. That “I feel so sorry for the poor grief stricken widow” look that Nicole had been getting so frequently these days. Although in this moment, Nicole should probably feel grateful since it was covering her immense mental gap.

  Gulping, Nicole finally came up with a line of thought. “I am looking into my husband’s death.”

  Hannah gave a sad nod. “Of course. Anything I could do to help.”

  If this chick was Kent’s killer, she was one cold woman. However, whoever killed Kent would have to be a sociopath and by definition they were cool characters because they had no feelings of guilt.

  The ADA gave another smile, urging Nicole on.

  Nicole better think of something fast or she was going to miss her chance. Usually with a killer you got one bite at the apple. Once they knew what you were up to, they shut down.

  “Yes, we believe that you may be in danger,” Nicole said, channeling her late husband. Now she had a line of inquiry that made sense.

  Hannah’s hand went to her chest. “Me? Why me?”

  Good question.

  Time to use the training her husband had instilled in her. So it was time for the truth, with a slight twist.

  “Your name came up during my husband’s last few days.”

  Hannah’s eyes squinted. It was the first time the “friendly shoulder” mask slipped from the ADA’s expression. “How so?”

  Nicole deflected. “Did you speak with Kent on the day of his death?”

  “No, why would I?”

  Again, Nicole didn’t answer the ADA’s question. “Your family may be in danger. Does your husband work for the department?”

  “You know I’m not married. What is this about?”

  Nicole refused to feel rushed. That was a rookie mistake. To allow the suspect to set the pace. Instead she leaned back in her chair.

  “So no threatening phone calls or mail?”

  “None lately.”

  “Lately?” Nicole reflected back.

  Hannah shrugged, leaning back into her chair as well, accepting the new pace and tone. “There was the brother of a man I sent away for life. He made some noise, but that was months ago. And nothing over the past few weeks.”

  “It appears that you logged into the morgue’s database several weeks ago, may I ask why?”

  “Certainly,” Hannah replied. “One of my witnesses in a big drug case came up missing and I was looking for any John Doe’s who might fit his description.”

  “Isn’t that something my department handles or even one of your own PIs?”

  Hannah leaned forward a playful smile on her lips. “Of course, but you know me, I’m hands on. I don’t like anything to slip through the cracks.”

  Nicole was mulling over her next move when Hannah’s smile widened. “May I ask you a question?”

  Uh oh.

  “Sure,” Nicole said hoping the word didn’t sound as tense as she felt.

  “Why are you treating me like a suspect?”

  Crap. It was in these moments when Nicole really realized just how inferior she was to her late husband. Kent could have kept this conversation with Hannah going on for hours without the ADA catching onto anything.

  Why was Kent so damned good? And why was he dead?

  Nicole took in a deep breath. Here went nothing. “We think Kent’s killer is an unmarried woman.”

  “I…I’m a suspect?”

  Nicole nodded, preparing for a tongue lashing that she probably deserved.

  Instead, Hannah laughed. A light, bells tinkling in the distance kind of laugh. “Oh, you just made my week,” the ADA said as she threw herself back in her chair. “I can hardly wait to tell all the other ADAs.”

  “I’m sorry?” Nicole replied, truly confused.

  “This job gets pretty monotonous. Prosecuting drug dealers, domestic abuse cases, DUIs. Trust me, being a suspect in a murder is diverting. You just gave me some serious street cred amongst my peers.”

  “Glad to make your day,” Nicole said, chuckling along with Hannah. She sincerely doubted a sociopath would have responded in such a manner.

  Hannah, still smiling, leaned forward. “I wish I could help you, but I sincerely don’t know anything about your husband’s murder.”

  “I had to try,” Nicole said as she rose.

  The ADA rose as well, extending her hand. Nicole shook it.

  “If you need anything else, you know where to find me,” Hannah stated.

  Yes, yes Nicole did.

  Well, there went her one and only suspect, crossed off the list.

  Ruben had better find something on the heroin angle.

  * * *

  Ruben was nearly to his sedan when a pair of strong hands grabbed him from behind. His countermeasures were thwarted as he tripped over the curb. More hands secured him, dragging him into the alley.

  Ruben threw an elbow, but it was blocked. Quickly, he was subdued with five or six bodies holding him against the wall. There was no way to get to his gun or his phone.

  Had his intrusion into the gang’s territory caused such a sudden retaliation? And why weren’t they just shooting him?

  “Stop struggling,” a gruff voice demanded.

  There was no way Ruben was going to stop. He had to find his window and get the hell out of here.

  “Damn it, Torres, give it a rest,” an older voice ordered.

  He didn’t sound gang. He sounded command.

  It took a few moments to override his body’s response. Finally his limbs stopped struggling and the men holding him tight, loosen their grip as well.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” the man asked.

  He looked a lot like Ruben’s commanding officer, Glick. That salt and pepper hair. The stern frown that they must have handed out with their captain’s stripes.

  Ruben straightened his jacket. “I was investigating a homicide.”

  “By going in solo to a known drug den? Seriously how stupid are you homicide guys?”

  Ruben tried to shrug it off. “I got out just fine.”

  “And almost blew my entire investigation,” he shot back.

  “You aren’t vice.”

  “Hell no, we’re DEA,” the commander stated, showing Ruben his badge. “Now what were you really doing in there?”

  There was no point in feigning stupid or trying to misdirect the man. He would just call Glick and Ruben’s captain would make Ruben spill it all, so he might as well get it over with. Besides, the DEA might actually be able to help…if they felt like it.

  Cooperation seemed the best route to smooth their ruffled feathers.

  “We have a killer that is using pure heroin as their murder weapon. The bangers said they had a white woman buy a large amount. They thought she worked in the prison system.”

  “We’ve already got her flagged,” the DEA commander replied.

  “Do you know where she was three nights ago?”

  “On duty.”

  Ruben sagged. There went their best lead so far.

&nb
sp; “And I can save you some leg work. None of the other dealers have sold to a sole female perp.”

  “Thanks,” Ruben said, as he walked away from the DEA agents. Nicole was going to be incredibly bummed that this avenue of investigation had run dry.

  “Don’t look so deflated, Torres. For major buys like that, your perp probably went to the dark net. She could score as much pure heroin as she wanted, anonymously there.”

  “Thanks,” Ruben replied, shaking the commander’s hand.

  “Just show your appreciation by not stumbling into another one of my undercover investigations.”

  “I will do my best,” Ruben stated.

  CHAPTER 6

  Nicole turned as Ruben walked into her bedroom. Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains.

  “I got you three different sizes,” her partner said, sounding a little winded. “And the limo is downstairs.”

  It was the morning of her husband’s funeral. It wasn’t until this morning when she went digging through her closet and couldn’t find anything that fit which would be remotely appropriate for her husband’s funeral.

  She had resorted to colorful sun dresses for the latter half of her pregnancy. Nicole took the three black dresses Ruben offered and headed into her bathroom, quickly changing into the largest one. It was a little baggy, but sophisticated. The fact that Ruben had several sisters shone through in his selection. This one would have to do. She really didn’t have time to try on another.

  Racing back into the bedroom, she grabbed her pearl earrings and matching necklace. The earrings slipped in, but she needed help with her necklace, which Ruben was more than happy to give.

  Nicole looked down on her slumbering baby boy. He had no idea what this day meant to her or to him. They were putting his daddy to rest. Never to be seen again.

  “The limo?” Ruben reminded her.

  Nicole stroked her baby’s smooth cheek and leaned in to kiss his nearly bare head. He just had peach fuzz.

  Her father knocked then walked in the door. “Peter and I have it under control.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

  She had decided to leave the baby home. He wouldn’t remember it anyway and she couldn’t risk him getting fussy. Supposedly there were going to be a lot of people at the funeral. She just wanted to get this over with and come home to her baby boy.