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

by Carolyn McCray

  * * *

  Ruben felt like he was going to tip over. His world had been uprooted. He hadn’t done this. Not a single blood speck of it. Yet he was going to be everyone’s number one suspect. His fingerprints were here and he supposed that the blood would be his actual DNA.

  Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to set him up for these grotesque murders.

  Nicole touched his arm.

  He slowly turned to her.

  “We’ll figure this out,” she said.

  Normally he would assume that Kent had done this, but the profiler was dead. And now Ruben was a prime suspect in a multiple murder.

  He didn’t respond to his partner. He couldn’t find the words.

  “We’d better get back to the station before the news hits.”

  Vaguely, Ruben felt himself nod. Nicole urged him over to her Mustang. Joshua said something that Ruben didn’t comprehend then trotted off.

  The drive to the station was a blur. The city went by in fast forward. Nicole was really pushing the accelerator, hitting the lights and sirens, streaking down the streets.

  Suddenly, Ruben jerked out of his stupor. “The baby, you need to feed the baby.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I’ve got a little while yet. Time enough to get you to Glick.”

  Ruben sagged back into his seat. The weight back on his chest. How could this have happened? Who in the world would have his fingerprints, let alone his DNA?

  There were ways to transfer fingerprints. The technique wasn’t all that hard, but it was tedious and was best done on special substrate. Ruben certainly hadn’t volunteered to give his 10 card to someone with a gel tray.

  And his DNA? His blood?

  Each time he tried to think down that path, his brain simply shut down like it refused to acknowledge the possibility, even though it was already a reality.

  “Ruben,” Nicole said. “Get out, we’re here.”

  They couldn’t be. That was way too fast. It felt like he’d been thinking for only a few minutes.

  “Do you want me to call Paggie?” Nicole asked, as they exited the car and headed to the police station. Thank God, there weren’t reporters here yet.

  “No, no. Not until I know more.”

  The station was abuzz with activity. The murders had activated every aspect of the department. He could only imagine the crime lab or the morgue. This kinetic energy would last long into the night.

  Would he be sitting in a jail cell by then?

  They entered the bullpen. Glick was standing at his door, waving them over.

  “Joshua called, let’s hash this out in here.”

  No one in the bullpen seemed surprised as Ruben and Nicole rushed into Glick’s office. It was a common enough occurrence, but this time for a very uncommon reason.

  Nicole clicked the door shut behind them. Glick stayed standing. This was a discussion to have on their feet.

  “What the hell?” their captain asked.

  * * *

  Nicole stepped forward as Ruben stayed mute.

  “Obviously, it is a set up,” Nicole said.

  “Obviously,” Glick said. “But as far as frame ups go, this one is a doozy. Ruben’s fingerprints aren’t just there, they are laced in blood which normally indicates they were made at the time of the crime. And these are complete prints, pristine. Not partials, not smudged.”

  Nicole stepped forward, but leaned against the wall. She was still a little unsteady on her feet after the birth and the breakneck drive over here. “Which, in and of itself, should tell us something. How many murderers leave all full, unsmudged fingerprints?”

  Glick’s bushy eyebrow went up. “My thoughts exactly.” The captain looked Ruben up and down. “He okay?”

  Ruben stood ramrod straight. Not a single expression on his face.

  “He will be once we clear this all up.”

  “We both know a search warrant will be issued for his house and car. Plus we need to get his timeline down cold.”

  Nicole nodded. “Send another city’s CSU team to conduct those searches. We don’t want any hint of impropriety. I’ll interview Ruben.”

  “You?” Glick asked. “What about the optics of that?”

  She waved a hand. “I’ll tape the entire thing, but do we really want anyone else to talk to him in this shape?”

  Glick frowned. “Get it over quickly before we have IA crawling all over this place.”

  Nicole grabbed Ruben’s arm, urging him to the door as her phone rang.

  No doubt who it would be.

  As they exited the room, Nicole answered her phone. “This is not a good time.”

  “Tell me about it,” Kent retorted. “But you want to clear him, don’t you?”

  Nicole’s eyes squinted, even though Kent wasn’t in the same room. “And why would you want to? Isn’t Ruben your foil?”

  “I have my reasons. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Fine.”

  She opened the interrogation room door and slipped her phone into her pocket. She really just needed to get this over with. Her boobs were threatening to burst from her nursing bra. They wanted Logan as much Logan wanted them.

  This was going to be possibly the most awkward interview in the history of interviews.

  * * *

  Ruben should be doing more to help himself. He should be pissed that someone was setting him up. Or he should be scared that they would succeed.

  Instead he was…numb. Something in him had broken. He had lived his life and carried on his career in the most moral way he could. He believed in the rules. He set his compass by them.

  And now the rules were broken. They were shattered in tiny fragments at his feet. He was certain if Kent were alive he would be shaking his head, wondering why Ruben was so freaked out.

  But the profiler lived outside the lines. Way outside the rules. For Kent, the rules collapsing would probably be a relief.

  Not to Ruben though. To Ruben, his world was shattered.

  It was like someone pulled his plug from the wall.

  Nicole put a hand over his arm. “Ruben, we need to get started.”

  It wasn’t like he didn’t know what she wanted. He did. He just couldn’t give it to her.

  “Ruben!” Nicole barked.

  Something about her tone stirred Ruben. He’d heard her use it often enough with Kent. He blinked twice before answering. “Yes?”

  “We’ve got to piece together your yesterday until the moment you showed up at the crime scene.”

  “Of course,” Ruben heard himself say, but didn’t feel the words on his lips.

  “TOD was early morning. You said earlier that you went to a diner and worked there but didn’t recognize the waitress?”

  He nodded.

  “Ruben, you’ve got to answer verbally for the tape.”

  Right. The tape. The tape that would be turned over to IA. The tape that would determine his innocence or guilt.

  No pressure.

  “Ruben?”

  “Sorry, yes, I went to the Pocket Full of Rye diner on 5th. I sat in the back booth, the one with the broken support so you tilt to the left.”

  Nicole frowned. “The place must have been deserted. Why sit in the one rickety booth?”

  Ruben looked up. “Because it tilts me away from my right hip, and it actually helps my sciatica.”

  “Good. Good,” Nicole said across from him, scribbling notes.

  “Why are we bothering with this?” Ruben said, voicing the question from the depth of his being.

  “Because we are going to prove that you are innocent,” Nicole responded, placing her hand over his. In the past, his heart would have soared to have her touch him so.

  Now? It felt like empty pity.

  * * *

  “Oh my God,” Kent sighed in Nicole’s ear. “I told you he was a drama king, momma’s boy.”

  Nicole frowned. Normally she would snap at him, but her husband knew she couldn’t, not without revealing to Ruben that
Kent was really alive.

  And for now, no, especially now, they couldn’t let that little fact slip.

  “Fine. Did he pay by credit card or cash?” Kent asked.

  She repeated the question to Ruben.

  “Cash,” her partner answered.

  “Why in the world would you pay cash?” Nicole asked.

  “Identity theft,” Kent responded in her ear before Ruben echoed the answer.

  Ruben’s eyelids opened and closed a few times. It seemed like a real effort to speak. “After all the organized identity theft I’ve seen, I’ve been using cash anywhere my card would have to leave my sight.”

  Of course, he was. That was just so Ruben. His meticulousness was going to bury him. And Kent had nailed it. Again. Her husband truly was insufferable.

  “Ask him about the rest of the night. Did he pick up anything at a convenience store, gas station, anything to timestamp his whereabouts?”

  “Ruben, what else did you do after the diner?”

  Her partner shrugged. “Not sure.”

  “Jesus, he is a detective, isn’t he?” Kent asked in her ear. “He doesn’t know the name of the waitress? He doesn’t know what he did last night? Is he trying to get convicted?”

  Nicole ignored her husband’s words. He couldn’t see how bad Ruben’s condition was. That Ruben wasn’t himself. That didn’t change the fact that Ruben was not helping his case whatsoever.

  Maybe it was a mistake to tape this interview.

  “Ruben, when did you get home?” Nicole asked.

  “I didn’t,” Ruben responded. “Paggie is a light sleeper. I would have woken her when I came home, then again when I left early in the morning, so I just stayed out.”

  Okay, Kent and she had an odd relationship, but that sounded pretty dysfunctional to Nicole.

  “Did you stay at the diner all night then?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ruben responded with a groan.

  * * *

  Seriously, Ruben was the biggest whiner on the planet. Kent checked his watch. They only had a half an hour before their rendezvous at the house.

  They needed to crack Ruben’s fragile shell.

  “Ask him if he did it,” Kent instructed, as he looked out the window of the car he was “borrowing.” The working girls had staked out their territory and were plying their wares to any car that cruised by. So far, no unusual activity. Had he picked the wrong stalking ground? Would another woman die tonight across the city?

  Would Ruben ever grow a pair?

  Kent listened as Nicole paused, then finally asked Ruben if he’d killed the victims in the meat packing factory.

  “No, Jesus, of course not,” Ruben hissed. “How could you think… how could you think I could put a living human being through a meat grinder?”

  Alright. That got a little rise out of the man.

  “Ask him why not?”

  Nicole paused. She didn’t want to ask this question even more than the last one.

  “Ask, Nicole. We’ve got to get him out of this stupor before IA gets there.”

  With seemingly great reluctance, Nicole asked. “Why, Ruben? Why should I believe you?”

  Kent could hear the rustle of clothing as the tall detective leaned forward. His words were sharp and precise, very unlike his previous speech pattern. “Because I’m not Kent.”

  Ah, even dead, Kent could still find a way to be useful. Ruben’s rage was still intact. And it might even save Ruben’s life.

  * * *

  Ruben could see the horror in Nicole’s eyes. He usually tried to keep his deep, deep disdain for her husband on the down low, especially since the profiler’s death, but occasionally it burst out in the most unexpected ways.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, sitting back down in his chair. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he felt a little bit better. “Her name was Watilda,” he stated. “The waitress.”

  “And after you left the diner?” Nicole asked, still seeming a little standoffish.

  “I drove home,” Ruben answered.

  “But I thought you said you didn’t go home?”

  “I didn’t go inside,” Ruben stated. “I got Paggie’s car and filled it with gas, so in the morning she’d know I’d thought of her, that I love her even though I didn’t share our bed.”

  “You used a credit card for that purchase?” Nicole asked.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure if it will help. The station is only a few miles from the crime scene.”

  “Anything else that could help?” Nicole asked.

  Ruben scanned his brain. There were patches that were still fuzzy, but overall he could think clearly again.

  “Since I’ve been using so much more cash lately,” Ruben explained. “I did go to an ATM not far from the station. I kept thinking that not even a cop should get a couple hundred bucks out in that neighborhood. I kept my badge and my gun plain for all to see.”

  Nicole nodded. “Great. That should be more than enough to establish your movement during the time frame in question.”

  A man burst through the door. He was tall with just-from-the-bottle black hair and a scowl. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Interviewing my partner regarding last night.”

  “You know that is against protocol,” the man growled.

  Nicole spread her hands. “The entire thing is taped, so no harm, no foul.”

  The man flashed his badge. Lieutenant Grant Hollings, Internal Affairs. No great surprise there. “I will be the judge of that.”

  Hollings grabbed Ruben by the arm and tried to jerk him out of the chair. “You are coming with me.”

  Ruben yanked his arm back. “Not without my union rep, I’m not. And my lawyer.”

  The IA detective glared at him, but there was nothing the man could do. Especially if the guy was into protocol as much as he said he was.

  “Fine. Report to my office within the hour.”

  “Gladly,” Ruben stated. He knew the game and he knew how to play it. Now that he felt himself again, Ruben felt confident that he could negotiate the next twenty-four hours. He knew that he didn’t commit those crimes and the evidence would start to pour in, as everyone checked out his alibi and movements.

  Now he just had to keep his nose clean and not do anything stupid to dig himself any other holes.

  Most cops either resisted too much, raising suspicion, or they blabbed on, making mountains out of molehills. Creating investigations into everything under the sun, catching themselves in little lies. Bringing up unpaid parking tickets from ten years ago.

  Now that his head was clear, Ruben knew exactly what to do.

  “I’ll come along,” Nicole said.

  Ruben waited until Hollings stormed out of the room. “No, Nikki, you need to get home to the baby. I’m sure he’s hungry.” Nicole tried to argue, but Ruben shook his head. “Nikki, you are leaking.”

  His partner looked down to find her blouse milk-stained. She clutched the material to her chest.

  “Just go home. I’ll be fine.”

  Glick walked into the room. “I’ll drive him over, Nicole. Go home.”

  Finally, Nicole nodded and left the room.

  Glick slapped Ruben on the back. “Fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “And for once it isn’t Kent’s fault,” Ruben responded.

  “Well, that remains to be seen,” Glick chuckled, as they left the interview room.

  * * *

  Kent got out on foot and did one more pass down the shadier side of the street. Apparently their girl decided not to come out and play tonight. He didn’t have much time to get to his rendezvous with his wife.

  He should call it a night and head back home.

  “Cabrón,” a voice growled from the shadow of an alley.

  This couldn’t be good.

  Kent noticed the glint of metal in the low light. He was so intrigued by the gun that he took a sucker punch to the left eye. Oh, well. Better a punch than a shot.


  “Do I know you?” Kent asked, trying to sound unflustered. A lie.

  “No, but I know you,” a short Latino male came out into the wan pool of streetlight. He sported the backwards baseball cap, white tee shirt, baggy walking shorts of a street thug. Three tear tattoos also graced his face. Three confirmed murders.

  “Then you know I’m dead,” Kent stated

  The young man smiled, revealing a gold tooth. The guy was old school.

  “And I went to that fancy funeral of yours, but I knew it was too good to be true.”

  “Someone you knew was in the warehouse shoot out?” There was no reason to be coy. There was only one place in the world that he and this kid had intersected.

  “My older and younger brother. You killed them,” the cholo stated.

  Kent shook his head. “No, they killed themselves by being there.”

  The young man raised his gun. “Fuck you.”

  Suddenly, Kent realized that he really didn’t want to be dead again. He needed to make this right. “You seem like an intelligent young man,” Kent stated. “You know the statistics. You will either be dead or in jail within the next three years.”

  The young man’s hand shook. The barrel of the gun wavered ever so slightly.

  “Don’t end up like your brothers,” Kent encouraged.

  “Puta,” the young man said, then spat on the sidewalk.

  “You can get out of the life. You can avoid both prison and death.”

  The young man snorted. “Spoken by a privileged gringo.”

  “The fact you know the word privileged kind of makes my point,” Kent retorted.

  “How?” the young man groaned.

  He had been right about the young man. He had all the costuming of a hard core gangbanger, but inside he was something else altogether.

  “Let me help you,” Kent urged.

  “Not me,” he said. “My baby brother, Luís.”

  The man’s gun lowered as a shot rang out in the night air. Red spread across the young man’s crisp white tee shirt.

  “No!” Kent cried over his shoulder, trying to find the shooter. He rushed to the young man as he crumpled to the ground.

  A strange smile crossed his lips. “Wasn’t even three months.”

  Then he breathed out a final rattled breath.

  That’s about when the hail of bullets started.

  Kent had stepped into the middle of a war zone.