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

by Carolyn McCray

  “This is concerning?” The man asked.

  “Why don’t we have a seat?” Nicole said, sitting on the couch to encourage Mr. Parrish to do the same.

  She waited until he was seated. Earlier in her career, she had made the mistake of giving news like this to standing family members. A few near concussions as they fainted from shock had taught her to make sure they were sitting before she started talking.

  Nicole pulled out her phone and brought up Mrs. Parrish’s picture. Joshua had sent one from the school, rather than one from the crime scene, for obvious reasons.

  “Is this your ex-wife?” Nicole asked.

  “Yes…”

  “I’m sorry to inform you that she was killed last night.”

  “What? No. It couldn’t be.”

  “I am sorry, but it is. And worse, both of her brothers were killed…along with…”

  “Along with?” Mr. Parrish asked, clearly anxious to hear her next words.

  “I am so sorry, but your son, Nicolas was also killed.”

  “No, that can’t be.”

  “I’m afraid it is.”

  Mr. Parrish popped up off the couch. “No, I mean Nicolas spent the night with me. It was my night. I took him to school this morning.”

  Nicole was up as well. “This isn’t your son?”

  This time the picture was from the crime scene. Joshua had cropped it as best he could, but the morgue attendant couldn’t hide the blood splatter.

  “The boy is familiar but that’s not Nicolas.”

  Nicole scrolled down the information that Joshua had sent. “But your son’s blood type is A-, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I am telling you that is not Nicolas.”

  This was not how she thought this interview was going to go.

  “Sir, can you please call the school and confirm your son’s presence?”

  The man was all over it. Pulling out his phone and speed dialing the school as she pulled out her phone and called Joshua.

  “What’s up Nicole?”

  “Put him on.”

  Joshua stammered, “Why? I mean what--”

  “Joshua! Give him the phone.”

  Kent came on the line. “I thought we agreed on radio silence?”

  “That boy wasn’t Nicolas Parrish.”

  “What do you mean?” Kent asked, sounding for once in his life surprised. That she actually knew something before he did. Nicole had to say it was a satisfying feeling.

  “I am here with the father and he says Nicolas was safely with him and went to school this morning.”

  “Are we sure that --”

  Mr. Parrish swung to Nicole, smiling ear to ear giving a huge thumb’s up.

  “Yes, he just confirmed that Nicolas is at school right now.”

  “Then who in the hell is that boy?”

  “Not sure, but I’m going to try and figure it out,” Nicole said then disconnected the call.

  She stepped closer to Mr. Parrish. “You said the boy looked familiar?”

  “Yes. I think. Nicolas has a lot of friends and plays soccer and basketball. It could be any of those kids.”

  “Can we look up the teams online?”

  “Are you sure the body is my ex-wife’s?” Mr. Parrish asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, her identity has been confirmed by fingerprints on file from the school.”

  Mr. Parrish grabbed his jacket. “Then I’ve got to get to Nicolas before he learns of this from anyone else.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Nicole said. There was no reason to pressure Mr. Parrish. She might as well go to the source.

  The junior high. They could tell her what students didn’t show for class…because they were in her morgue.

  * * *

  Ruben sat enjoying the morning air. He and Sonya had gone out for coffee before their second round IA interrogation.

  She smiled across the outdoor table, putting away her phone. “More good news. The more forensics that come out, the more they clear your name.”

  “As they should,” Ruben commented.

  Sonya’s smile deepened. “Sorry. I’m used to less-than-innocent clients. You can’t live with scumbags, and you can’t put them into a meat grinder.”

  Even though that had clearly been a poor attempt at a joke, that didn’t mean Ruben had to encourage her.

  “Sorry. Too soon?” she asked.

  “Permanently,” Ruben replied.

  She tilted her head. “Again. Sorry. This time for real. I forgot you are such a straight shooter.”

  He didn’t know about that. But joking about bodies in a meat grinder crossed about a dozen lines.

  “And how are you getting the results so quickly?” Ruben asked.

  Sonya shrugged. “I’ve got my sources in the morgue. Helps to find things out before the opposition.”

  Ruben frowned.

  “Oh come on, Ruben, lighten up. It’s not like I’m committing high treason.”

  While Ruben was slightly concerned with the questionable ethics of Sonya having a source inside the morgue, he was more interested in what impact her news had on the case.

  In theory, only law enforcement should have access to the morgue’s databank. But clearly that wasn’t the case. And Sonya couldn’t be the only defense attorney with her fingers in the morgue.

  That expanded their search exponentially for a female suspect with access to the database that Joshua had used.

  No wonder they had come up dry on prosecutors and such. They were looking on the wrong side of the aisle.

  “Ruben?” Sonya asked.

  “Yes. I’m fine. I just need to get going.”

  “Not on anything police-related, I hope?” she asked. “Remember. Until I can get this cleared up, you are officially suspended.”

  Would Kent have let that stop him? It never had.

  Of course, look where that had landed him.

  “I won’t violate the conditions of my suspension, I promise,” Ruben stated.

  Sonya’s eyebrow went up as he rose from his chair. “Why am I not reassured by those words? Remember we’re supposed to be at IA in twenty minutes.”

  Ruben hugged his old college friend. “Don’t worry.”

  “I am very worried, but I doubt if anything I say is going to change your course of action.”

  Ruben didn’t even bother to answer. Instead he pulled out his phone and began dialing Glick. He looked back to find Sonya on her phone as well. Although she had the oddest look on her face.

  That’s about when he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull.

  His phone clattered to the ground as the world went black.

  CHAPTER 14

  As Nicole walked into the principal’s office, all the feelings from her childhood flooded in. Why did all principals’ offices look and smell the same?

  They were all painted in some unassuming beige or light green. The desks were circa 1960’s. The file cabinets had probably never been replaced since they were installed.

  The woman behind the counter had a pinched face and sour expression. All those years working with adolescents.

  Nicole felt her stomach clench up and her heart beat faster. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t in trouble. That nothing bad was going to happen.

  But that old dread still clung to her like decades old spider webs.

  She flashed her badge at the woman behind the counter. “May I speak with the principal?”

  The woman’s lips screwed up like she’d just been forced to suck on a lime. Nicole knew that the woman didn’t want to allow Nicole behind those precious swinging doors. The blockade was solid.

  “It is official police business,” Nicole said, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Will the vice principal do?” the woman asked.

  Nicole allowed the woman this little moral victory. “Sure.”

  Besides, the vice principal was usually in charge of discipline, therefore had far more access to the kids on a daily basis. The woman�
�s ploy had actually worked in Nicole’s favor.

  Nicole walked through the short swinging doors and entered the woman’s inner sanctum as the woman knocked on a door.

  “Ms. Goetz?” the woman asked, nearly choking on the Ms.

  “Come in,” a welcoming voice answered.

  The vice principal’s door opened to reveal an office papered in bright posters. Some rainbow, encouraging tolerance to the LBGTQ community. Others encouraging reporting of bullies. And still others with kittens dangling off branches espousing “Hang in there.”

  The secretary clearly did not hold the vice principal’s views as she frowned, looking around. She didn’t step over the threshold.

  Nicole though entered the office, feeling far more at ease. Maybe if she’d had a vice principal like this, she wouldn’t have the dread in her belly.

  The vice principal rose, offering her hand. “I’m Ms. Goetz and you are?”

  “Sorry, Detective Harbinger.” There she’d finally gotten it right. “I’m here to identify a murder victim.”

  “Oh no,” Ms. Goetz sighed. “That’s just horrible. How can I help you?”

  Nicole showed the picture of the boy to the vice principal. But the middle-aged woman shook her head. She had a red streak in her hair that bounced at the motion.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize him, but we have a lot of students. I only personally know about a tenth of them.”

  The truant tenth more than likely.

  “Can we check the absences today?” Nicole asked.

  “Of course, but I am alerted to any unauthorized absences at first period.”

  “I know, but the killer is clever, they may have manufactured a reasonable excuse for the student to not be here today.”

  The vice principal nodded and picked up the phone. “Mrs. Herman could you please bring me a list of all absences today?” There was some squawking from the other end of the phone. “Yes, Mrs. Herman I know that, but I need the full list please.” Ms. Goetz gave Nicole an embarrassed smile as she continued. “Yes, I know that isn’t protocol, but I would really appreciate it.”

  There was the sharp sound of a dial tone. Apparently Mrs. Herman didn’t agree to the urgent circumstances.

  Ms. Goetz hung up the phone and turned to her computer. “Oh well, I might as well get used to this new software anyway.”

  Good thinking. Ms. Goetz was far more patient than Nicole. She would have had a few choice words for the older woman, but Ms. Goetz was all about getting down to the task.

  “Let’s see. I only have one male absence today, a banner day for us. It is Howey Lemowitz. And his mother called to tell us he had the flu.”

  The vice principal turned the screen to Nicole. The boy looked nothing like the one in the picture.

  Nicole rose. “Thank you.”

  “I am so sorry I couldn’t help,” the vice principal stated. She scribbled down a classroom number. “This is Coach Varding’s class. He coaches most of the after school athletic teams. He might be able to help.”

  “Again, thanks for the help.”

  Nicole went to leave the office but Ms. Goetz stood up. “And I’m sorry for your husband. It was a tragic loss.”

  Turning around, Nicole asked. “And how did you know my husband?”

  “Dalia and a few other of his charges. He kept in touch with me to make sure they were doing okay in school.”

  For the life of her, Nicole couldn’t believe after all these years that Kent could still surprise her. When did he have all this extra time that she didn’t know about. She was beginning to suspect that a lot of Kent’s “stalking” time might actually have been consumed by humanitarian efforts, which of course he would have to keep on the down low. He couldn’t have his love for the children under his wing leak out.

  It would totally ruin his street cred.

  “Yet I see congratulations are in order?” Ms. Goetz stated indicating down to Nicole’s still lumpy belly. “Kent was so excited about the baby. May I ask what you ended up naming him?”

  It was way weird to have someone that Nicole didn’t know personally have so much information about her. To say it was uncomfortable was an understatement.

  Still she didn’t want to be rude. “Logan.”

  The vice principal smiled. “For Wolverine. Nice.”

  Okay, that was way TMI.

  Nicole turned and left with a little hand wave to get her out of there. She exited into the office with a scowl from Mrs. Herman.

  Ignoring the old woman, Nicole headed to classroom 4T.

  She would certainly be glad when Kent was resurrected and he could do his own errands.

  * * *

  Kent snuck along the back hallways of the morgue. Luckily, he had a lot of experience at it. He was still waiting for Nicole to get back to him regarding their teenage victim’s identity.

  He had that feeling in his gut. The boy was the key.

  The child had been an improvisation. Their female unsub had a very specific picture in her mind. A mother, two uncles and a teenage boy as victims. That family set meant something extremely important to the female killer. Not so much for Bute, Kent guessed.

  But last night when they took the family, the boy was gone. Bute probably didn’t care, but the female assailant did, so they went and picked out another boy who looked like the boy she had thought she would be killing.

  Another mistake. Her desire was so insatiable that they went off book. That was going to cost them.

  The boy was the key.

  He came in the back door to the morgue to find Joshua up on his toes in a spastic “Footloose” kind of move.

  “Are you…” Even for Kent it took him a few minutes to process what he was seeing. “Were you just doing an interpretive dance to Taylor Swift?”

  Joshua frowned. “Maybe…”

  Kent just chuckled. Joshua certainly brought randomness into the day.

  “Are you ready to work now?” Kent asked.

  “You know it!” Joshua said, springing into action.

  Kent walked over to the computer terminal that Joshua was working at. “We’ve got to be ready to track down the boy once we have an identity.”

  Joshua cracked his knuckles. “On it.”

  They stood there silently for a few seconds, looking down at Joshua’s phone, awaiting Nicole’s call.

  “Taylor Swift?” Kent asked. “Seriously?”

  “A man’s gotta listen to his heart.”

  Kent chuckled. “No, sometimes he doesn’t.”

  * * *

  After getting lost about three times, Nicole remembered how much she had hated middle school. Such an awkward time. Not a child and not yet an obnoxious teenager.

  Of course, this gym teacher also taught, of all things, science. It had baffled her even back in her childhood that the same person that supervised dodge ball somehow was qualified to teach such a complicated course as science.

  The lovely secretary had sent her to Mr. Varding’s science lab, but he was teaching soccer. So all that winding through halls during class break had been for naught. She’d gotten quite a few stares. Kids looking her up and down. A few were girls, so apparently some things had changed since she’d gone to junior high.

  Finally she made her way into the gym and cut across the basketball courts to the coach’s office.

  She knocked on the half glass door. “Mr. Varding?”

  “Just call me Coach,” the man said, standing up from his desk.

  Mr. Varding was a rather short man with an impressive beer belly sticking out over his belt. It always surprised her when a gym teacher was as out of shape as Mr. Varding. What was the message they were sending to the next generation? The man couldn’t help being nearly bald.

  He should be arrested just for that comb over.

  “I am Detective Harbinger and I was wondering if you recognized this boy?” she asked, showing him the picture on her phone.

  Way too fast, the gym teacher replied, “No, no, sorry.
”

  Nicole cocked her head. “You’re sure. We are pretty sure he played on a league sport team.”

  “I…I only coach soccer and baseball. He could be on the basketball team.”

  His speech pattern was too fast. His eyes darting to the side.

  “Mr. Varding, is there something you would like to share?”

  The man’s head bobbed, jiggling his double chin. “Yes,” he said, as he shifted papers on his desk. “I have the basketball coach’s number here somewhere.”

  Nicole waited as he pulled open drawers then slammed them closed. “You know what, I think I have the sign-up flyer in my locker.”

  He made his excuses and exited a back door that lead directly into the locker room.

  Nicole got out her phone, dialing Joshua. Kent was the one that answered. No great surprise there. “Kent, there’s something off about the gym teacher.”

  “Bring him in,” her husband ordered.

  “Why?” Nicole asked, as she headed into the locker room. “Police,” she announced as she walked in. “Cover up if anyone is in here.”

  “Just get him.”

  A shot pinged off the tile behind her.

  Mr. Varding was shooting at her!

  “Gotta go, Kent. Send back up.”

  She shoved her phone back into its holder as she popped the strap off her holster and pulled her gun.

  “Mr. Varding, you don’t want to do this. Whatever your crimes, shooting at a cop is a thousand times worse.”

  There was a wet wailing sound coming from across the locker room. Was Mr. Varding bawling? That didn’t stop him from shooting a few more times.

  Triangulating his position, Nicole slipped behind a set of lockers and came up the back wall.

  Then heavy footsteps as Mr. Varding made for the door. Nicole wasn’t in the best shape of her life, but even she could overtake the overweight gym teacher.

  She caught up to him just as he was going to exit the locker room.

  “Stop!” she ordered.

  The man froze. That police voice got them every time.

  “Drop the gun.”

  To that, he didn’t respond. The gun was down, but still in his possession.

  “Look, I really don’t want to shoot you in the back, but I will. I can’t let you out into the school with a gun.”

  She could practically hear the gym teacher’s thoughts. Wondering if he could turn and shoot before she could.