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

by Carolyn McCray

  And he loved it when Kent trusted him enough to give him an assignment. The hate part came in when he had to actually finish the assignment. Kent expected miracles in record time.

  Sometimes you just couldn’t pull the rabbit out of the hat in sixty seconds. Someone had to go to the pet store first.

  Kent didn’t care though.

  He’d called ten times already. He wanted everything about juror number nine, like yesterday.

  Joshua nearly jumped out of his seat as Kent and Nicole burst into his lab. He should have been expecting this he supposed. Kent was kind of hands on when his panties were on fire.

  “Hey,” Joshua said nodding to them both.

  “Don’t hey me,” Kent said, striding forward. “Don’t waste breath on it. Just give me the information.”

  Joshua squirmed in his seat. Kent was going to be pissed. Livid. Off the hook.

  Cringing, Joshua told him everything that he knew so far. “Juror number nine is not a retired accountant nor named Seymour Livingston.”

  “Tell me something I didn’t already know,” Kent urged.

  “What do you mean?” Nicole asked.

  Joshua was glad that he wasn’t the only one behind the ball.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Kent stated. When no one answered the profiler continued. “Juror number nine is our serial rapist.”

  ‘What the --” Nicole exclaimed.

  Kent sighed. “I had an inkling in chambers but then he was whisked away by the bailiff…”

  “But how do you know he’s our doer?” Nicole asked.

  Kent sat down on a stool. “He’s the right age for one. And he said he didn’t want to see a miscarriage of justice, again. The other rapes-murders weren’t entered into the record so how did he know about them?”

  * * *

  Damn Kent and his steel-trap mind. Nicole was once again playing catch up. First she’d missed juror number nine. She’d read the first four or five juror’s faces and surmised they had voted guilty, but Kent had read each and every one of their faces and found the outlier juror number nine.

  Then he’d picked up on the man’s slip of the tongue in the judge’s chambers. Nicole had been there. There was no excuse for her missing that tidbit.

  She would feel worse about herself, except for the fact she was comparing herself to the world’s best.

  “Any answer on those finger prints I requested?” Kent asked.

  Joshua looked a little shocked and a lot horrified. “You weren’t kidding? You really wanted juror number nine’s finger prints lifted?”

  “What part of the request sounded like a joke?” Kent asked.

  Oh, her husband was pissed. He normally played with Joshua, only occasionally rebuking the odd morgue attendant, but to flat out not do something Kent asked? What was Joshua thinking?

  “Um… well, aren’t there privacy issues?” Joshua asked in a squeaky voice.

  “Do I look like I care?” Kent asked.

  Joshua shook his head and started texting like a mad man.

  As much to take Kent’s murderous stare off of Joshua, Nicole redirected his attention to a large screen.

  “Walk me through the old murders,” Nicole asked.

  With one last furious glare, Kent turned to her, typing as he spoke, bringing up the old files.

  “There were seventeen rape-murders all around the city. It was really this city’s first major serial case. It paralyzed the police. They just couldn’t get a handle on the case. Then at a traffic stop, a patrolman noticed a bloody cotton rope on the backseat of a Joey Patachi’s car.

  Back then they didn’t have DNA and suddenly the rapes stopped, so they thought they had their man.

  “So did you have the rope retested?” Nicole asked.

  “Couldn’t,” Kent replied. “The evidence was lost years ago. There isn’t even an evidence box any more. Probably misplaced during the move from the old courthouse to the new one.”

  Nicole nodded. A lot, too much, evidence had been lost back then. How many innocent men sat in jail because they couldn’t test old DNA?

  “Was there any other indication Joey was the killer?”

  “Well, he had an alibi problem.”

  “For seventeen dates?”

  “I think he was a mob runner. Better to go to jail for rapes you didn’t commit then try to use his mob connections as alibis.”

  How the city had changed over the last twenty five years. “But the mob has been uprooted for a decade, why didn’t he try to get an appeal?”

  Kent split the screen. “Oh he has, but no one will listen to him without any physical evidence.”

  “Which was lost…” The Catch 22 of the criminal justice system.

  Shrugging Kent indicated to the screen. “So Joey has been sitting in jail for seventeen crimes that he did not commit?”

  “Which was what juror number nine was referring to?”

  Kent nodded. “That is what I believe, yes.”

  * * *

  Joshua was ready to jump out of his seat. He never ever wanted to get that look from Kent again. Ever. Joshua knew that he’d screwed up, but taking a juror’s fingerprints? That sounded like a civil lawsuit to him.

  But he should have remembered the first rule of working with Kent. What Kent wanted, Kent got.

  Luckily Jimmi had been at the courthouse so had run over and scanned the prints.

  “Okay… the guy’s name is…Anthony, ‘Tony,’ Fifle… wait… make that detective Fifle.”

  Both Kent and Nicole took in deep breaths. Joshua both loved and hated that sound. It meant the detectives knew something he didn’t.

  “What?” What the heck was he missing? Again?

  Nicole pointed to the police records from the first seventeen murders. All were signed by Detective Fifle.

  “I’ll be damned,” Kent whispered.

  “He committed the crimes, then investigated them,” Nicole finished for her husband.

  The awesomeness that was Kent only grew in depth and width. He’d nailed it on the head.

  “Did he give an address on his jury form?” Kent asked.

  “Yes, but it was bogus. An abandoned building,” Joshua answered. Johnny on the spot. He was not going to mess up again.

  Not ever. He’d rather give up his annual Disneyland pass before he’d screw up again.

  “How do you know it is bogus?” Kent asked.

  “It is on the demolition schedule for next month,” Joshua said bringing up a photo of a severely dilapidated building.

  “Wait. Isn’t that the old 1-7 precinct house?”

  “I’m not sure,” Joshua said, squinting at the broken windows. How could that place have once been a police station? Still he typed away, digging into the history of the building. “Yep. It was once the 1-7.”

  “So maybe the address isn’t bogus at all,” Nicole said.

  * * *

  “You think Filfe is hiding out in the abandoned police station?” Kent asked her.

  “I mean, that can’t be a coincidence, can it?” Nicole replied.

  Kent frowned, cocking his head side to side. “It would present a very interesting psychopathology, that is for certain.”

  “Shall we go check it out?” Nicole asked as she fished around in her purse for her keys. They were going to need the Mustang for this outing.

  Kent nodded and followed her out.

  “Maybe I should go alone,” Kent suggested.

  “What? Now you get worried about my safety?” Nicole teased but Kent seemed serious for once, frowning deeply. “Why?”

  Kent shrugged. “This guy is imploding.”

  “Imploding?” Nicole queried. She knew that killers could devolve but involute?

  Kent kept them moving. “He must have known we would look into him after serving on the jury. He is acting in opposition to his best interest. He knows the end is coming. Suicide is the logical conclusion.”

  “Then why are you worried about me?” Nicole asked.

/>   “Because he might want to make a statement…”

  It was Nicole’s turn to frown. “You mean blow the building or something?”

  “Yes, and I for one don’t want to leave Logan an orphan.”

  Kent surprised her, on a daily basis. Just the sheer number of people at his funeral and how diverse they were. From social workers to kings they were all there to honor him. And now sincere concern for their child.

  Maybe everyone was wrong, including her, and Kent really was growing up. A little later than most, but still evolving.

  “Thanks, but I didn’t get the sense that he wanted to hurt anyone else.”

  Kent’s eyebrow went up. “You do remember he has raped and killed at least twenty-three people?”

  Nicole didn’t back down though. “And Lucky 37 killed hundreds, yet still had a moral compass. It was wonky but there. I think Tony has the same moral center.”

  Kent looked her up and down as they arrived at the Mustang. “My, my, the student looks to surpass the master.”

  Nicole blushed. Her husband’s opinion shouldn’t matter so much, but it did.

  “Then that is settled,” Nicole said as she got into the Mustang and revved the engine.

  * * *

  Kent watched his wife as she drove them across town. Something had happened to her while she thought he was dead. It was only for a few days, but not having him around had strengthened her in a way he didn’t expect.

  She was more confident. Less likely to simply demure to his theories.

  On one hand he was proud. On the other, it was a little annoying.

  And potentially dangerous. They were both betting a lot on Tony’s grace.

  Skidding to a stop, Nicole slid them up to the curb and killed the engine right outside the entrance to the old police precinct.

  The walls were tagged. Not just a tag here or there, but completely tagged. There was no longer any blank space. Apparently the building hadn’t exactly been a popular spot amongst the citizens.

  “Looks locked up tight,” Nicole said.

  The main doors had a thick chain along with a very large padlock.

  Kent shrugged. “Get the bolt cutters from the trunk.”

  “We’ve got bolt cutters?” Nicole queried.

  “I don’t know about you, but I certainly do.”

  In his line of work, breaking and entering was a prerequisite. Small locks and big locks. Kent didn’t allow a little thing like a security feature to thwart him.

  Nicole opened the trunk, fished around and came up with a large pair of bolt cutters. “But he can’t keep breaking and replacing the pad lock,” Nicole said.

  “No, he had some secret entrance, we just don’t have time to find it.”

  Kent held out his hand for the instrument, but Nicole walked past him, set the blades against the metal chain and popped the link.

  Like he said. Nicole had grown stronger in his absence. Good to know.

  Nicole pushed the door and it groaned, opening into a lobby thick with dust and spider webs.

  “They should sell tickets at Halloween,” Kent stated.

  “Only if they want a bunch of personal injury lawsuits,” Nicole replied, pointing to the floor. There were patches busted in. Termites. Those little buggers had no respect for anything.

  Slowly they picked their way through the lobby and headed for the stairs. These guys always went into the basement. Always.

  Kent could see the frown on Nicole’s face. She was none too thrilled with basements, especially after the last few she’d been in.

  But the basement it was.

  As they approached the stairwell, light bloomed from below.

  Kent barely bumped into a desk and it came crashing to the floor. The legs were rusted through. Nicole pulled her gun, holding it off to her side as she slowly descended the steps. Kent followed checking above them in case there was some type of booby trap.

  There was not. Nicole seemed right in her assessment. Tony wished only harm to himself at this point.

  They exited the stairwell to find the basement transformed from an old evidence locker to a palatial subterranean apartment. The walls were a sophisticated cream color with works of art lining them. Spacious wool rugs covered the floor.

  There was a beautiful early 1900 couch and matching chairs surrounding a cherry coffee table.

  Tony was living the life down here. Although he was nowhere to be seen.

  “We know you are here. You know we are here,” Kent stated. “So let’s get this over with.”

  Tony had killed his victims with a single slice across their throats. Kent was more than happy to oblige. But he couldn’t kill this one. This one they needed alive if they ever hoped to prove that Joey and Alfred were innocent. Unfortunately.

  Kent took the lead as Nicole followed close on his heel.

  They were halfway across the long room when a single figure stepped out in front of a large gas fireplace. The flames snapped and cracked behind the serial rapist-murderer.

  “I knew this was a risk,” Tony said.

  “Then why did you join the jury?” Kent asked trying to figure out this killer’s twisted psychology.

  The man sighed heavily. “I couldn’t allow another man to pay my debt to society.”

  “You kill women for fun,” Kent stated.

  “Kent!” Nicole hissed as she always did. She really didn’t like it when he baited killers. So there was still something for him to teach her.

  “Well?” Kent demanded.

  “They were dirty whores and deserved it. But these men…they were innocent.”

  “Then why didn’t you come forward 27 years ago?”

  A slow smile spread across Tony’s lips. “Were you ready to confess your sins in your youth, Special Agent?”

  Hell, Kent wasn’t ready to admit them now.

  Tony nodded as if Kent had said something out loud. “Once Joey was arrested I wrestled my inner demons down for at least a year, then moved and became more sophisticated. Killed further from home. I had a good run there.”

  “How many?” Kent asked.

  Tony shrugged. “Enough.”

  “What brought you back here?” Nicole asked, her gun trained at Tony.

  “The urges just stopped. The roar at the back of my head each time I saw an attractive woman. My desire blew itself out so I decided to finally come home,” Tony explained.

  “Step forward,” Nicole urged the killer.

  “I don’t think so,” Tony said.

  Nicole cocked her gun. “Don’t make me go through the motions. You were a cop.”

  Again Tony smiled indicating down. He was standing in a pool of what looked like gasoline. The accelerant shimmered in the heat from the fireplace.

  Kent pushed Nicole’s gun down. He had no interest in watching Tony go up in smoke.

  “Then why the five rapes here?” Kent asked.

  Tony laughed harshly. “A stupid doctor noticed I had mild anemia and low testosterone and gave me an injection and voila! My urges came back.”

  With a flourish Tony took a lighter out of his pocket.

  “Tony, don’t. Those men won’t be free if you kill yourself. Your admission to us will be considered hearsay.”

  “Don’t worry. I took trophies. They are in a safety deposit box. I mailed the key along with my confession to your precinct.”

  “No!” Kent yelled, but it was too late.

  * * *

  One second Tony was there and then there was a screaming flame. The sight went beyond horrific. The sound. The smell. The anguish.

  Kent rushed forward, grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and set it on Tony.

  Nicole called in for back up and a bus as Kent tried to put Tony out. It wasn’t easy.

  “Record this! Record it!” Kent yelled as he dropped down beside Tony.

  Nicole didn’t bother to ask why, she just started filming the scene with her phone’s camera.

  There wasn’t any skin on T
ony’s face any more. Just muscles and ligaments.

  He coughed like the old Crypt Keeper that used to freak Nicole out as a pre-teen. God, there was a reason why she hated basements.

  The smell of burnt flesh clung in the air, turning Nicole’s stomach. But what was worse was that crispy, burnt creature could still talk.

  “I did it….I did it,” the now unrecognizable creature said. Maybe this is what he had always looked like. The monster beneath the skin. “I killed all 23 women after I raped them. It was me. Not Joey or Alfred. Me.”

  Then that wet rattling cough again. That’s when it dawned on Nicole why she was recording it. Dying declarations were the exception to the hearsay rule.

  Then the creature gasped once, his eyelidless orbs looked straight to the ceiling, and died.

  Kent backed away from the body.

  “That was…”

  “Harsh,” Nicole finished for her husband.

  Kent nodded. “Not that he didn’t deserve it.”

  Nicole couldn’t argue.

  Behind them EMTs, the Fire Department and a bunch of cops burst in.

  Nicole and Kent backed away. Their job here was done. It was time to let the others do their thing.

  Then Ruben walked in. A deep frown on his features.

  “What is it?” Nicole asked.

  Her partner ignored her and pulled Kent’s arms behind his back. “Kent Harbinger, you are under arrest for murder.”

  “Ruben!” Nicole shouted. “What are you doing?”

  Again her partner did not address her, but kept talking to Kent. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will used against you in a court of law.”

  “Damn it, Ruben!” Nicole yelled as she tried to pull Ruben away from Kent.

  Finally he turned to her. “The grand jury voted for the indictment.”

  “It’s okay, babe,” Kent tried to reassure her.

  But how could it be? Her husband was being arrested right in front of her.

  “Nicole, this is happening,” Ruben stated.

  That was all too apparent.

  Ruben turned back to Kent. “If you cannot afford a lawyer one will be appointed...”

  Nicole got her phone out, dialing their lawyer. “Don’t say a word,” she said to Kent.