He’d also done his homework on the profiler. He hadn’t caught the attention of just any G-man, but the profiler with the most captures in FBI history.
On some level, that made him proud. He’d killed at will for over a decade. It turned out his papa hadn’t been right when he said that Lucky wouldn’t amount to anything. It turned out that not only did he like raping and killing, he was damned good at it. World-class, even. He’d gone out for a nice cold beer when he’d made the FBI’s Most Wanted list.
That was an abstract thought, though. It meant very little to his day-to-day life to know that every FBI agent in the country was looking for him. To have a single, determined FBI agent was a whole other ballgame.
The profiler broke off from the crowd, bringing his lady with him.
Did he know he was the one being hunted now?
Lucky knew that he should just pull up stakes and go to a new hunting ground, but this profiler intrigued him. Could it get any better than to be hunting a hunter? And that woman of his. She’d make a good lay, he was guessing.
The only thing he knew for sure as he revved his hog was that this was going to be a very interesting few days.
SHALLOW GRAVE – the bridge short story between Wallflower and Buzz Kill
CHAPTER 1
Nicole tried really hard not to step on any branches, but being out here in the deep forest, that was a little hard. The ground was branches. Kent, of course, was ahead of her, coursing silently through the underbrush.
Every sound startled her. Lucky 37 could be behind any tree. As a matter of fact, the probability was that the serial killer was behind one of these trees.
Kent had found the woman he was shacking up with, a Loma Milan. A waitress from the biker bar. Lucky had dropped off the grid the day after Yvent passed around his sketch at the bar. He had, though, told Loma that he frequently camped on the road, and she reported that Lucky liked the smell of cedar. Hence why, on a Friday night, when most couples were out to dinner, they were trekking around this spooky cedar forest.
Of course, Yvent wasn’t here, since he was on Sabbath. Lucky kid.
There was no moon, and Kent had refused to use flashlights, as well as making her leave her gun behind. She certainly would feel safer with it. However, wasn’t that Kent’s point? That her gun gave her a false sense of security? That she needed to learn to operate without it?
Well, that didn’t mean she had to like it.
Kent reached back and grabbed her hand, his thumb sliding up her left hand’s fourth finger. “Still not wearing the ring? Eh?”
Even in the near pitch black, Nicole was certain that Kent could see her cheeks blush. She pulled her hand from his, despite how warm and reassuring it had felt.
“Are you sure you don’t want a diamond?” Kent whispered into the night.
“No,” Nicole said. “I love it.”
“You just don’t like wearing it?” Kent retorted.
He had every right to be frustrated. They’d been engaged for weeks, yet Nicole hadn’t officially announced it. Ruben and a few others knew, those who had attended the victim’s funeral. So why was she so reluctant to wear the engagement ring? She was going to marry Kent, so that wasn’t the issue. So what was?
Kent pulled to a stop and cocked his head, waiting for something, but when it didn’t materialize he looked to her. “Are you embarrassed by me?”
“Usually?” Nicole replied. “Yes, but that’s not it.”
“Then what is it?” Kent asked.
Nicole had no idea. She just knew that every time she went to slip the beautiful ring onto her finger, she found one reason or another not to put it on. Like she was going to wash dishes soon. Yeah, right.
Kent, God love him, let it go and headed back out into the forest. Most other men would pester her about her reasons. Kent gave her the room and space to figure it out for herself. Which was great, but a little lonely. She almost wanted him to demand she wear it so she didn’t have to fret about it any longer.
But she couldn’t think much more on it, otherwise Kent would disappear into the trees. Nicole hurried to catch up.
They’d been out here over an hour, trying to find Lucky 37’s campsite. Her shoes were probably ruined, and she needed a shower. The longer they were out here, the more impossible it seemed that they would find Lucky. Wasn’t this the equivalent of trying to find a needle in the proverbial haystack? This state park, however, was no stack—this section of the park alone was over a thousand acres.
Kent had narrowed that down to areas that allowed camping and were accessible by Harley. Still, they could search a thousand nights and not find Lucky. That was, unless Lucky wanted to find them. Kent hadn’t been any too subtle back at the ranger station. Actually, he had made quite a show of their investigation and his intent to search the park.
Nicole assumed he was trying to bait Lucky to come out to play. One of Kent’s patented moves. He liked to appeal to their egos by throwing down the gauntlet.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted Lucky to take the bait or not.
Then the crisp sound of a branch breaking filled the night air. That was not her. It had come from ahead of them. And a campfire flickered in the distance. Could they really have found Lucky’s campsite?
Nicole looked to Kent, who seemed nearly as surprised as she was. He always seemed so cocky. It was nice to know that even he had his doubts.
He put his finger to his lips and moved out. The going got easier as they approached the fire. Imagine that. Light helped in the dark. A revelation.
Kent indicated she should go to the left as he went to the right. Great. Now they were splitting up. And her without a weapon. Kent’s tongue was the only weapon he usually needed. The man was a word ninja. What did she have?
Nicole picked up a large stick from the ground as she made her way around the periphery of the campfire. There was no evidence of Lucky. At least, not yet.
The forest creaked and groaned as a coyote cried in the night. Nicole didn’t want it to, but a chill went right up her back and settled at the base of her skull. Something was wrong here.
Were those signs of a struggle in the dirt around the fire? And if this was Lucky’s camp, why wasn’t there a tent, or a campfire stove? It did not look like someone was living here. The flames looked more like they were from a bonfire than a small campfire.
She didn’t need Kent to tell her this was all wrong.
Then Nicole saw it. Blood. Lots of blood. It glistened ominously in the firelight. She took a few more steps to find a girl. She was on the ground, her dress torn, her panties down.
Nicole rushed forward, throwing her stick into the flames. It crackled and snapped as it caught fire. She dropped to her knees beside the teenage girl. There was little doubt what happened here. Multiple stab wounds to the belly, along with the word “whore” carved into her chest.
She’d seen enough not to be horrified or nauseated. That didn’t mean she wasn’t affected. Carefully, she reached out and checked the girl’s pulse. There was none, but the body was still warm to the touch. She couldn’t have been dead long. Less than an hour. They had been only minutes away from saving her.
Kent watched from the forest, brushing debris from his coat. “They’re gone.”
“They?” Nicole said. “Isn’t this Lucky 37?”
The profiler shook his head. “Look at the footprints,” Kent said, indicating to the ground. “There are at least four distinct prints. Lucky works alone.”
“But the rape…”
“She’s too young for him,” Kent said. “He likes his woman older and, well, skankier. My bet is that this girl was a virgin.”
From the cotton candy pink dress and Hello Kitty watch, Nicole knew that Kent was probably right.
“There have been a few cases like this,” Nicole said. “None with the word ‘whore,’ but teenage rapes and deaths.”
“Yes, but over a three-state area,” Kent responded.
“Do you think t
hey are connected?”
“There are no coincidences in investigations.”
Nicole cocked her head. “Well, then what are the chances that we were looking for Lucky 37 and stumbled upon a whole other crime?”
“None,” Kent said. “Because we didn’t stumble upon anything.”
A coyote cried, this time closer, setting Nicole’s teeth on edge. She really wanted to get back to the urban jungle she was used to. This getting back to nature thing wasn’t working for her.
“What do you mean?” Nicole asked, trying to stop obsessing on how many animal eyes were on her right now.
“I mean that Lucky 37 led us to this crime site. He’s just that good.”
“How would he know where this body was if he didn’t commit the crime?”
“Have you forgotten already?” Kent asked.
How Nicole hated it when she didn’t perform up to Kent’s insanely high standards. She thought hard, scanning her brain for what was already so obvious to Kent.
“Serial killers many times are aware of other serialists working in their area,” Nicole stated.
Kent nodded. “Exactly. They are surveillance experts. Like two tigers hunting in the same forest. They know their territory and don’t cross into the other’s killing zone.”
“But why would Lucky 37 lead us to a crime? Is there no honor amongst serial killers?”
“No,” Kent said bluntly. “So why would Lucky 37 draw us here? Think it through and answer your own question.”
Ugh. Again on the hot seat. Where was Kent’s intern, Yvent, when she needed him to take some of the heat? She swallowed hard, standing up, moving away from the body, trying to leave as little contamination to the crime scene as possible.
Why would one serial killer point the finger at another serial killer? It made no sense.
“Sorry,” Nicole said. “I’ve got nothing.”
* * *
Nicole, Nicole, Nicole, Kent thought. She so badly wanted to be a profiler, yet gave up so easily. Her basic good nature refused to let her follow a serial killer’s mind down the rabbit hole. Kent, on the other hand, usually jumped in with abandon.
“All right. Forget about Lucky 37 for a moment. What can you tell me about these murderers?” he asked, throwing her a softball question.
“Well, there is a group of them,” Nicole said. “Apparently male,” she went on. “I would guess similarly aged to the victim. A gang rape?”
Kent shook his head. “A gang rape is usually a spontaneous event, a frat-party-gone-wrong kind of situation. If these boys have done this before, the crime is premeditated, so that makes them…”
He studied the poor girl’s body. To have met an end so cruel. He even forgave her the pink dress. Youthful infractions.
“Them what?” Nicole asked.
“We are looking for a pack.”
“A pack? How is that different than a gang?”
“Again, a gang rape is spontaneous. Usually, young males get caught up in the moment and act out their worst aggressions. There is usually a ringleader in a gang rape—someone who initiates the rape, then encourage the rest to follow suit. However, a pack has a well-established alpha male that can control several other beta males over a long period of time and distance. In many ways, a pack is easier to locate, due their predictable predatory habits, but far harder to break.”
“So it feels like we are looking for maybe a team? That would be a pre-packaged alpha-dominated pack,” Nicole suggested.
Kent nodded. “Exactly. Like I said, usually easy to identify, but once we get them in the room, they usually hold up under interrogation. Prolonged peer pressure like that induces an almost cult-like level of loyalty.”
“At least we know what we are looking for.”
Nicole had proven herself here. Maybe she was ready to tackle their solo rapist again.
“Lucky 37 has been raping and killing for, what? How many years?” Kent asked.
“As best we can tell, he started in the eighties and has been active ever since,” Nicole answered, correctly.
“Then Lucky realizes that I am onto him. He could have left town, but chose not to. I think his ritual is too engrained. Once started, at this point, he must finish it,” Kent explained, but that light didn’t go off on Nicole’s face. He was practically spoon-feeding her the answer, yet she still couldn’t see it.
Sometimes it really was annoying to be such a visionary. Not only was everyone so far behind, but then you had to take precious time to explain everything before you moved forward.
“So, you’re a serial killer with a profiler on your ass,” Kent continued. “You can’t leave town, so how do you throw that profiler off your trail?”
“By giving him another case to investigate?” Nicole said, not exactly sounding sure of herself.
“Correct.”
“But how does he know that you’ll follow this new case instead of him?” Nicole asked. “Lucky 37 is on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.”
“Again, think it through,” Kent urged. “He kills middle-aged, crack-addicted whores, and now we have a case involving pristine high school virgins? Which one do you think Glick and the Governor are going to want us to investigate?”
Nicole nodded, this time seeming to get it. “He really is smart.”
“Yes, this guy is a biker Einstein. Now I can see how he’s remained at large for so long.”
“That and because you weren’t on the case yet?” Nicole said with a smirk.
Ah, finally she was starting to catch on.
CHAPTER 2
Ruben sat down and rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up. It was four in the morning. His palm felt the prickle of his stubble. He’d forgotten to shave. Actually, he’d forgotten to bring his electric razor to Paggie’s.
Even though they were spending way more time together, his razor seemed to always be at the wrong house. He should just buy another one. Was the reason he was reluctant to get a second was that the razor in question had been a gift from Nicole all those years ago?
She’d given it to him because, for the life of him, every time he shaved with a dual bladed razor, he always nicked himself. Nicole had said it wasn’t exactly a present for him, but to keep all those trees from being felled to provide him with the scraps of tissue he used to stop the bleeding.
Had it been the most romantic present in the history of presents? No, but it had been thoughtful, and saved him a ton in tissue costs, plus the embarrassment of constantly having red-centered dabs along his neck every morning.
As the heaviness in his chest increased, Ruben realized that he was right. That was the reason he hadn’t simply bought another razor. Well, on the way home tonight, he was stopping at a pharmacy and picking another one up. It was time to move on.
Which could not have been a more appropriate realization, as Kent and Nicole walked in. The profiler’s arm was draped casually over Nicole’s.
She had never been a big fan of PDA, yet with Kent she didn’t shrug off his touch as she had Ruben’s.
One more reason to get that other electric shaver.
Glick entered from the other hallway. He, too, was unshaven, his beard bristling white across his chin and cheeks. Had Glick always been that gray, or had Kent done that to him?
“This had better be important.”
Joshua and Jimmi rushed in. Joshua, of course, was the one to pipe up first. “Oh, it is.”
Jimmi rolled a large screen over for them all to view, then went to work on his laptop.
“First off,” Joshua said. “I’ve confirmed that poor Cecily was a virgin.”
Ruben knew that McGregor certainly hadn’t gotten out of bed for this case—make that any case. So how had Joshua confirmed that? The visual image was quite disturbing. Ruben knew that he wasn’t going to get that out of his head all day. He didn’t bother to ask Joshua how. Ruben now did not want to know.
“And I’ve mapped out the other killings that are similar,” Jimmi said.
/> Bright red dots showed up on the map showing the previous killings.
“Now each of the bodies was found within a few miles of their high schools,” Jimmi said as new dots showed up. “And here is our newest victim.”
Another set of dots showed up.
“Are we sure this is the same killer?” Glick asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Yes,” Jimmi said. “The shoe prints are the same at all the crime scenes.”
“Why wasn’t this pattern noticed earlier?” Ruben asked.
“The crimes happened across state lines. It was only luck that Detective Usher saw the bulletin from Kansas City and linked them.”
“Well, at least we now know where to look,” Kent said.
Ruben was glad that he wasn’t the only one to look like he had no idea what Kent was talking about.
“Spit it out, Harbinger,” Glick said. “It is way too early for your usual dog-and-pony show.”
Kent pointed to the area in the middle of the dots. “Our killers arise from this high school.”
“And how did you deduce that?” Glick asked. Nicole bit her bottom lip. You could see her trying as hard as she could to catch up to the profiler.
“Don’t you have a bit more information?” Kent asked Jimmi, who looked to his screen, then his keyboard, then back to Kent.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Ruben wished that he knew what Kent was talking about and could beat him to the punch, but realized that was probably never going to happen.
* * *
“The timeline of the murders?” Kent prompted. This really was like pulling teeth. The information was in front of them all, but only he could see it.
No one rose to the occasion.
Then Joshua’s face lit up and shoved Jimmi away from the keyboard. “The deaths all occurred on the night of a football game!”
Kent nodded. At least someone got it. No surprise, actually, that it was Joshua. Even though the guy was in his late twenties, Kent didn’t doubt that the morgue assistant hit a few high school football games himself.
The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection) Page 56
