Could it be? Ruben followed Joshua into the shelter. There were a surprising number of homeless men with upscale, brand name tennis shoes. Joshua came up to one, sprayed the shoe with phenol, then stepped back as the toe of the shoe glowed a nice bright purple.
“Blood,” Joshua confirmed. “Human blood.”
Ruben flagged down a man who looked like the manager. “Where did these come from?”
“They were left in the donation box at the door last night. Lots of really good stuff.”
“Well, we are going to need it all. It’s evidence of a murder.”
The man’s eyes dilated as he vigorously nodded yes.
“I’m going to need those,” Joshua said, but the homeless man shook his head.
“What are you going to give me for them?” the man asked.
Joshua popped a checkerboard shoe off. “How about my pair?”
“Please,” the homeless man frowned. “Those are Vans knockoffs, these aren’t the real things.
Ruben pulled out his phone to call Nicole with the good news, while Joshua negotiated for their evidence.
* * *
Nicole disconnected the call from Ruben. “They found the boys’ clothes.”
“So maybe the judge will sign that warrant now?” Kent asked, looking like he was half joking, half serious.
“He already has, but the game already ended, and the boys were gone when the beat cops showed up.”
“Damn it,” Kent said. “Did they win?”
“I’m not sure,” Nicole answered.
Kent went to his phone and started looking up the game score. “If they won, they are on the prowl. If they lost, we have some time.”
He scrolled down some more. “Crap. It was a blowout. 28 to 7. They are definitely going to want to celebrate the only way they know how.”
Nicole stepped on the brake and took the first right. She slapped the red light onto the top of her car and hit the sirens, speeding toward the stadium.
“How are we going to find them, though? They were playing Greensborough, weren’t they?” Nicole asked.
“Yes,” Kent said, “And apparently they don’t have a great defensive line.”
“But they do have a forest surrounding the entire school. Even with dozen of patrol officers, it is going to take us hours to scour the forest.”
Kent’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and read the text. “Why aren’t you following the victim?” The profiler paused. “Get here quick.” Kent cocked his head. “Then he left these coordinates.”
“Plug them into the dash GPS.”
Kent did so and a route came up on the map. Nicole took the next left and raced down an alley, popping off the curb as she took a right. They should be to the edge of the forest in a few minutes, and then they’d have to hike in the rest.
“Who sent it?” Nicole asked.
“Lucky 37,” Kent replied, turning his phone so she could see the text log.
“Why in the hell would he do that?” Nicole asked. “He hates women.”
* * *
“No,” Kent said. “He hates a specific woman, and is killing her proxy. Whoever was a chain-smoking, bleached blond, buxom biker chick in his life—mother, aunt, teacher—is who he hates. Women in general he has no problem with.”
Nicole frowned. “But why save this girl?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kent asked. It was so crystal clear in his mind.
“No,” Nicole groaned. “No it isn’t.”
“Lucky 37’s got a teenage daughter,” Kent explained.
“How did you get there?”
“The woman that he was shacked up with this time had a daughter, as well. Fourteen. Both she and the girl said they’d never been treated so well. And now, giving us coordinates to save this girl? He’s got to have an archetype of his own. Saving this girl as a proxy to the daughter he is missing.”
The scenery was flashing by as Nicole really put that Mustang horsepower to work. Kent’s hands balled into fists, then relaxed, then balled again. This was going to be close. Hopefully, the boys kept to their ritual of partying for a bit before getting to the main attraction.
“Why didn’t he save the girl last night, then?” Nicole asked.
“Who says he didn’t try? He led us straight to the body. I thought it was simply to distract us, but what if he genuinely tried to save her, too? The ME confirmed what you suspected, that we only missed them by minutes.”
Kent relived last night. He’d thought his tracking skills were superb, but in retrospect, Lucky 37 was leading them around by the nose.
“Amazing, simply amazing,” Kent murmured, finding himself even more fascinated by this subject than he was before.
“Do you need a moment?” Nicole jeered.
“So, maybe I do have a man crush on him, so what?” Kent countered.
“So what?” Nicole repeated in a huff. “The man has killed, by your account, over a hundred women. Not just killed, but kidnapped, raped, then killed.”
Kent shrugged. “You so want to make this black and white. That serial killers are only bad, evil people.”
“Because they are,” Nicole retorted.
“No, they are complex human beings with their own sense of moral code. The more we understand that, the more likely we are to bring them to justice, and isn’t that what we want?”
“Yes,” Nicole murmured. “But I don’t have to like them.”
“I don’t like Lucky 37,” Kent corrected. “I respect him. Two totally different things.”
Nicole took a right and pulled to a stop at a parking lot for a nature trail. “They should be straight out that way,” Nicole said, pointing into the dark woods.
“Backup on their way?” Kent asked.
“Ruben’s got a team heading here now.”
Oh, well if it was Ruben, they would never get here in time. Kent didn’t bother to voice it, though. Nicole was annoyed enough with him right now for daring to suggest Lucky 37 might have some honor in him.
“Let’s go,” Kent said, stepping over the curb and feeling the pine needles under his shoes.
* * *
Nicole was once again trekking through the woods. At least this time she had her gun with her, and wasn’t shy about using it. Especially if Lucky 37 was roaming the same trails. She intellectually understood how Kent could respect the killer, but emotionally? Especially as a woman? No way. No how.
Was that a flicker of light up ahead? Kent moved more quickly, therefore it must have been. The campfire provided a beacon to the crime scene. They hurried through the trees as sounds of a struggle reached them. Dr. McGregor had said that the girl’s mouth had been gagged before death, which was why they didn’t hear any screams.
They burst into the clearing to find the five members of the football team and the water boy surrounding a young girl. She’d already been ravaged and stabbed at least once.
“Police!” Nicole announced. “Hands up!”
The boys backed away from the downed girl, but only a few put their hands up. Each one had a knife. Kent had been right. The alpha made sure that each raped and then stabbed her to make them complicit in the crime. Kent rushed forward and checked the girl’s pulse.
“She’s still alive!” he announced. “But barely.”
He picked the girl up and brought her over to Nicole. “You’ve got to get her out of here and to the ambulance.”
Nicole’s eyes flickered to the boys, who were still very armed. “I can’t.”
“You have to,” Kent emphasized, “or she is going to die.”
Nicole took the girl into her arms. “At least take my gun.”
Kent just frowned. Of course he wasn’t going to take her gun, what a silly suggestion.
She couldn’t worry about him, though, the girl’s face was so pale. Without another word, she turned on her heel and hauled ass out of the woods.
* * *
Kent was so proud of Nicole. She’d come so far. Maybe she wasn’t to the
point of feeling sympathy for a serial killer yet, but she was on her way. If that girl lived, they would have Lucky 37 to thank for it.
“And what do you think you’re going to do, old man?” Reggie asked from behind Kent.
He turned to face his five serial killers. Archie didn’t have a knife in hand because he had five of them at his disposal.
“Oh, I think you know…” Kent responded. He wanted to feed into their egos. Let them think they had the advantage. Let them get comfortable with their win.
One of the other boys came at Kent, a blatant, straightforward attack. Kent knocked the attacker’s arm away, then landed his fist into the boy’s solar plexus. He dropped to the ground gasping. Brawn wasn’t going to win this battle, brains were. As always.
“Who else?” Kent challenged. Another boy took up the call, yelling as he came.
This time Kent sidestepped the attack, then brought his elbow down on the boy’s neck. He went sprawling into the pine needles.
“And another?” Kent asked. Reggie nodded and the third boy came at Kent, but slightly more subdued. He slashed his knife in front of Kent, as if to scare him? Kent wasn’t sure, but he removed his jacket, and spun it like around like a fan. When the boy finally did lunge, Kent flicked the jacket, caught the boy’s arm in the material, and jerked him forward.
Kent grabbed the knife’s hilt and, using the boy’s shock and confusion, twisted the knife around and buried the blade in his belly. As he slipped to the ground, Kent relieved him of his weapon.
Now glistening with blood, Kent raised the knife toward the two boys who were still standing.
Reggie gulped and nodded to the fourth boy, but he ran off into the woods.
“How awkward,” Kent commented. “Now it’s just you and me.”
* * *
Nicole tripped over a branch but managed to stay upright as she reached the parking lot. She could see the ambulance’s lights flashing. More cars pulled into the parking lot as she approached. Ruben and Joshua hopped out of Ruben’s car and ran to her.
The EMTs beat them.
“Knife wound to the belly. She’s lost a lot of blood,” Nicole informed them as they took the girl from her arms.
Ruben put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she tried to catch her breath. So many things had happened so quickly.
“Are you okay?” Joshua asked, hovering behind Ruben.
“Yeah, just damn that was a wind sprint.”
“Where’s Kent?” Ruben asked.
“Out, unarmed, against five armed teens.”
Ruben frowned as Joshua’s hand went to his mouth. “Those poor boys.”
The morgue attendant was right. No one here was worried about Kent. It was the football players they needed to be worried about. So, despite the stitch in her side, Nicole turned back to the woods.
“This way,” she said as she guided them into the forest.
* * *
“Not so easy, is it?” Kent asked. “When you aren’t facing a terrified young girl who weighs ninety-five pounds soaking wet.”
Reggie and he were circling the campfire. Archie was checking on his friends. Kent would get to him soon enough. Reggie was wary, but hadn’t run off into the woods, at least not yet.
Reggie lunged, making a slashing motion. Kent responded with a slash of his own, slicing Reggie’s forearm nearly down to the bone. His blow wasn’t meant as a lethal wound, it was meant only to create pain and uncertainty.
The quarterback clutched his arm to his chest, putting a hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding.
“You are ruined,” Kent said. “No matter what happens here, you are done.”
“You obviously haven’t met my father’s lawyers,” Reggie responded.
“No,” Kent responded. “I didn’t mean legally. I meant that I am going to cripple you. You’ll never play football again.”
Horror, true horror, crept into the boy’s eyes. He’d never thought of that. He’d possibly thought of incarceration. But being a cripple? That clearly frightened him more than anything else, even death.
“You wouldn’t,” Reggie retorted. How little the boy understood.
“I would, and I would enjoy it. I’m thinking a slice to the hamstrings next.”
Reggie’s lips twitched as his eyes dilated. Fight or flight. Which would the kid choose?
Ultimately, the boy dropped the knife and ran off.
Good for him.
Kent turned to Archie, who still seemed oddly defiant.
“You might want to pick your serfs a bit more carefully next time,” Kent said.
“Reggie always was a wimp,” Archie sneered. “Ever since kindergarten. A real crybaby.”
“But you?” Kent asked. “You’re the strong one.”
“And the smart one.”
“Really?” Kent queried. “Because right now you look pretty damned defeated.”
“You aren’t going to kill an unarmed boy,” Archie taunted.
“Clearly you haven’t read my case file,” Kent responded.
“Oh, you might want to, but you aren’t going to be able to.”
“And why not?” Kent pressed.
Then a figure stepped out of the woods, holding a gun. “Because I won’t let you.”
“Edna?” Kent asked as the mousy guidance counselor came closer to the firelight. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“After decades of listening to pretty young things complain about how unfair their lives were? Please, I was forced to do this.”
Kent should have recognized the butt-ugly coral lipstick on Archie’s collar. “You psychopaths always find each other, don’t you? And Archie, you could have done so much better.”
“We were meant to be,” Edna said, looking over to Archie, whose eyes softened, as well. A downright Hallmark moment.
“So you are the one who strategized all of this?”
“And provided the cocaine for when the boys needed a little urging, yes.”
“Really going for that counselor of the year award, then,” Kent commented.
He’d literally brought a knife to a gunfight.
Sounds from the trail drifted toward them. A faint “Kent,” as well. Nicole and the rest were on their way.
You could see the decision on Edna’s face. The sense of clarity. That she really was going to shoot an FBI agent. Kent was equally ready. As the shot went off, he side-arm threw the knife. Then, as with all people who had never shot a gun before, Edna hadn’t compensated for the kick and shot wide, hitting Archie right in the chest.
She looked more concerned for the teen then she did for the knife sticking out of her belly.
“Kent!” Nicole shouted as she burst into the clearing.
Kent held up his hands. “She shot him and I was only defending myself.”
Nicole didn’t look too convinced as she went over to check Archie’s pulse.
“Last man standing, again?” Ruben commented.
Hey, it wasn’t Kent’s fault that he was just that good.
Epilogue
Nicole rubbed her eyes. It had been a long night, but they were here to pick up Delia. No matter what happened, she wasn’t about to break her promise to that little girl. And a lot had happened. Four dead, two arrested, two on the lam.
Kent had broken the case wide open, per usual. The fact that she was still surprised was silly, really. And the fact they’d gotten help from a vicious serial killer—that really did put the cherry on their hot fudge sundae night.
She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she even could. Delia rushed out and wrapped her arms around Nicole’s waist. “You came!”
“Who’s there?” a burly, slurred voice asked. Guess the beer buzz had worn off from Mr. Sherrer.
Nicole walked, stilted, through the doorway with Delia still attached. “It is Detective Usher and Special Agent Harbinger.”
The man just grunted and put his chin back down on his chest.
“No,
no, no,” Kent said, crossing over and grabbing the man by the elbow. “You’ve got to hear this, too.”
“Hear what?” Delia asked. Nicole might have said the same thing. Kent was always full of surprises.
Once the four were settled around the table, Kent began. “I spoke with my lawyer.”
Since when did Kent have a lawyer?
“And, especially after the revelation that a gang of serial killers were on the football team assisted by a staff member,” Kent emphasized, “He thinks you have a great case, especially if the victims from the other schools join on, along with the other bullied students.”
Mr. Sherrer rubbed his hands together. “Finally the kid is worth something.”
“Not so fast,” Kent said wagging his finger. “All money from the suit goes into a trust for Delia. She is in control now. She decides if she wants to start hormone therapy. If and when she wants reassignment surgery.”
“Over my dead body,” the drunken father growled.
That only made Kent smile further. “While I would love to see that, it is actually simpler than that. My lawyer is also drawing up emancipation papers for Delia so she doesn’t need you to die or do anything to have her life in order.”
Delia beamed. “Really?”
Kent rubbed her arm. “Really. And once the money comes through, which should be soon—the district should want to settle quickly—you, Mr. Sherrer, are going into an in-patient rehab and not coming out until they say you are ready.”
The man frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll see about that.”
“Well, your other option is to go to jail for child endangerment, so your choice, dude.”
Obviously, Delia’s father didn’t want to go to jail… again. The man had done some time for drunk and disorderly. Guess he’d gotten enough of jail, as he simply pouted in his chair.
Kent continued. “And Delia’s coming home with us tonight, and we’ll be back in the morning to meet with the social worker, and then we’ll take her to our place for the weekend while you get yourself and this place cleaned up.”
Delia’s father looked at his feet, not arguing a single point.
There were times when Kent surprised her mainly because he was acting completely inappropriately. Then there were times when he surprised her because he was being completely awesome. This time it was the latter.
The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection) Page 60
