The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection)

by Carolyn McCray

  Women however had other weapons. Like stiletto heels and nearly inch long acrylic nails. Nicole reached behind her, found the guy’s face then dug her nails in, ripping down his cheek.

  Hot blood flooded under her nails as the guy screamed, releasing her. Nicole stumbled forward, barely able to keep her feet when the third member of this little party showed up.

  The chubby guy from the end of the bar. Guess if he couldn’t get her on his own he’d enlisted his Hog friends. He put his head down, charging toward her.

  In her current condition, there was no way she could avoid his assault. Nicole braced for the worst but it never came.

  Instead, Kent dove from the side, tackling the chubby man, knocking him to the ground. Kent then scrambled up, kicking the guy in the gut, over and over again. Kent didn’t care how “fair” it seemed. His philosophy was to get his man down, then keep him there, no matter how you did it.

  Once the chubby guy stopped crying, Kent rushed to her side.

  “Are you okay?”

  Nicole struggled to talk, “Sort of,”

  Kent’s hand coursed over her. “Did they have a knife or gun? Did you hit your head?”

  Nicole shook her head, sending her world spinning. She licked her lips. “I’ve been drugged.”

  “Drugged?” Kent said cradling her for a second, then he kissed her on the head and rose. “Then the bartender was in on it.”

  Before he could do anything else, Kent was punched in the jaw. Only it wasn’t one of the rapists. It was Ruben.

  * * *

  Kent’s head snapped to the side. Ruben had been a collegiate boxer after all. He had one hell of a right hook.

  “What the hell?”

  “You prick,” Ruben hissed. “You freaking prick.”

  “What?” Kent yelled back, his fists up in case Ruben decided to take another swing.

  “Look at her!” Ruben shouted. “You never give a crap how much danger you put her in.”

  “She’s got a bloody nose,” Kent protested. Ruben was always prone to overreaction, especially when it came to Nicole.

  “Then why is she down?” Ruben protested, glancing over his shoulder at Nicole.

  “She’d just been drugged,” Kent explained.

  “Just?” Ruben hissed, his fist raised again.

  “Hey, shouldn’t we be calling a bus instead of duking it out?” Kent suggested. He was no match for Ruben in a fair fight. Luckily he never fought fair but then there would be that whole uproar if he knocked Ruben out with that length of tail pipe at their feet.

  “I already called one, you ass,” Ruben snarled.

  “Stop it,” Nicole whispered barely loud enough for them to hear. Kent took the opportunity to grab that chrome tail pipe.

  Ruben looked to Kent then to Nicole. It was one thing to rush a guy in a moment of rage, but to continue into what was now shaping up to be a nasty fight? Especially with sirens on the horizon and Jimmi and the rest of the tech crew flooding into the alleyway?

  Ruben lowered his fists but Kent kept the tail pipe, just in case. You never knew with these Dudley Do-rights.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ruben knelt beside Nicole, still shaking with rage. Kent’s indifference to Nicole’s safety had finally hit a blowing point. Like a volcano, all that rage had come out and into his fists.

  He wasn’t proud of it, but the feeling of his fist connecting with Kent’s jaw did give him some level of fulfillment. For one moment in time, Kent wasn’t in control of Ruben’s life.

  To see Kent’s head whip around and him stumble backward was perhaps Ruben’s most satisfying moment in his career. He didn’t care how lame that sounded.

  His knuckles hurt of course, but he wasn’t about to let that show.

  “Nicole,” Ruben whispered, gathering her up in his arms. “Nicole.”

  Her head lolled to the side. A bit of drool at the corner of her lips.

  “I’m okay,” Nicole croaked, then proceeded to cough and sputter.

  She was a long way from okay.

  “The ambulance is almost here,” Ruben murmured. The sirens sounded closer.

  “Just get me to the hospital and have them flush this crap out of my veins.”

  “I will, I promise,” Ruben said, meaning every word of it.

  “Listen,” Kent said. Cocking his head. “Jesus, is that a chainsaw?”

  At first the idea seemed incredulous, but then as Ruben listened, blocking out the sirens, the noise sounded more and more like a freaking chainsaw.

  The rest of the techies started nodding their head.

  Kent broke through the circle of CSIs, running.

  Damn it.

  “Nicole, I’ve got to go,” Ruben said, indicating for Jimmi to come hold her up so she didn’t drown on her own saliva.

  “Go,” she moaned. “Go.”

  After the transfer, Ruben ran after Kent who was shockingly fast. For a guy that had never seen the inside of a gym, the guy was a powerful sprinter. Maybe what he always said was true.

  Kent swore that he got his work out on the job.

  Ruben tried to narrow the gap as the sound of the chainsaw was suddenly accompanied by screams. Kent somehow kicked it into another gear, pulling ahead. The profiler turned a corner, disappearing behind a wall. The chainsaw sound cut off abruptly, however the screams did not.

  Could they really have interrupted Buzz Kill? Was the serial killer really this close?

  He took the corner at full speed, but then stumbled. Kent jumped over the severely injured woman, chasing a figure deeper in the shadows.

  “Take care of her!” Kent yelled, not even looking back.

  Of course Kent would chase Buzz Kill while leaving Ruben to attend to the injured. Pretty par for the course. Ruben could also expect to write up all the paperwork.

  All of those thoughts faded though as he approached the woman. Arterial blood sprayed from…well, everywhere. Ruben ripped his jacket off and laid it over her and just put pressure down anywhere he could. He’d hit a wound, no doubt.

  The woman’s cheek was ripped. He could see her bloody teeth. There was another long cut down her side, nearly amputating her left arm. Another wound ran across her belly, flailing open the muscles.

  There was no way his jacket was going to save the woman who alternated between screaming and moaning.

  Sirens rang out. Ruben had to make a decision. Rather than sit here as she died, Ruben rose and ran out to the road, flagging down the ambulance. It was meant for Nicole, but he thought that his partner would forgive him.

  “Hurry!” Ruben shouted at the EMTs, guiding them down the alley.

  “Oh my god,” one of them exclaimed, stumbling to a stop. Yep, the scene even freaked out the EMTs.

  “She’d lost a lot of blood.”

  “No, crap,” the other EMT hissed, but got down to work.

  Ruben paced behind them. He of course wanted the woman to live, but even more so wanted the witness to live. To have an eye witness account of what had happened? It could be invaluable to catching Buzz Kill.

  That was if Kent didn’t catch him tonight.

  * * *

  Kent was puffing pretty badly. He was really a sprinter, not a marathoner. That was Nicole. If only she weren’t drugged and nursing a concussion, she would really come in handy here.

  The figure was stretching out his lead. The guy was fast. Damn.

  And after running through a maze of alleys and yards, Kent had to admit that he had lost him. No dogs barked, giving him any indication of which way the murderer had gone.

  He stopped, trying to slow his breathing, trying to hear over his own bounding heartbeat. Mind over matter, damn it. There were three ways Buzz Kill could have gone. Kent leaned over, trying to look down each one, trying to figure out which way the guy had gone.

  There was no way he was going to give up. He trusted that Ruben had called in the cavalry. There would be cops swarming the area in a matter of moments. If Kent could just keep Buzz Ki
ll within his sights that long, they could nab him.

  Out of the shadows a chainsaw came down, not buzzing, but the base of it hit Kent’s temple. The world tilted then listed, then turned upside down completely. Kent felt his chin hit the pavement. It was not the most pleasant sensation in the world.

  Then the chainsaw’s starter line was ripped open, revving up the chainsaw. Kent feared he was about to see the inside of his spleen. But as the blade arced downward, a shot rang out.

  “Police!” Ruben shouted. “Drop it!”

  But Buzz Kill didn’t. Instead he turned off the saw and ran for it. Ruben fired, but couldn’t hit the fleeing suspect who was covered in blood and was wearing a pair of Adidas. It was the only thing that Kent could clearly make out from this prone position on the pavement.

  Then Buzz Kill did the weirdest thing Kent had ever seen. He jumped onto a green Vespa and streaked away. A serial killer with a scooter as a getaway vehicle?

  “Kent,” Ruben said skidding to a stop, dropping to his knees. “You okay?”

  The world finally stopped spinning, just wobbling a bit on its axis. Kent rose up on his elbows. “Yah, I think so. Just a mild concussion.”

  All the compassion bled out of Ruben. “Serves you right,” the detective said, rising up. “I’ve got to put out an APB for that scooter.”

  “You do that,” Kent said, having to get to his feet on his own. He had to grab a hold of a chain link fence to accomplish the task. A little Maltese ran out of the house, yapping incessantly.

  “Where were you a minute ago?” Kent asked the fluffy white canine. Probably hiding in the house until the real danger was over.

  Sirens blared as the ambulance took off. Kent used the sound to find his way back to the alley since Ruben had split. Did the ambulance take Nicole too?

  He stumbled into the street glad it was late without a lot of traffic. As he was passing the Mustang he realized there was a white piece of paper under the windshield. Crap. If he’d gotten a ticket, Nicole would kick his ass. Get her drugged and banged up and she was fine. Get a ticket on her precious Mustang? That would get him booted out of bed for weeks.

  He staggered over to the car. Maybe he could get Paggie to fix the ticket. He’d owe Ruben a favor of course, but it would be worth it compared the tongue lashing he’d get from Nicole. He’d rather take a chainsaw to the temple any day.

  But the nearer he got, the more he realized that it wasn’t a ticket on the car. Instead of being relieved, Kent could feel his muscles tensing.

  It was a plain piece of paper folded in half.

  Tentatively, Kent reach out and pulled the paper out and opened it. There were only a few words scrawled in black ink.

  “It was never about me.”

  Every ache and pain vanished. It was like icy, mountain stream water coursed through his veins. You might as well hook Kent up to a car battery and zap him, that’s the jolt that passed through his body as he read the note.

  This complicated things immensely but also simplified them. The multiple layers to the note smacked Kent upside the head, harder than the chainsaw had.

  Lucky 37 knew who Buzz Kill was. Not just knew who Buzz Kill was but lured Kent and Nicole to this bar with his previous note.

  This bar was the highest probability for Lucky 37. It had the oldest female population and was the one where most of the lone wolf riders hung out. Lucky had forced them to do the stake out here, knowing that Buzz Kill would strike nearby.

  Damn, Lucky 37 was good. Like Kent good. Bastard.

  Lucky could of course be a little less obtuse, but what would the fun in that be? Clearly this new game with Kent was more engaging than killing his surrogate women. Would Lucky even kill two more women before the week’s end?

  Kent stared at the paper. He could take it as a mocking. As a challenge. As if Lucky was taunting him, but he didn’t. If anything this gave Kent hope like he didn’t have before. If Lucky could find Buzz Kill, so could he.

  Then he’d find Lucky and see how cocky the serial killer was then.

  “Kent!” a voice called out. It sounded like Jimmi.

  Tucking the piece of paper into his pocket, Kent made his way to the alley behind the bar. Nicole was surrounded by EMTs as they got her up onto a gurney.

  “No, I’m good,” she said as she tried to push an EMT away, but missing by three feet.

  “She’s really putting up a fuss,” Jimmi said.

  “Nic, honey,” Kent said. “Come on, let them do their jobs.”

  Nicole stopped fighting for moment, “Kent?”

  Clearly she was more messed up than she wanted to admit if she couldn’t tell it was him. He pushed his way through the EMTs.

  “Yah, besides we need to get that crap pumped out of your system.”

  “Are you coming with me?” Nicole asked.

  “Sorry, he’s got to follow behind,” an EMT replied.

  Kent pointed to the bleeding wound on the side of his temple. “Oh, I get to go in the ambulance.

  “What happened?” Nicole asked, squinting, trying to inspect the wound.

  “Oh, you know, I got hit by a chainsaw,” Kent explained. When Nicole inhaled sharply he added. “The butt end. No need to panic.”

  Settled down, Nicole allowed the EMTs to roll her into the ambulance. Kent sat down on the jump seat as the EMTs shut the doors. Soon they were on their way.

  “Any news on the latest victim?” Kent asked.

  The EMT shook his head. “Just that she’s still alive.”

  Well, that was something.

  * * *

  Nicole watched as the nurses and doctors worked on the Buzz Kill’s latest victim in the next bed. They didn’t even know her name yet, just that she was precariously close to dying. The ER staff was so busy trying to save the woman that they hadn’t even had time to pull the curtain around her.

  All Nicole could see was blood and a near forest of IV stands, each with their own bag attached. They were running blood into the woman like crack into an addict. There were other bags, all brightly identified by their fluorescent orange stickers.

  The monitors hooked up to the woman were fluttering erratically. There wasn’t a moment when one alarm or another was going off. Doctors were shouting orders and nurses were running around trying to fulfill them all.

  From what Nicole could overhear, the surgery rooms were all taken since there had been an accident on the freeway. The doctors were trying to clamp off the major bleeders right here in the ER.

  Kent sat at the end of Nicole’s bed watching the medical drama unfold. They sat silently as the fluids next to Nicole ran into her veins. They felt cool and Nicole could swear that she tasted something a little salty.

  The profiler covered her with another blanket. GHB in high doses lowered your body temperature and hers was down to ninety six. The fluids though should flush the GHB out of her system. Even though GHB’s effects only last four to six hours, the longer the chemical was in her body, the more memory she could lose.

  And she wanted to testify at those bastard’s trials.

  “Where is she?” a woman screamed as she burst into the ER. “Where is my daughter?”

  The hysterical woman was dressed in what looked to be an old fashioned housecoat with worn leopard print flip flop slippers.

  “Where?” she screamed again.

  And orderly caught her as she tried to approach the victim’s bed. “You can’t be here.”

  “Oh my god, oh my god,” the woman sobbed as she realized the blood covered girl was her own. Kent went over and relieved the orderly of the hysterical mother. “No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening, it can’t be,” she sobbed in Kent’s arms as the profiler awkwardly held her. Kent didn’t exactly have the best bedside manner.

  He guided her over to a chair near Nicole. The orderly pulled the curtain so they could no longer see the resuscitation next door. The only way Nicole knew the girl was still alive was by the erratic beeping of the monitors.


  “I’m an FBI profiler and this is Detective Usher. We’ve got a few questions to ask you about your daughter.”

  “No, no, no, no” the woman wailed. “No!”

  “Okay, let’s get that breathing under control,” Kent said, bending the woman over. “You’re going to faint if you don’t start breathing normally.”

  Tears streaming down her face, causing a puddle at her feet, the woman gulped air like a flounder flapping around a boat deck.

  “Slow and steady,” Kent insisted, rubbing the poor woman’s back. “Come on, you can do it.”

  “My daughter,” the woman blurted, trying to sit back up again.

  “They are doing everything they can,” Kent insisted. “The best way for you to help your daughter is to talk to me so we can catch who did this.”

  The woman seemed to gain a modicum of control. She breathed more steadily and the waterworks had stopped.

  “I’m better,” she said sitting up. “But I don’t know what I can tell you.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Kent said, sitting in the chair next to the woman.

  “First off, what’s your name?”

  The woman sniffled. “Adelene Placket.”

  “Great, Adelene,” Kent answered back. “And your daughter’s name?”

  That made her tear up again and Adelene just shook her head back and forth so quickly that Nicole feared she’d give herself whiplash.

  “Okay, okay,” Kent said. “Does your daughter have any allergies to medication?”

  Again, the woman just kept shaking her head. Nicole wasn’t sure if that was an answer to Kent’s question or just a reflexive dismissal of everything that was happening.

  “Okay, Adelene, I need you to focus,” Kent said. “This is really, really important.”

  The woman’s eyes seemed to clear and her compulsive head shaking stopped.

  * * *

  Kent looked deeply into the woman’s eyes. They were bloodshot and puffy. She wasn’t wearing any makeup but Kent guessed that she usually did since her eye brows were plucked to within an inch of their life.

  “Adelene,” Kent urged. “Stay with me.”

  The woman nodded, hiccupping several times before settling back down. “Yes?”

  “What was your daughter doing in an Alley off of Freeland Street?”