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

by Carolyn McCray

  But he had been right. Lucky did have a teenage daughter, she just wasn’t born that way. She’d been born a boy, adopted, then realized she was transgender and was transitioning to her female self.

  “Delia is adopted?” Nicole asked, clearly trying to catch up. They had met Delia last year and had taken her under his wing, helping her emancipate from her less than supportive father.

  “Apparently so, which makes Mr. Sherrer’s attitude a bit more understandable. Not right, but understandable. He didn’t sign up for a transgender adopted son.”

  So many good meaning people adopted for all the wrong reasons. Clearly Mr. Sherrer had been looking for that 1950’s family. He and his boy out in the backyard throwing the pigskin around while the missus was making dinner. What he got was a bit different, wasn’t it?

  “So are you thinking that Lucky found those teenage rapists because he was checking in on Delia?”

  Kent nodded. Good she was pulling up alongside him.

  “Do you think she knows her father is Lucky?” Nicole asked.

  “I don’t even know if she knows she is adopted,” Kent remarked. “What is up with parents?”

  “It’s complicated, Kent,” Nicole stated. How little she knew.

  He turned to her. “Want to go visit my favorite ward?”

  * * *

  Nicole was driving again, but not because she had demanded it, Kent had simply gotten into the passenger’s seat. She could practically hear the gears in his mind spinning on overdrive.

  They now had more information on Lucky 37 in the last few hours than they had for the last twenty years.

  She was speeding over to Delia’s house. Kent had reassured her that Delia wasn’t in danger, but the girl was all alone in her studio apartment. How could Kent be sure that Lucky didn’t turn his rage on her as he had done on her mother?

  The mustang’s brakes squealed as she pulled into the apartment complex. For saying Delia wasn’t in any danger, Kent sprinted to the door, then charged up the stairs to the third floor then flat out ran to Delia’s door. Nicole could barely keep up and she went to the gym regularly. Okay, maybe not regularly, but a hell of a lot more frequently than Kent.

  He knocked loudly and Nicole breathed out as Delia answered the door, then launched into Kent’s hug.

  “What do I owe the honor?” Delia asked, tossing back her long hair “We aren’t scheduled for lunch until next week.”

  “I know, can we come in?” Kent asked.

  “You pay the rent so sure,” Delia said, opening the door wider.

  There were many things about Kent that surprised Nicole. Many horrified her, but others brought tears to her eyes.

  For one thing, it wasn’t until after they were married and combining their finances that she realized exactly how rich Kent was. Like there were three more zeroes in his bank account than she had ever seen in any of her accounts. Not only had he come from money, which he totally didn’t act like, but he had written several books under pseudonyms and made bank. A few had even been made into movies.

  Hence the hefty bank account.

  But the really surprising thing had not been how he’d made his money, but how he chose to spend it. It turned out that Kent was the guardian of at least six children and the executor of another eight children’s trust funds. Some of those kids were in their twenties, he had been doing this for that long.

  No wonder he’d had an emancipation lawyer on speed dial. While none of the children lived with him, he made sure they had the support and living conditions to thrive.

  Nicole had sobbed when she’d read the letters the children sent him. She’d known in her mind and her heart she was right to marry him, but after that, she knew it in her soul.

  Delia was only one of many. A child rescued from an abusive household, set up for success. Nicole knew that Delia had just gotten accepted to early admissions to Yale. Yale.

  Kent had even found a long lost aunt and moved her to town to be near Delia. They had a tentative relationship, but it was family.

  They did not have such good news today.

  Kent sat down on a plush couch with a burgundy crushed velvet blanket thrown over the back. Nicole sat next to him as Delia sat across from the couple.

  “I take it, you don’t want any hot chocolate,” Delia said. “Whatever it is, I’m ready.”

  Nicole took Kent’s hand, hoping that the contact would urge him to be gentle. This was going to be brutal.

  “You know I swore to never lie to you,” Kent started out. This was not going to be pretty.

  “And you never have,” Delia said, absently braiding her hair. “Don’t start now.”

  “You were adopted,” Kent said.

  “I figured as much,” Delia responded calmly. “Mom tried to tell me in the end, I think, but just couldn’t and dad’s refrain, ‘you aren’t my son’ I believe was literal, not figurative.”

  This kid was amazing. No wonder Kent had quickened to her.

  “But you aren’t here for that. That you could have told me over the phone.”

  * * *

  Kent knew that Nicole was worried about how he was going to handle this. Hell, he was worried. Delia had been through so much already, he didn’t want to add to her burden, but he also couldn’t hold anything back. She deserved to know everything. He could not be the arbitrator of what truth she knew and didn’t know.

  “Delia, did you ever try to track down your biological mother or father?”

  The girl snorted, very unlady-like. “Are you kidding me? They didn’t want me in the first place, were they really going to want a freak like me?”

  “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Kent retorted. He hated it when she denigrated herself like that. She was perfect in his eyes. “Or I’ll up your therapy to twice a week.”

  Delia spread her hands in defeat. “My situation is complicated at best. Bringing in two more strangers wasn’t going to help.”

  Kent gulped. Yes, he gulped. He didn’t want to speak the next words.

  “I take it you know who my parents are?” Delia asked.

  Kent could only nod. Nicole squeezed his hand. He could do this.

  “And it’s bad, isn’t it?” Delia asked. “Like a serial killer or something?”

  Kent again nodded.

  Delia pushed back further into her chair. “I was not the product of love was I?”

  Kent shrugged. “A twisted sort I think.”

  Delia frowned, making her look so sad and lost. He had only ever wanted to help anchor her. Was he unraveling all the good he had done?

  “Is my mother still alive?” Delia asked.

  “She is catatonic,” Kent stated.

  * * *

  He had been doing so well, Nicole thought, then he just blurted that out. Delia’s eyes welled with tears.

  “So no second chance, eh?” the girl blotted her eyes so as not to smear her mascara.

  “I don’t know. We did get through to her, a little at the least today.”

  Delia cocked her head. “You didn’t find all this out just randomly. What brought you this information?”

  Nicole squeezed Kent’s hand so hard that she feared she was going to break a finger, but Kent plowed on.

  “Have you heard of Lucky 37?” Kent asked.

  Delia inhaled sharply. “That’s my dad? Lucky 37, the serial rapist-murderer? No wonder I’m so messed up.”

  “You aren’t messed up, Delia,” Kent reassured the girl. “You are perfect in your imperfections.”

  Delia however didn’t seem to hear him. Tears were streaking down her cheeks. “That’s it then. I’m doomed. I can’t recover from that. I can’t ever be normal can I?”

  “Normal is stupid,” Kent said. “I’m not going to say this isn’t horrendous and that you don’t have some genetics that could be problematic, but his DNA and actions don’t define you, Delia.”

  “How could they not?” the girl asked, her perfectly lined lips trembled.

&nb
sp; “I’m telling you, they don’t. I know others that have walked this path before you,” Kent explained.

  “Right,” Delia snorted. “Like you’ve got a bunch of serialists’ kids on your speed dial.”

  “Maybe not a bunch, but enough,” Kent said.

  This was news to Nicole. What kind of life did he live before they were married?

  “And they have a support group. Not as flashy as AA,” Kent reported. “But they meet on line, over the web and in person. You are going to have questions, concerns, and fears. They can help you navigate through them.”

  Delia’s eyelids lifted as she stared at Kent. “You really believe I can be a good person? That I’m not broken? Damaged goods before I even left the warehouse?”

  Kent rose and knelt by Delia’s chair and took her hand. “I don’t just believe it. I know it.”

  “You’re sure?” Delia’s tone shook with fear yet was tinged with hope.

  “More sure of anything in my life,” Kent said, giving Delia a peck on the cheek. “Everything you’ve been through, even this is only going to make you a better person, I swear.”

  “And you’d never lie to me?” Delia asked.

  “Never,” Kent insisted then smiled. “Now, I might steal that hand blown vase over there, but lie, never.”

  Delia laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You can have it or if you want steal it later, because I know you love the rush.”

  Nicole chuckled as well, this girl knew her husband all right.

  Sniffling, Delia asked. “Am I in danger?”

  “I don’t think so, as a matter of fact, I think Lucky has been watching over you. I’m going to post a few patrolmen in the hallway though.”

  “Yah, that’s going to make me popular with the neighbors.”

  “They’ll get over it,” Kent said, rising. “Call if you are at all worried.”

  Delia stood as well, walking them to the door. “I will. Nicole, I didn’t have a chance to give you my congratulations. Quite the ring.”

  Nicole looked down at her wedding band which was braided white gold. “Thank you, and please let me know the next time you go makeup shopping. That mascara really held up.”

  Delia fluttered her eyelashes. “It’s from the drugstore, totally bizarre, right?”

  Nicole smiled as she exited. However as soon as the door was shut, Kent frowned, grabbing her phone, dialing rapidly.

  “Who are you calling?” Nicole asked.

  “Delia’s therapist,” Kent explained. “I’m putting Delia on suicide watch.”

  “Why? She seemed good.”

  “That’s Delia though. Remember the last time she seemed to take bad news in stride?”

  Yes, Nicole did remember. They had found her hanging from her closet. Only her vanity had saved her. They couldn’t count on that again.

  “Next, I’m calling her aunt and getting her over here.”

  Again, the uncaring, blissfully irresponsible Kent was being the most responsible guardian you could imagine.

  Nicole kissed the back of his neck as he talked to the therapist.

  She had the best husband in the world.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ruben’s finger shook as he dialed the phone. He was ahead of Kent. For once. He was going to relish this moment.

  “Ruben?” Nicole answered her phone.

  “Yah, put Kent on,” Ruben stated. He did not want this information to go through Nicole. He wanted to hear the defeat in Kent’s voice.

  “Pull it out if you need to,” Kent answered.

  Ruben was already pissed and it hadn’t been two seconds. He swallowed his pride on that one and coolly answered. “I think I’ve found Lucky 37’s next victim.”

  Look at that. Ruben was using Kent’s own technique to beat him.

  “Lucy Harrow?”

  Ruben’s jaw fell open as his stomach plunged to the floor. “Yes… yes… How did you know?”

  “I’d met her on a stakeout. Now that I knew what we were looking for, she was the most viable candidate.”

  “But, but, but…” Ruben stopped himself. He sounded like a wronged teenager and with all the other cops around the bullpen, Ruben did not want that to be the image he projected from his side of the conversation. “Kent, I asked you earlier and you said you didn’t have any idea who the next victim was.”

  “I know, I lied,” Kent admitted sounding his usual smug self.

  “Why?” Ruben asked feeling about two inches tall.

  “Because, this conversation wouldn’t have nearly been as fun,” Kent stated.

  Nicole must have taken the phone away from the profiler as she answered, “But Ruben, look at it this way, you did figure out the next victim without Kent’s help. That’s huge.”

  He knew that Nicole was trying to salvage his ego, but it was too late for that.

  Ruben heard Kent in the background, “Plus I wanted an outside, uncontaminated opinion.”

  Weak praise indeed.

  “How long have you known?” Ruben asked Nicole.

  “Only a few minutes, but he’s known since this morning.”

  Of course he had. There was absolutely no reason to cry over spilt ego.

  “So what is the plan?”

  “Heck if I know,” Nicole responded. “He’s just having me drive south.”

  “But the bar Lucy frequents is to the east.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Nicole said just before hanging up.

  Ruben turned to the city map on the murder board.

  What in the hell was Kent doing going south?

  * * *

  “Care to fill me in?” Nicole asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “Think it through,” Kent responded in his usual non-helpful but instructive way.

  Didn’t he realize she had been racking her brain ever since he had diverted her to the south?

  God how she hated to ask. “A hint?”

  “Do you really think that Lucky is going to show up at any biker bar tonight? We have his name, his face, his prints, his DNA. He may like his ritual, but he isn’t stupid.”

  “But I thought you said his ritual was compulsive so doesn’t that imply he had no control over it?” Nicole asked. She tried to keep all of Kent’s rules in her head.

  “Oh, he is following his compulsion, all the way back to the beginning.”

  “Got it,” Nicole said as the flash of understanding nearly blinded her. “He’s going back to Marcy.”

  Kent nodded.

  “But I thought we put some Uni’s at the hospital?”

  “Like that’s going to stop him,” Kent said. “This is his coup de grace. He assumes we are going to chase our tails and give him the opportunity to finish what he started.”

  Nicole chewed her lower lip. Had she been in charge, that is exactly what she would have done. She would have followed the pattern, assuming Lucy was next up. She would have assumed that Marcy was safe with her police protection. This was Lucky 37 though. He had killed with impunity for decades. A few cops at the door wasn’t going to stop him. Kent was right.

  Now that she knew where she was going, Nicole stepped on it. “Should we call in for backup?”

  Kent just gave her that look. Too many cops was sometimes not a good thing. Friendly fire and all.

  “Ruben,” she said to her phone and it dialed automatically. Ah, technology.

  “Nicole?”

  “Ruben, look, Kent thinks Lucky is going back to Marcy’s.”

  “I’ll send a unit over.”

  “Well, no, Kent doesn’t want a large police presence to spook him. But have them wait four blocks out, okay?”

  She knew Ruben hated it when Kent pulled stuff like this. Ruben liked his backup nice and close. He used to run with the strategic teams and felt they were essential to any take down. Nicole didn’t need to mention that Kent liked to go in alone so there were no witnesses to what came next.

  “Okay, but keep me in the loop.”

  N
icole hit the end button. She wouldn’t give any promises she couldn’t keep.

  Within minutes they skidded into the advanced care facility’s parking lot. Everything seemed nice and quiet, while a maelstrom was brewing inside.

  * * *

  Kent walked through the door, feeling the rush of recycled air in his face. The lights were dimmed and the only people visible were two nurses at the reception station.

  “Where are the police that were stationed here?”

  A nurse looked up from her chart. “One of the outer bungalows was broken into, scared an elderly woman half to death. They went to check it out.”

  Kent slid his eyes over to Nicole. They both knew who created that diversion and the cops had fallen for it. He couldn’t blame them though. They just didn’t understand how street-smart Lucky 37 was.

  He rushed down the hallway to Marcy’s room. Nicole pulled up alongside of him, her gun drawn and down at her side.

  Kent shoved the door open, trying to make the most of their element of surprise.

  He found someone there, just not the person he expected.

  “Delia?”

  The teenage girl was sitting next to her mother’s bed, holding her hand.

  “How did you find Marcy?”

  “Don’t be mad at him,” Delia said. “I tricked Joshua into telling me. And don’t be mad at my aunt, I tricked her by saying I was coming to see you.”

  Of course she had. He should have expected it.

  “I’m not mad, but we need to get you out of here.”

  “Why? He’s already here,” Delia said, nodding to behind the curtain.

  Lucky 37 stepped out. Finally the bastard was just a few feet away. Nicole’s gun was up, aiming at Lucky, but he had a knife to Marcy’s neck.

  “Possibly one of the most messed up family reunions ever,” Kent commented.

  “If only she hadn’t insisted in waiting until after the wedding.”

  “Right,” Kent hissed. “This all would have been fine if she’d just put out. Rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power.”

  Lucky 37’s lips drew up into a smile. “The only problem with that theory is in areas with high porn usage have fewer rapes. How does your big brain process that information?”

  Great, now Lucky 37 was an expert in the psychology of rape. And Kent couldn’t counter his argument. There was an unpopular yet evolving theory that rape was in fact about sex in many cases and that porn and frequent masturbation decreased the rape urge. Not exactly something Congress could get behind though, was it? Increase porn! Yah, you weren’t going to find that on a bumper sticker anywhere. Beating off, beats rape. Again, not exactly campaign slogan friendly.