Savage Echoes (The Nickie Savage Series, Short Story Prequel)

by Wolfe, R. T.

  The more he dug up on Nickie's past, the more it connected to the present.

  Bam. Bam. Bam. He'd always had good aim regardless of his feelings about weapons. He would wait another fifteen minutes for her call before he went out to the other two sites.

  Dating a cop was definitely a learning curve. A smile curled the corners of his lips as he took the next handful of shots. And this cop was a learning curve worth the time.

  The job for the governor's assistant was one of the first painting jobs he'd solicited in over ten years. Work rained on him, and he was grateful. This job, however, was more than a painting. More than a paycheck. This guy had something to do with Nickie's past or her present, Duncan wasn't sure which, but he was going to find out.

  He checked the safety and pulled out the magazine. Placing them in his case, he removed his hearing protection.

  * * *

  The captain's wife managed several homeless shelters around Seneca Lake. With hair still wet from her station locker room shower, Nickie pumped Dave for information without throwing the homeless man under the bus. She hoped to find him some kind of assistance he might accept.

  She caught Dave up on where she was with the Serena Flats case. The clock was ticking. It would be a late night, but there would be no sleep with a twenty-year-old woman missing.

  "I called her apartment again," she said. "I didn't tell her roommates about the second call, but they're beginning to sound worried. Serena missed their plans to meet up for dinner at the pizza joint down the street from their place."

  Reassembling her gun, badge, cuffs and phone to her belt, she briefed Dave on the boyfriend and the absent substitute teacher. "I'm on my way to hunt them up now."

  "I'd tell you to let third shift take over until tomorrow, but I know I'd be wasting my breath. Don't go alone. Take Lynx. He hasn't left for home yet."

  She'd gotten Duncan clearance as a civilian consultant to listen to the first 9-1-1 tape, but she wouldn't know how to explain to Dave about the underpasses. She also knew better than to check out a lead by herself.

  Running her hands over the top of her damp hair, she answered, "Yes, sir."

  As she left his office, he said, "Don't call me 'sir.'"

  Smiling, she popped into Eddy's office. It was supposed to be her office after the unfortunate incarceration of the previous captain moved everyone around. Scumbag piece of shit. But she didn't want the emptied office.

  He was messier than she was. She was afraid to touch anything. At least her desk was clean.

  Knocking on the open door, she strolled in and studied his case board as she spoke. "I've got names and addresses on Serena Flats' boyfriend and for a substitute teacher who didn't show up for her lab this afternoon. You up for tagging along?"

  "Tagging along?" He grabbed his police issue jacket. "Do I get to play with the siren?" he said sarcastically.

  "It's late, Eddy. I just meant you don't have to come along if you don't want."

  "I work here, too. Of course I have to go with you. Even if I'm just tagging along." He spread a smile from ear to ear. No wonder she'd been stupid enough to sleep with him.

  A missing girl, distraught parents, dead end after dead end, and a day that for most of upstate New York was coming to an end. Riding with Eddy was more than she was willing to tolerate. Take him along, okay. Ride with him talking a mile a minute all over town, no. "It's late, Lynx. We're driving separate." Ignoring his pause, she tied her hip-length brown raincoat at the waist and briefed him as they walked.

  * * *

  Duncan rolled a few hundred yards along the shoulder of Highway 34. He stopped long before the bridge. It was dark and would have been quiet to most ears. His were never quiet. He could hear the small squeak of a bat as it circled. The occasional rustle of leaves could mean anything from a large rodent to deer. And water.

  He checked that his Beretta was secured in the belt at his back before starting the short hike to the bridge. The creek flowed smoothly. No rocks. Only mud and grasses so far. The incline was shallow, the floodplain heavy with tall, dead plants. Parts had been matted down. Were they from the footprints of the animals that were rustling the leaves? Or from a man who liked to kidnap young women?

  With his hand resting on his gun, he climbed down. The water sounded familiar. He stopped at the edge of the tunnel and listened. He heard nothing but the steady stream. Slowly, he cocked his head around and peered into the large, concrete tubing. It was easily eight feet in diameter with a steady stream of water three feet wide. Remembering the smaller tubing, he craned his head to see if there were any blankets. Or bodies.

  Water trickled from each of the smaller tubes in this tunnel. Convinced he was alone, he took his hand from his gun and started in. The gravel crunched beneath his Armani slip-ons. He walked the distance of the underpass and out the other side. Retracing his steps, he stopped this time at the smaller channels that intersected the main drainage system. The tunnel was long enough to duck sunlight. He used his flashlight app and looked down the long passageway. A handful of tiny pairs of eyes reflected red against the beam. Rats. It took more than that to give him the chills. He'd served in the Middle East.

  Squatting down, he scooped up some of the gravel and shone the light on it. His brows furrowed as he brought the tiny pebbles in for a closer look. He looked around as if an evidence bag might pop out of nowhere, then stuffed the rocks into the front pocket of his jeans.

  * * *

  "Would you like a drink while we're here?"

  Nickie looked at Eddy like he had three eyes. "I'm not going to honor that statement with a response. The boyfriend's roommates may have been blowing us crap or could have gotten the place wrong." The bar was scattered kids in their early twenties. Too early for this age to be out. The few that were there looked too young to be drinking. Nickie decided then and there if anyone called her ma'am, she was going to book 'em.

  Ordering a single club soda, she leaned against the only remaining spot at the small bar and scanned the place. The music was just as frigging loud as a late Saturday night. Eddy stepped close to her and placed his hand on her lower back.

  She let her glance drop to his hand, then back up to his eyes. Her sagging lids must have spoken for her.

  He lowered his lips to her ear and said loudly, "We already stick out. Work with me here, Nick."

  Shifting away from him, she scanned the area. The picture of the boyfriend was clear in her mind. Maybe not as clear as it would be for Duncan, but clear enough. Thinking of Duncan made her second-guess if she should have brought him instead of Eddy.

  Duncan was probably sitting on his stool in front of his easel, brows pulled together, concentrating on a canvas in front of him. She warmed at the image just as she spotted the boyfriend. He stood at a table big enough for two with three other boys his age. He didn't look distraught that his girlfriend had been missing since seven a.m.

  Getting Eddy's attention, she jerked her head over her shoulder. "Let me try this alone for now. I don't... stand out as much without you. You look like a cop."

  He gave her a look like she'd just run over his cat, but took her spot at the bar anyway.

  Shouldering her way between the boys, she set her badge on the tiny table. Facing the boyfriend, she yelled over the music. "I'd like to have a word with you. Alone." The others were gone before she finished her sentence.

  The dude's irises looked like saucers. Of course this could be about drugs. It could be about anything.

  "It's Serena. Is she... okay?"

  "Now, why wouldn't she be okay?"

  "She hasn't answered her phone all day," he said.

  "You were the last one to see her." That wasn't completely fabricated. Nickie knew they had met up in the middle of the night. He was her last known contact early that morning. Her blood started to boil just thinking about it. "Where were you at eleven thirty this morning?"

  He looked down but not to the side. What he was about to say might be the truth.


  "I..." Droplets of sweat accumulated on his upper lip.

  "You what? Did she steal from you?" She was fishing she knew, but had to get something going between the two of them.

  "No! I was with someone."

  "Who someone?" She stepped close to his face now. At her five-foot-ten, plus the heels of her boots, she looked down on him.

  "A girl."

  She didn't back away. "Convenient." Leaving her face in his, she reached in the pocket of her coat and pulled out her small notepad and a pen. Slapping them on the table, she retrieved her badge at the same time.

  "Name, phone number and address, Romeo."

  * * *

  Rolling down the windows of her unmarked, Nickie welcomed the cool night air. She loved her car. Duncan called it an oversized piece of shit town car. Prejudices. It was safe, it had pick up and hardly anyone could spot it as a police issue.

  Eddy led the way in his Buick. Whatever. He'd called in the name and number Romeo gave as his alibi. One of the second shift desk guys would run it for them before they gave the girl a visit.

  Right then, all Nickie wanted to think about was the missing teacher. Coincidence? She believed in coincidences less than she believed in hunches. He lived in a studio apartment far too close to the students. His file read that two years prior he was an undergrad himself.

  She pulled into the parking lot and followed Eddy to a spot two doors down. When she turned off her car, she heard her phone buzz. Turning the screen to face her, she saw she'd missed two calls. Duncan.

  "Nickie Savage," she said when she answered.

  He offered no sarcastic retort to her formal address. "I'm a few blocks from Tom Bradley's." His voice was chilled ice.

  Her eyes widened. It was him? It was the sex offender? She knew better than to question Duncan and didn't have the time. What the hell was she going to do with Lynx? "You step one foot on that property," she growled into the phone, "and I'll personally see to your booking. I'm on my way." Did she call the captain and tell him she needed a warrant because her boyfriend thought Tom Bradley abducted Serena Flats? Shit, shit, shit. She stepped out of her car.

  "Let's hit this guy in the morning," she said to Eddy. There was no time for explanations.

  "Was that pretty boy on the phone? Are you out past your curfew?"

  And she had no time for junior high taunting. Ignoring him, she got back in her car and did her best not to spin her tires.

  * * *

  Duncan leaned against his Barracuda. Streetlights lit nearly every house on the block. Tom Bradley's place wasn't one of them. Keeping it in his sight, he parked three doors down. He pulled up his sleeve and checked his watch.

  He wasn't a cop. The thought kept ringing in his ears.

  He could get a closer look without stepping one foot on the property. Checking that his Beretta was snug in the back of his pants, he pushed away from his car. The streets were bare. It was too cold to be out. The small houses were still mostly active. Late night neighborhood. Bradley's home wasn't an exception. Blinds drawn, a faint glow lit nearly every room. All Duncan could feel was the need to question Bradley.

  He maneuvered around the outside perimeter of the property to the back. Nothing ornate, but everything meticulous. Blinds drawn back here, too. He pictured each room as he circled. Something didn't sit right with him.

  He saw movement. It looked like one person. Not that Serena Flats would be walking around if she were in there. By the time he reached the other side of the house, he found his feet on the three wooden steps leading to the front door. His shoes were soft-soled and he hadn't knocked, but the door opened anyway.

  Chapter 5

  "We haven't been properly introduced." Bradley held out a hand. His long, thin fingers matched the elongated features of his face.

  Duncan should have been startled, but since nothing had startled him since he was eight years old, he shook Bradley's hand instead. "Duncan. Duncan Reed."

  Bradley stepped out of the way. "Not Officer Reed? Or Detective Reed? Interesting. Since you've seen the entire outside of my home, Duncan—I can call you Duncan, I presume—why don't you come in?"

  What was Bradley thinking? He wasn't thinking. Or maybe he was thinking too much. Duncan wiped his feet and stepped over the threshold. He wasn't a cop.

  He listened carefully for the sounds of movement, a voice... anything. Looking around, Duncan saw nothing out of place. Not a damned thing had been moved, added or removed from the last time he and Nickie were there. Nickie. She wouldn't be too happy about this.

  His phone rang in the pocket of his jacket.

  "Go ahead and tell her you're here, Duncan. Would you like something to drink? Brandy perhaps?"

  "I'm in," he said to the phone as he dipped his head into a side room on his way back to the kitchen. The feeling that something didn't sit right with him grew with each step. He couldn't hear anything; everything looked to be in order.

  A long line of curses reverberated through his mind.

  Leaning his head close to the hallway pantry, he listened as Bradley came out holding a tray with three glasses. Each had two fingers of brandy.

  "Tell her to come in. I told you I have nothing to hide." Bradley passed Duncan in the hallway and walked out to the front room. "I'm sure you've read my file, Duncan." He set the tray down and turned to face him. His small eyes squinted. "Or have you?"

  He hadn't and was kicking himself for that detail at that moment.

  "If you have, you would know I'm a highly intelligent man. And although I am a law abiding citizen and have nothing to hide, you wouldn't be able to catch me if I did."

  His smile was an arrogant challenge. If Bradley only knew Duncan already had all he needed. Unfortunately, he didn't have what Nickie needed.

  The three raps on the door were far too calm. He wondered if he would catch hell later or if Nickie would be too pleased with closing the case to give him hell. As Bradley answered, Duncan let his eyes travel to the stairs, then to the kitchen, the room off the front and back again. He almost didn't hear her address him, and that sort of thing never happened.

  "Duncan, what a surprise." Nickie was unfortunately sincere. "Are we interrupting anything, Mr. Bradley? Mr. Reed and I seem to have a misunderstanding."

  "Not at all. He and I were just discussing my... home." Bradley held out a glass for each of them.

  Nickie shook her head. "I'm on duty."

  "Ah, but you're not, Duncan."

  "I'll get you some water." Duncan took Nickie's glass and headed for the kitchen. Leaving her alone with Bradley was practically unbearable, but he needed to find what he came for. He rinsed out the glass in the kitchen sink. Avoiding the risk of laced brandy, he got down a new glass before filling it with water. The kitchen was smaller than it should be. He turned and inadvertently used his hands to map out the house. Front room, pantry, room off the front, stairs, kitchen.

  Brows dug low, he turned in a circle when he saw what he'd come for. Work boots had been placed precisely at the back door. He bent down and turned one over as he reached in his pocket and took out a handful of the gravel he'd taken from the underpass. Same light color of soil, same long black seeds stuck randomly on the sides. The gravel had sharp edges, not like the smooth ones in the other spots he'd searched. Surely forensics could make a match.

  Nickie was questioning Bradley when Duncan walked back into the front room. The boots were in one hand, the water in the other. At the sight of the boots, Bradley's eyes enlarged. Duncan caught it, even though it was just for a moment. Bradley looked around in a single circle, clearly processing.

  Nickie glanced to Duncan, then to Bradley and back again. Taking a deep breath, Duncan slowly set Nickie's glass of water on the closest end table and reached in his pocket. Simultaneously, he turned over the boots, exposing the rocks stuck in the treads before he opened his fist showing a handful of matching rocks.

  Before Duncan and Nickie could react, Bradley whipped an arm around her, ho
lding a switchblade to her neck.

  It took only a few more seconds for Duncan to drop the gravel and the boots and aim his Beretta at Bradley's head. No one else would have noticed, but his hand trembled as he lined up his shot. His eyes burned at the thought of losing her. Of watching her hurt. He'd done this once before.

  No one spoke.

  Nickie nostrils flared, her eyes tight. She looked like a cat ready to scratch Bradley's eyes out.

  Bradley cocked his head confidently. Clearly he was thinking through his options.

  Duncan couldn't think of much more than his Nickie as the room started to spin. Blinking, he forced his head clear.

  It came to him as he worked to control his breathing, his finger aching to squeeze the trigger. The house. It was missing a large space in the middle of the layout. A room?

  Nickie whimpered and lowered her chin.

  Damn. Duncan knew what that meant.

  Bradley parted his lips and took a breath. "Now, now, Detecti—"

  Nickie jerked her head back and butted him in the face. Her arms swung madly as Duncan rushed forward with gun drawn. The sound of fist on bone, hook, uppercut, Duncan couldn't get a shot.

  Face to face with Bradley, Nickie landed one more solid head butt. Both staggered before Bradley fell in a heap on the floor.

  "Ahh!" Nickie screamed in frustration.

  He secured his gun and grabbed her shoulders. "Stop. Nickie, listen."

  She growled, her chest rising and falling.

  "Shh." He cupped the sides of her face. "Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?"

  She shook her head as her lids dropped. "I'm okay," she breathed. "Okay."

  She didn't ask why he'd held out the boots and gravel or why Bradley reacted to them the way he did. She trusted him. In more ways than this.

  The house. The layout of the house.

  At his feet, Bradley lay unconscious, a large bump rising in the center of his forehead. He held Nickie at arm's length and looked from one side of the room to the other. "Something's off, Nickie. This isn't right."

  Nickie pulled out her cell. "Damn right. What if we don't find her? He's out cold. I need to call this in and get B&Ws out to your other two locations. Give me the locales, Duncan."