Eating Crow (The Birdman Series Book 1)

by Hayton, Lee

  “I didn’t see that on his sheet.”

  “He was never arrested for it. No one could ever conclusively prove he put them in there but talk to anyone who was around at the time in vice, and they’ll tell you. He was moving shitloads of pills and crystal. The boys were ecstatic when he got caught for the kiddie porn thing. When I saw Mancini’s name on the call sheet for the help line, I knew he was the one.”

  Edwards shook his head. “I don’t get it. Why would Mancini care?”

  “His sister was one of Carter’s clients. She overdosed once on a bad batch of pills. Ended up in the hospital with her stomach pumped. Potentially, she was high on some more when she fell down a concrete staircase and cracked her skull open.”

  “I didn’t even know he had a sister.” Edwards sat back on the bed and pulled his notebook out, flipping back through the pages. “How long ago was that?”

  “Twenty years. I came across it on a house bust when I was still in uniform, but vice had the case dragging on for years. Mancini was only a tween himself when it happened.”

  Victoria paused for a moment, hesitant, then decided on the rest. “There were serious doubts about the evidence that got Malcolm Carter locked up, not that anyone cared. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mancini had a hand in that, too. Was an anonymous tip-off that led police to seize his hard drive. Until then, they’d never even collected enough evidence against him for a warrant.”

  “Can’t have been that much doubt. Carter’s records say he pleaded.”

  “There was trouble getting the images off his hard drive. They pulled enough evidence to secure a prosecution, but when the techs finished, the whole drive was corrupted beyond repair.” When Edwards looked blank, she explained. “Malcolm needed the hard drive to prove his innocence. That was the only record of what he’d been up to—or not up to—online. When it was fried, he changed his plea to guilty in return for a reduced sentence, most of it on probation. Until then, he’d protested his innocence.”

  “A bit thin.”

  “Yeah, well that’s the line of work we’re in.” Victoria stepped forward from the whiteboard to check the driveway as Arnaud waved from outside. “Looks like the barbecue is ready.”

  “You sure you don’t mind me staying?”

  “I’m sure,” Victoria said on her way out the door. “If you want to be a good guest you could fetch the other six pack out of your car.”

  “How did you . . . ?”

  Victoria waved the receipt slip in front of him. She’d found it caught beneath the beer carrier when she’d crushed it into the recycling bin. “Grab it, and I’ll save you a place at the table.”

  “Deal.”

  #

  Victoria woke with a start. Her leg was cramping, a deep Charlie Horse that made her thigh scream. She moaned and dug her fingers into the muscle, trying to knead the pain out. After a few moments, the tight grip started to loosen, and blood began to flow. There was a twitch of nerves as she stood, but Victoria waited until it receded again before moving across to the kitchen.

  She’d fallen asleep on the couch from a combination of tiredness and beer. Now her tongue felt like it was growing cotton, and her taste buds were crying out for something sweet. Forgoing her usual water, Victoria poured herself a glass of coke from the fridge and swilled the first sip around her mouth to break up the scum. She spat it into the sink and then sculled the rest of the glass.

  Edwards must still be asleep in her bedroom. He’d dozed off after eleven, while they were still staring blankly at a board raising more questions than it answered. She’d watched him sleep for a few minutes until she realized exactly how creepy that was. Not wanting to disturb him, and Edwards being too far over the limit to drive home anyway, Victoria left him where he was and curled up to read on the couch.

  Another glass of the sweet, soft drink and Victoria moved to sit at the kitchen table. Her head was swimming in a slow circle, and her thigh muscle was still sending out warning twitches. Despite her physical discomfort, she smiled. As stupid as it seemed, she was as close to happy as she ever got. Why, when so much was going wrong was beyond her.

  During her short sleep, she’d also come to an answer for the missing deaths on Malcolm’s list. Once, she’d chased after a man no one else had looked twice at. Disobeyed orders to do it and ended up in a shitload of trouble. If Victoria were the only one pulling in a different direction, the unit wouldn’t follow her. Not when the last time hadn’t stopped a thing.

  The surest way for the team to know they were locking up the right man this time around, was to have Victoria crowing in the background about how they were all wrong. With no evidence to pull them in another direction, she’d force them into even more certainty. Nicole would be left vulnerable, even more exposed.

  The killer wasn’t to know that the secret Victoria had kept for the last fourteen years had finally been revealed to Edwards and two classrooms of children.

  When she opened the fridge door again for a third glass of coke, Victoria saw the leftover plate of food that Arnaud had prepared. Sausages and chicken wings. Although she’d only picked at her food when she and Edwards joined Arnaud and Grace to eat, her stomach now growled and issued stern commands. She pulled the plate out and sat down with her midnight snack.

  When she’d demolished over half, Victoria placed the remainder back into the fridge and turned the radio on low. A replacement for the burned husk she’d thrown away, this time she’d forked out the extra for an auto-tuner, so she never had to crawl between the stations again. It was almost time for the news, and Victoria was suddenly desperate for reassurance that Nicole hadn’t ended up dead in the alley while she and Edwards were theorizing and drinking. That girl should be her top priority for the time being. Too many bodies were littered through her conscious already. Another would pull her under with its weight.

  Her discussion with Edwards had wound down in ever decreasing circles. Each hesitant suggested answer came with a dozen new queries attached. Too many things that they couldn’t know. Maybe next time she should involve Arnaud and Grace. Perhaps a brainstorming session with new minds would put forth something neither of them had thought of.

  The newscaster droned on about the weather and a traffic incident that still hadn’t been cleared. Working through the night, the early morning commuters might still have an issue at the junction of Dayton and Ward Streets.

  Victoria couldn’t even picture where that was. A murder couldn’t have been reported, though. No reporter worth their salt would be talking about the percentage of humidity the city could expect tomorrow if there was a new slab filled down at the morgue.

  “Hey,” Edwards called out.

  Victoria jumped and realized that she must have dozed off again at the table. She hadn’t heard him walking toward the kitchen at all. Music was now quietly playing on the station. Barry Manilow trying hard to convince her that he sang the songs which made the whole world sing.

  “There are some leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Victoria said, getting up to turn it off. “Do you want a glass of water or coke?”

  “I was on my way to a party.”

  Victoria froze. Her arm stretched halfway out toward the off button.

  “I don’t know where I am.”

  It’s a hallucination. You know that. You’ve had them before. Time to go back to your shrink and start taking medication.

  “What the hell are you listening to?”

  Victoria started to shake as she turned toward Edwards. He was leaning in toward the radio, peering at the dial.

  “He’s coming. He’s coming for you.”

  “Did you go off station?” He placed a hand on the unit to tilt it back, then drew his hand back. Face flinching in pain. “Ow. It’s hot.”

  “He’ll never stop.”

  Smoke poured out from the radio casing. Thick and pungent. Victoria knocked the device into the sink and turned on both taps, her head swimming with deja vu. There was a burning pain on t
he side of her hand and she stuck it into the flow of water. Turning her head, she avoided the worst of the noxious smoke and steam.

  Edwards leaned over beside her and opened the kitchen window, then moved to the dining room and opened those as well. The night air was still, the smoke hung inside with nothing to propel it away. He waved his hands, then picked up a tea towel from the handle on the stove and used that to flap in the air.

  “What the fuck was that?” Edwards asked, his face creased in puzzlement and concern.

  Victoria burst into tears, her earlier contentment chased away in a stirring of confusion, guilt, and gratitude. Edwards had heard the voice, too. She wasn’t going crazy.

  “That was Star Harris,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When Nicole came down to pretend to eat her breakfast, she saw the newspaper lying on the table. “BIRDMAN CAUGHT,” cried the main headline on the front page. Until she saw it, Nicole hadn’t realized how tightly wound up anxiety over that stupid bracelet had made her. For a moment, even her nausea went away in the upsurge of relief.

  Then the same old problems came back. Jeremy, the baby, the abortion she had scheduled for Monday afternoon. The tight squeeze in the back of her throat that Nicole felt each morning just before the urge to vomit became unstoppable, began. Closing her eyes, Nicole listened to hear where her mother was located. Could she chance the bathroom, or should she opt for the disguising noise of the shower?

  “Morning, dear.”

  Her mother put a hand on her shoulder, and Nicole jumped. She hadn’t heard her at all, not over the pump of blood through her ears. The deceit and subterfuge she’d honed to a fine art during her illness, had departed leaving her with stumbling excuses in their wake.

  “Would you like some toast?”

  “That sounds great. Would you be able to put it on now, then I can have it cold after my shower?”

  Her mother gave her a careful glance. “Won’t you be late for school? Have it now then just change, and I’ll give you a lift.”

  Nicole nodded, the brief movement heralding the first creep of bile up her esophagus.

  “Are you okay, Nicole? You’re sweating.”

  She took a second to answer, clenching her teeth together against another sweep of sickness. “I might be coming down with something, I think.”

  Her mother placed a cool hand on her forehead and frowned. “Why don’t you pop back up to bed. I’ll bring your toast through in a few minutes.”

  “Can you stay home with me?” The question was blurted out before Nicole even thought it through. She bit her lip and waited, hopeful.

  But her mother was already shaking her head. “I have meetings stacked up through the day, and then I’m at the Shareholder table event tonight. Remember?”

  Nicole nodded, but her mother told her about her work so often the information blurred into one message. You’re not my top priority.

  “What time will you be home?”

  Her mom sighed and turned away to pop the bread into the toaster. “I’ll probably stay over in town. I won’t be able to drive home, and it’s easier for me to camp in the office.”

  “Okay.” There was a bed set up in her mom’s office because there were many nights where entertaining meant it was easier to sleep there than come home to her daughter. “Will you send me a text before dinner?”

  “Oh, sweetheart. Of course, I will. Just a moment.” Her phone must have been vibrating because she hooked it out of her bra and walked out of the room to answer it.

  The bile swept back up, and Nicole ran from the room, holding her hand out in front of her mouth in case she didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. It was a close-run thing. When she finished, she flushed the toilet and stood up on shaking legs. None of this felt right. Maybe she was coming down with a terrible illness. Her face felt hot and swollen. Her lips had cracked at the corners, stinging until she licked them with a moisturizer of saliva.

  When she walked out into the kitchen, Nicole saw the toast still sitting in the toaster. Her mother’s bag was gone from the chair. When she walked to the front door to peer through the side window into the garage, she saw it was empty.

  Her mom had left for work without even saying goodbye.

  #

  Victoria sat in her car, watching the uniformed kids file into school like identical dolls. The dress standard meant she had no trouble picking out the students from the adults dropping them off. Telling them apart from each other was an exercise in confusion.

  Her mouth split open wide into a yawn that she smothered against the back of her hand. After her relieved crying jag in the kitchen, Edwards had sent her to bed to sleep for a few hours longer. As she gently drifted into sleep, Victoria had presumed when she woke up he’d be long gone. Fleeing away from whatever terrifying madness had infected her home. Instead, he’d knocked on the door just after seven to ask her if she wanted a cup of coffee.

  His shift started at nine. Before then, Victoria had briefly laid out the other oddities she’d been cataloging. At each courageous reveal, she’d expected him to hold up his hand and announce it was all too much. Maybe suggest the hallucinations that had provided vibrant window dressing at the time of Abby Rushton and Star Harris’ death were repeating. Dismiss their shared experience as a type of mass hysteria.

  Instead, he’d listened as she listed each bizarre occurrence with the radio, the streetlights. The mobile phone messaging her by itself, before melting in the sink. The computer technician who’d complained that all the office computers in town were going down. The woman at the helpline shouting to her dead son before the entire switchboard exploded into flame.

  He’d listened, then he’d added to the list. Things that Victoria knew but had forgotten. Events she didn’t think to factor into her experiences. The inability of the lab to retrieve data off Miranda’s phone. Malcolm’s diary appearing on the screen without a key being touched. Multiple blown streetlights around Coby Thorpe’s crime scene.

  A strange mix of fear and joy filled her as they talked. The fear had dissipated, but the joy had settled in for the long haul.

  How long had it been since Victoria had truly had a partner? Hank had been there for her once but she’d barely seen his withdrawal of support until she needed him one day, and he was long gone.

  Edwards finally headed into work and Victoria had headed off to school, to intercept Nicole. They’d agreed that until they could work out what was happening, keeping Nicole safe would be their top priority. Even if they had to swap each other out to keep eyes on her 24/7. Their belief that Malcolm wasn’t the killer did no one any good unless they could keep her alive.

  She needed to pick up a mobile phone again, too. When Edwards went to key in her number, she didn’t have one to give him. The absence didn’t overly bother her, just transported her back ten years to a different expectation. It had shocked him, though, and his unease transmitted itself to Victoria. While being out of touch during the day had been commonplace to her most of her life, to Edwards it was dangerous.

  The road began to thin out, emptying of mommy vehicles. School was about to start, and any student who planned on attending today was here. Victoria got out of her car, meaning to walk to the admissions office and put out a call on the intercom if necessary, then saw a familiar bob of brunette hair walking across the parking lot.

  “Mo,” she called out, but the girl didn’t stop or turn. Victoria beeped her car door locked and ran after her. “Mo.”

  This time the girl heard her, looked over her shoulder. When she recognized Victoria, her eyes widened in fear. Her mouth fell open. Her head started to shake in a gesture of scared negation.

  “It’s okay,” Victoria hurried to say, then had to stop for a moment while she caught her breath. She was getting old. “I just wanted to catch up with you and Nicole.”

  “She’s not here,” Mo said. She looked toward the school building as the bell for homeroom rang. “I think she’s stayed home sick.”


  “Did she call you?”

  “She sent this.” Mo handed over the phone and Victoria tried to decipher the gibberish of emoji. A language she understood as well as hieroglyphics.

  When she shrugged and handed it back, Mo smiled and bowed her head. “Yeah, it says she’s feeling sick. Can I go? Class is starting.”

  “Does Nicole often feel sick in the mornings, Mo?”

  The girl faced her, but her eyes performed a dance of avoidance. Looking over Victoria’s shoulder, at her arm, down to her shoes, back up to her shoulder. “I think you should talk to Nicole about that,” she said hesitantly. “It’s not my place to say.”

  “Okay. Go on, I’ll catch up with you later if I need to.”

  Mo waved and ran for the building. Even her short legs carrying her at a pace that would’ve left Victoria in her dust.

  #

  Nicole’s home wasn’t quite as upscale as Emilie Vendala’s place had been, but it was in the same bracket. As Victoria tried to quell the worm of envy that wriggled in her stomach on her approach, she thought how the disparity between the haves and the have-nots seemed to do nothing but grow.

  Considering that Victoria had already been buzzed through at the street-fronting gate, it took a long time for Nicole to answer the front doorbell. When she finally did, Victoria understood why.

  The girl was a vulnerable shadow of a human being. Skin so pale that Victoria could see the blue veins returning blood. White except for the angry black shadows under each eye. It had only been a few days, but Nicole seemed to have circled downhill fast.

  “I don’t know why you’re here. You caught the muderer.”

  Victoria cleared her throat, taken aback by Nicole’s disrespectful bluntness. The fear causing her earlier compliance during the visit to the police station was gone. “Can I come in?”