Got Thrills? A Boxed Set (A McCray Collection)

by Carolyn McCray

  It was time to prove the profiler wrong.

  CHAPTER 2

  Nicole watched Ruben stalk away. He didn’t even look back as he opened his car door and got inside. She felt bad, knowing that he would see her interest in the profiler’s methods as some sort of betrayal. Ruben was big on loyalty. Really big on loyalty. Sometimes, though, it seemed he wanted blind loyalty. All for one and one for all. Where did that leave her, though?

  With six dead, didn’t they owe it to the victims to explore every possible lead? Even one as bizarre as the one the profiler suggested? To her, the next five minutes represented an investment not only in the case but in her career.

  She turned to find the profiler already halfway down the alley. Nicole glanced back over her shoulder as Ruben revved the car. Was it her imagination, or was he stalling in the hope that she would join him? Instead, she gave a wave. Nicole wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or not, as Ruben pulled the car away from the curb and peeled out down the street.

  “Well?” Harbinger asked. “That internet café isn’t going to seduce potential victims all by itself.”

  Trotting to catch up, Nicole noticed that the profiler ducked under the crime scene tape, but didn’t bother to lift it for her. Not exactly the gentleman. Though Harbinger seemed quite keen to analyze everyone around him, that didn’t mean she couldn’t gain some insight into his character as well.

  Dipping under the tape, Nicole followed the profiler as he turned left out of the alley and onto the main street. Half a dozen doors down, he opened the door of an internet café. Bowing, he waved her in.

  It was eerie. Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts about his lack of chivalry. She passed by him and entered the café. The denizens were of a motley sort. Some looked homeless while, strangely, others seemed like they had just left work at one of the high-rises a few blocks away.

  Harbinger pointed to a woman’s shoes. “Those would be work heels.”

  Nicole couldn’t argue. Since all of the victims had been found with only their shoes left on, they had of course thought them to be significant, however it had never occurred to any of them that the victims had been dressed to impress. Given the discrepancy in the victim’s income levels, it was easy to miss. However, no matter how broke a woman was, she usually found a way to have a “date” pair of shoes. They may have been from a Salvation Army store, but they were date-worthy.

  Damn it, she should have caught that. On the job, there were few times when being a chick came in handy. This should have been one of them.

  The profiler sat down in front of a computer. Nicole waited, but he didn’t type.

  “We’re pre-pay only,” the clerk said from behind the counter.

  Nicole looked to Harbinger, but he was certainly not reaching for his wallet. She walked over and handed the clerk a twenty. “I’m going to need a receipt for that.”

  Once she was sure that she had something to give the reimbursement department, Nicole rejoined the profiler, who was already typing away. Why wasn’t she surprised that he already had a screen name? DrkLvr. Harbinger didn’t waste any time as he popped into a chat room. His eyes scanned down the right hand bar, studying the avatars.

  “So which one should I lure first?” he asked.

  “Try to lure,” Nicole corrected.

  Harbinger grinned. “Sure. Try.”

  The profiler’s cockiness should have put her off, but it didn’t. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to prove her wrong or if she wanted to watch him fail. Each seemed like an equally interesting proposition.

  He nodded toward the screen again. “Which one?”

  Her eyes darted from the avatars to the chat room, but the profiler put his hands in front of the screen. “Oh, no. No cheating. You can tell everything you need to from the avatars.” Nicole leaned in to study them more closely. “I will give you a hint,” the profiler said. “There are three good candidates, but one is just begging to get lured.”

  Was Harbinger just making this up? Setting her up to fail? Sliding her eyes over, she watched as he studied the avatars. His expression seemed sincere. More than sincere. Intense. Like a predator watching his prey from the bushes.

  Nicole pointed to Happy420, whose avatar had a marijuana leaf behind a smiley face. Not too creative. “How about him?”

  “He is a lurker,” the profiler explained. “Way too much of a slacker to actually leave his bong and meet up with someone.”

  “How about SexyMomma?” Nicole asked, pointing to the cartoon figure of Jessica Rabbit with an apron on.

  “Your seduction muscles really are out of shape,” Harbinger commented as he pointed to the screen. “Desperation is like a bouquet. It has a scent, a feel, a look to it.” He read off three user names. “HopelessRom, WrkOnWood, and MelissaOTK.”

  Nicole looked to each of them. The first had a heavily-airbrushed white rose avatar, the second had a graphic of a woodworking shop, and the other was a picture of a rather attractive woman. “I get the first two, I guess, but what about Melissa? She doesn’t look desperate at all.”

  Harbinger chuckled as Nicole sat down next to him. “Because Melissa doesn’t look like that at all. My guess? Add ten years, a hundred pounds, and seven years’ bad luck to get an accurate picture.”

  “But won’t anyone she meets recognize the fact that she completely lied about her appearance?”

  “Detective, we are in a sex chat room. Lying is their form of currency. Lying to each other. Lying to their spouses. Lying to themselves.”

  Nicole still wasn’t satisfied, though. “If her intent is to find a sex partner, isn’t she sabotaging herself?”

  “Oh, you really have lived a sheltered life,” the profiler sighed. “She is betting on the fact that anyone she meets will be so, let us say, revved up, that they won’t care what she looks like.”

  Wow, that was pretty desperate.

  A ding came from the computer, and a request to join a private chat room opened up, from none other than MelissaOTK. The profiler didn’t even have to say “I told you so.” His smirk did it for him.

  Harbinger’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Over your knee or mine?” Nicole was certain her confusion showed up on her face. The profiler explained. “Oh, and another hint was the OTK part of her screen name. Over. The. Knee.”

  So Harbinger wasn’t psychic, he just knew the chat room lingo. Nicole didn’t feel quite as much like the dunce in the corner sporting the tall cone hat. Letters flew across the screen as Melissa responded. “How about we alternate?”

  To Nicole’s surprise, Kent didn’t go along with that. Instead he typed out, “Sorry. Too much of a top for that.”

  “I thought we wanted to lure her?” Nicole asked.

  The profiler angled his body toward her. “We don’t just think about the serial killer’s motives. We think like the serial killer. Act like the serial killer.”

  The intensity of Harbinger’s gaze took her off guard. Nicole had to suppress another gulp. But if anything, she was a quick learner. “The killer needs someone malleable. Someone he can manipulate.”

  Then it hit her. The lack of defensive wounds. The lack of heavy restraint marks. Not all of that was because of the paralytics. The victims must have willingly submitted to the bondage, unaware that they were playing into a serial killer’s dark fantasy.

  “He’s picking submissives,” Nicole blurted out.

  Harbinger nodded. “I noticed a distinct lack of discussion regarding that aspect of the victimology in Mr. Handshake’s report.”

  Actually, it was worse than that. Ruben was dead set against the notion that these killings were sexually motivated. He was so sure that the killer’s entire emphasis was on sadism. The concept had never quite sat right with her, however she had had nothing to back up her instinct. Until now.

  Melissa’s response popped up. “Intriguing. So UR more Marquis than Don Quixote?”

  “Marquis de Sade?” Harbinger typed. “In my eyes a man not very creative and in
my mind a tad bit lazy. Don’t we think my fingers could accomplish so much more than IM’ing?”

  Nicole shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was no prude by any means, but this was feeling a bit too much like being a voyeur, even if the profiler’s part in it wasn’t real. Right? This was an act. A ruse. It had to be, right?

  Before she could decide, Melissa’s answer appeared. “I will only meet in a public place.”

  “Then onward to something a little more private?” Harbinger responded.

  “We will see…”

  The profiler leaned back. “Yeah, right,” he said, then typed, “Do you know the Decadence Café?”

  Melissa’s answer was nearly instantaneous. “Intimately.”

  Harbinger raised an eyebrow at Nicole as he typed. “10pm.” The profiler didn’t even wait for a response. He logged off, then pushed the keyboard away from him. “And that is how it is done.”

  It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Was he really that skilled at luring, or had he just gotten lucky? Nicole was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she wanted confirmation.

  “And how about luring a man?” Nicole questioned.

  Harbinger’s eyes scanned over her face. Her skin felt like it was encoded with Braille. How much could the profiler read? Then the inspection was over, as Harbinger laced his fingers together and then cracked them. “Watch and learn.”

  The profiler logged into yet another account. Mr9x5. Nicole cocked her head. “That seems a bit…mild,” she noted.

  “Those aren’t hours I am referring to,” Harbinger stated as he found a male-male chat room. “They are inches.”

  “Inches of —” Nicole stopped herself, unfortunately understanding the part of the body he was measuring. She was certain her cheeks were a ruddy pink. And they did not cool down any as Harbinger launched into his domination of the room. The men were lined up to join him.

  Then, in rapid succession, the profiler switched accounts, hopping into chat room after chat room. He set up ménages. He set up foursomes. He even found someone who thought a monkey in a matador’s costume sounded like a good idea.

  “I think you’ve made your point,” Nicole conceded.

  “I do like to be thorough,” Harbinger answered then angled the keyboard toward her. “So? Your turn?”

  Nicole pushed back from the object like it was a rattlesnake, not even caring that her face was probably showing every bit of revulsion she felt. Her head shook back and forth. “No, I’m good.”

  * * *

  Kent watched the detective sputter for a few more moments, not even listening to her words. They were meaningless. Her expressions, however, were fascinating. To watch her go from panic, to rejection, to her eyes flickering over to the keyboard. Did she even realize that her feet had changed position and were now pointing toward him rather than toward the door? Funny how people did not know what they truly wanted.

  The body, though? The body knew. Her eyes were dilated slightly. Her eyelids wide. Her lips slightly parted. She was ready to take in whatever came next. Did she even know that her fingers were twitching slightly? Getting ready to type?

  “You know you want to,” Kent coaxed, inching the keyboard toward her.

  Nicole blinked once, then stared down at the keys. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  “What do they say?” Kent made sure his tone was silky smooth. He did not want to intrude on the conversation going on in the detective’s head. She was doing more to convince herself than he ever could. “Practice makes perfect.”

  She leaned forward ever so slightly, but to Kent she might as well have jumped up and down, shouting how eager she was to start. He didn’t say a word as her hands reached out and her fingertips hovered over the keyboard.

  “How do I start?” she asked, licking her lips.

  Kent was impressed. Most would not dare to follow where he tread. Before her conscious mind could convince her otherwise, Kent clicked the mouse and brought up one of his female personas, MissJustRight.

  The detective bit her lower lip, then nodded. He loaded the account and found her just the right chat room. Her fingers pulled back, though, when she realized it was a female-female environment.

  “I…I can’t.”

  “Oh,” Kent cooed. “You can.”

  With a deep breath, Nicole put her fingers back on the keyboard and typed. “Hi.”

  Okay, maybe she couldn’t. At least not without some coaching.

  “Remember,” Kent whispered. “We are seducing. We create a presence then allow them to come to us. We need to be the dominant.”

  Nicole nodded. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

  As the seconds stretched out, Kent could feel her tense. Her fear that she had ruined the moment was palpable. There was no place for fear in a seduction.

  “Which one do you think will respond?” Kent asked, trying to keep her mind off the blank screen in the private chat window.

  The detective’s gaze scanned over the list of participants. There were over twenty five, yet, to his eyes, there was only one.

  “Ready2Party?” she guessed.

  That was not the one.

  “Too many options,” Kent explained. “She’ll have plenty of girls hitting on her. We need someone a bit more complicated than that.”

  Nicole shook her head. “They all seem pretty much the same.”

  This detective had so much to learn. So many layers to peel back.

  Kent pointed to a name. “Chastity4U.”

  He watched as her eyes squinted, reading the name. Kent didn’t have to ask, he knew she was trying to figure out why he had picked that one.

  “She calls herself Chastity, yet is in a sex chat room,” Nicole stated, sounding a bit unsure of herself. Off his nod, she continued. “So she is already lying.”

  Kent didn’t have to affirm her theory, since Chastity IM’ed Nicole. The detective looked over to him and grinned. He had called it yet again. What could he say? He was on a roll.

  As Nicole responded to Chastity, Kent leaned in. Too intent on the screen, the detective did not move away. He breathed in her kiwi shampoo as he watched the pounding of her carotid just beneath the skin. Nicole was an odd mixture of sweet and sweat. Tender and tenacious. Kent hadn’t expected to find that combination in this Mid-Western town.

  The bell on the door jingled as another after-work client walked in. Who did these people think they were fooling? No one came to an internet café unless they wanted to hide something. The FBI might as well just put out a blanket search warrant on all café computers. It was well known that over fifty percent of the business conducted here was illegal in nature. The other half? Well, they might as well just hand the transcripts of their sessions over to their spouses along with a guide to quick divorce.

  A ding brought Chastity’s response.

  Kent leaned in even further—this was about to get interesting.

  * * *

  Nicole fidgeted in her chair. She read, then reread Chastity’s IM. “So what do you like?”

  She had watched Harbinger navigate exactly this question half a dozen times, yet Nicole couldn’t think of a single response. “What should I answer?” Kent was at her shoulder. Somehow his knee was brushing against hers. When had he moved so close? She angled away a bit. “Well?”

  “Tell her the truth,” the profiler said.

  “I’m straight,” Nicole clarified. She didn’t have any problem with not being straight, it just wasn’t how she was wired.

  “Tell her a fantasy, then,” Kent stated. “Those are actually more truthful than we like to admit.”

  Nicole leaned back from the keyboard. “I thought we were creating a false persona. Acting out what they want to hear.”

  “Ah,” the profiler said, leaning back as well. “But you won’t be convincing unless your seduction comes from a real place. Somewhere inside, you know exactly what both you and she want.”

  It didn’t seem possible, yet Nicole’s fingers did know exactly what she wa
nted to type. “Role-playing.”

  “I’m intrigued,” Chastity wrote back. “Who? Where?”

  There were some pretty obvious choices. Going for the Marquis-type seduction or the standard two chicks in a hot tub, but Nicole didn’t want to be obvious.

  “Clothes shopping,” Nicole wrote. “Two friends, same booth. I’m straight. You aren’t.”

  Chastity seemed to take the bait whole. “I help you with your dress’s belt, smoothing the fabric over your hips.”

  “Helping adjust my neckline,” Nicole prompted.

  “My hand accidently brushes against your breast.”

  “I don’t pull away.”

  The profiler put his hand on the keyboard. “Okay, we don’t want to give away too much of the milk before she buys the cow.” Nicole jerked her fingers back, startled at his intrusion. She hadn’t realized just how intent she had been on the screen. Harbinger continued. “Let’s make the date and peace out.”

  As Nicole complied, out of the corner of her eye she watched the profiler. Was he a little flustered? Was he really averting his eyes from the screen? Or was he just too busy taking notes?

  Wait. That pad and pen looked familiar.

  “That’s Ruben’s set!” she said, snatching the items from Harbinger.

  The profiler didn’t even try to hide the fact he had stolen them from her partner. “The leather is so supple, and the pen? Glides across the paper.”

  “I gave him that for Christmas,” Nicole exclaimed, retracting the pen’s tip and tucking it inside the small leather holder.

  “Really?” the profiler stated his eyebrow arching. “Your first Christmas together and you get him a pad and pen set? How practical.”

  Feeling the tips of her ears burning, Nicole was even more horrified to find that the profiler had transcribed everything she’d said to Chastity into Ruben’s notepad. Nicole ripped the page out, crumpling it, then shoving it deep in her pocket.

  “What?” Harbinger asked. “I was just trying to give him some pointers.”

  Before she could retort, the clerk called out from behind the counter, “I’m going to need another twenty if you want another hour.”