Authors: Carolyn McCray
Nicole stared at the guacamole. What was he thinking?
Kent, however, went back to his lunch. “No pressure, but Plain Jane is more than likely here.”
“What?” Nicole’s pitch had gone so high, dogs from miles away were probably responding.
He just shrugged. “If I’m right…well because I’m right and Rebecca is his next victim, the killer is here. Watching.”
Her pulse raced. Her heart was literally going to explode. Nicole had not thought past finding out if Rebecca had an abortion. Her hand flew to her phone. She needed to call Ruben, but Kent grabbed her wrist.
“We’ve got to lock the mall down and—”
“No,” Kent stated. “We can’t tip him off, anyway.”
“But—”
“If he’s here, he’s a hundred yards away. Up in one of those buildings with a telescopic scope.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He met her eyes. “Because that’s where I’d be.”
As he removed his grip, Nicole felt her hands shake, the gravity of her task double-fold. Her coaxing information from Rebecca was no longer a simply a theoretical exercise, but was now a lifesaving operation.
“You’ve got to give me more to work with.” Unfortunately, Kent had gone back to his chimichanga. She wanted to shake him, rattle him from his superior cocoon but knew that she simply didn’t have the time. Bracing herself, Nicole gripped the food tray and headed toward Rebecca. The brunette read a book as she deftly maneuvered her chopsticks.
Nicole felt a tightening in her chest. The loud, pervasive chatter of the large cafeteria faded. Trays clattering on tables. Children begging for ice cream. The Hot Dog on a Stick girls churning away. Those and so many more sounds seemed to quiet as the world narrowed down to just her and Rebecca. This average, ordinary brunette could very well be Plain Jane’s next victim.
The meter maid looked so peaceful. So content. So oblivious to the danger she was in. Nicole had the sudden urge to not walk, but run to the table shouting for Rebecca to leave the city. To run for her life.
But she held her pace. Because if the meter maid knew of the threat, Rebecca would run. If not run, then hide. If not hide, then look over her shoulder every other step. And they couldn’t risk that, because the only thing they had going for them was Kent’s intuition. The only hope they had at stopping Plain Jane from taking his eighteenth victim was to follow Rebecca. Dangle her as bait.
Nicole could remember the look in the profiler’s eyes when he saw Rebecca’s picture. She had seen that look before. His posture radiated assurance. If Kent said this was the next victim, Nicole believed him, so she would stick to the plan.
With each step, though, she wondered: How did Kent do this? To have someone’s life in his hands, and the person not even know he existed? In this moment, Nicole realized just how much better a cop Harbinger really was. No one, not even she, had given the profiler credit for the extremely difficult choices he had to make every day, every victim, every killer.
Cell phone ringing, Nicole snapped out of her musing. She looked at the caller ID. Dolores Huffenfal. Instead of being pissed that Kent had stolen the DMV worker’s phone back from her, Nicole answered.
“Admit you liked being handcuffed out in the open last night, and I’ll help you,” Harbinger’s sultry tone even translated over a tiny cell phone connection.
She might be desperate, but Nicole wasn’t going to give in that easily. “Admit you like using people like puppets, and I’ll accept your help.”
CHAPTER 45
Kent felt a genuine smile spread across his lips. He could show his appreciation of Nicole’s spunk as long as she couldn’t see him actually appreciating it.
“Touché,” the profiler admitted. “Put in your earpiece and drop the phone in your pocket.”
Positioning himself behind a fake acacia bush, Kent had a great angle on the upcoming girl-on-girl action. The marionette strings were clearly coming off Nicole’s back. The detective would do as she asked.
“Now what?” she asked.
He took a bite of a steak taco that Nicole had conveniently left. “Come on. Girls share everything. Clothes. Makeup. Gum. Figure it out.”
Kent watched the detective weave through the myriad of tables toward Rebecca. Even from this distance he could tell that Nicole’s shoulders were tense, worried that she was not up to the task.
To be honest, the profiler was a little worried himself. Strength, virtue, and the American Way were Nicole’s strong suits. Lying? Deception? Borderline psychosis? Those were definitely not in her wheelhouse. But at some point the detective had to leave the nest. She needed to figure out if she just wanted to be a gold shield or something so much more.
He watched as Nicole looked over her shoulder. He could see panic spread across her face as she searched for him.
“Kent?”
“I’m here,” the profiler answered, as a father might to a scared daughter in the dark of a storm.
“Where?”
“Don’t worry,” Kent intoned, no longer fatherly at all. “I’m watching.”
One last time, Nicole’s eyes scanned the tables.
“Move on, or people are going to notice a crazy woman talking to herself in the middle of the food court.”
A faint smiled crossed her face, then she moved on.
Kent had never been so proud.
CHAPTER 46
Nicole quickly closed the gap between her and Rebecca. She wanted to get this over with. Confirm that the meter maid had an abortion and move on. Move on to something she actually had some experience with.
As her insecurities mounted, it felt as if the volume in the food court had been dialed up. The laughs were too loud. Voices pressed upon her. The end of lunch was nearing and people milled around as they cleared their tables, picking up their trash. Too much activity. Too much noise.
How could she concentrate?
She still had no idea how she was going to break the ice as she neared Rebecca’s table. Nicole tried to will the meter maid to look up. To say something, anything, to keep Nicole from having to make the first move. But the brunette kept her nose buried in her book, even when Nicole stopped directly across the table from her.
Gaining some strength from the fact that Kent was close by, watching, listening, suddenly Nicole realized why the profiler had given her the food tray. Without saying anything, Harbinger had given her the “in” that she needed.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked Rebecca.
The woman looked up, startled, “No, um.” But the meter maid seemed equally unwilling to be rude. “I mean, of course not.” Rebecca quickly gathered her things together to make room for Nicole. “Please, sit.”
Kent’s voice mocked her. “Okay, that was
awkward
. Be a chick, not a cop, for hell’s sake.”
Nicole set her tray down and sat on the hard plastic chair. “Sorry…” She was not sure if she was apologizing to Kent or Rebecca. “I just…”
“
Girlie
girl stuff,” the profiler prompted.
Lips turned down at the chiding, Nicole continued. “I just hate eating alone.” Wow, that sounded lame, even to her ears. “It makes me feel like a loser or something—” Nicole realized how that statement might be taken. She rushed, feeling embarrassed, flustered. “Not to say that you are a—”
“No. No. I get it. It’s nice to have company.”
Nicole returned the grin Rebecca gave her.
Harbinger’s sigh was as loud as if he sat next to her. “Okay, not bad, but next time try not to insult the mark right off the bat.” Only Kent could sound that irritated with someone who had just actually succeeded.
Nicole took a bite of her nachos as Rebecca deftly cut a California roll in half with her chopsticks, then with a subtle flick of the wrist tossed it into her mouth. The brunette was dexterous, she had to give her that much. Nicole was having trouble managing guacamole on chips without spilling.
“Hello?” Kent asked. “Is this thing working?”
Ever so slightly, Nicole turned her chin to glare in Kent’s general direction. The phone was working fine. It was just her brain that was having technical difficulties.
His tone softened. “Babe, we don’t have much time. You’ve got to build rapport and build it fast.”
Nicole could tell that he was trying to be helpful. Except she knew what she needed to do, she just couldn’t think of a single thing to say. How could she when she sat across from a possible victim? Especially after seeing Joann cut and bleeding to death in that alley?
“Common ground, Nic. Find similarities,” he prodded.
Working from the profiler’s suggestion, Nicole looked up and noticed Rebecca’s uniform. Finally, she found something they had in common.
“So, are you a policewoman?”
“No, no. I’m a parking regulation—” Rebecca stopped herself and chuckled before she continued, “Sorry, I’m basically a meter maid. And you?”
Kent’s patience sounded nearly up. “Not
cop
similar. Those breasts of yours are real, right? You’re not taking hormones to grow them?
Chick
similar, Nic.
Chick
similar.”
Rebecca’s smile turned nervous, the longer that Nicole took to answer the simple question. But she couldn’t tell the truth. Holy hell, she was a crappy liar. But that’s exactly what she had to do. Still, nothing came to her. She squirmed. She felt her hands begin to sweat.
What in the hell would Kent do?
Unfortunately she couldn’t ask him. How did he do this? All she could think of was Plain Jane watching them. Of her worry for Rebecca’s safety.
Then she noticed the book.
“I’m a writer,” Nicole blurted.
“Really?” The brunette leaned in, obviously intrigued. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who has published before. Maybe I’ve read something of yours?”
The meter maid was so sweet, Nicole almost felt bad about continuing the lie. “Oh, I did not say that I was a successful… I guess I should have said
aspiring
author.”
“What’s your genre?”
“Genre?” Nicole was back to floundering.
Shit, on the trail of serial killer, one did not have the luxury of reading for pleasure. She knew that she had talked herself into a corner. If she picked mysteries, for example, Rebecca was sure to ask questions about other mystery authors. Names and details that Nicole just did not know.
Nicole did not need Kent to prompt her, she knew she had to think of something, quick. “Um, yeah, right.” Then she had it. The perfect genre. Only Nicole announced it way too fast. “Nonfiction.”
Despite her answer, the meter maid still looked worried as she asked, “Is something wrong?”
CHAPTER 47
Hell yeah, something was wrong.
Nicole had completely lost her mind. Kent held his breath. The meter maid was on to Nicole, and if she did not do something fast, something really incredibly fast, the detective’s cover would be blown and so might the chance to catch Plain Jane before he killed again.
“No. Yes…” Even over the brittle connection, the profiler could hear the stress in Nicole’s voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t just stop by your table by chance, Rebecca.”
The brunette’s faint retort had some sting. “How did you know my name?”
“Ouch.” Kent could feel Nicole’s pain. “Beginner’s mistake, Nic. Too much, too soon. Walk it back.”
He rose and made his way toward the table. Nicole might need a rescue if she continued down this road.
“Well?” Rebecca demanded.
“Actually, I was hoping to find you here today.”
That’s it
, Kent thought, as the brunette leaned back from the table, a sure sign she was disengaging from the conversation, putting up her social armor, cutting Nicole off at the proverbial emotional pass.
“Okay, now you’re really are creeping me out,” Rebecca said to the detective.
Between her body language and her tone, Kent knew that the meter maid felt vulnerable, exposed. Now a guy, a guy would think Nicole was a stripper sent by a couple of buddies for some afternoon fun.
But a woman? A single woman like Rebecca? She would immediately assume Nicole was there to hurt her. Betray her. Chicks and their damn insecurities.
Nicole was losing any foothold she had made, but he was still a good fifty feet away. Short of a sprint, Kent could not make it over there in time to stop the train wreck.
“I’m sorry.” It sounded like the detective could barely squeak the words out. “It’s just…well this is really awkward for me as well.”
“I’m lost,” Rebecca admitted.
So was Kent. What angle was Nicole working?
“I’m doing research for my new book.” She sounded stronger, more sure of herself. “And I thought you might be able to help me.”
Kent slowed as the brunette’s shoulders relaxed. Could she really be buying into Nicole’s aspiring author act?
“Okay, so this book is about the exciting and dangerous world of issuing parking citations?”
“No.” Nicole sounded back on her game.
“Regret after abortion.”
“What?” Both Kent and Rebecca nearly shouted.
No one seemed to notice the meter maid’s outburst, but a young mother near Kent grabbed her daughter’s hand and scurried out of the food court. Hopefully to go home and have a nice long discussion about how to avoid weird-acting strangers at the mall.
“Darlin’, put it in reverse,” he growled into the phone, trying not to scare off any other patrons, or, worse, alert security to his presence. He was still on their blacklist over a little lingerie “misunderstanding” from a few months ago.
But Nicole did not back down. “I’m writing a book about regret after abortion.”
“Wow. That was bold, Nic.”
“
Abortion
?” The brunette sounded horrified.
“Maybe
too
bold,” he added.
A painful silence hung in the air.
“Pull back. Reconnect before you lose her completely.”
“I’m sorry.” Nicole was back to stammering. “I was just under the impression…”
“Why would you think I could… That I had…”
“I know this information is of a private nature.”
“Private? How about taboo?” Rebecca shot back.
“Come on, Nic. Drop the damn intellect and show some compassion,” Kent begged.