Savage Echoes (The Nickie Savage Series, Short Story Prequel) (2 page)

"I placed a marker where we found it," the officer continued.

Nodding, Nickie pulled out a set of plastic gloves, then took the bag.

Battery still alive. Location services activated. Was that an accident? Nickie didn't like assumptions and hated gut instincts. She was only interested in facts. Which is why so many of her cases made it through the court system.

Last call made at o-seven-hundred. Six hours ago? A rush of clammy sweat beaded along her neckline. The air around her thickened and started to close in. She sat on the side of the incline and stuck her head between her legs. The smell of dirt and dead grass filled her nose. Breathe, Savage. There were people watching.

Within seconds, Eddy's hands lifted the sides of her face. "Nickie, you okay?"

She would be if he'd let go so she could get some blood back to her head. Instead, she nodded and forced a smile. "Give me a minute. Start looking around, would you?"

Eddy was an excellent detective. They'd partnered up before. After eyeing her cautiously, he made his way beneath the bridge. When he squatted down to get a better look in the dirt, she couldn't take it anymore and forced herself to stand. Ignoring the looks from the officers, she walked carefully.

"Drag marks." He gestured to two ragged lines dug in the cracked dirt that looked like they might be from the skinny heels of shoes or boots. Other prints may have been from a man's shoes. Maybe. Eddy pulled a small camera out of his pocket and took some pictures.

Following the trail, she noticed at the end closer to where the phone was found the marks were more like digs from heels, rather than dragging. They took more pictures.

In the middle of the underpass, on both sides of the concrete tubing, were perpendicular smaller tubes that must drain into the area where they were standing. A person could definitely fit in there. More than one person. She lifted on her toes and peered in. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the deep darkness. The place didn't feel like water came through it. Didn't smell like it either. It smelled dry and cracked.

Her phone buzzed in its holster. Caller ID showed Northridge Police Department.

"Savage," she answered.

"We have the parents in here," Dave said. "Get back when you can."

She took the final round of pictures and pocketed the phone. After giving consolatory nods to the officers, she and Eddy hiked up the hill.

"Where's the water?" She wasn't sure if she'd said that aloud.

"Huh?" Eddy walked to the passenger side as she headed around the front.

"I heard water in the 9-1-1 call."

Eddy smiled and leaned over the top of her unmarked. "I've got a blind friend in the city who says he knows where he's at because the buildings
sound
different. That's some shit, huh? Too bad we can't use him." He laughed as he got in.

Her hand froze on the door handle. She considered his comment, then smirked. Opening the door a crack, she told Eddy she would be just a minute and pulled out her cell.

"Hey," she said softly into her phone.

"Good day, Detective." The almost-baritone voice sent a wave of calm over her.

Running her fingers through the top of her hair, she asked, "Can I... uh... ask a favor?"

"Does it involve whipped cream or a hot tub?"

She smiled and ducked her head. "Not exactly. Can you come down to the station and listen to something?"

"Listen to something." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. A 9-1-1 call. I can get clearance for you. Are you in the middle of anything?" Stupid question. He was always in the middle of something.

"Twenty minutes?" he asked.

"Thank you."

* * *

Nickie stood statue still at the back of the captain's office as Serena Flats' parents listened to the call. She positioned herself so she could see both Dave and the hallway. The mother crossed her arms. The dad folded his hands and rested his chin on his chest.

"It's a prank," the mother said. "Her friends are always doing this crap."

Luckily, the captain asked exactly what Nickie wanted to know. "Your daughter's friends have done this before?"

Serena's mother shook her head quickly. "Not this exactly, no. They play stupid jokes. Make stupid decisions. She's always hung around the wrong crowd. There's only so much a mother can do, ya know?"

Kids? Twenty years old is a kid? She supposed some families might think so. Not in Nickie's life. The dad looked sad, defeated and silent. It would be nice to have a parent who showed concern. Using her knuckles, Nickie pushed her chin to one side, cracked her neck, then did the same in the opposite direction.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him.

His coat came just over the pockets of his casual black pants. Dark chocolate waves brushed the top of a slate blue shirt that peeked above the coat. Duncan Reed strode through the stale third floor of the Northridge Police Department like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. Technically, he had.

Their eyes met. Blissful peace. In question, he jerked his head toward her office. She nodded slightly in response.

Turning her glance back to the group, she saw the muscles in Eddy's jaws flex and release.

Chapter 2

Duncan recognized the look on Nickie's face. Pale and clammy said all he needed to know.

Patience had left him the minute he heard the tone of her voice on the phone. She was right, he had been busy. But he was nowhere near ready to tell her about any of that.

He wanted to walk into Captain Nolan's office to get a closer look at the steel gray in her eyes, run his hand down the long locks of the honey wheat she rarely wore up. Instead, he would wait in her office. He didn't have to like it.

Ignoring the stares from the clerk whose desk was just outside the door, he eased the time by clearing Nickie's ancient printer from underneath the jacket and papers that had been tossed over it. He pulled out a piece of paper from the tray.

Sitting at her desk, he did what he needed to in order to focus. He sketched a section of the road he'd traveled on the way to the station. Northridge, New York, was just big enough to be free from the antics of a small town. But small enough that one needed to drive to Rochester or Binghamton to get the feel of a real city. The tallest building was just four stories high. He knew this because the top floor belonged to him.

He drew the outlines of a row of mid-sized buildings, all well-kept and mostly brick. The trim over the front doors, the occasional bench away from the curb. The detail of each point and line helped clear his mind.

He recognized her footsteps long before she arrived. Quick, purposeful. By the time she turned the corner into her office, he was at the door. Respecting her need for discretion, he waited for her to step inside, out of sight of the hall, before he took her hand.

"There you are." He assessed her eyes.

Normally, she wouldn't have allowed him to touch her while at the station. This time she took his hand and pressed his palm to the side of her face. Dipping her head into his touch, she closed her eyes and inhaled.

"A girl is missing," she said. "Her parents are in denial."

Ah, of course. That explained the lack of color in her face. He took his free hand and wound it around her back, pulling her into him. She smelled smart with a hint of floral. He would never tire of it.

Letting go, she stepped toward the door into the view of the commons area. "Thank you, but I need to keep myself together."

In an attempt to work with her needs, he sat in one of the unstable wooden guest chairs in front of her desk. "What did you want me to listen to?"

Lethargically, she lowered to her chair. She sat on the front edge like she often did. She was contemplating, he understood.

"You know I try not to... use you... or your ability."

Ability? She made his eidetic memory sound like a super power.

She sighed deeply before going on. "You said your memory works with sounds as well as sights."

"Yes."

"You've lived here all your life."

"Nearly."

She explained about a 9-1-1 call and asked if he could listen and possibly determine the location of the running water.

Hearing it on the police department computer was less than adequate. If he used the sound system in his home, he could reduce the voices and isolate the water.

"I've never heard this before. At the very least you can cross off any creeks, spillways or bridges in and around my folks' home. I'm sorry."

Shaking her head, she ran her hand along the back of her neck. "It was a hunch. I hate hunches. Thank you for coming."

He reached over her desk and linked a finger around one of hers. "You could come by tonight and I'll try again on equipment that is more... substantial." He tried his warmest crooked smile and watched as she blinked rapidly three times.

* * *

Heritage was a community college just outside of Northridge. The entire campus consisted of connected buildings in the shape of a large I. Many of the students lived in the apartments across the street. Nickie pulled up to the main offices, parked illegally and went in.

She hoped to find out if Serena had any classes that day other than the lecture halls.

It was mid-afternoon and she knew all too well the stats of finding her alive were dwindling as time ticked on. That is, if Serena had truly been abducted.

The place was plush–newer carpet, contemporary furnishings. No large commons area with dented metal desks arranged in twos. Wasting no time, she walked around the abandoned reception counter and placed her badge on the desk of the nearest secretary. "I'd like to speak to the dean, please."

The gal looked like she was contemplating. Nickie didn't have time for contemplating.

"Now," she said, hoping her tone would gain her a direct pass.

As the receptionist reached for her desk phone, Nickie stuck her badge back on her belt.

"His office is right behind you, Officer...?"

"Detective. Detective Savage."

The man met her at the door with his hand held out. His office was bigger than her captain's. This was a community college?

"What can I do for you, Officer?"

"Detective Nickie Savage. We have a possible abduction. I need some information."

"Please sit down. I'd be happy to help in any way I can."

"I need to know about one of your students. Serena Flats. Do you recognize the name?"

He started pecking at his keyboard. "I'm afraid I don't. However, that's oftentimes a good thing. It means she hasn't caused any trouble or gotten herself on academic probation. Ah yes, here she is. Lovely girl."

"Can you tell me if she had class this afternoon and if she showed up?"

His brows fell as he read the screen. "It looks like everyone signed in and was present except Miss Flats." He looked to her. "It was a lab. It says the teacher didn't show."

His fingers started working again. So, she waited—anxiously, but she waited.

He shook his head. "I remember this. The professor for that lab has been out. He's had a sub."

"I'd like the names of both teachers."

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes.

"There's a missing girl, sir. I can come back with a warrant. Shall I share with you the falling probability of finding her the longer I sit here?"

Pushing away from his desk, he pulled open a drawer. He removed an index card and pencil and wrote down the names.

"Addresses and phone numbers, too," she added.

He did it, but not without heavy sighs. "Good luck, Detective."

They shook hands when her phone rang. She pocketed the index card and answered as she left the office. "Savage."

"We got another call." It was the captain. "Same deal. He's baiting us. Used a prepaid. We couldn't get a trace."

"Bastard." She growled and picked up the pace to her car.

* * *