Savage Echoes (The Nickie Savage Series, Short Story Prequel) (5 page)

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, holding 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."

He took her arm in one hand and looked around. "No, wait. This house." He pulled her along as they crept around the stairs, passed the side room and the pantry, and moved into the kitchen. "Do you see?"

"See what?" She was hanging onto him now.

"This space. The middle of the layout. There are walls but nothing's there." He pulled on the cheap trim and used the edge of his fist to pound on walls. Walking around the invisible space, he ran his fingers along the floorboards and near the ceiling. Finally, he knocked and listened, placing his ear to the wall as he held up a finger toward Nickie.

Pounding. Faint pounding came from within. "I hear her." He moved aside and gestured with his hand. "Listen."

She followed his lead and placed her ear to the wall. Her face jerked toward him, her eyes glared through the color of steel, laced with glassy red. Cupping her hands around a spot on the wall, she started yelling as Duncan followed the space back around to the front room.