Eager Observer: Deviant Behaviors, #3

By Adan Ramie

She's got her badge back, but Detective Harry Thresher is still spiraling out of control.

Booze, women, and working outside of the bounds of the law are still her forte, even if her new partner, rookie detective Erin Garcia, doesn't like it.

They're on the case of the man the press has dubbed the Initial Killer. He's one of the smartest - or luckiest - killers Harry has ever pursued, and every lead leaves her cold. But when she gets on the trail of crime blogger Millie Hamlin, Harry knows it's the trail she has to follow, no matter who doesn't like it.

The Initial Killer has a message for all of them. Will Harry solve the case before he kills someone closer to home?


Deviant Behaviors Trilogy:
Book #1: Maladaptation
Book #2: Cluster B
Book #3: Eager Observer

Contains adult content. Reader discretion advised.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atypical Deviance Press
• Release date: Oct 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386841364

Adan Ramie

Adan Ramie lives in a small town in Texas that is not unlike Andy Griffith's Mayberry with her wife and children. You can find her work in anthologies, magazines, and online journals. For updates, free fiction, and giveaways, sign up for her newsletter at: http://www.adanramie.com/newsletter

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE DINER GREW CONSPICUOUSLY quiet as the two detectives walked in. The younger woman held her head high, a smirk on her face and a certain thump in her step that spoke of military training. Thick black hair was slicked back hard into a severe bun, and her suit was recently pressed. The other scowled down at her scuffed boots, her blonde hair thrown into a tidy, low ponytail. She slunk in behind the younger as if she were a dog on a leash.

The unlikely duo made their way into the room, splitting up halfway through as the younger took a chair at the counter. She turned to call over her shoulder at the other with her lips curled into a sneer and one eyebrow raised in a dare.

Service is better at the bar, Thresher.

The second detective turned back, her scowl deepening and her cheeks darkening with blood, and walked to the counter. She took a seat and glared at the menu already waiting for her.

A thin-faced server with her hair piled up on top of her head and a piece of gum in her mouth approached with a forced smile. She didn’t meet the older detective’s eyes. Hello, Detectives Thresher and Garcia. What can I get for you today?

Hey, Cassie. How’s the steak today?

The younger detective tutted, and the older one squeezed her eyes shut. The server chewed her gum and watched for the explosion that didn’t come.

What?

Beef is bad for your heart. If you’re serious about taking care of yourself, like you told Captain Briggs you would, you’ll order something less dangerous.

Cassie hid her embarrassed smile behind her notepad as the older detective dropped her head another inch, then turned to look at the younger one. What would you have me order, Garcia?

Detective Erin Garcia glanced at the menu and smiled. I won’t live your life for you. I do know I am having a house salad with grilled chicken.

Cassie wrote down the order and turned to the older detective. Is that what you want, Harry?

Detective Harry Thresher fiddled with the edge of the laminated menu, then sighed and sat back in her chair. That’s fine.

Coffee? Cassie asked the two of them.

No, Garcia said with a challenging dart of her eyes.

Harry gave a resolute nod of her head. Yes. Black. She handed the menus back to the waitress and ignored her partner’s irritated frown. Thanks, Cassie.

Don’t mention it, she said, scribbling down the order. Then she looked back at Harry. How’s Cal?

Harry’s face brightened at the mention of her former partner, and something like a smile slipped onto her face. He’s well. Got himself a job with a counseling center helping people with PTSD get their lives together.

He should know enough about that, Cassie said. Garcia cleared her throat. The server pursed her lips and widened her eyes, but kept her eyes on Harry. Tell him I said hello the next time you see him. We miss his big orders around here. She made a point not to look at Garcia, then she tapped the menus on the counter. I’ll get your orders in. There’s not much to them, so it shouldn’t be long. She gave Harry a pitying smile and walked over to the man standing in front of the grill with her notepad.

She’s chatty, Garcia said with a smirk.

It’s part of the job, Harry said through gritted teeth. She smiled tightly at Cassie as she put a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, and a glass of ice water in front of her new partner. Thanks.

I’ll keep them coming. Garcia clicked her tongue with disapproval and Cassie turned a wary eye on her. Or not.

No, please, do, Harry said. Then, to Garcia, I can handle a few cups of coffee.

I’m on strict orders - Garcia started, but Harry held up a hand and stopped her mid-sentence.

I know. Briggs has you watching my every move. This is a probationary period, and I’m expected to keep my nose clean. She picked up the comforting, chipped mug, blew across the hot, oily surface, then took a sip. But coffee isn’t going to hurt me. It’s not like I’m drinking mimosas as my breakfast.

The server’s eyes shone, but she backed away. I’ll go check on your food. Then she turned around and darted back to the grill.

You’re starting to freak people out, Garcia.

The rookie detective beamed and straightened even more in her chair. Good. It’s part of the job. We’re not meant to be friendly.

Harry stared down into her coffee and repeated the mantra she had been taught in counseling in her head. She focused on the still, black surface and tried to make her mind a mirror image. Calm. In control. Definitely not ready to push her fist through her new partner’s smug face.

It never hurts to make yourself approachable, she said finally.

Cassie brought their food and gave Harry another sympathetic smile. Do you need anything else, Harry?

Garcia spoke before Harry could open her mouth. The check, as soon as you get it ready. She pulled a small spiral notepad from her front breast pocket and held it up for the server to see. For my records.

Cassie popped her gum and turned away to the nearby cash register.

Harry tried to go to a calm place in her mind.

CHAPTER 2

THEY WERE ON A CASE that was going nowhere. The victim – a 30-year-old gas station attendant – had been killed by a stab wound at the base of the skull. Her clothing and personal belongings were gone. She hadn’t been raped or otherwise brutalized, except after death, when a letter W was carved into the flesh of one hip.

There were no leads. No one saw anything. The victim had no enemies.

We might be going about this the wrong way, Garcia said from the passenger seat.

Harry grunted an acknowledgment, but kept her eyes forward, scanning the road and each side of the street as they passed. She looped around under the interstate and came back up the other way. Then she turned on her right blinker.

I thought we were going back to the scene.

The way Garcia talked – the nasal quality of her voice – made Harry’s stomach churn with acid. She reached into the pocket of her coat as it rested on the seat beside her and pulled out a roll of chalky antacids.

Those aren’t good for you. If you want to control your stomach acid, you should consider less red meat and coffee.

Harry popped two into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. We’re headed out to talk to some people.

Is this you trying to convince me that I need to be friendlier?

Harry repeated the mantra in her head five times before she answered. Her voice was low and slow. No, this is how I do detective work. In my time working here, I’ve come to know a few people who can help me with information in cases like these.

Informants?

Harry grunted. She turned on another blinker, slid the car onto a road so decrepit it was almost a dirt path, and pulled into an empty spot worn into the grass. She put the car in park and turned to her partner.

Listen, Garcia. I know you want to make Briggs proud since this is your first assignment.

Garcia scowled and threw back her shoulders. First assignment as detective, yes, but as I have told you before, I have experience.

Harry held up a hand. I’m not debating your experience, your degrees, or your motives for wanting to do this job. You’re very noble.

Garcia quieted and watched Harry with narrowed eyes. I sense a ‘but’.

I need you to let me talk to these people without spooking them. In this neighborhood, the only good cop is one that doesn’t come around.

Then why are we here?

Harry breathed in, held it, then breathed out slowly. When she spoke again, her voice was low and measured. I have a rapport with a few people here. They’ll talk to me, but not if they think I’m pulling some kind of cop power play with them.

What are you asking me to do, Thresher? Garcia’s hand twitched on the door handle.

All I’m asking is that you stay quiet. I’ll introduce you as my new partner, then I’ll ask some questions. I don’t want you lecturing, posturing, or arresting anyone. Okay?

Garcia frowned. Are you suggesting that these people will be engaging in illegal activity – and that I’m supposed to let it slide because you know them?

Harry leaned back against her door and regarded Garcia for a long moment. When she was done, she pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened her door. Garcia scrambled to get out of the car at the same time, and was barely on her feet when Harry locked the car.

All I’m asking you to do is understand the relationship I have built with a lot of hard work – and not destroy it.

Garcia scowled, but nodded.

Just let me do the talking, Harry said, then started walking down a worn dirt path with Garcia hesitant on her heels.

They passed through a small patch of thick trees before the road became more substantial, but dips and ruts formed a crosshatch in the ruddy clay that held water from the city’s last rain.

The neighborhood they came upon was built out of small mobile homes likely still remaining from FEMA’s last attempt at temporary housing. Harry wanted to believe these were a few that hadn’t been deemed uninhabitable, but she knew she would be wrong. Most of the smell was gone, but when the wind blew through the open windows, she could still detect a hint of chemicals laced in with the smell of fried food and body odor.

Nice place, Garcia said.

Harry stopped and Garcia bent to rub mud off her shoes with a handkerchief. Harry put her hands on her hips. When Garcia stood back up, Harry continued to stare at the park, but her voice was low with warning. Being poor isn’t a crime.

Garcia’s chin jutted out. I didn’t say it was.

Make sure you don’t act like it does while we’re here. These people can smell your arrogance a mile away, and it won’t do us any favors to insult them.

The rookie opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get out a word, one of the mobile homes on the left side of the little road opened and a head poked out. It was a woman of indeterminate age, and she swiveled her head around, hair obscuring most of her face, until it lit on the two detectives. She glanced around the quiet group of homes again before she motioned them forward and closed the door behind her.

Your informant?

Harry was glad that at least Garcia had the good sense to keep her voice low. She nodded and started forward. The door was unlocked and left partially open. She pushed it in a few inches and called, Brenda?

Come in, said a young woman’s hoarse voice from inside.

Harry gave Garcia one last warning look before she pushed the door open and walked up the rickety steps inside.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. It was more mildew than filth, and as a cheap, metal fan oscillated toward her, she caught a hint of chemicals on the breeze.

Welcome to Casa de Spelt.

The girl sat at the tiny table built into the side of the mobile home, which looked more like an RV inside. She motioned for them to join her. Harry sat across from her and Garcia perched on the ragged, leather chair someone had dragged inside from who knows where.

Harry pulled a picture out of her pocket and placed it on the table. The girl leaned forward, turned her eyes on it, then leaned back again.

No.

So you’ve never seen her before? Harry asked.

She shot a glare at Garcia, whose mouth had opened, then looked back at the young woman in front of her. The girl had grown another foot, and had finally started to fill out, but she still kept her hair in her face to cover the scars.

No. She wasn’t a seller, and I doubt she was a buyer. The girl glanced in Garcia’s direction and the lines around her mouth deepened. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.

Harry followed her gaze to Garcia, then met her eyes and reached out a hand. Have I ever done anything to put you in harm’s way?

No.

I’m not starting now. You make your own life decisions, Brenda. I just want to know about my murder victim. Everything else is incidental.

She could see Garcia balling her fists at her sides, but her mouth was clamped shut. She turned back to the girl.

Like I said, when we moved in here last year, it was to get my sister away from the stuff she had gotten into.

The cult, Harry offered.

Yeah. I didn’t know she was going to be – she glanced at Garcia again, and Garcia looked at her shoes – still using. I thought she would get out of it once that weirdo wasn’t feeding it to her. But it’s easy to find, and there are lots of boys willing to trade it for favors.

So, how often would you say you go with Laurie to the Row? Harry asked with a sympathetic look.

Every day, Brenda said almost under her breath. Sometimes twice. I stay with her while - while she pays for it. And while she does it. Things can go to hell pretty quickly if it’s not cut right.

Harry nodded. And you’ve never seen the woman before? She pointed to a picture on the table between them. The woman in it was smiling, wearing a uniform, with the words ‘Employee of the Month’ scrawled beneath it.

No. Never. She doesn’t look like she uses, and it’s mostly guys who deal it.

Harry picked up the picture and slid it back into her pocket. She reached across the table and wrapped a hand around Brenda’s, then met her eyes.

If you and Laurie ever want to try to get out of here, she said, but didn’t finish. She had said it enough times that Brenda knew the rest of the sentence.

Brenda smiled, squeezed her hand back, then stood up. If I see or hear anything, I’ve got your card.

Thanks for talking to us today. Harry stood, then tapped Garcia on the shoulder to join her. We’ll get out of your way.

She hustled her partner out of the ramshackle space the two girls called an apartment, and walked back to her car. Once inside, she turned to Garcia.

What? Garcia asked. I kept my mouth shut.

You did okay. Next time, can you step off your high horse and let the informant talk? I think she knows more than she let on.

Garcia put her hand on her door. Then let’s go back and get the information.

Harry reached across the car and grabbed her shoulder. That’s not how this works. You don’t bulldoze informants, not if you want them to talk to you again, and especially not if they’re teenagers just trying to survive.

If she’s a kid, you should get social services to come out. They can put her into foster care.

Harry’s laugh shocked Garcia into stillness. I know you believe that, but take it from someone who has been in the system: it’s not that simple, and sometimes, it’s a step down, not a step up.

Garcia frowned. You were a foster kid?

I have the scars to prove it, Harry said. She gave her partner another hard look, then buckled her seat belt and twisted the key in the ignition. The idea that our victim was a user is off the table. We need to look at her life from a different angle.

Briggs said - Garcia began.

Briggs isn’t out here with us, Harry said, as if to a child. I think we need to look in another direction.

Is this you going ‘off-script’? Garcia asked. Her voice held a warning.

Harry rolled her eyes. Even the wording sounded straight from her captain’s mouth. No. It’s me following the case. If you have a better idea, I’m willing to listen.

I think we should press the girl for more information.

Have you ever dealt with informants before? Harry asked, her voice quiet. She didn’t look at her partner for fear that her disgust would show on her face.

Garcia tapped her foot on the floorboard and stared at the side of Harry’s face. After a moment, she turned around and put her head back on her seat. No.

Then let me teach you how it’s done.

Garcia didn’t reply, so Harry slid the key into the ignition and started the car. A bird nearby squawked and took flight as Garcia buckled her seat belt and Harry did the same. She made sure the road was clear before she turned the car in a wide U and started driving back the way they had come.

The silence on the ride back to the station was new. Since they had been assigned to each other, Garcia hadn’t let five minutes pass without reciting procedure as if reading it from a handbook or voicing a strong, unpopular opinion. But now she was all stony silence and hurt feelings.

Maybe the surveillance footage from the store will give us an idea of who we need to be looking for, Harry offered.

Garcia didn’t take the bait. She stared out her side window at the neighborhood as it passed with her jaw tight, and Harry remembered being that young and stubborn once upon a time. She smiled.

I don’t think I ever thanked you.

The statement caught her attention, and Garcia glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye. Her jaw was still set. Harry kept going.

If it weren’t for you, I would still be on desk duty, Harry said as she pulled into the parking lot and slid into a space between two other unmarked police vehicles. It’s nice to be out in the field again.

"I didn’t