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

Savage Echoes

The Nickie Savage Series

Short Story, Prequel

by

R.T. Wolfe

Bestselling Author

Published by
ePublishing Works!

www.epublishingworks.com

ISBN: 978-1-61417-500-1

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2013 by Tanya Renee Wolfe. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Chapter 1

"Nick, you're gonna want to come listen to this."

Detective Nickie Savage looked up from her monitor in time to see her Captain's head ducking out the door. That was code for, 'get your butt in my office.' Shrugging, she took off her reading glasses and pushed away from her splintered desk.

It was nearly noon. Time had gotten away from her. Stretching, she looked at the empty soda bottles and crumpled papers that were multiplying in her tiny office. She'd missed her trash can. A few dozen times. Too bad growing up a Maryland Monticello didn't allow for ball sports.

She barely made it into the commons area when her feet stopped before the rest of her. A copy of
US Inquiring Minds
sat at the corner of one of the many metal desks bunched in twos. The tabloid lay next to a donut grease-stained napkin and an ancient mug of coffee. Squinting, she noticed the small photo in the corner. Duncan Reed. The caption labeled him The Taste of L.A. She rolled her eyes. The cover picture was a painting he'd drawn of pop star Johnny Lyons and his new bride. Duncan did good work.

Her captain had the plush office. Made sense. Large windows lined the front. The blinds on each had been raised, so the impromptu meeting must not be too bad. His door was ajar, and he was expecting her. She knocked anyway before walking in. Shutting the door behind her, she opened with, "Sir?"

"Sit down, and don't call me that."

Trying not to smile, she prodded, "What's that?"

Captain Dave Nolan had been her partner, her mentor and, in a way, the father figure she'd never had. She could still give him crap about his captain status.

He answered with a jeer. At six-foot-four he might look menacing, but she knew better.

Since he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of an answer, she asked, "What've we got?"

"Listen." Dave sat at his enormous desk. His chair was big enough to fit him—that said something—and tall enough to rise above his head.

She slid into a padded guest chair and set one black leather boot on her knee.

A voice came from the computer.

"9-1-1 dispatch. What is your emergency?"

Male, but she could tell it had been altered. He spoke calm and clear. "You need to come and get her."

Nickie's spine straightened as the recording continued.

"Get who, sir? What is your name?"

"I... I can't give you that information. I'm going to hurt her soon."

"We can help you, sir."

Nickie presumed the sounds of movement were the operator waving for help.

Click.

There had to be more. Dave wouldn't call her in for a beat officer's work. She waited patiently.

He tapped the intercom system on his desk. "Lynx. Get in here. Bring your coat."

Once he disconnected, Dave turned to face her. "We traced the call to the cell phone of a Serena Flats. Twenty-year-old student at Heritage College. We got a location on the phone. It wasn't moving. I had the nearest B&W get over there. They found the phone, not the girl. Parents were called. They dismissed the threat and said this was the third time this semester the girl had lost her phone. The officer on clerk duty contacted the college. The girl's two classes this morning were in lecture halls. No attendance taken. I want you and Lynx to check it out. You gonna be okay with that?"

It wasn't her who wasn't going to be okay with it. She would have sneered at the comment, but she was already thinking about the girl and the possibilities. The many bad possibilities. "S'okay." Holding out her hand, she waited for him to give her the address that would be on one of the many sticky notes he always had on his desk.

Without knocking, Detective Eddy Lynx entered. His eyes went first to hers, then to the captain's.

She knew why the captain hadn't called the two of them in together. It was her job to keep their work professional. Great. One roll in the hay and the
guy
was the one who couldn't get past it. So damned backward.

She listened to the repeat of the briefing as the captain explained to Eddy. Then again to the recording. This time she noticed the sound of running water in the background.

* * *

The black and white was parked at the top of a bridge. Good thing Nickie wore her thicker heeled boots. It looked like they would be hiking down the incline to the creek below.

It was warm for a fall day in upstate New York. And dry. The brittle grasses poked through her tight-fitting gray slacks as she maneuvered her way to the underpass. Eddy held out a hand. Resisting a sarcastic retort, she shook her head politely instead.

One of the officers straightened when they approached. The other lit a cigarette and leaned against the side of the enormous concrete tubing that went beneath the length of the bridge.

"Lucky for us the creek bed is dry," Eddy said as they approached the officers. "Easier to spot anything left behind."

They were encroaching on the officer's turf. The easiest way to deal with it was to break the ice and blame it on the captain. "Hey, guys. You got an idea why the captain wants us out here?"

The one leaning on the concrete shrugged and inhaled his smoke. His partner held a gloved hand that carried an evidence bag containing the cell phone. "This is all we found, sir—I mean ma'am."

Ma'am
? What was she, a grandma?