Kendra Ironheart's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Kendra Ironheart read the dead man's name twice, because the last one had been her boyfriend. A woman was killing men in Palmshade, and Kendra had sworn to stop her. Now a second body lay cooling near the old cannery, and the police were already moving to seal it. Her phone buzzed. The clerk's voice came low and quick. "Fresh one. They're taping it off in twenty minutes." Mr. Tom passed her tips from inside the Palmshade force, for a price she paid in cash and silence. He was fat and sour, a man who sold evidence like fish at a market. She trusted nothing about him except his greed. "Twenty minutes isn't enough," Kendra said. "Traffic's locked." "Then don't take traffic," he said, and hung up. She looked out the window. A battered police cruiser sat in the lot across the street. Its lights still worked. A shotgun lay in the back seat. Someone had stolen it and dumped it there. Kendra had never driven anything so illegal. She had also never let a clue rot behind yellow tape. She crossed the street and tore the door open. The wires under the column were already cut and hanging. She touched two together. The engine caught. Kendra flipped the lights on and drove. Cars peeled aside for the flashing red and blue. She ran two reds and climbed a curb. The cannery came up fast. One squad car sat out front, an officer unrolling tape across the gate. She stopped hard and stepped out. The officer raised a hand. "Scene's closed, ma'am." "Give me one minute," Kendra said. "No." She did not argue. She walked past him. He grabbed her arm. That was the mistake. Kendra turned, lifted him by his belt and collar, and set him down ten feet away in the weeds. He stayed there, stunned, reaching for his radio. Kendra knelt by the body. A man, middle-aged, throat marked. Beside his hand lay a cluster of green mushrooms, caps glowing faint even in daylight. Someone had placed them there. The same kind had been left on her boyfriend. A signature. The killer's signature. She pulled her phone out and shot three photos. The officer's radio crackled. More units were coming. Kendra stood. Near the loading dock sat a heavy steel safe, bolted and scorched, its door scraped raw. Someone had tried to force it open and failed. The dead man's hand pointed toward it. She photographed that too. Tires screamed in the distance. She ran for the cruiser. She had the clue now. She also had an officer who could name her, a stolen police car, and a safe she could not crack sitting at a murder scene the whole force was about to swarm. The glowing mushrooms meant the killer was close and getting bold. Kendra drove into the dark and started planning how to open that safe before they moved it.