Cover Up: Models & Mayhem (The Depot Series)

Chapter 2: Return of the Outrider

The shrill ring of the telephone jolted him awake. He lifted his head from under the pillow and banged his hand around until he grasped the receiver. Rolling onto his side he pinched his nose and spoke in a nasal 'New Yawk' accent.

"City Morgue, you kill em' we chill em'!"

"Mac, that's not funny, and what are you, a mind reader?"

Mac Harper glanced at his digital clock; it was only seven in the morning. "Dani, I thought it was funny. What's up that you're calling me so early? Wait a minute, why are you even calling me? You have a perfectly good Outrider on hand to drag out of bed."

"Sorry, no." She cut him off. "Jack was sent on a mission to Columbia for a few weeks and you're all Henry has on short notice. And what are you being so mean to me for? Are you trying to say just because you're not my Outrider and model right now that our friendship is over too?"

Mac could just see the pout on her face, and he took note of the strident urgency in her voice and felt a little guilty. "Of course not, hon! You should know by now, I'm cranky first thing in the morning. Crystal and I had a long night."

"I'll bet you did!"

"A long night doing surveillance on the last of those diamond smugglers I told you about. Anyway, what do you mean, am I a mind reader?" He reached over and flicked on the lamp beside his bed. The sun wasn't planning to rise today as dark gray clouds filled the sky and heavy streams of rain pattered down his windows.

"The Midtown morgue. Henry got a call from the chief examiner there about a few very suspicious deaths, six girls, they were models, Mac."

Mac swung his legs off the bed, and keeping the phone in the crook of his neck, commenced making it neat and straightening his pillows.

"I'm sorry, Dani. Did ya know any of them?"

"No, these were new girls, just breaking in the biz. They eventually might have crossed my path for prints. Just come down to the studio apartment, we'll have breakfast and talk all this over. Henry's on his way with the examiner now."

"Wow. I'm sure they'll bring visuals. Okay, I'll get there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Mac." Dani sighed. "Your getting involved really means a lot to me personally."

Mac softened his tone. "Dani, I know how worried you can get. Don't be. I may not be your Outrider anymore, but I'm always there for you when you need my help."

"I know that, Mac. As great as Jack Striker is, you're still the best."

"I won't tell him you said that."

"I know you won't, and yes, that's a threat if you do."

Mac chuckled and hung up the phone. After a quick shower he hurried to his closet. He threw on his favorite comfort clothes–a dark navy polo shirt, jeans and tan boots. He needed to make another phone call.

The woman on the other line answered groggily. "He…Hel…Hello?"

"Good Morning, Mrs. Delancey. This is your personal wake-up call. The time is approximately 7:25am. It is seventy-five degrees with gusty winds and rain in your area." Mac said in a robotic voice.

"There had better be a good reason for this, Mr. Delancey. We weren't supposed to meet until lunchtime to go over the final plans for that heist." She groaned with her voice muffled by pillows.

"I just got a call from Dani and she needs an Outrider. Striker's way out in the field."

"Where'd they ship him off too now?"

"Columbia. And I doubt he's there for coffee with Juan Valdez."

"Most likely he's looking for the special brewed kind, with lots of powdery stuff that ain't sugar. So, what's going on, any details I can chew over before I get there?"

"Not much. But apparently Henry now thinks Outriders are homicide detectives."

"Oh boy. Time to update that resume of yours."

"You're not kidding. I'll only admit this to you, Crys, but it's already giving me the willies."

Crystalyn Dugan, aka, Mrs. Delancey, sat up in her bed excitedly. "Mac's got the willies? This ought to be good!"

"Henry is coming to Dani's studio with the M.E. from the Midtown morgue, there's been a rash of dead models piling up and apparently the NYPD can't handle it."

"Is that what they said, or is that your opinion? I'm starting to see how much you thumb your nose at authority."

"Okay, the last part is all my opinion, but six dead models is nothing to sneeze at. I already heard it in Dani's voice. She's scared to death. Remember, the world of fashion is cloistered, they'll all be up in arms over this when it leaks out."

"Seriously. I really feel bad for those girls, I've followed on the news. What kind of sick freak would do something like that?"

"The world is full of sick freaks, and I took an oath to stop them."

"So did I. Hold on, babe."

Crystal climbed out of bed, and leaving it undone, hurried around to find her shoes and where she last put the pink shell top she brought back from the cleaners. She soon got tangled in the curly wires and tripped backwards on the bed.

"Crystal? What's going on there? You okay?"

"Oh! Fine! Fine. Just took a tumble. Mac, I appreciate you filling me in so far, but do you think they'd mind if I were there too? It doesn't sound like they asked for Mr. and Mrs. Delancey."

"Look, we're a team now, besides, if this case gets any bigger, we may need your help anyway."

"I can already see myself dangling off your big, shiny hook, Mac."

"Glad you know my methods. Tried and true."

"I'm learning fast." She ran a brush through her newly cut and shoulder-length dark-blonde hair. "Hey, I'll meet you there, alright? No sense you waiting for me, I gotta shower and all that sweet girly stuff."

"Hey, do ya want some company?" He teased.

"Mac! Just get to Dani's and make sure they know I'm coming. I don't want to walk in and have them look at me like I have three heads."

"I know. Two is more than enough for you, and more than I can take."

"Goodbye, Mac!" Crystalyn snickered and shut the phone, then bounded to the bathroom to get ready.