To Die For

by C. M. Sutter

  “Yeah, but somebody has to do it.”

  He grinned. “I’d grab the two officers who just went out back. They said they were going to start on the garage. If it was me, I’d take the garage myself and tell them to hit the dumpsters.”

  Frank perked up. “I’ll give them the good news since we do outrank them.”

  I rolled my eyes as Frank dipped under the tape at the back door. Henry and Shawn followed him, saying something about starting in the alley.

  I turned to Mike. “So, other than the blood smear at the back door, what else did the scene tell you?”

  Mike led the way. We stood between the kitchen and the dining room and looked in. Mike pointed at the back door in the laundry room. “The killer got in through there—that’s been established. The pry marks at the locking mechanism proved as much.”

  “Right. Then what?”

  “I think he waited in the laundry room until she came into the kitchen and then jumped her. He may have had a knife with him or used one of hers, but the initial attack started in there. That’s why that area is so messy. She had full strength and a lot of adrenaline in the beginning. He caught her with the knife, and it was bad enough to start a blood trail as she ran to the dining room.” Mike pointed again at the blood on the tile near our feet. “It appears that they circled the table a few times, and the blood droplets tell me she was standing still for a while. I picture her moving back and forth every time he did—cat and mouse style. I’m sure she was calculating her best bet—back door or front, who would hear her screams, and how fast she could get to one door or the other. I’d say she tried to run for the back—it’s closer. He caught her again in the kitchen, and that’s where he stabbed her multiple times. You can see the largest area of blood where she was lying, and it looks like she writhed back and forth—smears everywhere. The backside of the island is where the spatter is, meaning he shot her in the head in the spot where she was lying. Because the blood sprayed in a nearly sideways fashion, I’d venture to say she was lying somewhat on her side when he shot her.”

  I grimaced. “Sort of in a fetal position because he’d already knifed her multiple times in the torso? Possibly to protect herself?”

  “Could be, and that would make sense.”

  “But somehow the killer was able to avoid stepping in her blood?”

  “Or he cleaned it up and took the evidence of that with him. No matter what, there’s still the blood smear on the doorframe, and we’ll definitely test it.”

  I rubbed my chin as I thought. “What’s the possibility of two assailants?”

  “It isn’t impossible. One could have stabbed her while the other stood by with his hand and the gun bagged until it was time to shoot her. Still, one person could have done it all. Is there a reason you asked?”

  I shrugged. “Something that Paulson said. According to a neighbor three houses down, a black sedan with two men inside was driving slower than normal past the houses this morning. Could be something or nothing, but it raised my curiosity.” I noticed the time on the microwave. “Anyway, thanks, buddy. I better get outside and help the guys. I’ll review your report tomorrow with the commander.”

  “Sounds good. Danny and I are about to wrap it up for the night.”

  Outside, I looked to the sky before approaching Henry. The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, and we were losing light fast.

  “Find anything?”

  “Nah, there isn’t enough light left, especially in the alley.”

  I yelled out to the officers to pack it up for the day and head back to the station. Henry and I walked to the garage, where Shawn and Frank were going through the wife’s car. “Anything worth noting?”

  “Nope. Just a car. Kids’ toys on the floor in the back, two booster seats, a few fast-food wrappers, and the usual in the glove box. All the things you’d expect in a mom’s car,” Frank said.

  I looked at the shelves, which were filled with totes, most marked as Christmas decorations. Other than the car, the garage had five bikes—two for adults and three for kids—a wheelbarrow, and a lawn mower jammed inside. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Come on. Let’s call it a day. Mike and Danny are locking up inside and heading back too.”

  I sat in the car and stewed. Paul Harper had never called me back, and it felt like he was trying to pull one over on me. I tried his phone again while Frank drove. It went to voice mail.

  “That son of a bitch is deliberately avoiding us. I’m calling Lutz to see if he wants Abrams to put a BOLO out on Harper’s vehicle.”

  Frank frowned. “Do you think he’d really bail on identifying his wife tomorrow? He still has to plan her funeral and take care of all the legalities.”

  “Right, so why not work with us instead of against us? All he’s doing is making himself look guilty of something.” I dialed Lutz’s number to let him know we were heading back and to ask his opinion about Harper. “Boss, it’s Jesse,” I said when he picked up on the second ring.

  “Any luck in the alley?”

  “Nope, we got there too late in the day. The sun was already below the horizon, and the alley is dark to begin with.” I looked at my watch—6:19. “It’s too late to call waste management, but we need them to bypass the dumpsters in that alley until they’re gone through.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Did you set up another interview with Harper?”

  I grumbled into the phone. “No, and that’s part of the reason I’m calling. I think he’s avoiding us, and that doesn’t sit well with me. Wouldn’t the husband of a murder victim want to work with the police instead of us having to track him down?”

  “How many times did you try to reach him?”

  “Three throughout the day. Voice mail each time.”

  “Okay, try once more and say we’re putting out a BOLO on his car and an APB on him. He’ll be considered a suspect if he doesn’t return your call immediately. He gets a half hour to get back to you, and if he doesn’t, the BOLO goes out, and he’ll be arrested when he’s found. We don’t have time to be chasing his ass too.”

  “Sounds fair. We’re on our way back to the district now.”

  Chapter 8

  Kohl spoke up when the phone finally stopped ringing. “Daddy, why don’t you answer your phone? Maybe it’s Mommy.”

  Paul felt the dampness as he raked his hair. His perspiration and anxiety were building with each unanswered call. He wasn’t sure what to do.

  “It’s okay, buddy. I told you Mommy can’t join us, and I’ll explain it better tomorrow. Right now, I have to think.” Paul crossed the room and picked up the remote. “Let’s see if there’s any kid-friendly stations we can find for you guys. How about ordering pizza delivery too?”

  Kohl leapt across the bed and propped pillows behind his head. “Yay! I want pepperoni.”

  “Okay, Katelyn and Kimmy, what do you want on the pizza?”

  “Can we have cheese?”

  Paul smiled at his seven-year-old daughters. “Of course you can.” He found a TV station suitable for kids and took a seat at the four-person table in the corner. “Okay, keep the noise down while I call the pizza place.”

  Paul pressed the voice mail icon and listened to the latest message from Detective McCord. That one sounded angrier and more urgent than the previous ones. They said they were through waiting for Paul to get back to them with his location, and he would be considered a suspect if the call wasn’t returned immediately.

  “Kids, I’m going to use my phone out in the hallway. Stay put and watch the cartoons. I’ll be right outside the door.”

  Paul sucked in a deep breath, closed the door at his back, and walked to the end of the corridor, where he took a seat on the window ledge. His hotel room was still within sight. He had to think of something to tell the detective about why he hadn’t answered his calls. He couldn’t put it off any longer, and he didn’t want to alienate the police or be separated from his children. He stared at the detective’s number in h
is missed-calls log then pressed the phone symbol.

  “Detective McCord speaking.”

  “It’s Paul Harper.”

  “What’s going on, Paul? Avoiding the police makes you look guilty as hell.”

  “I’m afraid for my kids, that’s all.”

  “And avoiding us is going to make everything better? Sorry, but I don’t understand your logic. I need to know where you’re staying, and I want the truth. We’ve got more questions for you since your timeline from this morning doesn’t match up to what your coworkers told us.”

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow when the kids are in school? I’m about to order a pizza for them.”

  “We need a formal statement from you that’s on record. You also need to identify your wife’s body.”

  “That’s why tomorrow makes more sense. I have to come in, anyway.”

  “Where are you staying? I’m sending out a unit to make sure you’re there. Any funny stuff and you’ll be arrested.”

  “Fine. I’m at the Liberty Lodge on South Cicero.”

  “Near Midway?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, but I’m flagging you with TSA. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you aren’t leaving Chicago, am I clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Good, and your decision is going to make the difference about whether your kids are in protective custody or with you, so keep that in mind. The officers are en route and will be at your door in a few minutes to conduct a welfare check. I’ll expect you at our Wentworth station tomorrow at nine a.m., and if you aren’t there, a warrant for your arrest will be issued, no exceptions. Good night, Mr. Harper.”

  “Good night.”

  Chapter 9

  Frank gave me that look. “What the hell is he up to?”

  “Don’t know, but he’s had fair warning. I’ll make sure Tillson stays on top of things at that hotel, and if Mr. Harper needs a police escort to the station in the morning, he’s definitely going to get it.”

  We walked into the precinct together and headed directly to Lutz’s office. I wanted to go home, and I was sure every other first shifter did, too, so we’d keep our update brief.

  I gave his door a courtesy knock, then we entered. Lutz set his glasses on the desk and pinched the sides of his nose.

  “What have you got?”

  “Harper finally called back.”

  Lutz seemed to perk up. “Good. And?”

  “He’s at the Liberty Lodge on South Cicero. I’ve already flagged his and his children’s names with TSA in case he tries something. Tillson and Jackson are conducting a welfare check on them and will sit on the hotel overnight. I told Harper to be here at nine a.m., or we’ll issue a warrant for his arrest.”

  “Why didn’t he answer any of your earlier calls?”

  I shrugged. “He said he was worried about his kids.”

  “Right, but if he knows something about his wife’s murder, then we can get the responsible party off the street. Plain common sense.”

  Frank smirked. “Common sense doesn’t run deep in this day and age, Boss.”

  Lutz groaned. “I know that all too well.” He shut down his computer and stood. “Go home, guys. I know I can’t wait to sit on my recliner with a cold beer in hand and forget about this place for eight hours. We all need to turn our brains off and recharge now and then. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, and what Lutz had said was just common sense.

  Once I was home, I followed my commander’s suggestion and snuggled up on the couch with Bandit and a cold beer. I texted a good night message to Hanna, my neighbor Dean’s niece, whom I had met a few months back at Dean’s house. At the time, Hanna and her mom, Lee, were moving from New York to Chicago and had decided to settle down in the Hyde Park area. Since then, we’d been on a few dates—a natural way to get to know each other. The dating website route was a thing of the past for me, and I had closed down my account after a near-death experience with two criminals, Gail and her mother, Janet. Those two were a bad memory, and I’d learned an important message—to stay off dating websites—too many crazies in the world.

  Over the last few months, I’d shown Hanna what made Chicago such a great city to live in—the lakefront, Millennium Park, live theater performances, and of course, shopping on the Magnificent Mile. Not to say New York City didn’t share all those wonderful features, because it did, but acting as a tour guide was a fun way for me to get better acquainted with a beautiful, honest, and normal woman. We talked and texted regularly and tried to get together at least once a week. Slow and steady was my motto, and so far, everything was going great.

  Signing off, I wished Hanna well at the animal hospital the next day, checked the doors, set the alarm, and headed down the hall for what I hoped would be a good night’s sleep. Before I settled in, I received a text from Lutz. He said that Tillson had checked in with Paul and his kids, and all seemed okay other than Paul appearing agitated. Officers would park near his car and keep a watchful eye on the hotel until he took the kids to school that next morning and headed to the station.

  With a quick response acknowledging the text, I emailed myself a reminder to set up another interview with Dorrie Wyatt. I wanted her personal opinion of Paul Harper and a deeper understanding of the relationship he had with Eileen. After I hit Send, I placed my phone on the nightstand and shut off the light.

  Chapter 10

  Rory Gibbs and Wesley Nash were dangerous criminals, bad to the bone, and had lived most of their lives committing crimes to either feed their drug habit or score a quick buck. Residential burglaries had always earned them enough to squeak by, but lately, they’d moved on to riskier ventures that brought in the bigger reward. The offense was of no significance to them, but the benefit was. Battery or burglary, it didn’t matter as long as they cashed in and weren’t caught. Both men had spent time in state penitentiaries, where they’d met, and had no intentions of going back even though their crimes had just advanced to murder.

  After they’d moved from Detroit to Chicago, their latest gig had been going well until they met up with resistance in the form of Paul Harper, but he’d learned a hard lesson, and his wife had paid the price with her life.

  Rory grabbed the car keys. The duffel bag with masks and gloves was waiting in the car. “Ready to go?”

  “I’m more than ready, dude, and I’m itching to fill up those bags. This is a moola-making opportunity that we can play for all it’s worth.”

  The drive to the CMS Pharmacy on West Thirty-First Street took only ten minutes. The best friends were smart to move from hotel to hotel, and without a permanent address on record in any city or state, tracking either of them down would be impossible if their names ever came up.

  “Have any regrets?” Wes asked.

  Rory jerked his head to the right. “About what?”

  “Killing that bitch. I mean she had nothing to do with nothing.”

  “Nope. The husband had fair warning what would happen if he didn’t cooperate. As far as I’m concerned, he killed her. You aren’t going soft on me, are you?”

  “Hell no. Just wondering, that’s all. I’ve never killed anyone before.”

  “Me neither, but there’s always a first time for everything, and it wasn’t that bad.”

  Wesley pointed at the side driveway that circled around to the back of the pharmacy. “Keep the car tight against the wall so the camera doesn’t catch it.”

  With just enough room to squeeze out of the car on the driver’s side, Rory grabbed their supplies from the trunk, and they inched closer to the rear door with their backs pressed against the stucco wall. Wes carried the duffel bags, and Rory had the folding stool and towel. The codes, on a slip of paper shoved deep in Rory’s pocket, would allow them entry as soon as they covered the camera. Both men, gloved and with their faces hidden behind masks, reached the door seconds later. Rory unfolded the stool and climbed up next to the camera.

 
; “Okay, hand me the towel.”

  Wes did as instructed by his friend, who was older by eighteen months.

  “That should do it. Let’s get inside and empty the shelves. I want to be in and out in five minutes.” Rory pulled the paper from his pocket and tapped the six-digit code into the keypad. A click sounded, and a wide grin spread across his face as he turned the knob.

  “Remember to keep your head down and gloves on at all times. We have one more keypad and code to enter, and then we’re home free.”

  Once inside, they headed for the best and most sought-after drugs—the opioids, which were locked in a glass cabinet. With the back of his elbow, Wesley smashed the glass door, reached in, and slid all the bottles into his duffel bag. They continued on and emptied the shelves of the drugs that were worth their weight in gold on the streets.

  In under ten minutes, both duffel bags were filled, and the men raced to the car. Rory backed out while keeping the car snugged against the wall then turned the corner, scratching the driver’s side like he’d done plenty of times before. He opened his window and tossed Paul’s badge out then pulled away. With their gloves and masks removed, they exited the pharmacy’s parking lot and headed to their motel.

  “Man, I could do this forever,” Wes said. “It’s probably the easiest money we’ll ever make.” He went silent for a minute. “I just don’t want killing people to become a regular part of the gig.”

  Rory reassured him and tapped the steering wheel. “It won’t unless we have to deal with more idiots who think their job is more important than their family. Harper had a choice, and he made it, so don’t let it occupy your headspace.”

  Chapter 11

  Paul woke before daybreak, and the sadness and anxiety he felt were taking their toll. The burglars had told him he’d find his badge behind the pharmacy, but with the officers parked in the hotel lot, he had no chance of retrieving it before the doors opened for business that day. He was sure that when the employees arrived and realized a burglary had occurred during the night, they would immediately call the police, and once they began scouring the area for evidence, they’d surely find Paul’s badge.