by C. M. Sutter
Danny and Mike met up with us in the first bay, and Mike pointed with his chin. “Those must be the vehicles belonging to our suspects.”
“Yep, and I want both of them gone through thoroughly. Have Brian and Justin lend a hand. These cars take priority today.”
“You bet. I’ll give them a call right now.”
I leaned against the wall and tapped Lutz’s name on my phone. “We’re in the garage, Bob. Both cars are being brought in now.”
“What about Jennifer?”
“She’ll be ready in five.”
“Okay, I’m heading down.”
My cell phone rang at four twenty. It was Bill calling to say Jennifer had been placed in box one. I pushed off the wall and caught Frank’s attention. “Bill says she’s ready to go. Let’s wait inside for Lutz and see how he wants us to proceed.”
“Give me a sec.” Frank dropped a quarter into the peanut machine and placed his open hand under the dispenser.
I rolled my eyes. “You just paid a quarter for ten peanuts?”
He shrugged and followed me down the hall. Lutz had arrived from the opposite direction and joined us in the observation room. We faced the window and stared at Jennifer.
“Hell, she looks like a kid,” Lutz said.
I was pissed that she had lied to us days earlier. Deidra’s life could have been spared, and I would make sure Jennifer was held responsible for her death too. I turned to Lutz. “She’s over twenty-one, and that’s what counts. We’ll throw the proverbial book at her, tell her she’s looking at life, and see what happens.”
Lutz shook his head. “Take it down a notch, Jesse. If you back her against the wall right away, she’ll clam up. You have to start gently and act like you empathize with her. She isn’t savvy enough to know she’s being played. Get her to start talking, or you’ll lose the opportunity if she does lawyer up.”
I let out a long sigh. “You’re right, but time isn’t on our side. Those two could be planning their next attack on an innocent person.”
Lutz motioned us toward the door. “Give it your best shot. If she starts pissing you off, walk out and compose yourself. Don’t let her know she’s getting to you.”
Lutz was right, although it would take everything I had not to wring her scrawny neck. We needed her lowlife buddies, and we needed them yesterday.
I grabbed a bottle of water and walked in, and Frank closed the door behind us. I passed the bottle across the table to her, and we took our seats. Her eyes were bloodshot as if she’d been crying, and she probably had. According to the nationwide criminal database, there was nothing on her—this was her first arrest—which could benefit us. I was sure she was scared to death.
“Here we are, sitting across from you again, Jennifer. The environment is a bit different this time, though, and I’m sure it’s all because of your friends.”
She wiped her dripping nose with her sleeve. I passed the box of tissues to her, and she thanked me.
“How did you end up with the Impala?” I put my right leg over my left knee. “That rusty piece of shit isn’t quite an even trade with your Fiesta. I think you got the short end of the stick.”
“Yeah, well—” She stopped herself before continuing.
I tapped the table near her hand. “That’s a damn nice ring. A gift from your folks?”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “No, it’s from my asshole boyfriend.”
Frank laughed. “Are asshole and boyfriend interchangeable words?”
“It is in my world. That’s why I have the Impala.”
I gave Frank a quick glance. She was starting to let her guard down.
“Hungry?”
“A little.”
“Sure, how about a bag of chips to go with your water?”
“Thanks.”
I patted the table. “I’ll be right back.”
I left the room and stepped into the observation room, where Lutz had already pulled a bag of chips from our supply cabinet.
He gave me a thumbs-up. “Keep going. You’re gaining her trust.”
I returned, took my seat, and handed her the bag. “So why the car exchange?”
She huffed. “Not sure. I got a call, and he—my boyfriend—said he needed to use it. He dropped off the Impala, took my keys, and left.”
“That’s bullshit,” Frank said. “I’d want to know why he needed it.”
“I’ve learned not to ask.”
Frank squeezed his hand into a fist for effect. “So he abuses you? No wonder you called him an asshole.”
“I shouldn’t have told him about the news broadcast today.”
“So you saw it? I bet that freaked you out, right?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, and I called We—”
“Who?”
Jennifer caught herself. “I called him and said the cops were looking for me and my car. He told me where to find it and hung up.” She began to sob. “I was afraid and didn’t know what to do. I felt abandoned. I was wanted, my car was wanted, and the Impala was probably wanted too. I’m sure that’s why he took the Fiesta in the first place.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely an asshole. Left you high and dry to fend for yourself. Now look who’s sitting in jail. It sure as hell isn’t him.” Frank reached across the table and tore open the chip bag for her.
“But it should be. He cares more about Rory than me.”
“Rory?” I was fishing. “You mean Rory from Detroit?”
“Yeah. They met five years ago when they were both in—” Her eyes darted from Frank to me, then she abruptly stopped and stared at her hands.
I knew what that meant, and I stood as if I needed to stretch. I looked toward the mirror and knew full well that Lutz was on the other side, checking on the name Rory and Detroit in the criminal database.
Jennifer was giving us what we wanted without even realizing it, and if it had to be done in a nicer than usual manner, then so be it—we needed her to keep talking.
I pointed at Frank. “Hell, this guy is my buddy and partner, but I wouldn’t abandon my girlfriend for him. No how, no way. That’s inexcusable.”
Frank gave me a wink then faced Jennifer. “We have both cars in the evidence garage, so how do you think they’re going to manage without wheels?”
Jennifer huffed. “I’m sure they’ve already snagged another car. Wes shows up all the time with a different vehicle.”
Bingo. We had her boyfriend’s name. I excused myself and entered the observation room, where Lutz was grinning. “Find anything?” I asked.
“Yep, I just got a message back after putting out feelers to the Michigan Department of Corrections. Turns out that a Rory Gibbs and a Wesley Nash both served time at Central Michigan Correctional Facility in St. Louis. There’s no chance in hell it isn’t them, and I’m waiting on the most current photos to come through.”
“Perfect, now we’ll put out an APB on both of them. We’ll tell Jennifer we only have information on Rory, and we’ll show her his photo to confirm that he’s the right guy. Chances are she’ll keep talking if she thinks we don’t have anything on Wesley Nash yet. We need to know where they’re holed up since we don’t know what they’re driving now.”
Lutz walked out with me. “I’ll go check my emails. Meanwhile, go back in and see what else you can get out of her. I’ll rap on the door when I have the photo.”
I returned to the interrogation room and began another round of questions. “So do you live in an apartment or a house?”
“An apartment.”
“And your boyfriend lives there, I mean lived there, too? That is, until today when he dumped you?”
“No. He and Rory move around from motel to motel.”
Her comment made sense. By staying in motels, a permanent address would never be on file for either of them.
“Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be kicked out after the landlord hears about the news segment.”
She had no idea of the charges facing her, and being kicked out of her apartm
ent would be the least of her worries.
A knock sounded at the door, and I opened it just enough for Lutz to pass the photo of Rory through. I took a look and gave Lutz a subtle nod. It was the guy I saw in the passenger seat of the Fiesta. Sitting down again, I slid the photo across the table. “Is this the Rory you know?”
“Yeah, that’s the jerk who runs the show.”
“Really? Rory calls the shots?”
“Most of the time, I guess.”
I jotted that down, including the fact that Jennifer and I had positively identified Rory Gibbs as the man she knew and the man who gave an appreciative nod at my Camaro.
“When was the last time you spoke to either Wes or Rory?”
“I never talk to Rory except the time he offered me two hundred dollars to hand some envelopes to a couple of pharmacists.”
“We know all about that, Jennifer. Wasn’t it you who gave the guys information about the pharmacists, like their home addresses, when they usually got to work, and if they were married and had kids?”
“Um… maybe I should stop talking. I think I need a lawyer.”
Damn it, I pushed too hard.
“Suit yourself,” Frank said. “Two murders are going to fall entirely on your shoulders if we don’t find your ex-boyfriend and Rory.”
We stood to walk out.
“Wait! I do have a phone number.”
Frank swatted the air. “You know it’s a burner, and we can’t get anything from that.”
“It’s Wesley’s mom’s number in Detroit.”
I raised my brows. “And how could she help?”
“Because Wes loves her, and they’re super close. She probably talks to him twice a day.”
“Yeah? Okay, I’ll bite. Cough it up.”
“It’s under the name Betty on my phone.”
Chapter 44
We had Bill show Jennifer to a holding cell. Most of our jail cells stood empty now that Lutz had released the pharmacists and told them not to leave town. Once Rory and Wes were captured, every one of those pharmacists would be subpoenaed to testify against them in court.
I noticed a text had come in while we were interrogating Jennifer. I read it as Frank and I took the back stairs to the bull pen.
“Anything serious?” Frank asked when we reached the second floor.
“Nah. It was Hanna reminding me to pick up Bandit’s heartworm medicine when I leave work. She said she’d have it ready for me. That’s all.”
“Nice to have a dog as your best bud and a vet as your girlfriend. They both come in handy at times.”
I agreed, not knowing whether Frank was being sarcastic or sincere. I’d forgotten about the earlier call that had come in from Dean and listened to his message again. It made no sense, so I dismissed it and chalked it up to people looking for the wrong person at the wrong address. I didn’t have any tools for sale.
Upstairs, we headed to Lutz’s office. I gave the door two raps, and he called out to come in.
“Hey, Boss, Jennifer is in lockup, so what do you think about that APB on the guys?”
“Yeah, we definitely need to do that, but we don’t have information on the car they’re driving. If we plaster their images across the TV screen, they’ll run for sure. I don’t want to give them a heads-up.”
“So an APB with their faces put out to Patrol only?”
Lutz rubbed his cheek. “Unless you have another suggestion.”
“Jennifer gave me a phone number for Wesley’s mother. She figured the mom might know where he’s holed up.”
“Try that first. If she doesn’t give you anything, we’ll issue the APB, but without a car, it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Frank and I continued to the bull pen. I dropped down in my chair and placed a clean sheet of paper and a pen in front of me. Before I made the call, I jotted down things to say to the mom. I’d let her know in no uncertain terms that if she knew where Wes was staying and didn’t disclose that to us, she’d be in a lot of trouble. In reality, she could get away with lying now and we’d have to take her word for it, but sooner or later, the truth would come out, and if she really did know his location, she’d be arrested too. I wasn’t sure whether she knew that Wes and Rory had killed two innocent women, but that would be another way to plant the seed of fear in her mind. Anything she knew and withheld from police would definitely come back to bite her.
I lifted the receiver, dialed the number, and waited for an answer. Two rings went by, then a voice spoke up on the other end.
“Hello.”
“Hello, I’m looking for Betty Nash. Is this she?”
She immediately sounded suspicious. “Yes, who wants to know? I’m not buying anything, and I’m on the no-call list.”
“Ma’am, this is Detective McCord from the homicide division of the Chicago Police Department.”
“What? Why would a Chicago homicide detective call me? Oh God no! Did something happen to—” She abruptly stopped.
“You can say his name, ma’am. We already know that Wesley is in Chicago.”
“Is he all right?”
“Mrs. Nash, when did you speak to Wesley last?”
“Yesterday. Why? Is he okay or not? You said you were a homicide detective.”
“To my knowledge, he’s fine. Do you know where Wesley is staying, Mrs. Nash? Think hard before you respond. Lying to the police is an offense that is taken very seriously. If we find out that you’ve impeded our investigation by withholding information, you’ll be arrested.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I wasn’t in the mood for her games. “Ma’am, Wesley and his buddy, Rory Gibbs, have murdered two women in Chicago. We know you’ve been in contact with him. You’ve admitted that yourself. We also know you two are very close and it’s likely he’s confided in you. Now where—”
She interrupted before I finished my sentence. “I don’t believe anything you’re saying, Detective McCord. Wesley would never kill anyone, and he told me that the cops were trying to pin some unsolved murders on him. I don’t know where he’s staying, so there’s nothing more to discuss.”
The call clicked in my ear. She’d hung up.
Frank snickered. “I take it that didn’t go very well.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Nope, it sure didn’t. Guess it’s time to put out that APB.” I made the call to Lutz and updated him. “The mom was less than helpful. As a matter of fact, she hung up on me.”
“Okay, I’ll put out the APB right now. Go home and get some rest. Update the night shift guys on where you’re at in the investigation, and I’ll arrange a sit-down with them, Jennifer, and her public defender.”
“Yeah, you’ve got a deal. See you in the morning, Boss.”
I walked out with Frank and the rest of our detectives. There was nothing more we could do in that moment. The only thing that would help was if Jennifer gave up where the guys were staying.
“So what’s on your agenda tonight?” Frank asked as we walked to our vehicles.
I shrugged. “Nothing planned. I’ve got to pick up Bandit’s heartworm chews, and that’s about it.”
He nudged me. “Take Hanna out for a beer. You’ll be seeing her, anyway.”
I patted Frank’s shoulder. “Good idea, bud, and I will if she’s done for the day when I get there.” I climbed into my Camaro, waved, and drove off.
Chapter 45
Rory punched Wes’s left shoulder. “Hey, wake your pathetic ass up. McCord just got into his car. Good thing I didn’t fall asleep, too, you idiot.”
“Huh? What?”
Rory pointed. “He’s driving away. Now get the cobwebs out of your head and pay attention. Jesus, this was all your idea to begin with. I should have never talked about his Camaro with you.
Wes laughed. “You mean my Camaro?”
“Whatever, just keep your eyes on that car.”
“Hard to miss that bright-yellow color, dude. Maybe I should have it
painted.”
Rory shook his head. His partner’s IQ was about the same as a twelve-year-old’s.
Rory stayed a few car lengths behind the Camaro at all times as he followed McCord east on Fifty-First Street. At South Woodlawn Avenue, Rory saw the right blinker flash on the ZL1. He continued following the car.
“He’s heading home, so what’s the plan, Rory? His house is surrounded with motion-sensor lights and cameras. How are we going to get the car?”
“Stop talking. I’m trying to think! Here’s my idea—screw the car. Let’s get out of Chicago before Jen tells them everything.”
“No way! I’ll get that car one way or another.”
Rory slipped into the far-left lane and turned onto East Sixty-Seventh Street. He noticed the detective’s blinker flash for a right-hand turn onto South Stoney Island Avenue.
“Where the hell is he going? That isn’t the way to his house.”
“Don’t know,” Rory said.
Wes pointed at the dark brick building coming up on their left when they saw McCord turn into the lot and park.
“This should be interesting.” Rory continued on then turned in at the next driveway.
Finding a spot in the row behind McCord and four cars to his right, Rory and Wes could clearly see the entrance to the animal hospital. They watched the door and waited.
“We could probably ambush him when he comes out,” Wes said. “I don’t see any cameras.”
Rory shook his head. “That won’t work. There isn’t a car next to his on the driver’s side. Where would we ambush him from? We aren’t prepared, anyway, and who knows if this piece of shit even has a tire iron in the trunk.”
The door opening caught their attention.
“Check it out,” Wes said. “There’s a woman with him, and she’s wearing a lab coat.”
“And that white bag he’s carrying looks like a prescription bag. That means he has a pet at home and maybe the woman is a vet.”
Wes perked up. “It also means there are pharmaceuticals inside that building.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began tapping keys. “Yep, vet clinics and animal hospitals prescribe the same kind of opioids for pets that humans take. I think we just found the next place to hit.” Wes took several pictures of the woman then pocketed his phone.
