To Die For

by C. M. Sutter

  I had to force the words out of my mouth. “We found blood.”

  It was agonizing to listen to her cry. Other than Dean and Hanna, Lee didn’t have any other relatives who lived in the immediate area, although she had plenty of relatives in Illinois. In her state of mind, driving anywhere was out of the question.

  “Lee, you shouldn’t be alone. I’ll call Dean and have him pick you up since I don’t recommend you driving. I promise to keep both of you updated if anything comes to light. Right now, I need to find Hanna.”

  She agreed to stay with Dean, and I made the call. As usual, he came through for me without hesitation.

  I returned to the bull pen and dropped down in my chair. Seconds later, Frank picked up his ringing phone, and I cocked my ear toward his desk. From his side of the conversation, it sounded like the public defender had arrived and was being escorted to the box where Jennifer was waiting. Frank hung up and stood.

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah, but give me a second.” I dialed Lutz and asked if he had contacted the Detroit PD yet, and he said that he had. They were en route to pick up Betty Nash for questioning. “Call them back, Boss, and find out who Mark is. Wes and Rory brought up his name when they were at my house, likely while looking for a way to break in. Dean gave me the heads-up.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear when I heard cursing coming from the commander.

  “And I’m just finding out about this now?”

  “Sorry, but I just found out too. I’ll explain what Dean told me later, but this Mark character might be somebody we need to know more about. Have Detroit PD press Betty Nash for information on him.”

  “Will do.”

  “Okay, the public defender just arrived. Frank and I are about to mess up Jennifer’s day.”

  We left the bull pen and took the back stairway to our lower-level jail wing, where we signed in and deposited our guns in the lockers provided specifically for that purpose.

  Taking a peek through the one-way glass before stepping into the interrogation room, we saw Jennifer and her attorney whispering. Frank flipped on the intercom so we could hear the conversation, but with his hand cupping his mouth, the attorney likely knew somebody might be listening in. We didn’t have time for their games and entered the box with no intentions of getting comfortable or being pleasant. Time was a luxury we didn’t have, and my patience had grown thin hours earlier. My conversation was addressed to the attorney since he would demand it, anyway.

  “Tell your client this is her last chance to tell us what we want to know. The DA has agreed that there’s enough evidence to charge her with accessory to commit murder, accessory to kidnapping, and accessory to capital burglary. Of course, those charges will change drastically in the next few minutes.”

  Attorney Gould smiled. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you trying to intimidate us?”

  I rested my hands on the table and leaned in, staring at Jennifer. “Nope, I’m only stating facts. If she doesn’t give up Wes and Rory now, the charges will be put on her as the one and only culprit.” I gave Jennifer my best smile. “You’ll be moved out of our cushy facility and placed in county lockup—which is no cakewalk—until a jury of your peers convicts you of capital murder, kidnapping, and burglary. You’ll go to a woman’s prison, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be eligible for parole in fifty years.” I got within an inch of her ear. “Until then, you’ll be in gen pop where nobody will protect you. I hear women’s prisons are worse than men’s. Weapons are found every time the cells get tossed, some still covered in dried blood.” I looked over my shoulder at Frank. “What do you think? Fresh meat like her usually ends up in those dormitory types of wings, right?” I licked my lips. “I hear the women in those twenty-unit rooms don’t like sleeping alone. As a matter of fact, they insist on having their own personal bitches, which are usually the younger ones. More innocent and not quite as combative, if you know what I mean.”

  Tears ran down Jennifer’s cheeks, and she cradled her face in her hands.

  “That’s enough! You can’t force her to talk to you by creating fear in her mind.”

  I stepped back and laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Counselor. I can do and say whatever the hell I want to get the results I need.” I glared at Jennifer again. “And I promise you, I’ll make sure you’re put in the worst cell block available.”

  She cried out and slammed her hands on the table. “What do you want from me?”

  “Every name and address of the people Wes and Rory might depend on for help, and I want them now. No more stalling. Wes dumped your ass, so why are you still protecting him?”

  She leaned against her attorney’s shoulder and cupped her hand to his ear.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “She’ll tell you what she knows, but we need a deal first. One to five years for impeding an investigation. No murder, kidnapping, or burglary charges.”

  I shook my head and snickered. “Five years for accessory to capital burglary, or she gets all the charges dumped in her lap.”

  Gould spoke quietly to Jennifer for several seconds, then she reluctantly said she would work with us.

  “Fine. I’ll give you the names and addresses of everyone I know.”

  I stepped out of the room and returned seconds later with paper and a pen. “Start writing.”

  It took only a few minutes, then she passed the sheet across the table. I snatched it up and took a look.

  “Five names in total, and none have last names or addresses. That isn’t going to cut it for me. Do you think I’m joking?”

  She began to plead. “We haven’t lived in Chicago very long, and the only people I’ve met are a few of Wesley’s drug contacts.”

  Mark’s name was included in that group of five, but without a last name, we couldn’t even search the DMV database.

  I tapped the paper with my index finger, making sure I jabbed his name. “Where does he live?”

  “I don’t know, I swear. It isn’t like I was one of their boys. Wes didn’t include me in anything very often, and the only reason I know some of the areas at all is because he made me sit in the car and wait while they were inside the houses doing business.”

  “I need to know about Mark!”

  “He lives somewhere around East Seventy-Fifth Street, but I don’t know which street or the house number. I swear it’s the truth.”

  I balled up the paper and threw it at her. “What’s his last name?”

  “I, I—”

  “If you say you don’t know, I swear I’ll—”

  Frank patted my shoulder and took over. He could see I was about to blow a gasket.

  “Think hard, Jen. You get five minutes, and if you make something up, you’re going to get life.”

  Chapter 52

  The five minutes we’d given Jen had passed without a last name for Mark. I told Bill to throw her back in the cell, then Frank and I returned to the bull pen. My focus was now on Henry and what he’d learned from the auto theft unit.

  “Tell me something good, Henry.”

  He leaned back in his chair and began. “There were nine auto thefts reported yesterday in that general vicinity.”

  I felt optimistic. “That’s doable. Nine isn’t a lot.”

  “Right, but how do we know which of those nine cars they took?”

  “We’ll send officers to the area around the fast-food restaurant and find cameras. I know it’s a pain in the ass, but we don’t have any other options. They have to see them drop off the Fiesta and then follow them by cameras to see where they found a car to steal.”

  “That sounds like it’ll take days. Let me make a call to the Office of Emergency Management to see if they have grid cameras located in that vicinity. If they do, it’ll speed things up substantially.”

  I gave Henry a nod, pulled the receiver off the base of my desk phone, and dialed Lutz.

  “Have you heard back from the Detroit PD yet?”

/>   His sigh gave me the answer I was dreading—he hadn’t.

  “Son of a bitch. We’re wasting time. How about cameras around the animal hospital?”

  “Patrol checked already and didn’t see any suspicious cars or people on storefront cameras in that area.”

  I was at my wit’s end. I doubted that the guys would take Hanna to a motel where there were cameras, an office, and other guests who might see what they were up to. They had to be at a private residence. I hung up and racked my brain to come up with something else. Putting their images on the news was too risky now that they had a hostage. Seeing themselves on TV might send them into a state of panic, and Hanna could suffer the consequences.

  I dialed Narcotics and spoke to my old sergeant, Keith Finley, again. “Keith, it’s Jesse. Have Lemming and Hathaway gotten anything from their informants?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure it’ll help since it’s sketchy information at best.”

  “At this point, I’ll take anything.”

  “Sure. I told them to focus on the southeast side like you said.”

  “Right. Did they get any hits?”

  “A few. Seems drug deals go down pretty regularly in the South Stoney Island Avenue area.”

  My ears perked at those words. “That’s exactly the area I need to know about.”

  “Okay, good, then we’re on the right track. Supposedly, a lot of activity goes on at Woodhull Park.”

  “Interesting. How about around South Seventy-Fifth Street?”

  “Nah, they weren’t overly specific with streets. Seems like parks are where they conduct business most of the time.”

  “Heavy hitters who buy a lot of merchandise?”

  “We’ve been watching, and a few people are coming to light. Not quite in the leagues of kingpins, but they could have merit if they’re given enough rope to hang themselves with. Lemmings just found out about two in particular this morning. There’s a Marcus Luck, who goes by Lucky, and a Justin Johns. Couldn’t tell you if he has a nickname or not, but both buy plenty of pharmaceuticals to resell, according to the informants. Keep in mind, Jesse, the informants aren’t very reliable, and their accounts can turn on a dime.”

  “I’m looking for somebody in particular named Mark, and now I’m wondering if that Marcus could be him. The general area of the southeast side is right.”

  “Pull his sheet and see if anything on it can help your investigation. We already know he’s in the system.”

  “I will. Thanks, Keith, and I owe you one.” I clicked off the call, logged on to the internet, and entered my password into our criminal search database. I typed in Marcus Luck and Chicago. A lengthy arrest record popped up that went back ten years, mostly for drug offenses.

  I slapped my desk with a sense of accomplishment. “Yes! It’s about damn time.” We were finally getting somewhere.

  Every head in the bull pen jerked my way.

  “What have you got?” Frank asked.

  “Pull a DMV address for a Marcus Luck. He just might be the Mark—but probably spelled with a c at the end—that we’re looking for.”

  Frank powered up his computer and began tapping keys.

  “Here we go. A Marcus Luck has an apartment just north of East Seventy-Fifth on South Dante Avenue. He owns a gold 2014 GMC Yukon.”

  I jumped to my feet. “That’s close enough. We’ll tell Lutz on our way out.”

  We made a quick stop in Bob’s office and gave him the condensed version.

  “Narcotics came through for us, and I owe Keith plenty.”

  Lutz tipped his head toward the door. “Okay, go see if that lead has any merit. We’ll both owe Keith plenty if Marcus is who we’re looking for.”

  Frank and I headed out with the sirens and lights engaged. We would silence them five blocks out and go in quietly. Our intention was to surveil the building and see if that Yukon was there before we did anything else.

  While Frank drove, I pulled up the Street View app to see what we were heading toward.

  “Looks like a tan 1970s brick building with a parking lot on its south side. It’s a typical two-story and probably holds eighteen units by the size of the lot.”

  “What was Marcus’s apartment number?”

  I pulled the notes I had written down out of my jacket pocket. “His apartment is number nine.”

  “So he’s on the first floor and likely at the end of the hall by the side exit door.”

  Frank slowed down when we reached a block of lookalike buildings. I checked my notes again.

  “The building is 7405, so it’s on your side of the street.”

  He pointed out the windshield. “It’s that one. I’ll drive by, make a U-turn, and come back on the parking lot side, where there’s less probability of being seen from any windows.”

  “But the side door is there, and the chance of him running is high unless you go in through the front and I wait in the parking lot.”

  “Let’s see if the SUV is here first.”

  As Frank passed the building, we checked the lot—no gold Yukon. He made a U-turn and parked in front of the building south of the one Marcus lived in. We walked the rest of the way.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “First, let’s see if there’s a tenant directory and if his name is on it. We’ll talk to the manager, hopefully out of earshot of apartment nine.”

  We reached the front door, and Frank pulled it open. Inside the vestibule was the tenant directory, and an M. Luck was listed for apartment nine.

  “Guess we’re on the right track.” Frank pressed the buzzer for P. Driscoll, listed as the manager. A man answered, we introduced ourselves, and he buzzed us through. Inside, he opened his door before we even reached it.

  “Are you here about the noise complaint?”

  “Yes,” I said as I showed him my badge. I had no idea what he was talking about, but it was a way to get my foot in the door.

  “So, Mr. Driscoll, do you know which apartment the noise is coming from?”

  “Nah, but Tim in apartment seven is the one who called it in. He’s sure it’s Marcus in apartment nine, but Marcus isn’t home during the day. It could be the tenant above Tim for all I know, and he’s the only one who’s complained.”

  “Anyone live with Marcus?” Frank asked.

  “Nope, but he does have company right now. I haven’t heard more noise than one would expect, though. Typical things like voices, laughter, and the TV playing. This building isn’t soundproof you know.”

  My interest was piqued about the additional people in apartment nine. “Who are his guests?” I was certain it had to be Rory and Wes.

  “Couldn’t say. I did see a couple of guys go inside, but I didn’t get a close look at them. As long as the rent is paid and there aren’t too many complaints, I normally leave people alone. Skippers are high in this area, so everyone in my units has to prepay the first and last month’s rent.” Pete folded his arms across his chest. “I would have brought up the extra guys camping out with Marcus, but I’ll keep an eye on them. If they stay more than a month, they’ll have to be added to the lease, and the rent will go up.”

  “Which car in the lot belongs to them?”

  Pete shook his head. “Not sure. Cars come and go. I thought I saw them step out of a red car the other day, but I’m color-blind. It could have been orange or brown for all I know.”

  “Okay. Happen to catch their names or get a description?” I held out my cell with the driver’s license photos of Rory and Wes. “These guys may have outstanding warrants.”

  “Nah, I’ve never spoken with them and can’t really make a positive ID. I had just pulled into the lot when I saw them yesterday, but it was only for a split second and from the back. They walked in through the side door, and by the time I got to it, they had just closed the door to Marcus’s apartment.”

  “So two guys but never any women?”

  “Nope. I’ve never seen any ladies with them. Sorry, but that’s about all I know.�
��

  “Sure. Thanks for your help. We’ll come back and talk to Tim later about that noise complaint.”

  Frank and I left the building and walked to the parking lot. Five vehicles were there to choose from. I snapped off pictures of each one, including the plate numbers, and sent them to Henry along with a text message that I needed them compared to the cars that had been reported stolen. If we had a match, our guys were probably inside the building, and chances were, Hanna was too.

  I was on pins and needles as we waited in the cruiser for Henry’s response. I wanted to get in that apartment, arrest those pieces of shit, and bring Hanna home safely. My cell phone finally rang, and I nodded at Frank.

  “Here we go.” I set my cell to Speakerphone and answered. “What have you got, Henry?”

  “None of those cars match the plates or descriptions of any of the nine that were stolen. Sorry, Jesse.”

  I fisted my eyes and, with a disappointed sigh, let out the breath I’d been holding. “Okay, thanks, buddy.” I hung up and pocketed my phone.

  “Now what?” Frank asked.

  I shrugged. “I guess we return to the station and see if Lutz has heard from Detroit.”

  Chapter 53

  My shoulders felt like anchors as we crossed the lot. “Let’s stop in by Mike and see what they found in the cars.”

  Frank pushed open the double glass doors to our forensic lab and found Mike standing at a large stainless steel table covered with everything they’d found in the Impala.

  “Apparently they never cleaned out their car,” Frank said as he stood at Mike’s side.

  Mike raked his hair. “And that’s good for us. Take a look at some of this stuff.”

  We slipped on gloves and rummaged through scraps of paper, gum wrappers, cigarette butts, bottle caps, fast-food wrappers and bags, and dirty socks.

  “What the hell?” I lifted a sock with a hole in the heel. “Any reason to hang on to this?”

  “Not that I can think of,” Mike said.

  Frank spoke up. “Did you Luminol both vehicles?”

  “We did and found traces of blood in the Impala. It’s being analyzed as we speak, and there’s a good chance it belongs to Deidra.”