by C. M. Sutter
I sighed. “Same address as what’s on his driver’s license.”
“Right, but there are four other people who could possibly be relatives in Wisconsin.” Renz wrinkled his brow and tapped the screen. “Either of these two guys could be his father since the age is right.”
“Let’s give them a call and find out. Hopefully, those phone numbers are current.”
Renz dialed the first number. The name attached to it was a Jeffrey Dalton out of Wisconsin Rapids. A woman with a sweet-sounding voice answered and listened as Renz asked if they were related to a Brandon Dalton from Milwaukee. She said it was a possibility, but since she’d been married to Jeff for only a year, she didn’t know his extended family. She said that Jeff didn’t have any sons, but he did have two daughters. Renz thanked her and hung up. The second number belonged to a Robert Dalton, which seemed promising since Brandon’s middle name was Robert. He was out of Racine, a Lake Michigan city not too far south of Milwaukee. The phone rang four times then went to voicemail. Renz left his name and number and asked for a call back.
“Doubt if the guy is at work on a Sunday, so hopefully, he’ll take my message seriously and return my call.”
“Set your phone alarm to try again in an hour.” I looked at the other names. One was a woman, Delores, age thirty-four, and the other was a male, Carlton, age thirty-eight, both Milwaukee residents. “Seems like a stretch to think Brandon could possibly have siblings that much older than himself.”
“And at forty-seven, that would put Robert out of the age group to be Brandon’s father,” Renz said.
“Maybe they’re older cousins.”
“Or no relative at all, but we need to call and find out.” Renz tapped the buttons on his desk phone and called Delores first. A female voice answered right away, a positive start. Renz introduced himself and asked if she was related to Brandon Dalton.
“Yeah, his dad and my own were brothers. Why?”
“Were?”
“Brandon’s dad died in a car accident two years back, and Brandon has been on his own ever since. The mom skipped town with a coworker more than ten years ago.”
“That’s a shame. Does Brandon have any siblings?”
“Yes, a sister, Chloe, who is married and lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“And Chloe’s married name?”
“Um, darn, I can’t think. I haven’t seen her since she moved away and got married. That was five years ago.”
“How about her age, then?”
“She’s twenty-seven, I think. Oh, I remember now. Her last name is Hughes.”
“Great, so Chloe would be Brandon’s only immediate next of kin?”
“That’s correct. Nobody ever found out what happened to their mom or where she went. Is something wrong with Brandon? I mean, why would the FBI call me?”
“I’m sorry to inform you that Brandon died this morning, and that’s why we’re trying to locate his relatives.”
“Oh my God, that’s terrible. We weren’t close since I’m much older than he is, but he was still family. May I ask what happened?”
“It was a car accident,” Renz said.
The statement was literally true if somewhat of a white lie. Renz thanked her and ended the call.
“So, should we call the sister now? Maybe she has some insight as to what Brandon has been up to.”
Renz shook his head. “We’ll call her as a formality so she can arrange to deal with his remains, but as far as her knowing anything about his recent life, I sincerely doubt that she would. She lives fourteen hundred miles away, is seven years older than him, and married. I can’t see what they would have in common or what they would even talk about during a phone call.”
I agreed with Renz’s logic, but the call needed to happen anyway, and there was no time like the present. I did a quick internet search for the name Chloe Hughes in Salt Lake City, and a match popped up with a phone number. I cocked my head at Renz. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
I read off the phone number, and he made the call.
Chapter 16
Renz had ended the call with Chloe ten minutes prior. He told me that she sounded devastated, considering that Brandon was her only immediate relative, but admitted they didn’t often talk. Chloe said she would handle the burial arrangements as soon as we released his body from our custody.
We waited on pins and needles for word back from the tech department, and at three thirty, my desk phone finally rang.
“This is either going to be good news or bad.” I reached for the receiver.
Renz chuckled. “Well, yeah, fifty-fifty odds of either one.”
I flipped him the bird and answered the phone. “Agent Monroe here.”
“Jade, it’s Betsy. We have a facial match.”
I fist-pumped the air and leapt from my chair. “We’ll be right down.” I hung up. “Yes! They have a match.”
Renz and I bolted from our office and headed for the stairs. We made it to Tech in under two minutes.
I burst through the door with Renz on my heels. “So who is he?” I asked.
Betsy waved us over to her computer screen. “Here’s your guy, and his name is Erik Smalley.”
“Who the hell is Erik Smalley? He obviously has a criminal record, or he wouldn’t be in the system.”
“He does, although it isn’t anything earth-shattering. He’s been arrested four times for unlawful assembly and instigating riots. He seems to be an activist for any issue that may be controversial to mainstream America. He’s single, twenty-six, and lives with two other like-minded individuals who previously have been arrested too.”
I groaned. “But going from protesting to murder? Seems like quite a leap to me.”
Renz agreed. “True, but it’s time to pay Mr. Smalley a visit. We’ll need that information printed out, Betsy.”
“You bet.” Seconds later, she had the four-page arrest report, along with Erik Smalley’s personal information, printed out. She handed the documents to Renz. “Good luck, guys.”
Renz tipped his head toward the door. “Come on. We have to go over this with Taft before anything else.”
Back upstairs, we headed down the hall to our supervisor’s office. Renz gave Taft’s door two raps, and after looking up from her computer, she waved us in.
“What have you got?”
“A positive match.” I heard the enthusiasm in my voice as I said the words.
“Really?” Taft gave us her full attention. “Sit down and tell me everything.”
Renz explained that although Erik Smalley’s police record didn’t involve significant crimes, there could be something brewing that he and Brandon were part of. The fact that he’d witnessed Brandon being put into the back seat of a police car might have been enough reason to get the okay to end Brandon’s life before he or other people were named.
Taft frowned. “But that makes me wonder, especially if they were working together, why Erik would have been following Brandon to begin with.” She tapped her pen against the legal pad to her right. “Brandon had a police jacket, too, correct?”
I took my turn. “Yes, but not for the same type of activity. Brandon was arrested on several occasions for being physically abusive, and Erik’s arrests were primarily because of the ruckus he caused while demonstrating and rioting.”
“So mix rioting with physical assault and you have a pretty good tag team of dangerous individuals, especially if they’re teaming up with more people with the same mindset. The question is why?”
Renz informed Taft that Erik Smalley had two roommates, a Lucas Freeman and a Cole Pratt, also with arrests under their belts for the same type of offenses.
“Okay, haul him in for questioning and take Kyle and Charlotte with you, especially since there may be other people at the residence.”
“You got it, Boss.”
We made our way northwest to West Allis, a working-class suburb of Milwaukee with older homes and apartments. According to the address
on record, Erik lived in an upper apartment of a duplex on the corner of West Greenfield Avenue and South Sixtieth Street, just a stone’s throw from the Veteran’s Affairs complex.
Renz parked a half block away so we could size up the building without them noticing. We had to consider the fact that if Erik had shot and killed Brandon, then he was an armed and dangerous man with two roommates who could be armed and dangerous too. We had to put eyes on every outer door of that building before ringing the bell. We exited the vehicle and walked to the alley behind the residence. At the back of the house was a fire escape for the second floor. The sides of the house didn’t have any doors, so we would have to cover only the front and back exits. Kyle and Charlotte quietly ascended the rear stairs, and we rounded the house, stepped up to the front porch, and Renz rang the buzzer for the second-floor apartment.
Seconds later, we heard someone running down the stairs. Renz gave me that nod, meaning I needed to have my guard up and be ready for anything.
The door swung open widely, without caution, as if whoever answered it was expecting someone. From the look on his face, we weren’t the intended guests.
“What the—who the hell are you?”
His expression told us he was about to slam the door, but with Renz’s foot already beyond the threshold, the man wouldn’t be able to slam it even if he tried.
Renz pushed farther in. “We’re the FBI, and we need to speak with Erik Smalley.”
“Um—he isn’t here.”
“Step aside. We’ll check for ourselves.” With the man backed against the stairs, he had nowhere to go but up. Renz jerked his chin and unholstered his weapon. “Move it.”
I had my gun drawn as well. We had no idea if that man was there alone or if more people were in the apartment, but we were about to find out.
A voice called out from above us. “Is it Damon?”
I looked up at the face of Erik Smalley, and he bolted. I knew he wouldn’t get far, and as soon as we cleared the stairs, Kyle was pushing him back into the apartment.
Renz yelled out, “Who else is here?”
Erik jerked out of Kyle’s grasp. “Nobody, man. What the hell is this?”
Charlotte and I cleared the small apartment in a matter of seconds. “We’re good. It’s only these two inside.”
“Sit your asses down.” Kyle looked at the twentysomething kid who’d answered the door. “What’s your name?”
“Go to hell. I don’t have to say a word to you.”
“Okay, you want to play hardball, then you’ll both be arrested. Jade, call the West Allis PD and get a unit to this address immediately.”
“On it.”
“What’s with kids these days?” Renz asked. “Is it really that tough to get people to cooperate and answer a few simple questions?”
I huffed. “Apparently so, and we’ve seen it firsthand in the last twenty-four hours.”
Ten minutes later, Charlotte, who was watching the street from the kitchen window, called out to us in the living room. “The squad car just pulled up.”
Renz gestured. “Okay, both of you stand up and put your hands behind your backs. You’ll be questioned at the police station, and since you’re uncooperative, you’ll both be detained for now.”
Two officers entered the kitchen, where we had Erik Smalley and, according to the driver’s license Renz pulled from the roommate’s wallet, Lucas Freeman in custody.
“Throw them in separate interview rooms at your precinct. We’ll be right behind you.”
The police department was fifty blocks west of the duplex, a fifteen-minute drive without lights flashing and sirens blaring.
Both men were taken in through the garage entrance, as was standard practice at most police stations. We parked in the front lot and entered the building, then Charlotte and I sat while Renz and Kyle walked up to the counter and explained who we were and why we were there.
Moments later, Officer Conrad met us in the lobby and walked us back to the interview rooms. Our focus was on Erik Smalley, and unless Lucas Freeman had outstanding warrants, he would be released.
Renz and I entered interview room one, where Erik sat. Kyle and Charlotte took room two and planned to question Lucas about his relationship with Erik and where they both had been and with whom over the last two days.
We took seats across from Erik, and I placed his police jacket on the table. His eyes darted toward it.
“What’s that?”
“Where were you this morning say around eight o’clock?” Renz asked.
“Sleeping.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
Erik shrugged. “Don’t know since I was asleep.”
I chuckled. “Cute. Why were you following Brandon Dalton and then us yesterday?”
His face went white.
Renz leaned in. “Cat got your tongue? The agent asked you a question.”
“I wasn’t following anyone. I have no idea what you mean.”
“We have you on camera following Brandon and us all the way to the police car. Let me refresh your memory.” I opened the folder and slid several still shots across to him.
“There’s suddenly a law against walking up and down Hemmer Street?”
“We didn’t mention the street name, and there aren’t any store names in view. There’s no way to identify that street by these photos, Erik. Why was Brandon at the tent city underpass?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t know of any tent city.”
“The homeless people under the overpass. You don’t know anything about them when you were following Brandon from there? That’s not the story we got from him yesterday when we interviewed him. As a matter of fact, we’re having a second interview with him later today. Seems that he has a lot more to tell us.”
“That’s impossible.”
I glanced at Renz then back at Erik. “Why is that?”
He froze for a second then came up with a fast lie. “Because I don’t know anyone named Brandon.”
“Do you own a firearm, Erik?”
“No.”
“So our agents who are tearing apart your apartment as we speak won’t find a handgun there?”
He sneered in our faces. “You have a warrant?”
I laughed. “That was issued within minutes. Ever hear of probable cause?”
Erik laughed back. “I want an attorney.”
We stood up and walked out.
Chapter 17
We met up with Kyle and Charlotte in the hallway. Kyle was already shaking his head. “Kids are sure different than when I was growing up.”
I rolled my eyes. “They sure are. Get anywhere with Lucas?”
“Nope. The PD is checking to see if he has a record or open warrants, but so far, he hasn’t told us anything,” Kyle said.
I continued. “And Erik is a cocky one. Says he’s done talking, not that he’s said anything except about being asleep at eight o’clock this morning. Although he did go pale when we showed him the photos from yesterday. I bet he thinks we were bluffing about searching his residence.”
Renz shook his head. “Because we were, but now, I’m thinking we actually should. I’ll call Taft and get her opinion.”
“It would definitely move the case along if we found a gun and the slug matched the one Dave took out of Brandon’s body.” I frowned. “Yet the comment about searching his place didn’t seem to shake him up too much.”
Charlotte added her opinion. “Maybe it’s somebody else’s gun and he’s already given it back to them.”
“And that’s a real possibility.” Renz held up his finger after dialing Taft, and we waited as they talked. He ended the call in less than a minute. “Taft said she’s going to expedite getting a warrant for that duplex. She also said the projectile removed from Brandon’s right lung was from a nine-millimeter bullet.”
“The typical choice of handguns these days and plentiful on the street,” Kyle said.
“Both guys wi
ll stay put until we hear back about the warrant. Taft said she should have an answer within a half hour.”
“And if there isn’t a gun in the residence, we’ll have to release them without any answers whatsoever as to why Erik was following Brandon or even how he knew him.”
Renz nodded. “That’s true, Jade, and unfortunately, even when our gut tells us one thing, the law says we have to do another. We might not agree or like it, but it is what it is.”
“And that’s when we do our best to gather as much evidence as possible and build an irrefutable case,” Kyle said.
“As long as we have to wait for an answer from Taft, who wants to join me in the cafeteria? I can really use a snack and some coffee.”
I smiled at Renz. “Do you get up in the middle of the night to eat?”
“Not yet, but maybe I’ll start setting my alarm.” He nudged me. “Come on, guys. We have nothing but time on our hands anyway.”
At five thirty, we were sitting in the police station’s cafeteria and filling our bellies with sandwiches and chips when Renz’s phone rang. Taft had gotten the warrant, and the upper duplex on West Greenfield Avenue was being searched.
“My bet is that they’ll find nothing incriminating,” Renz said.
I groaned. “I have to agree. Those guys are a bit more savvy than the typical person who teeters on the edge of criminal activity. It’s like we said before—there’s a bigger picture involved, but they aren’t going to admit it exists.”
“We’ll figure it out, and hopefully, that happens before more people die,” Kyle said.
I stared at the wall clock for the next half hour then heard the buzz of Renz’s phone. A text had come in.
He pulled it from his pocket, read it, and cursed. “We have to cut them loose. Nothing incriminating was found at the duplex.”
“Damn it. How about putting a car on them to see what they do?” I suggested.
Kyle shook his head. “That probable cause ace we had up our sleeve was just used and got us nowhere. If we follow them without a justifiable reason, they can cite harassment. Taft isn’t going to okay it. We need to put in the legwork and come up with evidence that puts Brandon, Erik, or Lucas, their fingerprints, or their DNA at one of the murder scenes.”
