End of the Line

by C. M. Sutter

  I rattled my fingertips on the table and watched as his expression changed. He looked like he was coming unglued. “See, that just doesn’t jibe with us. According to Gerald, two units down, when you saw him this morning, you asked if he heard the commotion last night. You couldn’t have been that drunk to get up early and be coherent enough to read the Sunday paper.”

  “I guess I do recall hearing sirens.”

  “But you didn’t hear Charity screaming behind the building only minutes after she walked out? And you didn’t hear the sound of a car engine revving and tires squealing seconds later? It’s funny how those noises woke your neighbor, Adam, out of a dead sleep, yet a person such as yourself who is still awake heard nothing?” I cocked my head and stared at him.

  Miles wrung his hands. “Okay, okay! I heard Charity scream and ran to the window. I saw her being attacked by two guys in the alley.”

  Frank spewed his words at Miles. “And calling 911 didn’t occur to you?”

  “Let’s just say I was under the influence and didn’t want to be the witness who got drilled by the cops for a statement. I saw a car turn in behind the building and speed toward the attackers. I figured because they ran off, everything had ended and Charity hightailed it out of there.”

  “Except when the medical examiner showed up and the police pounded on your door? What did they ask you?”

  “If I saw anything and I told them I was sleeping.”

  I leaned across the table. “You’re a real tool, you know that? A medical examiner doesn’t show up unless somebody is dead, idiot.”

  “I swear, I didn’t see him or his van, only the blue lights flashing on the cop cars. So, what are you saying? Is Charity dead?”

  I stood and paced. Guys like Miles sent my blood pressure into the stratosphere. “Yes, she’s dead. The two men killed her for her purse, which was likely full of cash by that time of night. How much did you pay her?”

  “Three hundred bucks. It’s the going rate.”

  I laughed then slammed my fist on the table. “Do you think we give a shit about the going rate? Chances are your wife would, though.”

  “Come on! You can’t do that to me. I didn’t cause Charity’s death, and obviously somebody did the right thing by calling 911. Why take it out on me?”

  I jerked my head toward the door. “I need some air.”

  Frank tossed his card on the table. “If any more ladies of the night get harassed or murdered outside your apartment, your ass will be hauled to jail. It’s just as illegal to be a john as it is to be a prostitute, and it’s doubtful that the missus would stand for that behavior if she got wind of it. Feel me?”

  Miles guzzled the rest of the water in his glass. “Yeah, I feel you.”

  I checked the time as we headed to the station. The news broadcast of the killers’ faces would go live soon, and if we had an ounce of luck, the tip-line phone calls would start coming in.

  Chapter 21

  After throwing the keys on the table, Richard sighed with satisfaction and began unpacking the groceries. He had chosen the Blue Line and the exit where the next murder would take place. He just had to wait until Monday night to take action. His heart raced in anticipation.

  Richard thought back to the trashy redhead he had followed off the California Street stop last night. She was alone and walked several blocks before stepping up to the porch of a two-story clapboard house. He watched as she pulled keys from her purse and unlocked the door.

  Now that he knew where she lived, he would keep tabs on her comings and goings for a while before striking. It had to be perfect, and he wanted her death to linger in his mind for weeks.

  Richard would do nearly anything to record the murders, but that would require a partner. Just the thought of watching the killings over and over again nearly sent him into an excited frenzy, but bringing someone else into the fold would be a dangerous move.

  I’ve got to think things through before I risk doing that. Even though I want more, maybe the still shots have to be good enough.

  Richard set his laptop on the kitchen table and browsed the Chicago PD websites in the districts nearest the Ninety-Fifth Street Red Line station. Those four cops he’d taken pictures of had to work in that area. With a cold brew in hand, Richard scoured three separate districts until he found them, and all four were detectives who worked at the second district Wentworth station. “Gotcha!”

  Clearly pleased with himself, Richard tapped the information into the Notes folder on his phone. He wanted their names, ranks, and the station they worked at available to view at all times. With further searching, he would likely find out where each one lived too. With their faces and information at his fingertips, he was set.

  With a smile plastered across his face, Richard shut off his computer, plopped down on a couch that had seen better days, and pushed the cat aside. “Beat it. All you do is shed everywhere.” He swatted the cushion, and cat hair drifted through the air and gradually made its way to the floor. Getting comfortable, he clicked the remote and turned on the evening news. There could be coverage about Callie’s murder. “That’s odd, no mention of her.” As he rose to grab another beer, the breaking news caught his attention. “What’s this?”

  Richard stopped in his tracks and returned to the couch. He leaned forward with concern, his elbows on his knees, and listened to the anchor talk about a murder several blocks west of the Grand Avenue and Halstead Blue Line subway stop. He stared at the facial sketches of two men who ran from the scene of a young woman’s murder late Saturday night. “No way in hell! I’m not about to let two assholes take over my turf. The subways are mine and mine alone.” He paused the TV and grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter. After returning to the living room, Richard took a picture of their images and the descriptions that included their height and weight. “I’ll find both of you and take you out. That’ll teach you not to mess with my ladies.”

  Killing the women would be put on hold. First and foremost, he had to eliminate the competition. With a new plan in mind, Richard would ride the Blue Line day and night until he found those men.

  They must live in that area. Either I’ll find them or the cops will, but adding two more murders to my plan isn’t the worst idea. I’ve never killed men before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

  Chapter 22

  At the familiar sound of his footsteps, I looked over my shoulder. Lutz was coming through the cafeteria door, headed toward our table already overflowing with detectives and officers.

  He swatted the air. “Half of you move over to the next table. I need some room to sit.”

  Four officers obliged and gave Lutz the space he wanted. He took a seat at my left side. “Has the coverage started yet?”

  “Just the breaking news teaser. The segment will likely be the first thing they talk about after the commercial.”

  “So I haven’t missed anything?”

  “Nope. You’re just in time.”

  Lutz fished a dollar bill out of his wallet. “Good, grab me a vending machine coffee. That shit in the pot has been sitting there all day.” He fished another dollar out and waved it at me. “Grab one for yourself and Frank too.”

  I did as instructed and brought the coffees to the table just as the news resumed. As I had thought, the sketches of Leslie’s murderers came up first and were centered on the screen. Murders were commonplace in Chicago, but actual images or videos of the perps weren’t. The anchorman went on to describe the clothing the men were last seen wearing as well as their approximate height and weight. He’d mentioned the name of the street where the woman was killed and the location of the nearest subway station. He warned people to be vigilant and aware of their surroundings at all times, especially at subway stops, and said to call the Crime Stoppers tip-line number at the Chicago PD if they had any information. The 800 number ran on a banner at the bottom of the screen.

  Lutz smacked the table and guzzled his coffee. “Finally, something worthwhile
to drink.”

  Personally, I didn’t think it was any better than the stale swill we were accustomed to drinking on a daily basis.

  We rose from the table and headed for the door but were stopped by our commander, who blocked the exit. “All first shift people get the hell out of here and go home. There are plenty of able bodies from the night crew to handle the calls. Gaines and Roberts, I want you to go through the Blue Line footage from the exit at Grand and Halstead and search for those perps. All other second shifters head to the bullpen, man the tip lines, and follow the leads. If anything reliable comes in, I expect a call.” He looked directly at me. “Now, go home and get some rest. I’m about to do the same.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with Lutz. Neither of us had had more than six hours of sleep over the last two nights, and I was starting to feel it. I could only imagine how tired he had to be. I had planned to spend another few hours at my desk and look through unsolved knife-related homicide cases. With that information, I could possibly get one step closer to the killer or killers, especially since a knife seemed to be their weapon of choice.

  Looks like I’ll be doing that tomorrow. Being sleep deprived isn’t conducive to reading reports since I’d be fast asleep within minutes. Better to do that with a fresh set of eyes.

  After I arrived home, I spent a half hour playing with Bandit and another half hour talking to Hanna on the phone, then I decided to turn in early. The chances of being called to a scene in the middle of the night had become common instead of the exception to the rule, especially since I was the lead homicide detective. I was expected to show up at most scenes no matter what time of day or night it was.

  My head hit the pillow, and the next thing I knew, my alarm was ringing. I had slept through the night and felt refreshed and ready to go.

  After my shower and getting Bandit squared away, I headed out. Monday mornings were usually the precursor to a long week of chasing dead-end leads, but that morning, I was excited to find out what tips came in and how many had merit. I needed to spend time researching unsolved knife-related murders too. The tasks would be divided among all of us, and I was ready to kick our most recent murder cases into high gear.

  Making a stop in the cafeteria, I grabbed a cup of coffee and a sweet roll then headed for the bullpen. Half of our night shift crew were still taking tip-line calls. That was a good thing.

  “What’s the word?” I asked as I passed Dan King’s desk.

  “Busy as hell, Jesse. Calls have been coming in with sightings of those two men but none yet from people who know them personally.”

  “Damn it.” I set my cup on the desk and pulled out my chair. “We’ll get them as soon as the right viewer sees the broadcasts.” I approached the officers who were at the back of the room and answering calls. Legal pads filled with pages of notes sat before them. I whispered to Lon Franklin, “How many calls seem legit?”

  He rolled his tired-looking eyes. “All of them and none of them, Jesse. Patrol would have to use their entire force to follow the leads of sightings that have been called in, and the problem is, calls come in from all parts of the city, and the tipsters say they’re looking at the guys right at that moment. It’s impossible for the killers to be in five places at the same time. If only one tipster actually knew them personally, we could get their names and addresses, and we’d be in good shape.”

  “True, but we all know that following tips is an exhausting task and not one that often gives us the results we hope for.” I knuckled the table. “We’ll review all the calls and weed through them. Maybe something will pop.” I noticed the two empty desks as I returned to my own. “Gaines and Roberts aren’t back yet?”

  Dan jerked his head toward the door. “Yeah, they’re updating Lutz on what they found at the subway station.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I grabbed my coffee and headed for the door. Frank was walking in just as I was leaving. “Come on.” I tipped my head toward the hallway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To listen in on the update Gaines and Roberts are giving Lutz.”

  I rapped on Lutz’s closed door, and he yelled out immediately to come in. Frank and I entered and took positions against the wall since both guest chairs were being used.

  I gave Gaines and Roberts a nod. “Figured it’s easier to listen in now so the guys don’t have to repeat themselves back in the bullpen.”

  Gaines took the lead. “Just updating the commander, Jesse. What caught our attention was one particular guy who exited the train at midnight. He resembled the sketch of the Hispanic guy, and here’s a screen grab of him.”

  That piqued my curiosity. “Let’s see.” Chuck passed his phone to me. “The quality could be better.” I squinted as I looked closer. “Are those words on his shirt or just a design?”

  Gaines sighed. “Honestly, I can’t tell. CTA footage from a distance is grainy at best, and then taking a picture of the video with my phone didn’t help. We watched the footage for a good five hours, though, and that guy was the only person who fits the description.”

  Frank chimed in. “What was the exact time he exited the train?”

  “The footage showed the doors parting at twelve oh three. He walked out a couple of seconds later.”

  “We’ll have to get Tim back here to take a look. The guy is wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans. Hard to say if his hair is pulled back or just short. Can you email that screen grab to Todd? Maybe he can work his magic to get it a little clearer before I call Tim.”

  “Sure thing, Jesse.”

  “And nobody that resembled the white guy?”

  “Not that we saw.”

  Frank and I returned to the bullpen, where I gave Todd a heads-up call. “Hey, pal, Chuck is going to shoot you over a screen grab of a potential suspect. We need you to get it as crisp as humanly possible before I have our witness take a look at it.”

  “Yep, I’ll start on it as soon as it hits my in-box.”

  With Henry, Shawn, Kip, and Tony sorting through the tip-line calls, Frank and I began the tedious task of searching our unsolved murder database for murders that involved knives.

  “How far back should we go?” Frank asked.

  “Let’s focus on cases over the last five years that were east and south of West Town and see what pops. I’ll pull up the case numbers, and we’ll go through the boxes one year at a time. Otherwise, we’ll be tripping over them in the bullpen.”

  I entered the location, manner of death, and cases over the last five years as parameters on my computer, and as the database did its thing, I filled my coffee cup. When I returned to my desk, the results were in.

  Frank looked over my shoulder and whistled. “Damn it. We’ll never get through these files.”

  To say that I felt discouraged was putting it lightly. The computer came up with seventy-six unsolved murders over the last five years that involved knives, but I couldn’t sort the results by location. What showed up covered all of Cook County.

  I checked Frank’s expression, and from the way his face contorted, he felt the same way.

  “Any other ideas?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Short of going undercover and riding the rails ourselves, no.”

  “We don’t actually have proof the killer in Callie’s case rode the Red Line and followed her after getting off the train, and we don’t have any eyewitnesses to give us a description of him. The guy exiting the L at Grand Avenue hasn’t been one hundred percent identified by Tim yet and possibly won’t be if Todd can’t sharpen the image.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Why I didn’t become a schoolteacher, I’ll never know.”

  Frank chuckled. “You know damn well you like the adrenaline rush every time you snap a set of handcuffs around the wrists of a criminal.”

  “I know, but it’s too bad that part isn’t always guaranteed.” I reached for my phone and called our tech department. “Hey, Todd, how’s the screen grab coming along?”

  “It’s twenty percent
better than it was.”

  I was impressed, and in my opinion, twenty percent was good enough. “Okay, thanks. Can you shoot a copy of it to my in-box?”

  “Yep, I’ll do it right now.”

  I hung up and dialed Tim Grimes. Even though we didn’t have a name for our man, an actual image was better than a drawing. If Tim gave us a positive ID, we would move forward and plaster the unknown man’s image all over the news channels and on our police department’s website. Somebody in a city of three million people had to know his name.

  Chapter 23

  Tim agreed to come in at nine thirty. He said he’d be at the Ashland Street station that day, doing the yearly infrastructure inspection. Ashland Street wasn’t far from our precinct. I had a half hour to wait and took that time to look online for services that could lead Gina in the right direction. She needed a job or at least the proper education to find work in a field that interested her. I jotted down the names and phone numbers of several resources for her and placed the list on Frank’s desk with a note to call Gina later. He seemed to take to her in a big brother sort of way, so I was sure he wouldn’t mind talking to her again. Seconds later, my phone rang. It was Debra saying Tim had arrived and she was bringing him upstairs. I thanked her and made a quick call to Lutz.

  “Hey, Boss, Tim is on his way up. Do you want to sit in on the meeting with him or not?”

  “Nah, go ahead. He’s told you everything he knows already. All he has to do is confirm that the man in the photograph is or isn’t the Hispanic guy who attacked Leslie.”

  “Sure, and I’ll take him into the conference room so I can record his statement.” I hung up just as Debra and Tim walked in. I reached out and shook his hand. “Tim. Thanks again for taking time from your job to come in, and I promise not to keep you here too long.”

  “My pleasure. I sure hope you catch those murderers.”

  “That’s the plan.” I led Tim to the conference room on our floor and pointed at a chair. “Get comfortable wherever you like. The camera in the corner catches the entire room. I need the identification on record, whether it’s the same guy from the murder scene or not.”