by C. M. Sutter
My rumbling stomach told me it was time to go home and have supper. The clock above the bullpen door read seven thirty.
Tomorrow’s agenda would be to gather the subway footage during the timeline of all the murders and look for the same man to show up at every station, getting on or off the train. We needed his face, and we’d needed it five days ago when we found Callie’s dead body on the sidewalk. Chasing a ghost without any identifiable features would never get us anywhere.
Chapter 45
Richard’s mind was running in overdrive. He had to think things through. He could keep Gina at his house and inflict injury on her little by little, hour by hour, and day by day.
I guess that would be satisfying enough until I finally decide to kill her. Not knowing what happened to her would destroy that big ape, Mills, and scramble McCord’s eggs. That in itself would be worth keeping her alive a bit longer, and it would be entertaining just to watch them run around like crazed animals trying to find her and me.
He devised his plan as he stared at Gina across the table. She picked up the last drumstick and began gnawing on it.
I have to knock her out long enough to bring my car around to the alley, disable that doorbell camera, and gather her belongings. It’ll be pitch-dark outside by the time I carry her down to the car and toss her in the trunk. It should work out okay.
Richard watched as Gina finished her dinner and carried the Styrofoam container to the trash can. With her back to him, she’d created what was probably the only opportunity he would get.
Richard leapt from the chair and was across the kitchen in three strides. He grabbed Gina by the nape of her neck and slammed her head against the kitchen counter, and she dropped to the floor like a brick.
Now I have to restrain her so I can go get my car.
Richard pulled open the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink and found a ball of twine.
This will have to do.
He carried her to the bed and bound her to the foot and headboard, then he jammed a pair of socks in her mouth. Richard found her house keys inside the purse that hung on the chairback. After pocketing them, he ran down the back stairs and into the night. He would reach his car—parked only five blocks away—in minutes. Once Gina was transferred to the trunk, they’d be on their way, and later that night, the fun would begin.
The parking spaces behind the duplex were narrow. One space for the lower unit and one for the upper, he assumed. Luckily, no cars were parked there, and with a few back-and-forth tries, Richard was able to park only feet from the door. He killed the engine and popped the trunk. As he ran upstairs, he listened for noise coming from the bedroom—it was dead quiet. Things were going his way.
In the kitchen, Richard rifled through the drawers until he found what he needed.
This screwdriver should do the job.
Simply removing a few screws from the camera doorbell should be all that was necessary. Downstairs at the front door, Richard unscrewed the unit, ripped it off the wall, went back inside, and locked the front door. Upstairs in the living room, he unplugged the adapter and put both parts of the doorbell in a plastic grocery bag. Next, he needed to get Gina into the trunk unseen. Once that was done, the rest would be a piece of cake.
He entered the bedroom, where she began to flail at the sight of him. She bucked and tried to snap her restraints.
“That isn’t going to do. I don’t need a kick to the head or a bite to the face when I try to move you.”
In the living room, Richard looked around and found exactly what he needed. Then he had to come up with a way to tie her arms and legs together without a fight. She might need another crack to the head.
With the ball of twine in his hand again and the knife open, Richard cut five-foot lengths of rope and had them ready. Gina bucked as he approached.
“Here’s the skinny, plain and simple. You lie still while I release your hands and tie them together, and if you don’t, I’ll slit your throat. Any questions?”
Her eyes bulged and she shook her head.
“Good, then we agree that you’ll behave?”
She nodded.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Richard straddled her chest as she lay faceup on the bed. She groaned in misery and fear.
With the knife, he sliced through the first length of twine that secured her wrist to the bedpost. He pulled that arm down, wound another length of twine around her wrist, then jammed her arm under his knee. He reached over her and cut away the right rope, then he yanked that arm toward him. She tried to resist, but he grabbed the knife and pressed it against her throat.
“Your choice. Die now or hold still.”
She stopped fighting. Richard ordered her to sit up, and she complied.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Whimpering, she did as she was told. He wound the twine around both wrists and knotted the end.
“I’m going to release your legs. Any funny stuff and you’ll suffer the consequences.” Richard made short work of cutting the rope, then he secured her legs together. Gina was unable to walk with her legs so tightly bound. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he left the room.
Richard returned in less than a minute, holding the rug that had covered the living room floor. He spread it out, grabbed Gina under the arm, and pulled her off the bed. “Lie flat at the end of the rug and stay there.” Making sure to put her purse and phone in the grocery bag, Richard jammed her keys into his pocket and ran the bag down to the car. He checked the alley—all was quiet. Back upstairs, he rolled Gina in the rug, flung her over his shoulder, carried her downstairs, and dropped her into the trunk. After slamming the lid closed, he took a deep breath then locked the back door and climbed in behind the wheel. He drove away without incident. From that point on, everything would happen on his own turf, and Richard laughed as he headed south to his house.
Chapter 46
I held my breath as I walked into the bullpen on Thursday morning. The last thing I wanted to hear was that another murder related to the subway killer had taken place during the night.
Relief swept over me when Chuck Gaines said that no murders had been reported within the Chicago city limits. The last one had occurred the night before when a woman—a forty-one-year-old mom of two named Diana Prescott—had her throat slit only a few houses away from the safety of her home. Her husband, Jeff, would be coming in later to make the ID.
As soon as roll call and the update were finished, we would dig in our heels and review all the CTA security footage for the subway lines that ran during the timeframe of the murders. The killer had to show up somewhere on each one—we just needed a lucky break. Searching the footage would be a time-consuming process, but we had nothing else to follow up on.
We were back in the bullpen by eight forty-five and had footage from the Red Line’s Ninety-Fifth Street and Forty-Seventh Street stations and the Blue Line at the Grand Avenue and Halstead Street stations. I had the station from Callie’s murder on my screen, Frank took the Forty-Seventh Street footage from Diana’s murder, and Henry had the Blue Line at Grand Avenue, which was the station Manny and Brad rode before killing Leslie—and the same station where the subway killer got off when he murdered them. I shook my head at the thought. It was too crazy to be believable, yet it was. The subway killer likely saw Manny and Brad’s coverage on the news, followed them the same way he stalked the women, and took their lives.
I turned my chair toward the group. “What are your opinions on why the subway killer murdered Manny and Brad?”
Frank spoke up first. “Spilling blood is what he’s all about.”
Henry held up his hand. “I disagree.”
“Really?” My curiosity was piqued. “What’s your take on it, Henry?”
“Although we know that Brad and Manny, along with a few other undesirables, were just robbing hookers because they were easy prey, the subway killer didn’t know that. In his deranged mind, he probably thought they were moving
in on his territory. Brad killed Leslie because he freaked out when Tim’s headlights caught them in the act of robbing her. A stupid move on his part, but he likely wasn’t thinking in that moment. He went into panic mode.”
I rapped my knuckles on my desk. “So he thought they were a couple of copycat killers and didn’t want the competition.”
Henry nodded. “That’s how I see it.”
“Yeah, me too.” I looked at my computer. “Now to find the same guy at each of those stations, and we’ll be in business.”
“Speaking of business”—Frank glanced at the clock—“I almost forgot about Gina’s appointment with Don. I better see if he has those death certificates ready.”
“Yep. If she’s reliable, she should be here any minute.” I tapped the arrow on my screen and began watching the footage. From what I heard on Frank’s end of the conversation with Don, it sounded like the death certificates were ready and waiting for Gina. Before I returned my focus to the screen, I reminded the guys to watch for their victim exiting the train and station and then check to see who was in close proximity of her. We would pause our footage then and compare images.
Several minutes later, Frank began to grumble. “Why is it so hard for young people to be responsible?”
I glanced at the clock—9:12. “Yeah, she’s late.”
“That’s what I meant.” Frank stood and paced.
“Call Debra and ask if anyone is sitting in the lobby.” I paused my footage and waited while Frank made the call. He hung up almost immediately.
“Debra said the lobby is empty, and nobody has approached the counter.”
Henry took his turn and tried to reassure Frank. “Maybe her driver got stuck in traffic.”
“Maybe, but back to the responsibility thing—she could have called me.”
I shrugged and started the footage again. “Why don’t you call her?”
“I’ll give her ten more minutes, and then I will.”
I got to the part where Callie exited the terminal, then I paused it. Scooting my chair in closer, I looked at every person who was within the camera’s range.
“Anyone have their victim on the screen yet?”
Henry said no, and Frank said he hadn’t begun.
I raised a brow at him. “You want to get on board?”
“I can’t focus. I better give Gina a call. It’s already twenty after nine.” Frank asked for her phone number, and I pulled the card out of my desk drawer.
“Keep it,” I said. “You’ll probably be talking to her more than I will.”
Frank looked irritated and worried as he dialed her number from his desk phone. I watched as he waited for Gina to pick up.
“Damn it. No answer.”
“That is odd, unless she overslept. So, what do you want to do?”
“I’m calling Lutz. He can ask a patrol unit to do a wellness check on her, and I swear, if she’s still in bed, she’s going to get a good talking-to.”
I grinned. “Damn, I’d hate to be your kid.”
Tony chuckled. “Good thing he doesn’t have any.”
Frank made the quick call to Lutz then returned his attention to the footage in front of him. “Who the hell am I looking for, anyway?”
I groaned as I squeezed my temples between my hands. “Tony, take over his computer. You’re looking for Diana Prescott, the woman who was killed last night. Watch for her after one a.m. Her photograph was sent to each of our phones.”
Frank apologized as he stared at the clock. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, McCord.”
I shushed him. “Stop buying trouble. She probably forgot or overslept. She’s a kid—what do you expect?”
“A better excuse than that.”
Frank’s desk phone rang seconds later. “It’s Lutz.” He yanked it off the base and pressed the speakerphone button. “What do you have, Boss?”
“Nothing good. The officers said Gina’s doorbell had been ripped from the wall, leaving wires hanging.”
“That was a camera doorbell, and whoever was there didn’t want to be seen!” Frank sucked in a deep breath. “Have they made entry yet?”
“They knocked a dozen times and nobody answered, so I told them to breach the door.”
“And?”
“And the apartment was empty, but one of the beds was in disarray like a scuffle had taken place there.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Take a breath, Frank, and take McCord with you. The officers will begin canvassing the neighborhood once you arrive. If you see any signs of blood, call me back, and I’ll send Forensics out.”
I slipped on my shoulder holster as Lutz talked.
“Roger that.” Frank hung up and gathered his gear. “Let’s go.”
I turned to Henry. “Finish going through that footage and find him. We need that killer’s face, and we need it today!”
We raced out the door to the nearest cruiser, and Frank dove into the driver’s seat. He hit the lights and siren and spun the wheel as he squealed out of the parking lot.
“We’ll find her, Frank. She wasn’t dead in her apartment, so he must have a plan for her. There’s still time.”
“I don’t even want to think of his plan for her.” Frank pounded the steering wheel. “We’re out of time, and it’s been damn near a week since Callie was killed. We’re no further ahead than we were then, and we have no idea what that bastard looks like. He took Gina, and he’s ditched the subway system. That means he knows we’re on to him.”
I hated where my thoughts were going. “It also means he has a car, and he could be in a different state by now.”
Under normal conditions, we had a fifteen-minute drive, but I knew Frank would get there in ten. He charged through intersections as I watched for oncoming traffic. Ten minutes later, Frank pulled up behind the squad car and slammed the shifter into Park.
Two officers were standing on the porch and talking to the downstairs tenant. Frank bolted up the sidewalk, and I was two feet at his back.
“Jackson, Miller, what have we got?”
“Detectives.” Officer Jackson pointed at the wires hanging from the hole in the clapboard. “First thing we noticed was this. The entire doorbell unit is gone, and we didn’t see the adapter anywhere upstairs. The apartment is empty, but it looks like a struggle occurred in one of the bedrooms.”
I glanced at the downstairs tenant. A woman who appeared to be pushing fifty stood in front of her door.
“This is Beth Dupont,” Jackson said. “Unfortunately, she works second shift and didn’t get home until midnight.”
“And you left your apartment when?” Frank asked.
“Two thirty. I take the train, so I have to figure in extra time for transfers.”
“Understood. Did you notice anything unusual before that?”
She looked at the floor. “I know about Leslie’s death. Gina told me, and I’m so sorry.”
I nodded.
“I did hear Gina’s doorbell ring yesterday afternoon.”
“That was us,” Frank said.
Beth held up her hand. “No, it was a man who arrived shortly after you left. I don’t want to seem like a busybody, but now that Gina is alone, I watch more closely.”
I gave Frank a side-eyed glance. “A different man showed up after we left? You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I heard him talking through her doorbell intercom. He said he was an officer who was sent by you, so I went back to getting ready for work.”
“Sent by us?”
“Yes, he called you by name.”
I jerked my head at Jackson. “Call Dispatch and ask if an officer was sent to this address yesterday afternoon. Make it quick.” I turned to Beth. “Did you get a good look at the man?”
“From the side, yes, but not from the front.”
“Okay, we’ll be right back. We need to check out the upstairs with the officers. It’ll only take a few minutes, and then we’d like to have a longer conversation with you
. How about waiting in your apartment for the time being?”
“Okay.” She turned and went inside.
Frank pointed at the door. “Show us what you noticed upstairs.”
Officers Jackson and Miller led the way.
Chapter 47
When we reached Gina’s apartment, it was painfully obvious that a crime had been committed there. What the officers didn’t know, and we did, was that a large rug was missing from the living room floor. Frank noted its absence immediately, and I was sure he had imagined the worst-case scenario.
I patted his shoulder. “Don’t jump to conclusions yet, buddy. Let’s continue on.” We gloved up and turned the corner into the kitchen. The bloodstained countertop hit me like a slap to the face. I yelled out to Jackson. “Call Lutz and tell him we need Forensics here now. We have blood.”
Frank cursed as he left the kitchen. I caught up with him as he entered the disheveled bedroom that the officers had talked about. The bed sat cockeyed to the walls, not squared to the room like it should have been, and the bedspread had fallen to the floor. I took a closer look at the bedposts, and bits of twine were snagged in the wood.
I jerked my chin at the officers. “Look around for pieces of rope or twine. Note what you find, but don’t move anything.”
The outcome looked grim. The more we searched, the more we saw. Frank headed for the back stairs, and I followed. When he reached the ground, he twisted the doorknob and walked outside. The tenant parking area was empty, yet fresh tire tracks nearly reached the door.
