End of the Line

by C. M. Sutter

  “Didn’t the downstairs neighbor say the man mentioned you two by name? How do you think he knew that?”

  Frank shot me a concerned glance, and whatever he was thinking, it was likely I was thinking it too.

  “So he knows that we’re aware of the subway connection and wants to eliminate us from getting too close so he can continue his murderous hobby?”

  Tony weighed in with his opinion. “It’s possible and not that farfetched.”

  Henry continued. “A few taps of the computer keys and the right software can easily tell him who you are, where you live, and which precinct you work at and in what capacity. Plus, the police department’s website is an open book.”

  “Why Frank and me? There’s been plenty of officers and detectives working the case.”

  Shawn leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling tiles. “Because the killer is stalking you.”

  His comment sent chills up my spine. Even though we were seasoned detectives, there was always that one criminal who tried to turn the tables on us—and sometimes succeeded. I had to admit, Frank and I were extremely visible and at the forefront of every homicide case.

  I turned at the sound of my name being called. It was Tory, and she’d just returned from working with Beth on the composite sketch.

  “Sorry for the delay, guys. We had a lot of revisions to do.”

  Her comment made my optimism disappear in seconds. “So Beth couldn’t get the image to look like she remembered?”

  Tory shrugged. “Side views are really difficult since they still don’t give you the visual you need like a straight-on front image does.” She opened the folder and placed the drawing on my desk. “This is what Beth came up with.”

  We crowded around the sketch, and I knew in my gut that airing that composite would only pile on the calls and confusion about thousands of men with dark hair and a large nose in the Chicagoland area. We still needed more.

  “Okay, thanks, Tory. We sure appreciate your last-minute help.”

  She gave all of us a smile. “I hope you catch your man.”

  Frank groused. “Not as much as I do.”

  After Tory left, I continued on. “Send those screen grabs to my in-box. I want to go through them with Todd and Billy. If anyone can confirm it’s the same man in the footage and possibly improve the quality and lighten up the photos, it’s our tech boys.”

  Minutes later, I was downstairs showing the images to Todd.

  “I’ll do my best to sharpen up the photos, and I’m nearly positive it’s the same man in each shot.”

  “Good, and try to make them lighter if possible. We don’t have any direct face shots, only the side view sketch Tory drew up.”

  Todd nodded. “Yeah, those really won’t give the right perspective of what the perp looks like.”

  “So a mirror image connected to that side view won’t give us an accurate picture?”

  Todd said it wouldn’t. “We don’t know the shape of his face, how far apart his eyes are, or if he has birthmarks or scars on the other side of his face.”

  My shoulders slumped. We needed a real picture of the man. “Damn it. If only he hadn’t ripped the doorbell out of the wall. He took the adapter and Gina’s phone too.”

  “She had a camera doorbell, and he rang it?”

  “Yep, and spoke to her through it. The downstairs neighbor said he looked away several times like he was trying to hide his identity, but he had to be facing it when he walked up the sidewalk to the porch and then rang it.”

  “Do you know what company it was from?”

  “Nope, I didn’t pay much attention to it other than ringing it yesterday.”

  “You find the company it’s billed to and get a warrant for the footage. If Leslie had a monitoring plan with the company, then the footage was stored in the cloud.”

  I slapped Todd’s shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, man, and I’ll get on that right now.”

  Taking the steps two by two, I headed up the stairs and down the hallway to Lutz’s office. Since he was alone, I barged in with barely a knock. Lutz raised his brows as if he was startled and removed his reading glasses.

  “What’s going on, Jesse?”

  “Todd just gave me a great idea that we need to act on immediately.”

  “Go on.”

  “I doubt if the side view sketch will cut it on the news—too iffy. Leslie had a camera doorbell, and we know the perp rang it, meaning it caught his face up close and personal.”

  “Right, but he ripped it out of the wall.”

  “That’s true, but if Leslie subscribed to the company’s monitoring services, the footage would be stored in the cloud.”

  “Damn. We might get lucky after all. Head back to the apartment and start searching through it for a statement.”

  “I can do one better than that. We have her bank account number, so we can access the bills that she paid. If she did subscribe to the monitoring service, it would show up as a monthly payment.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we’d be in the same boat we are now, but we’d go back to the apartment, anyway, and search for something that could tell us the company’s name. There’s a chance that they could still help us figure it out.”

  Lutz nodded as I spoke. “Okay, then what do you need from me?”

  “I’m going to go through Leslie’s bank records and hopefully find the company’s name. There’s a chance they’ll demand a warrant to access her doorbell camera footage.”

  Lutz checked the time. “It’s after five. The courthouse is already closed for the day.”

  “Damn it.” I raked my hair as I imagined Gina spending another night with that madman.

  “It’s still worth a try. I’ll see what I can find and let you know. It should only take me fifteen minutes or so to go through her bank statements.”

  Lutz shooed me out the door. “Then go, and do it in ten.”

  Chapter 51

  Leslie’s bank records were stored in a folder on my desktop. With a click of the mouse, I opened her records, scrolled down to her withdrawals, and found the entry. I slammed my fist on the desk. “Yes!”

  Frank pushed back his chair and was at my side in less than a second. “If anything sounded positive, that did. What have you got?”

  I pointed. “This. It has to be the name of the camera doorbell company. What else could it be? Every month, there’s a withdrawal for the same amount on the same day that goes to Safe Home Security Systems.”

  “And what does that tell us?”

  “According to Todd, if Leslie paid for their monitoring service, which she apparently did, they’d store her camera footage in the cloud. We’d have that asshole’s face staring directly at the doorbell.”

  “Call them, then, and find out.”

  I yelled out to Henry to pull up the company’s website, hours, and phone number. He had the information on his computer screen within seconds.

  “Here you go, Jesse. Hang on. What time is it?” He spun in his chair and looked at the analog clock above our door. “Their business hours are nine to five. It’s five twenty-seven.”

  “Shit! When are we going to catch a break?”

  Frank grabbed his desk phone off the base. “Give me that number, Johnson.”

  Henry rattled it off, and Frank dialed. We waited with bated breath, almost afraid to hope.

  It took too long, and we knew nobody had picked up on the other end. Frank finally put the receiver back on the base and dropped down in his seat.

  “Nobody answered.”

  His comment wasn’t necessary since we already knew that. I dialed the crime lab and spoke to Mike. We needed something to make us feel like we were closing in on the killer.

  I pressed Speakerphone and slumped down in my chair. “Hey, buddy, what’s the word on those tire prints?”

  “A common Firestone tire that’s used on thousands of midsized cars, likely in aftermarket sales.”

  “So they cou
ld be on any midsized model or age of car as replacement tires.”

  “Sorry, but yeah, that’s about it.”

  “And no prints on doorknobs, furniture, or the kitchen counter?”

  We heard Mike’s sigh through the phone. “In all probability, the man was gloved while he was there.”

  “You checked everything?”

  “That’s our job, Jesse.”

  “I know, just my frustration coming out. Thanks, Mike.” I hung up and looked at my colleagues. “Any suggestions?”

  The room went silent.

  I was grasping for straws and realized we’d never heard about the knock and talks conducted by the officers. I jerked my head at Frank. “Did you get a call or text from either Miller or Jackson?”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked. “Nope.”

  I fished my cell phone from the pocket of my sport jacket hanging on the chairback. A text had been sent forty-five minutes earlier. “Damn it, the text from Jackson must have come in when I was talking to Lutz.” I tapped the screen and read what he had written. A doorbell camera near the end of Gina’s street showed a ponytailed dark-haired girl walking with a man. I immediately called Jackson from my desk phone—I needed more.

  His phone rang three times in my ear before he answered it. “Jackson! I just saw your message. I need you to walk me through everything the camera caught.”

  “Don’t have to. I can email it to you. The homeowner sent the link to my cell phone, and I’ll forward it to you right now.”

  “That’s even better. Anything else?”

  “Sorry but no. Most people were probably at work when the perp showed up at Gina’s apartment yesterday, and once the sun went down, everyone was inside their homes.”

  “True enough. Okay, it looks like the attachment just hit my in-box. Thanks.” I hung up with a renewed sense of optimism.

  The guys crowded around my desk as I clicked on the link and opened the video. Gina’s neighborhood on State Street filled the screen, and I recognized the homes on it. The camera caught two people walking north—a man and a ponytailed dark-haired woman who was likely Gina. They turned left at the intersection and disappeared.

  “That’s it?” Frank balled up his fists and cursed. “You can’t see any more of him than what was in the sketch—actually less because he’s farther away.”

  “Settle down, Mills,” I said. “What we can see is that the sun was beginning to set, meaning it had to be around seven o’clock. Gina doesn’t appear to be in distress since she’s walking casually with the man at her side. They turned onto Roosevelt, so where did they go? There are plenty of office buildings and retail spaces on that street so there has to be better camera equipment that catches a closer image of him.”

  “If you’re going for the facial recognition software, then we’ll have to see him straight on, not walking parallel to the camera.”

  I nodded. “I know, Frank. Shawn, pull up every restaurant within three blocks of that corner. It’s doubtful that they just went for a leisurely walk together. I’m guessing Gina was hungry and went somewhere to grab a bite to eat.”

  “Got it.”

  Frank took my guest chair, and I handed him paper and a pen. “Here, do something useful. Shawn, start calling out the names of every restaurant on the south side of the street.”

  “There’s Chicken Shack, Taco Joe’s, Family Corral, and Lou’s Steakhouse.”

  “Good. Call Chicken Shack and Taco Joe’s and ask if they have cameras.”

  Frank looked puzzled. “What am I supposed to do with the paper and pen?”

  “Doodle. It’ll keep you busy.”

  Shawn called both restaurants, and Chicken Shack said they had a camera at the register and one outside the front door. Taco Joe’s didn’t have any.

  “Okay, let’s go, Mills. Shawn, keep calling places along Roosevelt. Let me know who has cameras and who doesn’t. If we spot Gina entering or passing Chicken Shack, I’ll let you know.”

  “On it.”

  Frank and I made a quick stop in Lutz’s office to give him the latest before heading out. He waved us on after the brief update. “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do,” Frank said as we took off for the back stairs.

  We reached the corner of State Street and Roosevelt a few minutes after six. Frank pulled into Chicken Shack’s tiny lot behind the building. It was likely meant for employees only, but we’d deal with that later if somebody had a problem with it. We entered through the street-side door and went directly to the order counter.

  The young man behind the counter called out when it was our turn. “Next in line.”

  We stepped up and showed him our badges, then Frank took the lead. “We need to speak to the person in charge right away.”

  The kid’s expression went from pleasant to near panicked.

  I spoke up. “It’s okay, kid. Just get the manager, please.”

  He stuttered, excused himself, and left the area. Frank and I stepped away and allowed the customers in line behind us to take their turn with the other kid behind the counter.

  It took a good five minutes before a woman who appeared to be around thirty came out through a door at the end of the hallway. The kid we had spoken to pointed, and she headed toward us, wearing a puzzled expression.

  “I’m Rebecka Fromm, the manager. May I help you?”

  I made the introductions and told her we needed to see their camera footage from last night starting around six forty-five.

  “Sure, right this way.”

  We followed her to a room that looked like a typical mom-and-pop restaurant office. A desk, several scattered chairs, and shelves of supplies filled the space. All we cared about was the footage that could possibly show Gina and that man.

  Frank asked if they offered carryout orders, and she said they did. He gave me a glance. “Are the orders taken with the person’s first and last name?”

  “Yes, just so there isn’t any mix-up between people with the same first name. Why?”

  “It will speed things up if you’d check first to see if a Gina Adams picked up an order here last night.”

  “Sure, let me take a look.” She began tapping computer keys. “Gina Adams, you said?”

  Frank nodded. “That’s correct, and probably around seven o’clock.”

  “One second, please, while I look at our carryout orders. Here it is, a Gina Adams for a chicken dinner for one. Looks like she picked it up at ten after seven.”

  I was excited. “Okay, then we need to see the footage from the counter and outside during that timeframe.”

  With a few more key taps, Rebecka entered the time to start the video and pressed Play. “Here you go, Detectives. I’ve set it to play at the normal speed. All you have to do is watch it, back it up if need be, and then hit Play again to resume the video.”

  “Easy enough, and thank you,” I said. “We shouldn’t be too long.” I gave Frank a thumbs-up and pressed Play.

  Chapter 52

  Now that we had the exact time Gina had been at Chicken Shack, we were able to immediately catch her on the counter footage. She handed the cashier her money and received a white paper bag in exchange. I couldn’t believe our bad luck when nobody entered the restaurant with her. “Damn him. That guy is as slippery as a fish.”

  Frank grumbled. “But a lot smarter than one. Let’s check the front door camera.”

  I switched over to camera two and tapped in the time just like Rebecka had earlier. We saw Gina pull open the door, and the sleeve of a gray sweatshirt appeared on camera next to her. I pointed. “That’s him, gray sweatshirt and all. Come on. Show your face.”

  We watched as Gina disappeared into the restaurant alone and was back out several minutes later. Other than his sleeve, nothing of the killer ever showed up on either camera.

  I groaned into my hands. “I can’t even believe this shit.”

  “I’ll call Shawn and tell him to stop searching. The only thing that could help wou
ld be a corner camera, and I didn’t see any when we walked by.”

  We returned to the precinct after another failed attempt to see the man’s face. Our best chance would still be the doorbell camera, and that meant waiting until morning to call for a warrant in case it was needed, and we would ask the company if they had her camera feed stored in the cloud. It also meant Gina wouldn’t be found that night.

  Lutz joined us in the bullpen. Our night crew had already arrived, and we’d just finished updating them on our lack of success in seeing the killer’s face.

  With a grunt, Lutz dropped down on my guest chair. “I aired the sketch on the news, anyway. There’s nothing else we can do until we see his face on the doorbell footage, but if somebody does recognize him from his side view—or at least they think they do—the night shift guys can follow up on those leads.” Bob stood and straightened my guest chair. “Go home, have a decent dinner, and get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll hit the ground running. We’ll know who he is before noon.”

  I hoped Lutz was right, but the pain I felt over what Gina could be going through, and the anxiety Frank was likely feeling, sickened me.

  I walked Frank to his truck, and he climbed in.

  “I don’t want to go home and sit there alone. My mind will be racing all night,” he said.

  “Then come to my house. I do have a guest room, you know. We’ll order a pizza, drink a few beers, and discuss our tactics for tomorrow. We’ll find Gina, and she’ll be okay. I can feel it in my gut.”

  Later that night, we had polished off an extra-large pepperoni pizza, downed a six-pack of beer, and did a lot of planning. Lutz would call for the warrant first thing in the morning, then I’d contact Safe Home Security Systems. The warrant would get us the video feed we needed from yesterday, and we’d have the killer staring at the camera, right in front of us. Then Lutz would contact every news channel and get his face front and center on TVs across the city. Somebody would recognize him and call the tip line. We’d find out where he was holed up and make the arrest, but of course that was the best case scenario and I didn’t want to think about the worst.

  “The one thing we don’t want is a hostage situation,” Frank said. “We have to weigh our options before we go in with guns blazing.”