by Mary Stone
Joseph hunched forward in his chair. “That’s still a lot of names.”
Portia snorted. “Well, Chicago’s a big city, Agent Larson.” Dragging the list aside, she clicked over to a close-up of the man’s masked face. She zoomed in and tapped her cherry-red nail on the pixelated image of his eye. “The mask he’s wearing shadows his face a little, but we were able to determine an eye color range. His is on the lighter side, so blue, green, gray, and maybe light brown or hazel.”
That doesn’t narrow it down much. Joseph kept the comment to himself.
“The last attribute we used to whittle down our pool of potential suspects is body type.” She returned to the list. “Factoring in his height, we think he probably weighs somewhere between one-seventy and two-hundred, maybe two-ten.”
Propping an elbow on the desk, Amelia squinted at the glowing screen. “Wait a second.” Her eyes flicked to Portia. “I recognize this guy’s name. Fourth from the top…Allworth.”
“Let’s take a look.” With a click, Portia pulled up the detective’s personnel file. “Cliff Allworth, six-four, one-eighty-seven at his last department mandated physical. Reddish-brown hair, blue eyes, forty-one years of age. Well, he matches all our search criteria.”
Amelia shook an index finger at Allworth’s photo. “I looked through this guy’s jacket, and it’s full of Leóne cases. This wouldn’t be too weird, but most of them ended up with charges being dropped or the Leóne suspect being exonerated. And the few perps that were charged wound up negotiating plea deals for less than half of what their sentence would’ve been if they’d gone to trial.”
The name Cliff Allworth wasn’t familiar to Joseph, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Allworth was a Leóne ally. His brow furrowed as he turned to Amelia, looking curiously at her. “How do you know all that about him?”
“A case I was following up on.” Her eyes flicked to Portia as she pointed to the mouse. “Do you mind if I take control for a second? There’s something in Allworth’s jacket that’ll help us out here.”
Amelia’s explanation was so casual and dismissive that he almost believed her.
Almost.
There was more to her story than she’d let on, but he’d have time to puzzle over the thought later.
Portia pushed the wireless mouse over to Amelia. “Sure, knock yourself out. What’re we looking for?”
“Allworth was attacked by a couple meth heads a while back.” Amelia was focused on the flow of the screen as she scrolled down the page. “He got his ass kicked, but he gave about as good as he got. A couple uniformed officers showed up to arrest the two assailants, and the District Attorney charged them the next day.”
Glancing from the monitor to Amelia and back, Joseph clasped both hands together in his lap. “If there was a trial, then there are pictures, right?”
“Yeah. The D.A. used them at trial to raise the charge to assault with a deadly weapon instead of just assault. They each got fifteen years.” With a couple more clicks, Amelia opened an image of Detective Allworth’s shirtless torso. He’d turned his head to the side, and a gloved hand held an angled ruler up to a nasty red mark on his side. In the next picture, the camera focused on a swollen welt just above his belly button.
Portia straightened in her seat. “Is that a scar?”
Amelia handed her the mouse. “Yeah. A big nice one.” She leaned back and rubbed her cheek in thought. “It’s not much, but if nothing else, you can use these photos to rule him out.”
Portia was shaking her head before Amelia had finished. “No, don’t be so quick to dismiss this, Agent. I’ve been staring at this guy’s naked ass for the last week and a half. If I had even a lick of artistic talent, I’m sure I could draw a picture of him from memory. And this scar, this is something I would have seen.”
“Those surgical procedures are all pretty common, though.” Joseph held up his hands when Amelia’s attention snapped to him. “Devil’s advocate, that’s all. I’m just making sure we have all our bases covered. Appendectomies and hernia surgeries are fairly common, and that could be the source of that scar. I’m sure there are a couple of other men on this list who’ve had one of those procedures before.”
Drumming her fingers on the desk, Amelia tilted her head in thought. “That’s true. Still, with everything else, I think that’d give us plenty to take a closer look. Maybe even get a warrant to search his computer.”
Shit. She was right.
All he needed was a minute to himself, and he could call Joe to report he’d found the missing detective from Kankakee County. But did he want to alert Joe Dalessio?
He wasn’t so sure he did.
If Cliff Allworth disappeared right after Russel Ulmer had dropped off the face of the planet, there was no way the Bureau’s attention wouldn’t be drawn to Joseph. He wasn’t about to risk his livelihood for a bottom feeder like Detective Allworth.
I did my part. I told Dalessio to watch his ass. This doesn’t blow back on me.
Portia’s voice yanked him from the contemplation. “Look here.” She dragged one still shot of the naked man up beside a second. “The one on the right, that’s from right at the start of the video, before he…” A scowl darkened her face. “Before he exerted himself.”
“No scar.” Amelia crossed her arms. “Is the resolution of this camera high enough to pick up something like a scar, though?”
Holding up a finger like a parent asking their child for patience, Portia zoomed in on the picture to the left. “This is from the same recording, but this still was taken at the end. See? He’s sweating. I’ll spare you the details, but this video was a little more…active than most of the others. The victim fought back, but like everything else, there’s a market for that kind of footage.”
Joseph’s stomach twisted, and he clenched one hand into a fist. “There are scratches on his stomach.”
“There are.” Portia tapped the keyboard a couple times to zoom closer. “Look. In the same spot as the pictures from the CPD, under his belly button.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes. “A scar. He must’ve used something to cover it up in the videos, kind of like how Matteo Ricci covered his tattoo with a bandage. Do you know if there’s any other recording where this mark shows up?”
Portia tilted her head. “A few, yes. As best as I can tell, these are the early ones. He might’ve gotten better at hiding the scar the longer he did this.”
Amelia’s pensive gaze was glued to the monitor.
“Is there something else?”
“Yeah.” Dropping both hands to her knees, Amelia’s green eyes fell on Joseph. “Detective Allworth’s partner, Ian Strausbaugh, was murdered about a week ago, and the killer hasn’t been caught. Strausbaugh was killed in the middle of the night. One bullet to the head, no witnesses, no reports of a gunshot. Nothing.”
Midway through tapping the armrest, Joseph’s fingers froze. “An execution.”
Amelia nodded. “Strausbaugh was killed late Monday night, and Carlo Enrico was killed around noon on Wednesday.”
“There’s no way that’s a coincidence.” Joseph squared his jaw. “Someone was cleaning house. Allworth’s partner must have known something.”
As Amelia rose to her feet, she extended a hand to Portia. “Thanks again for all your help. I think we’ve got all we need to go pick up Detective Allworth and bring him in for an interview.”
Rolling her chair away from the desk, Portia stood and accepted Amelia’s handshake. “Of course, Agent Storm. I’m glad we could help. I hope this lead pans out. Let me know if there’s anything else you’ll need from me or my team.”
Joseph tried to appear casually unconcerned as he walked back to the elevator, Amelia at his side. He had no intention of alerting Cliff Allworth or Joe Dalessio, but now he had to hope that no one else did, either.
25
A pane of glass rattled as Amelia pulled the wooden door closed behind herself. She’d expected to find Floyd or Natasha on the fourth floor of the pol
ice station, but both their desks had been vacant. After she and Joseph had tried in vain to locate Cliff Allworth, they’d hurried to the on-duty captain’s office.
As Amelia moved to stand beside Joseph, she went through the motions of flipping open her badge. “Afternoon, Captain Neuman. I’m Special Agent Amelia Storm, and this is my partner, Special Agent Joseph Larson. We spoke on the phone this morning.”
Recognition lit in the woman’s chocolate-brown eyes as she rose to extend a hand, first to Amelia and then to Joseph. “Of course. Pleasure to put a face to a name, Agent Storm. What can I help you with?”
Amelia grasped the back of a leather chair that faced the captain’s desk, but she had no intention of sitting. “We’re looking for Detective Cliff Allworth. We checked upstairs in homicide, but we didn’t see any sign of him there. It’s important that we locate him as soon as possible.”
The captain lifted an eyebrow. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
“He’s the prime suspect in an ongoing investigation. It’s probably best that we don’t reveal too many details just yet.”
Though Amelia half-expected Captain Neuman to protest, the woman nodded instead. “Sure, I understand. Just give me a second, and I’ll see if there was anything logged by Detective Allworth’s sergeant.” She wiggled the mouse to bring her computer monitor to life.
Amelia straightened to her full height. “Thank you. I really appreciate your understanding.”
Captain Neuman’s mouth twitched as her fingers danced across the keyboard. “It’s no problem, Agents. I understand the need to keep details about a case close to the vest.” She tapped enter before intently scanning the glowing screen. “Okay. Here it is. It looks like Detective Allworth wasn’t feeling well, and he left the station at about noon, according to what his sergeant logged in the system.”
“Noon?” Amelia glanced at Joseph. “That’s right around when I left after meeting with Detectives Yoell and Reyman. What about them? We didn’t see them upstairs, either.”
Captain Neuman shifted her gaze back to the computer and scrolled the mouse wheel. “They’re…” Her brow furrowed as she read the report on screen. “They left twenty minutes ago to talk to Detective Allworth at his apartment.”
Goose bumps prickled the back of Amelia’s neck. “Okay. Thank you, Captain. We’ll be sure to follow up if there are any new developments.”
“All right. Let me know if there’s any more help that the precinct or I can give.”
“Thank you.” Amelia barely stopped herself from flashing Captain Neuman a salute before she turned to the door.
Neither Amelia nor Joseph spoke on their way back to the parking garage, but based on his hurried pace, Joseph was just as eager to get to Cliff Allworth’s apartment as she was.
She took her place behind the wheel and buckled in. In the midst of chasing down a lead, Amelia almost forgot about the previous night. But as Joseph dropped into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed, the memory rushed back, sending Amelia’s stomach rolling.
Joseph reached for his seat belt. “Why do you think Reyman and Yoell went to talk to Allworth? You think they’re onto him?”
Silencing the anxious thoughts, Amelia took a deep cleansing breath, turned the key over in the ignition, and brought the car to life. “It’s hard to say. I don’t think so, though. When Detective Reyman was going over the Strausbaugh case with me earlier today, she barely even mentioned Allworth. Honestly, I don’t think they have a clue. They’ve got no motive for Allworth to kill his partner, and there’s no physical evidence that ties him to the scene.”
Joseph nodded. “That’s true. We didn’t have a motive for him, either, until about forty-five minutes ago. You said they had a suspect before, right? Someone who wound up having an alibi?”
“Yeah, Reyman and Yoell were working on verifying his alibi when I left.” Amelia waited for a black and white cruiser to pass before she backed out of the parking stall. She’d never discussed the D’Amato family with Joseph, and she reminded herself to stay sharp.
Joseph was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Joseph’s curious stare as he propped an elbow on the doorframe. “Do you know if the alibi panned out? Who was their suspect? Was it someone affiliated with the Leóne family?”
“No. The opposite, actually.”
For a split-second, Joseph’s mouth went slack. “A D’Amato?”
As she flicked on the blinker to turn onto the street, Amelia tried to ignore Joseph’s scrutinizing gaze. “A D’Amato lieutenant, yeah.” She shrugged, hoping to maintain her air of indifference.
Once they were clear of the traffic around the station, Amelia walked Joseph through the Strausbaugh investigation. She was careful to explain the situation using the same details Natasha had given her, making sure to leave out any of the extra knowledge she’d acquired from Alex. Joseph already had Alton Dalessio to hang over her head.
The last thing she needed was for him to add her relationship with the D’Amato family to his blackmail.
Joseph fished in his suit jacket for a pack of gum. “So, Allworth tried to frame a D’Amato lieutenant for killing his partner?”
Amelia flattened her palms against the steering wheel but kept her attention on the road. “That’s what it’s starting to look like. Unless one of the Leónes is responsible for killing Ian Strausbaugh, which is still a possibility. They might’ve recruited Allworth to steal that nine-mil so they could use it to kill Strausbaugh and make it look like a D’Amato hit.”
With a snort, Joseph popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “A hit by the most incompetent D’Amato hitman on the face of the planet, maybe.”
She couldn’t argue his point.
The rest of the trip to Cliff Allworth’s apartment complex was relatively quiet. Amelia was in no mood for small talk, and Joseph thankfully seemed to have gotten the memo. Towering trees lined both sides of the residential street, and little of the afternoon sunlight pierced through the leafy cover.
As “Bad Moon Rising” came to an end, Amelia pulled the car to a stop in a shadowy lot behind the building. Double-checking the address one more time, she killed the engine and stepped out into a temperate breeze.
Though faint, the wind carried the scent of falling leaves and the promise of changing seasons. Amelia rounded the front of the car and straightened the gray knit cardigan she’d worn to conceal her service weapon.
Joseph waved a hand at the vintage brownstone building. “We’re a little north of Lincoln Park right now. How much do you suppose a place like this goes for?”
Scanning the wrought-iron handrails of at least a dozen covered balconies, she dropped her hands to her hips. “More than a city cop can afford on his own, I’m willing to bet. Unless he spends all his free days working overtime.”
They started for the arched doorway, and Amelia breathed a silent sigh of relief when she noticed there was no controlled entry.
A carpeted hall and a few flights of stairs brought her and Joseph to the fourth floor and then to apartment four-twelve. When she caught the first muffled voice, she strained her hearing and scooted closer to the door.
Before Joseph could squeeze in beside her to knock and announce their presence, Amelia held up a hand to stop him. Raising an index finger against her lips to silence him, she tilted her chin at the light gray door.
She and Joseph held still until the man inside spoke again. Amelia couldn’t make out his words, but she knew the speaker was Detective Yoell. As best as she could tell, his tone was calm and conversational.
Amelia’s eyes flicked to Joseph. “That’s Floyd Yoell,” she whispered. A sudden bout of anxiety sent her heart thundering. “Do we knock?”
Rubbing at the stubble on his chin, Joseph paused, looking thoughtful. “If we do, chances are that Allworth’s going to know why we’re here.”
“And Detective Reyman and Yoell don’t know.” She frowned. “That doesn’t seem like a
good combination.”
Joseph reached for the doorknob. “No, it doesn’t. But there are already two cops inside, so I don’t see why we can’t just let ourselves in.”
“True. If he sees us, then he might be less likely to try something stupid.” Amelia moved to the side. “I’ve got Natasha’s phone number. Let me call inside and give them a heads-up.”
Joseph snorted and pulled out his weapon. “No time. I’m going in.”
Before he’d even finished the sentence, he was stepping inside the apartment. Amelia cursed and pulled her own weapon. As much as she’d like to shoot Joseph Larson in the balls, it was her duty to cover him, even when he was being stupid.
To Joseph’s credit, he stayed low and quiet instead of roaring in like a lion. Amelia eased the door closed until the latch clicked into place. She almost winced at the quiet disturbance, but as she and Joseph crept to the edge of the short hallway, the conversation in the next room continued unabated.
She swept her gaze over what she could see of the living area from her and Joseph’s limited vantage point. Part of a leather couch, an elaborate floor lamp, and a rustic wood end table all looked like they’d been plucked out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. With the colorful painting above the sofa, the décor was pretty but impersonal.
“What makes you think that Ian would’ve been involved with the Leóne family?” Cliff Allworth’s question was tinged with defensiveness. The muffled volume of his voice told Amelia the three detectives had likely gathered in a kitchen or dining area just past the living room. “Ian was a good guy. He had a wife, kids, and he treated his stepdaughter like she was his own. How could someone like that be involved with people like the Leónes?”
Amelia’s mouth twitched into a scowl. How, indeed.
“Well, Detective,” Natasha said. “Let me just start by saying that we aren’t accusing Ian of anything. I knew him too. He was a good person. But we live in a world where everything’s a shade of gray. You know that, right? I know you do.”
Floyd jumped in before Allworth could reply. “Look, we’re just trying to solve this case, okay? The last thing we want to do is drag Ian through the mud. We just want to get to the truth, so if you know anything about him being connected to the Leónes or the D’Amatos, it would help point us in the right direction. Gabriel Badoni’s alibi is rock-solid. The cameras at the L caught him going exactly where he said he was, and a security camera at a gas station across the street doesn’t show him leaving there until the sun was up.”
