by C. M. Sutter
Chapter 36
We reached the small house on East Forty-First Street in under ten minutes. The redbrick bungalow was squeezed neatly between two others in what appeared to be a middle-class neighborhood. I slid the cruiser in behind Henry’s personal car, and we both got out.
I shielded my eyes from the sun rising above the trees that lined the street. “Were you able to reach him?”
“No, and that’s really weird.” Henry pushed back his sleeve. “It’s quarter to nine, and the wife and kids are long gone. I’d figure Jim for an early riser, someone who got up with the family, even when it’s his day off.”
I rubbed my brow. “Even if he was asleep, wouldn’t he have heard his phone ring?”
Henry shrugged and tipped his head. “Maybe he was in the shower. Let’s check it out.” We crossed the street and took the four steps up to the wrought iron-wrapped porch. Henry pressed the doorbell, and we waited.
I listened for footsteps. “I don’t hear anything, not even the TV. Do you?”
Henry shook his head and gave the door a hard knuckle rap.
“Hang on, did you hear that?”
“What?”
“I heard a dog barking.”
Henry pressed his ear against the door. “Maybe Jim went somewhere.”
“But wouldn’t the dog be left free to roam the house? I mean, dogs are meant for protection, aren’t they? You don’t normally lock them up when you leave.”
“Unless they tear up the house while you’re gone.”
“And he would go somewhere without his phone? That doesn’t seem right.” I headed to the side yard.
“What are you doing, Kate?”
“Checking out the backyard. It sounds like the dog is barking from somewhere at the rear of the house.” I flipped up the latch and pushed open the wooden gate.
“We don’t have justifiable cause to enter his yard.”
“Sure we do. I have a gut instinct that something is wrong. Call it a wellness check if you want.” I walked slowly along the side of the house until I reached a window where the dog’s barking sounded the loudest. I stepped back and looked up. “He’s locked in the laundry room.”
“How on earth would you know that?”
I pointed at the vent on the roof. “That’s the dryer exhaust vent.” I continued on. The backyard was surrounded by a privacy fence that led to the garage and alley. I passed through it and looked around. “Hmm… one-car garage.” I cupped my hands along my cheeks and peered through the window glass. “It’s empty inside. So if the wife went to work and Jim is gone, that means they have two cars?”
Henry rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure about that. I’m calling Sergeant Finley.”
Seconds later, Henry was speaking to Jim’s immediate boss. I circled the garage while I waited and looked both ways down the alley—it was dead quiet. Henry ended the call and met up with me behind the garage.
“They only have one car. Jim takes the L to work every day. We’ve been here for, what, twenty minutes and still no sign of him?”
“Try his phone one more time and then we’re going in.”
“How?”
“By unlocking the door. Officer Lennard told me everyone at the police force keeps a key hidden outside their home. That’s how we got into Jesse’s house without breaking down the door.”
Henry’s final call to Jim’s phone went straight to voicemail. “He isn’t answering.”
I turned back and walked to the front of the house. “Come on. Let’s find that key.” I dug through the shrubbery on the left of the sidewalk before taking the steps to the front door. “Give me a hand and check those bushes on the right.” We spread the bushes apart and checked beneath them but found nothing. “You’re taller than me. Check the top of the porch light.”
Henry swiped his fingers across the top of the coach lamp and shook his head. “Nothing.”
I pulled up the doormat and saw a single bronze-colored key. “You can’t be serious. What a stupid place to leave a house key.” I stuck it in the knob’s slot, turned it, and the door swung open. “Go ahead. This isn’t my jurisdiction.”
“Hang on. We can’t just barge in.” Henry called out Jim’s name several times. The only response was louder yelping coming from the dog. “Don’t touch anything, Kate. We don’t have on gloves.”
I nodded and stepped into the foyer with Henry then pushed the door closed with my foot. Henry called out Jim’s name again—silence, except for the dog. We rounded the foyer to the right, and Henry immediately stopped.
“Jesus Christ, it’s Jim!” Henry drew his weapon, and I did the same. He whispered that we needed to clear the house before doing anything else. We hugged the walls as we inched down the hallway and cleared each room. Henry pointed at the laundry room beyond the kitchen. “The dog has to stay put for now, but we have to make sure nobody is in there with him.”
“Call it in while I check the laundry room.” I covered my hand with my sleeve as I turned the knob. After opening the door a crack, I peeked in. The dog, an ironing board, a laundry basket, and the washer and dryer filled the room. “Sorry, pooch, but you have to stay in here for now. We can’t have you disturbing a crime scene.” I closed the door and heard the dog whimpering from the other side. I passed Jim’s body and walked to the living room, where Henry talked on the phone.
He hung up seconds later. “Everyone is on their way. What the hell is going on, Kate?”
“John is what’s going on. Who else could it be?”
Chapter 37
We stood out of the way in the living room as the forensic team and coroner entered the house. Sergeant Finley was on-site, along with Henry’s own boss, Sergeant Lutz. Patrol units cordoned off the street, and detectives swarmed the yard. Others were conducting knock and talks throughout the neighborhood.
Lutz jerked his head toward the front door. “Come on. Let’s give these guys room to work, and I don’t want anybody contaminating the scene. Let’s talk outside.”
We exited the house with Finley and Lutz. Henry and I leaned against the rail, and the sergeants took seats on the only chairs on the porch. Officers buzzed through the yard, combing every square inch for clues.
Finley ground his fist into his eyes then perched his glasses back on his nose. “I want a play-by-play account of this morning from the minute you left my office, but first I need someone to go to Mrs. Crosley’s workplace and bring her home.” Finley called out to one of the officers combing the area. He waved him over. “Ortiz, find out where Jim’s wife works and bring her home.”
“Yes, sir.”
Finley turned back to us. “Okay, fill me in.”
Henry took in a long breath. “We headed over here after making numerous calls to Jim’s phone that went unanswered. We arrived on scene and parked at eight forty-five then rang the bell and knocked several times. That’s when we heard the dog barking from somewhere at the back of the house. We entered the property through the side gate and walked to the rear of the home. That’s when we noticed there was only a one-car garage, and I called you to find out if the Crosleys had one vehicle or two. You confirmed that Jim took the L to work every day.”
Finley nodded, and Henry continued.
“Even if Jim went somewhere on foot, why would the dog be locked away, and why would he leave without his phone? None of it made sense. That’s when I decided to conduct a wellness check and enter the house.”
I knew Henry was trying to save my butt. I didn’t have the authority to make that call to enter the residence, but he did. I gave him a subtle head tip.
“Detective Pierce and I searched for the hidden house key and found it beneath the doormat.”
Finley groaned. “That’s where Jim hid the key? Maybe this was nothing more than a burglary gone bad and the perp didn’t expect to find somebody at home.”
I looked at Lutz and shook my head. I knew Finley wasn’t aware of our investigation into John or the theory I’d presented to Lutz last ni
ght. Sergeant Finley ran the narcotics division, not Homicide.
Finley glanced from face to face. “What am I missing here? Is there something going on that put my detective at risk and nobody thought to tell me about it?”
Lutz let out a long breath. “No, Keith, it’s not like that.”
“Then tell me how it is.” Finley lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
“We’re pretty confident there’s a vigilante killer at large. Originally, we enlisted the help of Detective Pierce to work on the recent murders of the two attorneys. Right about then is when Jesse went missing. Kate and Jesse met several months ago in Wisconsin when his sister disappeared, and we all know how that turned out. Kate is a psychic detective, and I asked her to focus on finding Jesse. Detective Johnson and Kate are working that case together.”
Finley wrinkled his brows and gave me a long stare. “You’re the psychic detective who helped out here several years back, aren’t you? That’s why your name sounded familiar to me.”
“I did, sir, and we solved that murder case, but at that time I was a consultant not a detective.”
“I remember now. So, what is the vigilante story, and why do you think that person is the one who killed my detective?”
Lutz gave me a nod. “Go ahead and tell him your theory, Kate.”
“It started after I arrived here. I had dreams two nights in a row that I believe are the clues to solving this case. The murders and Jesse’s kidnapping are connected, and it’s all about drugs—meth in particular. That’s where Terry Lewis came in and ended up dead too. What we need is an ironclad connection between the murdered attorneys and Jesse’s disappearance, but I think we’re close to finding it. Sergeant Lutz has his men working that angle at the courthouse. We’ll have to review every drug-related trial that Jesse testified in for the state while he was still working under your command, sir. The connection would be if both Adam Pitts, the state’s attorney, and Bill Waters, the criminal defense attorney, worked opposite ends of the same trial. Jim would remember those details, and that’s why we wanted to speak with him this morning. Since we couldn’t ask Jesse, we figured Jim would be able to give us valuable information to run with. Bill Waters and Adam Pitts are dead, Jesse is missing, and Terry Lewis was found floating down the Chicago River with a bullet hole through his head. Ballistics also told us that Officer Lennard and Terry Lewis were killed with the same gun.”
Finley nodded. “And the Terry Lewis murder was Jim’s case.”
“Exactly, sir. The man we believe is responsible goes by the name of John. That’s all I know except that he’s a white male, over six foot tall, and weighs a good two hundred twenty pounds.”
“How do you have that information, Kate?”
“Because on the night he murdered Officer Lennard, he tied me up, beat me, and held me at gunpoint. I believe he was going to kill me next, but thankfully Sergeant Lutz and a handful of officers got to me before that happened.”
“Good God.” Finley shook his head. “So what were your dreams about?”
I let out a long breath. “I believe John has some type of connection to law enforcement but I haven’t figured out what that is yet. In my dream, I saw John behind the wheel and another man in the passenger seat of a white car. The second man wanted to start up a risky endeavor that had a lot of income potential, but he needed seed money from John. John wasn’t so keen on the idea and only agreed if he could remain a silent partner. He had a large gambling debt that needed to be paid back or he’d suffer the consequences. I believe that enterprise was cooking and selling meth.” I gave Henry a confident glance. “Long story short, their new endeavor cut into Terry Lewis’s meth business, and he squealed out the second guy. That second guy went to prison—at least that’s my theory—and now John is left holding the bag, so to speak. He doesn’t want to cook and deal meth, but he has no other source of income or not enough income to sustain his life and pay his debts. I’m pretty sure the man who started the meth lab has a name that begins with an M. We’ll track him down by pulling those court records and finding the right case. I truly believe Jesse is still alive. He called out in my second dream that he was being held prisoner and needed help. We just have to get to him before it’s too late.”
Finley raised his brows and let out a low whistle. “You put all of this together from two dreams?”
“Yes, sir. That’s what I do as a psychic detective, and it hasn’t failed me yet.”
Sergeant Finley addressed Lutz. “We need to work together on this case, Bob, and I’d like it if Kate and Henry went back to my office with me. I may be able to find archived cases that Jesse and Jim were lead on. They might hold information that will help.”
Lutz appeared hopeful. “Good idea.” He turned to us. “Make sure to keep me updated on your progress.”
Finley rose from his chair when he saw Officer Ortiz’s squad car pull up to the curb with Mrs. Crosley in the passenger seat. “Jesus. I hate this part of my job.” He turned back to Lutz before stepping down to the sidewalk. “Both of our departments have lost good men this week. Whoever that psychotic killer is has to be apprehended before another officer dies.” Finley looked at Henry and me. “We’ll leave here in a half hour.”
Chapter 38
The car’s radio played one of John’s favorite songs. He was in good spirits as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He glanced at the time on the dash—he’d be home by ten o’clock. Crosley was dead and had been killed the same way he’d shot Mason. He deserved death—it was justified. If Jesse had done something that serious, he wouldn’t have lived through the first night.
As the lead detective in Mason’s takedown, Jesse had been present when they stormed the meth lab, but he wasn’t the man who pulled the trigger. He wouldn’t be sentenced to death yet— John was still undecided about that—but turning the detective into a skeletal shell of a man with a deadly drug habit amused him. He’d keep the meth flowing through Jesse’s veins and decide his fate later. Jesse was already reaching the point of no return—he needed that needle and became violent when he didn’t get it.
John checked the clock once more as the garage door lifted. Jesse would get his midmorning hit, then John would enjoy a leisurely snack and coffee before leaving again at noon. Jesse would get another poke with the needle before then. By early evening when John returned, Jesse would be off the rails and as desperate for a fix as a longtime addict.
Once inside the house, John heard the pleading echo from down the hallway. He smirked as he went to the bedroom closet and unlocked the vault door. He pulled a syringe from the drawer and the liquid meth from the dorm-sized refrigerator in the closet, then loaded the barrel and locked the closet behind him.
Jesse pounded on his door, kicking and clawing to get John’s attention. John lowered his mask as he turned the corner into the hallway.
“What’s with all the noise?”
Jesse pushed his flailing arm through the door opening. “Where were you? I need my hit. You can’t leave me for hours on end every day.”
“I can do whatever the hell I want. Did you forget who the prisoner is here? Do you think this meth grows on trees? Somebody has to cook it and keep your veins full.”
“Okay, okay, just give it to me.”
“Get your face down here so I can see what you look like.”
Jesse knelt from his side of the door and looked out the opening.
“Damn, you look like shit! Picking at your face again, aren’t you?”
“I can’t keep the bugs off me. They’re burrowing into my skin. I need some bug spray.”
“Not happening, dude. You’d probably inhale it. Haven’t been eating? Your cheeks are hollow.”
“Food doesn’t matter.” Jesse stuck his left arm through the hole. “Give it to me.”
“In a minute. I have a story to share with you first.”
Jesse tried to grab John’s throat, but he pulled away just in time.
“What the hell was that, you stupid son of a bitch? I guess you have to learn the hard way.” John replaced the cap on the tip of the needle. “You’re no better than a wild dog, and you’ll be trained like one too.” John pocketed the syringe.
“No, no, no! What are you doing? I’m sorry, and I’ll calm down. Please, please. I need my hit.”
John stood, walked away, and disappeared around the corner, listening to Jesse’s kicking and screaming from behind the door.
Chapter 39
I had never met Jim Crosley, but I still felt a sense of loss. His wife and kids would be scarred and devastated for life. The children’s father and Mrs. Crosley’s husband was murdered that morning in their own home—a place meant as a safe haven. Now the home would only be a reminder of their loss.
I rubbed my forehead as Henry and I waited for Finley in the precinct’s parking lot. “Do you think they’ll keep living there?”
“It’s hard to say, Kate. I couldn’t endure the constant reminder of my spouse being murdered in our family home. How about you?”
“I sort of do.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed. “I didn’t move in until much later, and I didn’t know him well, but Jade and Amber’s father was murdered in the house we live in.”
Henry furrowed his brows. “Jeez. Why didn’t they move out?”
“I don’t know. Mixed feelings, I guess, and the fact that Jade had just recently purchased the condo. I truly believe that living there and thinking of the horrific situations that have happened in that condo fuels all of us on. We aren’t quitters.”
“I can see that and I’d like to meet your friends one day.”
I gave him a thoughtful smile. “We do host damn good football parties.”
“I bet you do.” Henry glanced at his watch. “I can’t believe that only a few hours ago, Jim was alive and likely starting his three-day weekend in good spirits.”
