"So did you meet her?"
"That's just it. I went out by the ticket booth where we were going to meet. Except she never showed up."
Ngo shot a look at Valencia, who was frowning. There was a follow-up needed.
"While you were at the ticket booth, were you watching for Franny?"
"Uh-huh."
"Jana, think hard about this next question. Did you see anyone else come out of the field?"
"Yes. That's why I went to the security guard. I saw a kid come out in a huge hurry. He jumped on his bike and tore off. When Franny didn't show, I asked the security guard if he saw a group of girls walk by. He asked my name and I told him. That's when he threw me on the ground. Then the cops brought me here."
"Okay, okay, back up now. Who was the kid you saw leaving when you were by the ticket booth?"
"Rudy Gomez. He's in my College English class."
"Could you identify the boy you saw?"
"Rudy? Hell yes. What is all this about? Is Franny okay?"
"Franny is not okay. Franny was found dead."
A look of shock, then dismay, crossed Jana's face. The video camera recorded the sequence.
"What happened?"
"Under the bleachers. Same as Amy Tanenbaum."
"Oh, Jesus Christ!"
"Yes."
"Oh, hell no! And now you think I--"
"We're only asking questions. We don't think anything."
"Well, you've got the wrong guy. I was never with her except in the stands."
"We believe you."
Jana looked from face to face.
"No, you don't. If you can pin this on me, you will. I want my lawyer. That's the last time I'm going to say it."
"All right, we'll call your lawyer."
The two detectives left Jana alone in the room.
Again, they held a hallway conference.
"So?" said Valencia. "Do we charge him?"
"Uh-uh," said Ngo. "No case."
"That's what I'm thinking."
"We take him home. Then we go round up Rudy Gomez. You call the school and get Rudy's schedule."
"Load the kid up. I'll do it on the way."
"Here we go."
19
Marcel Rainford was in a panic. When Jana didn't emerge from the restroom, Marcel went looking. He ran out the back door and headed for the stands. Back up the stairs he climbed, up to the group of kids that Franny and Jana had been sitting with. For all he knew, Franny and Jana were close by, probably talking, or maybe necking by then.
But the kids shook their heads and looked at each other. None of them had seen Jana. And Franny had led the way into the restroom but no one remembered her coming out.
So, he sat down and phoned Michael. Michael told him that he had heard nothing from Jana, had no idea where he was, and became upset when Marcel admitted he had lost him. Marcel didn't blame him.
"I'm paying you to keep track of that kid," exclaimed Michael. "And you lost him? What the hell kind of investigator loses a seventeen-year-old kid without a car?"
"I don't know, boss. But I did, all right?"
Marcel explained the restroom setup and admitted he had assumed there was only one entrance. It had never occurred to me to check around back.
"Walk down and ask security if they've seen him. Meantime, I'll call the cops. Go now!"
Marcel jogged back down out of the stands and ran over to the security officer at the east end. He described Jana and asked for information. The security officer was only too glad to tell him that his protégé had been arrested in connection with the disappearance of Franny Arlington, who had been found under the stands. The cops were just then preparing to search everyone at the game as they emptied the bleachers. Just at that moment, the referees stopped the football game and the public address system began announcing an emergency. Everyone was asked to remain calm and to begin moving toward the exits. The police had quietly arrived and had set officers at field exit points. The officers were prepared to take down each name and address and phone number, and also inspect all purses and backpacks and coats. It was going to be a mess and Marcel immediately ran for the entrance, where he gave his information, submitted to a pat-down, and then was allowed to leave the field.
Two minutes later, he had the Ram truck headed for the Loop Precinct station. As he drove, he had the operator connect him to the station’s switchboard.
"Chicago Police Department. Loop Precinct. Sergeant Wilkins speaking. How may I direct your call?"
"I'm the legal assistant to Michael Gresham. I'm calling about Jana Emerich, a juvenile brought in an hour ago. I need to get him on the phone."
"Do you know what officer brought him in?"
"I don't."
"Spell first and last please."
He spelled as asked.
"I've got him logged into the station about forty minutes ago. It looks like he was logged back out about ten minutes ago."
"Did he leave there alone?"
"My records don't say."
"Did he make any calls before he left?"
"Let me see. No, but he could always have used his cell phone."
Marcel hung up and called Michael again. Michael still hadn't heard from Jana.
He headed back to the football bleachers. Maybe they dropped him back there, was Marcel's thinking, but they had not. He made his way through the remaining crowd and found not a trace of Jana or anyone who had seen him. Several of the kids Jana had been sitting near were questioned, but no one saw him return.
20
"Where are we going?" Jana asked the officer driving the car.
"We're going to pay a visit to this Rudy kid. We need you to ID him as the guy you saw."
"I just want to go home. I don't want to ID Rudy."
"You're saying you won't help us? What about Franny? Wouldn't she want you to help catch whoever hurt her."
"Maybe," said Jana. He was riding alone in the backseat. He looked out the side window and thought about Franny. Just two hours ago they were together and he was loving every minute of it. He hadn’t expected she would like him. That wasn’t part of the deal with Rudy. Now, she was gone. Just like that. "I want to help," Jana said. "At least I can put the finger on the guy."
"Great. We're only a couple miles from his house. Sit back and relax."
The cops up front talked together. The radio squawked and Jana tried to make out what it was saying. The detectives didn't answer whoever was talking. He'd seen enough cop shows to know his two cops were already on their way to an important call and they wouldn't get sidetracked for something else. He wondered if he could be a cop someday. He thought he might actually like that. Except for the fact he was charged with murdering Amy Tanenbaum. He didn't know what that would do to his chances, even if he got away not guilty.
Detective Valencia, who was driving, caught Jana's eye in the rearview.
"Did you ever have a date, you two?" he asked Jana.
"No. We never even talked before."
"Did you have any classes together?"
"Just one. We were taking life drawing class. She sat somewhere behind me."
"Life drawing? What's that?"
"Nude models. Except ours were only partly nude. They were always wearing underwear or shorts."
"Did you like the nude girls?" Valencia continued.
"As much as any other guy in the class did, I guess. Yes, I liked the nude girls."
"Did it make you want to have sex?"
"Hey," said Jana. "I thought we were done asking me questions. If you want more answers, get my lawyer in here with me. I'm not saying any more."
"Good for you, Jana," said Edward Ngo. "Don't let him trick you." He turned in his seat and smiled at the young man. "Seriously, we've moved on from you. You're not a suspect."
"That's good to hear. How about dropping the Amy Tanenbaum charges against me while you're at it? I didn't kill her, either."
"No, that's another case. Your muffler was found near the
body."
"It fell through the stands. What do you want me to say? It dropped through."
"That's what your lawyer can argue. We think otherwise."
"I can prove I didn't hurt Amy."
Both cops turned to look at their passenger.
"How?" they said simultaneously.
"Give me a lie detector."
"Now that might not be a bad idea. What does your lawyer say?"
"He'll do it if I tell him. He's working for me."
"Maybe not a bad idea. We'll take that up with the SA and get back to you. Okay, here we are."
They pulled into the driveway of a low, ranch style block house. It was set back from the road and appeared to be under siege by the Halloween ghosts propped up in the yard.
"Wait here," Valencia told him.
Jana stayed put while the two detectives went up on the porch and rang the bell. They waited. Then Valencia pressed the doorbell a second time. The door opened and a woman with gray hair stood there, swaying slightly in the back light. They spoke together and then the cops turned and returned to the car.
"He's babysitting," said Ngo once they were back inside. "She won't say where, doesn't want them disturbed."
"I've decided I want to go home," Jana said. He was tired and wanted nothing more to do with the cops. This could go on forever and he wanted out.
21
Rudy Gomez rode his bike to Wendover Field and stopped, still straddling the bike. Other riders were milling around and with them he watched the long lines of spectators slowly processing through the police checkpoints as they exited the playing field. He looked at his digital watch: 10:31. Babysitting had earned him ten bucks per hour for four hours. He should have gone home but a momentary urge made him turn his bike around and return to the playing field. What he saw was magic, bigger than anything he'd ever seen.
Among the gawkers, there was a general buzz over all the police vans and vehicles. The students had never seen such a display of police effort in their near north side neighborhood. Not even when banks were robbed or gang bangers shot and killed each other. Not even when Amy died. This was different. This was something to write home about, as one senior high schooler put it.
Rudy was a senior. It gave him a thrill to see all the cops and techs and plainclothes detectives coming and going, radios squawking, sirens blasting on and off, and the omnipresent coffee cups from the Jungle Joe's coffee bar just up the street.
"Whatcha thinking about, Rudy?” asked Andy Voskuil, a senior boy wearing a letter jacket with a football logo over a baseball logo.
Rudy turned to see who was speaking to him. He wasn't accustomed to being included in casual talk with other students, as Rudy was a loner and was considered by his classmates as someone to avoid. Rudy was unable to answer.
"I--I--"
"Yeah, me too," said Voskuil. "Some freak killed Fran Arlington."
"Who got killed?" Rudy managed to say.
"Arlington. We were all in chemistry with her last year. She was gonna be a doctor."
"Oh, yeah," said Rudy. He had no desire to engage any further with Voskuil. He wouldn't even have come here at all except it gave him a thrill to visit where it had happened. Stupid fucking cops would have no clue where to start looking. And Rudy had made certain he was babysitting all night. With the Roth's nine-year-old twin boys. He'd gotten them involved in playing Warlord on the Playstation and had then let himself out the back door while no one was watching. The Roths only lived a block away from the football field, so the setup had been perfect.
Someone walked behind his bike and kicked his back tire. The bike skidded sideways and he was able to keep it upright only by using all his strength to push back against the skid. He turned and there stood Joe Jamison, the meathead, and Connie Ebersoll, the girl who was giving it up to him. Jamison--JJ--was leering at him, pleased with his rear assault on Rudy's bike.
"Hey, weirdo," said Jamison. "You're not the one did this, are you?"
"Yeah, I did it," said Rudy. "Not."
Several younger kids standing nearby at the bike stand heard this exchange and a look passed among them. Rudy Gomez had just confessed to killing Franny Arlington.
"Like shit," said Jamison. "My dad saw the cops come and take Jana away again. They threw his ass in a police car and tore out with the lights flashing. Now maybe we can all sleep safely, thanks to our local police force."
"Jana?"
"Is that his name? Yeah. Mr. Potato Head from California."
"Your dad saw it?" asked Rudy.
"Fuck, he's as fucking weird as you are, Rudy," Jamison swore at him.
"Hey," said Andy Voskuil. "Leave the weirdo alone, JJ. You know how he gets."
"You mean how he runs to the principal? Yeah, I remember."
"I was a freshman," Rudy mumbled. "Besides, my arm was broken."
"Yes, but that was your own fault for peeking in the girls' locker room."
"He's right, Rudy," Voskuil chimed in. "Asshat move, Rudy."
Rudy looked away. The cops were still swarming and the coffee cups were still coming and going. He decided he wasn't going to get to see much more, and he definitely was not enjoying talking to Andy and JJ, so he began backing his bike out of the cluster of students. He suddenly realized he had forgotten why he had even bothered to come here.
Then he remembered, and he felt that sweet ache swelling in his pants.
He wondered when the next home game would be played. He would definitely be babysitting again. Jana could definitely work with that.
Just as he got his bike backed up and started to spin it around, JJ Jamison kicked at him and knocked him sideways on the asphalt. He lost his balance, fell with one leg over the bike, and received a blow to his groin from the force of the falling bike. Pain shot up his abdomen and he heard Andy Voskuil yelp at JJ that that had been a stupid and unnecessary thing to do. Rudy laid on his side a minute or more and then slowly began disengaging from the bicycle. He got out from under it and came up on his knees. His balls were aching and his boner was gone. It was all he could do not to throw up. Then he staggered to his feet and found himself looking straight into the eyes of JJ's girlfriend, Connie Ebersoll. She was grinning. She raised her right hand and pointed at him. "You aren't gonna be spanking that monkey for a few days," she said, and tossed her head back and laughed.
JJ reached behind her and squeezed a handful of ass, which did not go unnoticed by Rudy.
So. That's how it's done when they belong to you.
You just grab them and feel them.
He memorized the look of hysterical joy on Connie's pretty, cheerleader face. He would definitely be seeing her again.
Everyone loved the cheerleaders and Rudy was no exception.
Rudy backed his bicycle completely around and found himself staring into headlights on bright. He shaded his eyes.
Then his heart jumped into his throat.
* * *
THEY HIT their red-and-blue lights and Rudy froze. He heard the car being shifted into park and he watched the two large men get out. One was enormous, black, and reaching inside his coat.
"Rudy? We'd like to talk to you."
"Why me?"
"We've got someone in our car who says they saw you."
Just then the cops showed their badges and Rudy's heart skipped a beat.
Rudy shaded his eyes and tried to see inside the cop car. But he couldn't. The headlights--purposely on bright--left him blinded and unable to look inside. So he stood, straddling his bike, remembering his story.
"Were you at the game tonight?" said the giant cop.
"No."
"Where were you tonight?"
"I was babysitting."
"Where was that?"
"With the Roth twins. Simon and Samuel."
"Where do they live?"
Rudy pointed. "About a block that way. I can take you there."
"How old are the twins?"
"Nine."
"You sure you were
n't here earlier tonight? Even for just a few minutes?"
Rudy held up both hands. "Sorry, I don't know who you want, but I wasn't here. Swear to God."
"We have someone in the car says you were here. Says you were seen coming past the ticket booth. You deny that?"
"Hell yes, I deny that. That's a flat out lie!"
"Can you prove you weren't here?"
"Can you prove I was? I'm innocent until proven guilty."
The cops exchanged a look.
"Maybe. Maybe not."
At just that moment, Marcel's truck pulled in behind the cop car. He had come from the jail and was trying to track down Jana. Marcel climbed out and walked up to the cop car. Sure enough, there in the backseat sat Jana, looking to all the world like some orphan whose parents had disappeared. Small, withdrawn, and hunched down, he was peering over the front seats, watching the confrontation between the cops and Rudy. Marcel tapped on the window. Jana looked over and his face lit up.
"Can you hear me?" Marcel shouted at the window.
"Yes!"
"I'm here to take you home!”
"I'm ready!"
"I'll talk to the officers!"
Marcel approached the detectives and cleared his throat. Valencia turned to talk to him.
"I'm Marcel Rainford. I'm Michael Gresham's assistant and investigator. Jana rode with me to the game tonight and I'm here to take him home."
"One second," said Valencia. "I need to ask him something."
The two men returned to the rear of the car and Valencia unlocked the rear door. Jana climbed out and stood there stretching.
"Oh," he said. “Free at last.”
"Have you gotten a good look at the kid?" Valencia asked, indicating Rudy.
"Yes. That's the guy I saw."
"You're sure of that?"
"Positive. Same guy exactly."
"Okay. You can leave with your dad's investigator. And thanks for helping us out tonight."
"Did I have a choice? You people arrested me."
"We are looking for a killer. It wouldn't be unusual to take in a suspect on a previous case for questioning. Please understand where we're coming from."
Marcel said, "Has it occurred to you yet that your Rudy guy just might also be the same guy who killed Amy Tanenbaum? Has it occurred to you that Jana just ain't your guy?"
Legal Thriller: Michael Gresham: Secrets Girls Keep: A Courtroom Drama (Michael Gresham Legal Thriller Series Book 2) Page 10
