The Chicago Way

by Michael Harvey

  “Someone like you, maybe?”

  “Maybe. No one ever knows who is running what in the office. So, of course, everyone tries to get an angle, cook up the next big case. A lot of bullshit.”

  Bennett leaned his mouth down to his glass and took another hit on his drink. His eyes moved around the room and back to mine. The prosecutor smiled, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped his face.

  “I don’t do well at these things,” he said. “Haven’t had hair since high school and didn’t look good then.”

  “You make your living in front of a jury, Bennett.”

  “Completely different animal. I’m in control there.”

  A couple cruised by. Bennett Davis smiled a hello and continued talking out of the side of his mouth.

  “Out here, I’m working without a script.”

  “One more business thing, Bennett. Then we put it away.”

  “Sure.”

  “I ran across an old rape case you worked. Victim’s name was Elaine Remington. Ring a bell?”

  “Remington, huh? Can’t say that it does. How old is it?”

  “Nine years,” I said.

  Bennett shook his head.

  “Goddamn, Michael. Nine years ago. Did we go to trial?”

  “No.”

  “Pled out, huh? Sorry, pal.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t a plea, either. More like the suspect just disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Yeah. Forget about it. Just saw your name on a piece of paperwork and thought you might remember.”

  “Not a problem. Tell you what, I’ll look it up on Monday. See if I have anything in the files.”

  Beyond Bennett, I could see Nicole and caught her eye. She took Rodriguez by the hand and started over.

  “Nicole’s heading over,” I said.

  Bennett craned his neck around for a look.

  “Where?”

  “Right behind you. Walking across the room.”

  The prosecutor’s head snapped forward.

  “Shit. She with someone?”

  “Bennett.”

  “Is she with someone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I gotta go.”

  Bennett Davis finished his drink, slid away from the bar and into the shadows. I’d say one thing. For a portly fellow, the assistant DA could really slither when he had to.

  Chapter 32

  “Why the rush?”

  Diane had returned from wherever. Just in time to see the back of Bennett Davis’ bald spot.

  “Long story,” I said. “By the way, are we a couple tonight?”

  “What do you think? Say hi to Nicole.”

  A group of chattering men drifted away. Nicole moved into the void and drew close.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she whispered. Then she hugged Diane, pulled back, and looked at both of us in that “I approve of this coupling” sort of way. Rodriguez loitered to Nicole’s left: smooth, chilled, and waiting to be opened.

  “Vince,” I said and offered a hand.

  “Nice to see you again, Kelly.”

  The handshake was dry, the look sincere. I wanted to hate the guy. He was making it difficult. Nicole introduced the detective to Diane.

  “I know this face,” Rodriguez said. “Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Lindsay.”

  “Feeling’s mutual, Detective Rodriguez. I certainly have heard the stories.”

  Everyone laughed at that except me. I wondered what the stories were about Rodriguez, and why I didn’t know anything about them. The conversation moved right on past.

  “Did you meet Judge Swenson?” Nicole said.

  “I saw her on the way in,” I said. “Rather, she picked me out of a crowd. Thanks a lot.”

  Nicole laughed.

  “You’re not hard to describe, Michael. When we were growing up, his nickname in the neighborhood was Irish. Big ears, crooked smile.”

  “Isn’t that cute,” Diane chimed in. “Do tell us more.”

  Nicole was about to oblige when Rachel Swenson mercifully moved to the podium and adjusted the mic. The crowd grew quiet, and the judge began to speak.

  “There are more than one hundred million women in the United States. Almost twenty percent of them, roughly eighteen million, have been raped. The majority of those, more than once.

  “You have a daughter getting ready for college. Consider this. One out of every four students can expect to be attacked by the time she graduates. Of that number, eighty percent will know their attacker.

  “Overall, this country sees more than eight hundred thousand sexual assaults each year. That’s thirteen times higher than Great Britain. Twenty times higher than Japan.

  “During the two hours we gather here tonight, more than one hundred and fifty women will be assaulted. During the minute and a half I’ve been speaking, two women, somewhere in this country, have been violated.

  “Do we have a problem, ladies and gentlemen? I think so.”

  Rachel stepped back from the podium and the crowd simply breathed. No applause, no chatter. Just a lot of quiet. I wasn’t sure what the tuxedoes expected, but this wasn’t your typical Gold Coast fund-raiser. The judge moved back to the mic.

  “Thank you, everyone, for coming. My name is Rachel Swenson. I am the chairperson for the Rape Volunteer Association and your host for the night.”

  Chapter 33

  “What do you think?”

  Rachel Swenson was wrapping up her talk when Diane moved close, a cup of ice in hand.

  “I think it’s powerful.”

  “You should see some of the interviews I’ve got.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Diane jiggled some ice into her mouth and crunched down.

  “I believe you, Michael. I’m just not quite sure if you’d approve.”

  “Of your interviews?”

  “Of the content. The confessions. Woman sits in front of my camera and explains how she gutted her husband like a fish. Man raped her every night for a lifetime. That is, when he wasn’t raping her children. Self-defense? Revenge? Most of these women would tell you it doesn’t really matter. As long as the guy is dead.”

  “You’re a journalist, Diane. How does it make you feel?”

  “At first it bothered me.”

  “Bennett appears to be giving you some cover.”

  “That’s true. Even so, as I listen, as I get to know the women, I see their point.”

  “You could pick up the knife yourself?”

  “Didn’t say that. But I can see it. At least from where they sit.”

  “Those tapes would make one hell of a story.”

  “Maybe,” Diane said. “But that’s not going to happen.”

  Then she leaned over and kissed me softly.

  “Enough of that. It gives me a headache. This is nice tonight. I like it.”

  “Like what?” I said.

  “This. Being here. With you. Your friends. It feels good. Feels a little bit like home.”

  She spoke the final words reluctantly, with a haunting sort of sadness; delicate, yet indelibly etched in the cast of her features. A sadness that trembled at the precipice of some deep well I could guess at but probably preferred not to. Diane slipped her hand in mine.

  “I have to call the station. After that, let’s go.”

  I nodded. She kissed me again, lightly on the forehead, then the cheek. I watched her melt into the crowd. There was something going on in this relationship. I just wished someone would clue me in as to what it might be.

  “Hey.”

  I turned. Nicole drew an arm through mine and we headed across the ballroom floor.

  “What did you think of the night?” she said.

  “What am I supposed to think?”

  We found an empty spot, near a set of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a river of headlights flowing north and south along Lake Shore Drive.

  “I wanted you here,” Nicole said. “I wanted you to underst
and.”

  “You thinking of telling your story, Nicole?”

  She moved away from the window. I held out an arm to stop her, but she didn’t need it.

  “Not to worry, Michael. This girl isn’t talking.”

  “It’s all right, you know.”

  “Is it?”

  “Diane told me about her project.”

  “The interviews?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She asked me a couple of times if I wanted to participate. Just like that. Didn’t ask if I’d been assaulted. Just seemed to know and moved right to it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. She’s a sharp one, Michael. If I were you, I’d keep her.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Seriously, what exactly could be wrong with that woman? She’s smart as hell. Drop-dead gorgeous. Down-to-earth. Funny. Dedicated. Want me to keep going?”

  “A little too intense, maybe?”

  “The commitment thing, Michael. It’s really a problem.”

  “It’s not a commitment thing, Nicole. I like her. Okay. Maybe I’ll like her a lot. Let’s just wait and see.”

  “You wait too long, the world moves right on by.”

  Nicole stepped close and drew both arms around my waist.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I’m being a pain, but I just love you. A lot. I know you hate to hear that, but I do and I always will.”

  “I don’t hate to hear it, Nicole.”

  “Okay, you like it.”

  “Didn’t say that, either.”

  “Damn, we have some great talks.”

  She laughed. I laughed.

  “I’m happy, Nicole. Not incredibly happy. Not yet. But that’s going to be there. I just want it to be real. To be right. Most of all, I guess I want to deserve it. You understand?”

  “No.”

  “But you trust me.”

  “Unfathomably and irrationally so.”

  “Good. Now tell me about our friend Detective Rodriguez.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Truth?”

  Nicole stepped back and gave me a single nod.

  “I think he’s the one,” I said.

  “How did you know?”

  “I just know.”

  My friend looked away, out over Lake Shore Drive, into the jeweled and beating heart of the world’s greatest city. Believe it or not, I actually had a handkerchief to offer.

  “Thanks. The makeup is going to run.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Happy will do that to you.”

  “Yeah, it’s all of that. I never would have believed it. But it’s amazing.”

  I gave her a minute.

  “Been a long run, Michael.”

  “Think it’s coming together?”

  “I do,” she said.

  We began to walk. Slow and nice.

  “By the way,” I said, “Bennett was asking about you. Again.”

  “I didn’t see him.”

  “Does he know about Rodriguez?”

  “He does now.” Nicole smiled. “Bennett’s sweet.”

  “Like I said, obsessed. In a good way.”

  “You jealous, Michael?”

  Nicole tried to grab the back of my tux, but I moved away, drifted down toward the lobby. I could see Rodriguez at the bar and Diane just beyond. I felt relaxed, maybe too much so, and a bit disconnected. I wondered how this was really playing for me. It would be interesting to find out.

  “What are you guys doing afterward?” Nicole said.

  “Not sure. Maybe a late dinner, drinks. You game?”

  Nicole shook her head.

  “Vince has got early duty tomorrow and I’m swamped. By the way, I haven’t forgotten about you. I ran a DNA extraction on that shirt. Should have something soon.”

  “You have time?”

  “It’s a little crazy right now, but I can get it done. Got some strange stuff going on in the lab these days.”

  “How so?”

  “Some things I can talk about. Some I just can’t.”

  I turned to face my friend.

  “Go for it.”

  “Right now?”

  “Why not.”

  “Okay. Vince and I did a workup of unsolved sexual assaults over the past five years. We have targeted seven assaults on the North Side, all home invasions, all within two miles of one another.”

  “Same MO?”

  “Pretty close. Attacker keeps his face hidden, so we have no suspect description. The one you rolled on with me the other night … ”

  “Miriam Hope?”

  “Right. She’s part of the group.”

  “DNA?”

  “None so far. Miriam’s our best bet. I’m running her bedsheets right now. If the rapist cried, he may have left some tears. It’s a shot.”

  “This is just you and Vince right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. Now, what can’t you talk about?”

  “The twelve-year-old….”

  “Jennifer Cole?”

  “Yeah. I ran the semen we found in the alley….”

  “And?”

  “Can’t talk about it.”

  “But you want to.”

  “I need to.”

  “How do we do this?” I said.

  “I don’t know yet. Give me a little time.”

  I shrugged. Nicole squeezed my hand.

  “I gotta run,” she said. “Thanks again for coming tonight. Thanks for the talk. Means everything, Michael.”

  I gave her a final hug just as Diane drifted over. We moved through the Drake’s revolving doors and into the October night that was Chicago. I took a final look back and caught my oldest friend’s eye. Nicole began to wave, but a couple passed between us. When the path cleared, she was gone.

  I searched the lobby and found her a few feet away, turned at an angle, talking to Bennett Davis. Rodriguez was nowhere to be seen. I smiled. As the Irish say, everyone loves a trier.

  I moved onto the street and into a cab. Diane and I had a late dinner at Gibson’s. It was nice but not quite real. We were eating the meal and drinking the drinks, telling the stories and grinning the grins, feeling the part, but not quite.

  I had the cabbie drop Diane off at her apartment. Then I went home alone. An hour later I was fighting to stay awake and failing miserably. In that moment of clarity just before sleep, I thought of Nicole, alone in her lab, working through the night and into the next day’s dawn. I wanted to get up, wanted to keep her company. Instead I fell into a cold slumber, a heavy sort of quiet pressing down and stretching toward the darkness.

  Chapter 34

  Fingers of gray light crept through my window and across the bedroom floor. Outside and below I could hear the small voices of morning: a door slamming, then a garbage truck as it moved through an alley. I thought about getting up, maybe a cup of coffee and the paper. The truck shifted gears and moved off, its rumble drifting me back to sleep. Then the phone rang. Caller ID said ILLINOIS STATE POLICE LAB. I picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Michael, it’s Nicole. Did I wake you up?”

  “Just getting up. Why are you down there so early?”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I came down to the lab. Thought I’d work on your samples before anyone else got in.”

  “Probably not a bad idea.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Why?”

  “We got a profile.”

  “From Elaine’s shirt?”

  “Yes.”

  I could feel a tingle at the back of my neck and a bit of heat moving up toward my temples.

  “Can you identify it?”

  “I ran it through CODIS at a little after three this morning. Got a match.”

  I was already half-dressed and reached for a pen and paper.

  “I’m on my way. Give me the name of the guy.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “How do you me
an?”

  “Remember last night when I told you about Jennifer?”

  “You didn’t tell me anything about Jennifer.”

  “Yeah, well, all the stuff I didn’t tell you about, it just got a whole lot worse.”

  “Because of Elaine’s shirt?”

  “Michael, you better get down here. Right now.”

  Chapter 35

  I got to the lab at a little after seven a.m. Parked in a lot that was empty save for Nicole’s silver Cherokee. The front doors were locked. The lobby beyond appeared to be empty. I tried Nicole’s cell phone but got no answer. Shit. I moved around the side of the building, wondering if there was another entrance. Nothing.

  I walked along the back of the building now. The El ran close by. I tried Nicole’s cell again. Still nothing.

  My heart rate ticked up a bit, and I felt for the gun clipped to my waist. A line of dark red streaked along the cement to my left and up into a rusted set of girders. I knelt down and ran my hand across the stain. Still wet.

  In the distance I could hear the rumble of an approaching train. I moved underneath the tracks. Quickly now, the rumble grew. The ground shook, the approaching train threatening to block out any other reality. I swung between a second set of girders.

  Nicole was lying on her back, head tilted, mouth open, the only sound the train as it roared overhead. Around her throat was a necklace of bright red, sweating heavily every time she took a breath, soaking the University of Chicago sweatshirt she wore underneath. I knew enough to know it was arterial blood. Probably a straight razor, used from behind. I knew enough to know that no tourniquet, CPR, or first aid would save my friend’s life. Instead I just held her close. Her eyes tracked mine. She didn’t try to speak, just focused on me, accepted her fate. Within a minute or so, the light began to fade. She squeezed my hand once, then slipped away, quietly, in the early morning, under the El tracks.

  I placed her back down on the ground and thought about all the times we never had, all the things I never said, all the things most people probably think of—way too much to contemplate and way too late in the game. Then I pulled out my cell phone and punched in 911. I held Nicole until I heard the first ambulance. Then I put her down for the last time, walked away, and wondered when I was going to cry.

  Chapter 36