Twisted: Nick Stryker Series, Book Two The Shallow End Gals

by Vicki Graybosch

  * * *

  Jen and Wayne were reviewing ballistic reports on the hits that were tied to Baxter. Nick had secured the homicide files for the same victims. Some had been delivered from the cold case file unit. Nick was convinced there was a witness buried somewhere in the case boxes that could identify the shooter. Nobody is perfect and this shooter had to make mistakes. Attorney Baxter’s bank records clearly demonstrated he was making money outside of his legal practice. More than likely it was the reason he had been killed. Find the motive, find the killer.

  Jen walked over with a list. “Eight of the Baxter hits were done with the rifle that shot Reggie Lomas.”

  Nick quickly pushed his chair from the desk to lean back. “Lomas? He was the only one not mobbed up. Karen Lomas did not pay Baxter any money. But Baxter’s hit man killed Reggie Lomas?”

  Wayne walked over to Nick’s desk. “As crazy as it sounds, our first idea might have been right.”

  “Lomas was a mistake.”

  Jen was staring at her computer monitor. “You guys are starting to convince me. New topic: come look at this camera image from the Starke hit. The surveillance camera across the street took this. Starke is leaning heavily into the wall there, probably just got shot. See that flash up in the corner of this picture?”

  Nick smiled, “Sniper flash. We need to locate a camera to show us that other angle.”

  Jen smiled, “That’s not all, look at this.” She clicked on another tab at the top of her screen and pulled up a different video. “This is footage from the Miller shooting seven months ago. Miller falling backwards…look up there.”

  Wayne yelled, “Sniper flash. Why didn’t they see these before?”

  Jen shrugged, “The 109th just sent this stuff over this morning from cold case. I think it just got missed.”

  Nick’s phone at his desk rang, “Yeah?” Nick glanced at Jen as he stood. “Chief wants me again.”

  Nick found Agent Phillips in the Chief’s office. Nick’s Chief had a half smile on his face. “We have an issue we need to deal with.”

  Nick said, “Okay,” as he lowered himself in a chair.

  His Chief continued, “I got a call from the Mayor’s office. Seems someone there wants you publically punished for the destruction you caused on Michigan Street yesterday.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow, “Punished? What did I do?”

  The Chief cleared his throat and read from a paper, “Ninety grand estimate for repairing hole in the middle of Michigan Street. Thirty grand reimbursement to city’s bond company for the cost of four storefront windows, and 50 grand repair to an iron gate at the alley next to Newman’s.”

  Agent Phillips snickered at Nick’s expression. “Your conversation with Dom had immediate impact. Obviously someone in the mayor’s office has ties to Dom. I’ll be following up on that. It was suggested that your Chief need only inflict a three day penalty. That protects you from anything negative entering your personnel file, and it still gives them something for the newspaper.”

  Nick looked at his Chief. “Is this serious? Dom calls the Mayor’s office and gets me punished for helping at a crime scene?”

  The Chief answered, “More than likely Dom called a ‘friendly’ at the Mayor’s office and demanded something negative happen to you fast. He wants to send you a message. The Mayor’s office has already released a statement to the newspapers that you faced a penalty hearing today. This is the penalty hearing.”

  Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So, this isn’t anything real, we’re just appeasing the mob?”

  Agent Phillips interrupted, “Oh, this is real. We now know Dom still has someone in the Mayor’s office. Your visit with him moved him to make this request. Dom made a mistake. This will come back and bite him.”

  The Chief smiled, “I’ll let you pick your own punishment. What can you do without for three days?”

  Nick went back to the squad room where Jen and Wayne looked at him expectantly. Nick said, “The Mayor’s office has put out a newspaper report that I’m being punished for the collateral damage at the robbery yesterday.” Nick smiled, “This is revenge for ticking off Dom two hours ago. At least I got to pick my own punishment.”

  Jen rolled her eyes, “Can’t wait to hear this.”

  Nick said, “No grenades for three days.”

  Wayne roared. Sam and Jen just shook their heads.

  CHAPTER 10

  Wednesday 11:00 am

  The note said ‘Be ready to leave at 8 pm. There is a watch in the pants pocket’. He sat on the toilet while he dug into the pockets of the pants and found the watch. 11 a. m. Next to the shower was a tray of three sandwiches and two glasses of juice. He moaned as he devoured the first sandwich. His legs were shaky, but he couldn’t resist the lure of a hot shower. He reached for the safety grab bar and pulled himself in. He couldn’t stand any longer and sat naked on the cold tiles of the floor. He reached up and turned on the water. Once the temperature was hot, he scooted over to be under the water spray, grabbed the soap and winced at how frail his body looked.

  Ryan entered the room, locked the door behind him and peeked into the bathroom. “Good, you’re up. Spend the afternoon trying to exercise your legs. You’re going to have to walk some tonight.”

  Whatever drugs they had been giving him must have been very powerful. The simplest of thoughts seemed to vaporize in seconds. He looked at Ryan, “What’s my name? Where am I? Who are you?”

  Ryan exhaled, “They’re holding you prisoner. I’ll tell you everything when we get out of here. I have to leave now.”

  * * *

  Travis Cummings stopped at the iron gate, so the guard could check his identification. The guard filled out a visitor ID for him. Travis studied the map of the campus from the brochure the guard had given him. He had assumed there would just be one building for administration. It appeared from the map there were a dozen buildings scattered across the 150 acre complex.

  Travis looked at the guard and asked, “Where would I find Dr. Elmhurst?”

  The guard flipped a few pages on his clipboard and then answered, “He’s the administrator for Building D. Drive clear to the back.”

  The gate opened and Travis followed the service road back to Building D. He could think of any number of places he would rather be this morning. He grabbed his briefcase that had his reports of the history of payments in case Dr. Elmhurst tried to claim there had been some new agreement. Inside, a large bronze sign showed Dr. Elmhurst’s office was on the first floor, Section A.

  A pleasant looking woman approached him. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for Dr. Elmhurst. Could you direct me to his office?”

  Renee answered, “I’ll walk you there. When you are ready to leave, have Dr. Elmhurst page either Renee or Ryan. You don’t want to be unescorted.”

  Travis thought she was being overly dramatic. As they made their way to Dr. Elmhurst’s office, he quickly changed his mind. People peeked at them from partially opened doors. Some made noises and pointed at him, some began to follow them. Two people ran crisscross from door to door in the hallway; slamming doors behind them, only to peek out a moment later.

  Renee said, “It’s a game they play when they’re in a good mood.”

  Travis nodded and clutched his briefcase closer to his chest. Odd singing crept through the air and mixed with occasional yelps. A rhythmic clanging could be heard behind the closed door labeled ‘Kitchen’. There wasn’t enough money in Chicago for him to work here. They turned to the left and at the end of the hall Travis saw a door with Dr. Elmhurst’s name on it.

  “Thank you for the escort.”

  Renee walked away and Travis knocked on the door as he opened it. He wasn’t in the mood to afford Dr. Elmhurst any social courtesies. Dr. Elmhurst sat at his desk. A man stood across the room looking out the window.

  Travis announced, “I am Travis Cummings and we have an issue that must be resolved this morning.”

  Dr
. Elmhurst gestured for Travis to take a seat. Billow turned from the window. Travis stared at them both. “Well? Why haven’t you returned my calls? This is not an optional fee we have discussed. I have brought reports to remind you that this has been paid every month long before you obtained employment here three years ago.” Travis started to reach in his briefcase and Dr. Elmhurst stopped him.

  “It won’t be necessary to produce any documents. I have to confess that we have had a lot of problems here, not the least of which are some delays in receiving our state funding. Now that we are speaking in person, remind me what this fee is for.”

  Travis couldn’t believe his ears. Was this man crazy? “It’s your percentage that’s paid for ‘protection’. The mob, get it? You wouldn’t have been awarded this contract from the state without them. What did you think it was? You’ve been signing the monthly checks and mailing them to me for three years.” Travis didn’t need the aggravation of Dr. Elmhurst playing innocent. He wanted the money.

  Dr. Elmhurst glanced at Billow. Billow had raised his eyebrows at the mention of the mob. That was trouble they didn’t need.

  Dr. Elmhurst unlocked the bottom drawer exposing a large amount of cash. “What is the amount we owe, Mr. Cummings?”

  Travis answered, “It hasn’t changed since last month.” Now he was beyond annoyed. “Seventy grand that you should have paid three weeks ago and another 70 due next week.”

  Dr. Elmhurst grabbed four large piles of cash from the bottom drawer. He had just placed his half of the money from Alex there less than an hour ago.

  “Let’s count this out and take care of next month too.” Dr. Elmhurst counted ten thousand to return to the drawer, and counted out the remaining 140 grand for Travis. “I’m most embarrassed that you needed to make a personal appearance. I assure you this will not happen again. May I make a photocopy of your visitor pass in order to verify to security that you arrived safely?”

  Travis stuffed the money in his briefcase, handed over his visitor pass and asked, “Could you have Renee escort me out?”

  Billow stepped away from the wall, “I’ll escort you to your car.”

  Billow returned to Dr. Elmhurst’s office ten minutes later. He sat opposite of the desk and leaned back. “I’m guessing you wanted his visitor pass so you could get his address.”

  Dr. Elmhurst chuckled, “45 Dalton Street. Expensive address. He’s probably king of his little townhouse neighborhood. Wonder if any of his neighbors suspect he’s all mobbed up?”

  Dr. Elmhurst knew he would have to convince Billow he had done the right thing by giving up the cash. “The last thing we need is the mob in our business. Giving him this cash just bought us another 30 days. If I double up on pills for Alex we can make 600 grand a week. I say we made a good deal.” Dr. Elmhurst sighed, “You probably need to plan on being completely independent of this place within 30 days. That’s when I plan to leave and all hell will break loose.”

  Billow thought letting Cummings keep the cash was stupid. There was only so much the mob could do. The only contact the mob had was with Elmhurst. The mob wasn’t his problem. Billow decided he’d get that money before Cummings could give it to the mob.

  Billows asked, “Is that ID for me ready yet? I’m getting tired of crawling in and out of your trunk.”

  Dr. Elmhurst opened the center drawer. “Got it yesterday.”

  He slid it over and Billow pinned it to his jacket. Elmhurst had simply ordered a replacement state ID through the state’s printing contractor and had it mailed.

  Billow smiled, “I’m going to test this with the guard and borrow your car.”

  Dr. Elmhurst had reservations, but tossed his keys across the desk. “When you get to the guard, just look impatient. Have my car back by six.”

  “I can do that.”

  After easily making it past the guard Billow pushed the car to the speed limit. If he was lucky, he could catch up with Cummings’ car and not get stopped by authorities. He drove for almost five miles and hadn’t seen Cummings’ car yet. The ‘Ride Share’ lot was just ahead. He pulled in next to the blue van and parked. After switching vehicles he proceeded to head toward town. The rifle peeked out from under the passenger seat. A new box of ammo beckoned him to play.

  Finally Billow saw the silver BMW weaving between lanes trying to outmaneuver the increasing traffic congestion as they neared the city. Billow smiled as the BMW slowed to merge around a highway construction project. He quickly caught up to Cummings and followed a few cars behind.

  Billow had all afternoon to get that money. The information he found on Stryker from his computer had been copied to a small notebook in his breast pocket. After he took care of Cummings he could start crafting his plan for Stryker. By the time authorities pieced things together, he would be out of the country and living the good life as Dr. John Bates.

  * * *

  Lacey and Kamber stood in the large hallway of the Liberal Arts building and waited for Martin’s lecture to finish. It had been years since Lacey had been on the campus. She couldn’t believe how much things had changed. Thankfully, the south campus where Martin’s office was located still looked the same. Lacey worried about Kamber navigating the city’s transit and bus system to get there.

  “You know, we need to get Nick’s advice as to the safest way for you to get around. I’m not comfortable turning you loose in this city until you know it better.”

  Kamber watched a young man walk toward them. She had barely listened to Lacey. “Whatever you say is fine.” Kamber smiled at Lacey and Lacey knew she had just been politely dismissed.

  The young man stopped at Martin’s door and asked Kamber, “Are you Kamber Fry?”

  Startled, Kamber answered, “Yes.”

  The young man nodded, “Professor Stryker asked me to be here and see if we might work on a documentary project together. I’m Chad Wilson.”

  Kamber was so excited she couldn’t quit smiling. Her first assignment and it was a documentary. Chad and Kamber quickly began to assess each other’s equipment knowledge and expertise. Lacey enjoyed watching their animated exchange. Chad was pleasant and seemed very bright, but Lacey suspected he was going to find Kamber a challenge to keep up with. It was decided that Chad had more technical experience, but admittedly lacked the creative elements possessed by Kamber.

  Martin’s students poured out from the classroom and Lacey, Kamber and Chad went in. Martin gave Lacey a hug and shook Kamber’s hand. He reviewed the documents Kamber had prepared and finally looked at the two young students and smiled.

  “Before you leave here, I want to know you have a plan. This assignment is already a week old, so you are behind the bus on this. Pick an issue for a short documentary. The assignment is only going to require a 15 minute film, but it must show off your technical skills and deliver a powerful social message.” Martin watched as Chad shrugged and glanced at Kamber.

  Kamber quickly took the lead. “I would like to focus on runaways in Chicago, or the homeless.”

  Chad’s face brightened. “Either one works for me!”

  Martin directed his next comment to Lacey, “These topics will lure these two into the underbelly of the city.”

  Lacey felt her stomach sink. If this is what motherhood feels like, she wanted no part of it. Lacey looked at Kamber, “You don’t know the first thing about the real Chicago. Maybe a story about Navy Pier or the museums would be a better start.”

  Chad touched Kamber’s arm before she could respond. Chad offered, “I’ve lived here all of my life and I know how to read the neighborhoods and the people. We can be very careful and I have my own car. Please?”

  * * *

  Frankie listened to Artie talk about how he was going to help some lady he kept calling ‘Momma’ take blankets and pillows to the tunnel people tonight. Evidently some non-profit had collected the items for the community. Because the location of the community had to be kept secret, they could not deliver them. Frankie couldn’t understand Artie�
�s motives. Who cares? Artie had been rambling for about ten minutes thinking that Frankie was listening. Frankie was trying to decide the best place to take Artie to kill him.

  Artie suddenly asked, “You didn’t answer me. Have you decided what we should do with that head?”

  Pounding at the front door shattered the silence. Frankie moaned as he slowly rose from his chair and walked over to open the door. A cop, in a suit.

  The man held up a badge, “Agent Miller, FBI. I’m here to do a parole compliance check on Artie Corsone.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Wednesday 3:00 p.m.

  He had fallen asleep directly after his shower. Ryan had told him to exercise but the influence of the drugs had made it impossible. Now he was staring at the tattoo on his forearm with pride. It was the only information he had as to his identity. The drugs he had been given made him feel as if he were in a dream. Fragmented memories of his life were quickly pushed aside as a hallucinated army of beetles charged toward him to attack. They oozed from the walls and raced toward his cot only to vanish one second before reaching him.

  He tried to drink some of the juice that his captor had brought. His tongue felt numb and made it difficult to swallow. Juice poured from the corners of his mouth and stained his shirt. Extreme exhaustion beckoned him back to the cot even though greater demons waited for him there. He fought falling asleep. He remembered he was supposed to exercise his legs. He was getting out tonight; he had to be ready.

  His head pounded, his eyelids dropped and then refused to open. He would exercise later. He had time.

  * * *

  Travis Cummings glanced over to his passenger seat at the bulging briefcase. He was stuck in construction traffic, but proud of himself for collecting Dom’s money. It needed to get into Dom’s account as soon as possible. He suddenly realized he couldn’t deposit 140 thousand dollars in cash without a lot of questions. Questions he didn’t want to answer. Travis fumbled his fingers around in the console until he found his hidden pack of cigarettes. He cracked his window open and took a long drag. He would have to take the cash directly to Dom.