Travis couldn’t chance calling Dom from his cell phone. Not with that Detective Stryker accusing him of murder. His phone records were already going to be a problem. He would have to stop somewhere for a burner phone or deliver the cash unannounced. The prospect of just walking in to speak to Dom after Dom had told him to stay away didn’t seem smart. He would call and arrange a meeting.
At the first available exit Travis turned off from the highway. He never noticed the blue panel van behind him. Another two miles toward the city and Travis spotted a strip mall that had a liquor store sign boasting cheap prepaid phones. He pulled in, tucked a spare jacket carefully over his briefcase and locked the car. Travis impatiently waited while the clerk rang up a bottle of wine and some jerky for an old man.
Travis paid for his phone and walked toward the door just as a car horn started honking in the parking lot. He looked to the space where he had parked his car and saw that his BMW lights were flashing. His alarm had been triggered. Travis bolted to his car and found the passenger window had been shattered. His briefcase was gone. He unlocked the driver’s door and simply sat down. It wasn’t possible. He had only been gone a few minutes and he had covered his briefcase carefully. Now what? A full five minutes passed as he tried to plan his next move. He didn’t have a choice; he would have to use his own money to pay Dom. He couldn’t get the hospital to pay twice.
Travis turned the key to start the engine at the exact moment both his windshields exploded. First the rear, then the front. He couldn’t imagine what was happening. Seconds later he felt the buzz of something pass his head. He watched as the rear windshield of the car parked in front of him exploded. My God! Someone was shooting at him!
* * *
Jake Billow cursed under his breath. He had missed Cummings’ head twice. He knew he couldn’t blame the rifle, it was perfection. Billow casually drove the van back into traffic from the other side of the parking lot. No one watching would have guessed that he had anything to do with the chaos in front of the liquor store.
He should have been able to make that shot. No matter. He really didn’t need to kill Cummings anyway, he had the money. It had just seemed like a fun idea even though he preferred to shoot cops.
Before he confronted Nick he would need to spend some time at the firing range and get used to this rifle. He smiled at the dark leather briefcase sprinkled with tiny remnants of shattered glass. Next stop was to his apartment to put the cash in a safe place.
He glanced at his watch. He still had a few hours before Dr. Elmhurst would need his car. That gave him plenty of time to verify some of the internet information he had discovered about Nick.
* * *
Nick and Jen drove to 121 North LaSalle Street where the communication center for Chicago’s Office of Emergency Management was located. Operation Virtual Shield was the city’s nickname for the estimated fifteen thousand cameras connected in a fiber-optic video network loop. Operation Virtual Shield was not monitored in real time but used to recall valuable evidence when needed. A tech located the street for the dates and times of the sniper flashes from their other videos. Nick and Jen watched silently as the monitor displayed the sidewalk scenes of both shooting locations for fifteen minutes prior and then fifteen minutes after the actual shots were fired.
Nick looked at Jen. “Did you see?”
Jen shook her head, “See what?”
Nick asked the tech to play the video backwards. Nick suddenly said, “Stop right there.”
Jen leaned closer, “All I see is an old man walking to the bus stop on the corner.”
Nick looked at the tech. “Take the other video back to ten minutes after that shot.”
Jen leaned in close again. “I see an old man waiting for the bus, a couple of kids on bikes and a lady that obviously just spent her whole paycheck shopping. What am I missing?”
Nick asked, “Do you notice how rigid the old man’s right leg moves? See his arm tucked tight to his waist?”
Jen turned to face Nick. “He has a rifle in his right pant leg. He’s holding the stock with his right hand. We’re looking for an old man?”
Nick remembered what Agent Phillips had said about his mom. That she was a master of disguise. Was it possible? Nick shook the thought from his mind. Any hit man would be a master of disguise, too.
Nick sighed, “I’m not sure what we’re looking for yet.” He asked the tech to make them a copy of the videos. Nick asked, “What do you have by 45 and 54 Dalton Street Monday night around seven?”
The tech keyed in the addresses. “Cameras are concentrated in the heavy crime areas. All I have over there is a bus stop cam.”
“Let’s see it.”
The tech pulled up the available footage and stopped when Nick asked him to.
Jen smiled, “Got an old man getting on the bus. But his right knee is bent.”
Nick said, “Alexia and Baxter were shot with a pistol. Where does this bus go from here?”
The tech switched to the bus terminal schedule. “Stops over by Madison West.”
Nick smiled, “One block from Baxter’s townhouse.”
Nick’s phone rang, he looked at Jen. “Travis Cummings.” Nick answered.
Travis sounded frantic as sirens screamed in the background. “You’re going to have another homicide. Someone is trying to kill me!”
* * *
Lacey invited Chad to lunch with them at the student cafeteria. Kamber and Chad had hit it off well. Lacey could barely get a word in the conversation. Kamber had come prepared with a notebook and insisted they schedule their plan for proceeding. After deciding that addressing the homeless issue would be easier than locating runaways, Kamber and Chad abruptly stopped talking. Obviously they were both deep in thought for a next step.
Lacey seized the moment with a suggestion. “Nick has a friend that is involved in helping the homeless that live in tunnels under the city.”
Kamber jumped in excitement spilling Chad’s drink on the table.
“Sorry. Oh my gosh! We have to talk to him!” Kamber looked at Chad, “Can you imagine the film we could get from people actually living in tunnels?”
Lacey put her finger in the air to stop Kamber. “These are people. They deserve respect and privacy. I’m not so sure that your cameras would be welcome.”
Chad said, “We could talk to this guy that Nick knows and find out what they would let us do.”
Kamber clapped her hands together, “Maybe they would let us stay over a couple of nights to get the real feel of it?”
Lacey moaned. What was she going to do with this girl? “Kamber, this isn’t a pajama party. These people are living day to day trying to survive. You have no concept of the dangers they face every minute.”
Kamber looked serious. “You’re right, I don’t. Most people don’t understand because it’s all a dirty little secret. Our documentary might make them care.”
Chad looked at Kamber and said, “Wow. You really know how to get your point across. This documentary is going to be awesome.”
Lacey took out her phone and dialed Nick for Mitch’s number. She could tell from Nick’s voice he was in the middle of something and it made her feel guilty.
Nick gave her the number and said, “Don’t tell me you’re dumping me for Mitch.”
Lacey laughed, “No. Kamber thinks she wants to spend the night with the tunnel people.”
Nick took a moment before responding. “I think I need to make time to meet Kamber fairly soon.”
“I’m so glad you said that.”
* * *
Frankie stepped back to let Agent Miller into the apartment. Artie busied himself feverishly wiping the tiny countertop around the sink. Agent Miller walked in, pointed to the sofa and asked, “May I?”
Frankie nodded and said, “I’m in the middle of breakfast. You two do what you have to.”
Agent Miller glanced around looking for a blue cooler. He couldn’t believe the Bureau actually believed their tip that Artie
had brought a frozen head in a blue cooler to Frankie’s apartment last night.
Artie walked in and took a seat across from the couch. “I was told that you would be visiting soon.”
Agent Miller produced a small notebook from his pocket. “Mr. Corsone, how is it that you ended up here, sharing an apartment with Mr. Frankie Mullen? It is Mullen right?”
Miller was looking toward the kitchen at Frankie. Frankie grunted and continued to eat. His mind was racing on how to keep the cop from finding the frozen head in his freezer.
Artie smiled. “Frankie and I had been friends back in school, decades ago. I took the chance he would be willing to do me a favor and let me stay here a bit.”
Miller nodded as he wrote. “Frankie, what school was that exactly?”
Artie swallowed. Damn. This cop was smarter than he thought.
Frankie looked over his fork and answered, “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I quit school in eighth grade. He used to hang out in the hood from time to time. Artie has memory problems these days. And he stinks.”
Artie smiled. “It’s true. Sometimes I stink.”
Miller asked, “How long will you be staying at this address?”
Artie answered, “I’m thinking a year or so, right Frankie?”
“Hell no. You better give him instructions on what to do when he moves. It’ll be soon.”
Miller smiled to himself. It was refreshing not to get rehearsed answers. Miller handed Artie a printed form. “Here are the rules and conditions of your parole. Instructions on notifications are on the back in case you do move.” Miller stood, “I’m required to do a search of the premises for drugs and weapons.”
Artie frowned, “Oh, dear. I just refilled a pain prescription. I never even thought about that being a problem.”
Miller walked to the kitchen, straight to the freezer and opened the door. Frankie nearly had a stroke. He had a mouthful of scrambled eggs and spit them into a paper towel. Artie started to breathe deeply and clutch at his chest. Miller slammed the freezer door shut and started to open cabinets. “You probably should just throw that roast away. Freezer burn.”
CHAPTER 12
Wednesday 4:00 p.m.
There was no mirror above the sink. He could feel facial hair and wondered if he had always worn a beard? He ran his fingers past his forehead grateful to feel he had a full head of hair. How old was he? There was a toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink, which he used. He bit gently on his tongue again. Parts of it were still numb. His legs were still weak, but he wanted to take another shower. It seemed no amount of soap made him feel clean. If he could stand through the whole shower, he might be ready to exercise.
In the middle of his shower a name came to mind. Ryan. That’s what his captor’s name was. Was he really a captor? Tonight, Ryan was going to save him. He dressed again and began walking slowly from one side of the room to the other. It wasn’t long before he needed to rest. He sat on the toilet instead of the cot. The cot made him sleepy and he was running out of time.
* * *
Nick and Jen arrived in front of the liquor store to find Travis Cummings sitting in the back of a patrol unit. The entire strip mall had been evacuated and crime scene tape outlined the parking lot nearly to the street. A uniformed cop greeted Nick. “He won’t tell us anything but his name. He says he’ll only talk to you.”
Jen walked over to the BMW. Crime Scene Unit techs said they were finishing up. One of them held up an evidence bag. “We’ve got your two bullets. Good thing the shooter missed, these babies would have done some serious damage. Long range rifle probably shot from over there.” He pointed across the parking lot to where Billow had been parked.
Jen looked around for cameras. The tech shook his head. “If you’re looking for cameras, we’ve got three, all pointed in the wrong direction. The liquor store camera is just for show.”
Nick walked over to the patrol car to speak to Travis. “What happened?”
Travis focused on Nick’s eyes. “After I talked to you about Alexia, I checked up on you some. You’re not half bad for a cop. I trust you, is what I’m trying to say. I can tell you a lot, but I need a deal and protection. Federal, as in FBI. You won’t regret it.”
Nick nodded, shut the patrol unit door and dialed Agent Phillips. Nick relayed the message from Travis. Agent Phillips responded, “Get him back to your building before he changes his mind. If anyone sees him in your building, they will assume it’s because of his wife’s murder. I’ll meet you there with a deal. Nick, his info is for the FBI.”
“I want this, too. You can trust me.”
Agent Phillips didn’t respond right away. “If he’s willing to say what I think he is, you’re not going to be able to act on any of the information. The mob is an FBI case.”
“At least I would know what the problems are. Who knows? You might find me useful.”
Phillips was well aware of Nick’s skills. His training in the SEALs taught him to follow orders and respect authority. Phillips sighed, “Just bring him in; I’ll see what I can do.”
Nick opened the patrol unit door again and spoke to Travis, “You can ride with me. Your deal is being put together now. The FBI is going to meet us back at the station.” Nick noticed Travis shaking. “Are you alright? Do you need something?”
Travis smoothed his suit pants with his palms, probably to remove perspiration. “I’ll never be alright after today.”
* * *
Mitch hefted a large black garbage bag stuffed with blankets through the tunnel door in the basement to drop on the other side. Joseph knew to check every couple of days to see if donations had been made for the community.
Momma came up behind Mitch and startled him. “I got one more bag here.”
Mitch bumped his head in the opening. “Dang. You would make a good spy, you know? Didn’t even hear you sneak up behind me.”
Momma chuckled and handed him the bag. “I got a favor to ask. Well, actually I have two favors.”
Mitch leaned against the basement wall and said, “I know, don’t mention to anyone that Artie has a frozen head in a cooler.” Mitch rolled his eyes for comic effect.
Momma smiled, “You’re a smart boy. I just don’t want Artie gettin’ into trouble when he was just helpin’ us out.”
Mitch nodded. “Yeah, Eli and I talked about that. We figured we really didn’t see anything anyway.”
“Thanks. Nick’s girlfriend, Lacey, called. She has a niece that is going to the University to study film makin’. She and her friend want to do a documentary on the community. Could you go ask Joseph what he would allow?”
Mitch scratched his head. “What do you mean? What kind of stuff does she want to do?”
Momma handed Mitch a list. “I wrote down the things she mentioned. He can cross off any he wants.”
Mitch read the list out loud, “Interviews, filming, spending the night. Spending the night? Is she nuts?”
Momma laughed and patted Mitch’s shoulder. “You go and talk to Joseph and get back here in time for the dinner rush. From what you told me ‘bout visitin’ that place where Renee works, it sounds like the ‘community’ is practically a church!”
* * *
Renee glanced at her watch and knocked on Dr. Elmhurst’s door. At four in the afternoon he should be deep into the daily reports from yesterday. His voice beckoned her to come in and she found him standing at his window with the same few files at the corner of his desk.
“You have to admire the beauty of these grounds. Did you know that with 120 acres we have the largest facility of this type in the Midwest? Amazing.” He turned and sat at his desk. “Prime real estate this close to Chicago. A little construction to move the security wall and a lot of money could be made with an upscale housing project on the North side quite easily.” He smiled.
The guy was loony tunes. Who would want to live next to a prison for the criminally insane? Renee nodded in agreement and said, “I need about an hour to go over to
Building A and fill out some reports I missed. If you don’t mind, I want to go now so I can be back by the time our patients go to the dining room.”
“You know, I think there is a little creek over on that side, too. That always bumps the price up. Sorry, you asked about Building A? Go ahead, we’re fine here.”
Renee made a quick half smile and left the office. She clutched her purse close to her side as she made her way to her car. Inside her purse was a list of all of the passwords to get into Building D’s administrative records and communications with the state. She had found them stuck in the break room cubby marked ‘Nancy’. It seems the previous nurse had some questions about Building D, too. Renee pulled in front of Building A and parked. Even the landscaping showed more life on this side of the campus.
Renee made her way to the Administration office and knocked on Tyler’s door. Tyler yelled, “Come in.”
When he saw Renee he jumped up and ran over to give her a hug. “I knew you’d be back. God, we missed you!”
Renee started to cry. Tyler backed up and then shut his office door. “What’s wrong?”
Renee composed herself with sheer will. “You’re going to help me find out what’s going on in Building D.” She told Tyler what she had witnessed and pushed copies of the papers she had confiscated across his desk. “I’ll check out half and you take half. I can work on mine tonight at home. Will you help me?”
Tyler recognized a list of security codes for Building D’s Administrative and state reports. “I…. we could get fired over this. What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know. For one, we don’t have any narcotics. If I need something for a patient, Dr. Elmhurst says he’ll see to it.” Renee was having trouble defining exactly what troubled her so much. “I know he has staff from Buildings B and C helping, but wouldn’t I see someone eventually? I’ve been there three weeks! Please trust me. Something is very wrong.”
Twisted: Nick Stryker Series, Book Two The Shallow End Gals Page 9
