At Large

by C. M. Sutter

  I gathered my notes and made a call to Lutz’s office to make sure he was there. “We need to go over things before I leave for the day.”

  “Sure thing, Jesse. I’m going to stick around, anyway, until I hear back from Brownsville. Come on in.”

  I left my desk and, at the third office on the left side of the hallway, rapped on Bob’s door.

  “Come in.” He closed out whatever he was looking at on his computer and motioned to the guest chair. “Sit.”

  I did, although I would have preferred to pace. I’d been sitting and waiting in a holding pattern for the majority of the Morton case.

  “I take it you haven’t heard back from Brownsville yet?”

  “Not yet, and it’s been forty-five minutes.” Bob tipped his chin at the folder I’d placed in front of me on his desk. “What have you got?”

  I huffed. “A copy of Luca Vasquez’s police jacket. He spent four years in the pen for several offenses, one being forging travel documents.”

  A wide grin spread across Lutz’s face. He rubbed his hands together briskly then mimicked a noose being pulled tightly around his neck. “John and Curt are going down, and it’s all because the Vasquez brothers killed Tina for their sister. Every bread crumb we uncover will lead us right to John and Curt Vance.”

  “I think we have enough circumstantial evidence to get search warrants for both Mauricio and Antonio’s apartments.”

  Lutz wrote that down just as his desk phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Restricted. It’s got to be Brownsville.” Grabbing a sheet of paper from the printer tray behind him, he answered and was ready to write. “Commander Bob Lutz speaking. How can I help you? Yes, go ahead, and I’m putting you on Speakerphone so my lead homicide detective, Jesse McCord, can listen in.”

  “Thank you, Commander, and hello, Detective McCord.”

  I responded with a hello.

  “My name is Cal Morrow, and I’m the lieutenant that was called in once my men made entry into the Vasquez home.”

  “Is Luca Vasquez in custody?” Lutz gave me a thumbs-up.

  “You can say that.”

  I frowned. “What exactly does that mean, sir?”

  “He is in the custody of the coroner. My men found him in his home with his throat slit wide open. It was a bloody, brutal scene, and it looked like he tried to fight off his attacker. There weren’t signs of forced entry, and the front door was unlocked, as if he let his murderer in.”

  I squeezed my temples. We couldn’t catch a break. “So he knew his attacker or attackers.”

  Lutz pounded his fist on the desk. “We need your men and the forensic team to tear apart that house. We’re looking for two fugitives, one being John Vance, a drug lord that escaped while being transferred to Terre Haute from MCC in Chicago. I’m sure you know his name.”

  “I do indeed and heard the news of his escape earlier in the week. You think he’s here, in Brownsville?”

  “Yes, or just across the border in Matamoros. Who in your area is a pro at forging legal documents?”

  “I’ll have to ask my detectives about that.”

  Lutz continued. “Luca Vasquez was pinched for that very offense and served time, but a dead body can’t give us information. Luca’s death leads me to believe even more that John Vance is in your area. He’s eliminating everything that can lead back to him, including people.”

  I added my two cents. “What about recent passports that were issued in Mexico? Is there a way to get a list of names and see photos?”

  Cal laughed. “Finding out anything in Mexico is next to impossible, and the time and red tape you’d have to go through makes that idea a waste of time. We’ll go through the house, and I’ll touch base with everyone that might know about professional document forgers either on this side of the border or in Mexico. I’ll be in touch.”

  I spoke up just before our call ended. “One more thing, sir.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Did the coroner give you an estimated TOD?”

  “His best field guess was midafternoon today.”

  Lutz wrote that down. “And the name of the coroner?”

  “Joshua Winters.”

  “Okay, thanks, and please let us know how the house search goes.” Lutz ended the call and groaned. “Two steps forward and one step back actually feels like the opposite.” Lutz pointed at the door. “Go home, Jesse, and tell Mills to do the same. I’m sure he’s still plugging away at something.”

  I rubbed my forehead. I was beat. “Yeah, that sounds really good right now. Henry is checking in with our jail guests. I don’t know if I could face Conway again without driving a blow right to his jaw.”

  “And I wouldn’t blame you if you did, but our department doesn’t need bad press. We get enough grief the way it is.” Lutz stood. “Come on. I’ll walk back to the bull pen with you.”

  Chapter 35

  Eight o’clock had come and gone by the time I pulled into my garage. The coach lamps on either side of the overhead door, with motion sensors now attached to them, lit up as soon as I hit the twenty-foot sweet spot. I smiled with relief and a sense of security for me and my neighbors. No uninvited guests would get beyond those cameras and lights—I’d be watching from home or from my phone app. I reminded myself that next Thursday, the alarm system would be installed and connected directly to the police department. I exited my car and walked upstairs, where my buddy, Bandit—sitting on the landing—greeted me.

  “How’s it going, pal? You all good?”

  His rapidly wagging tail told me he was.

  I read the note Dean had left on the counter, saying that Bandit was fed at five thirty and both dogs, with Dean’s supervision, had played for a bit then dozed off together for a half hour before Dean took Jackson home. Everything seemed normal, just as it used to be, and I was thankful.

  I opened the patio door and let Bandit out for his last break of the night. As tired as I was, sleep would come easily. After pulling open the freezer door, I looked through my choices and decided on lasagna and a salad.

  A half hour later, as I sat at the table and plowed through my dinner, I thought about tomorrow. We would have some answers, and I hoped they’d be enough to file charges— including conspiracy to commit murder—against Mark Conway. If he didn’t give up the Vasquez brothers or the Cruz character, it would be back to a lot of legwork and hours behind my desk staring at a computer screen. I was sure Mark Conway knew where John and Curt Vance were too. With a direct line of communication to Luca Vasquez, he had to be privy to that information.

  Organizing my to-do list on paper helped. My brain had already hit the overload point, and I didn’t want to forget anything.

  Smiling at Bandit, who was curled up on the couch and sawing logs, I headed down the hallway to my bedroom. I checked the live feed for each camera on the monitor, and all was quiet. Feeling at peace, I went to bed and left the door open so Bandit could come in if he wanted to.

  The next morning arrived too soon, but a wide-eyed, restless dog was breathing in my face, telling me it was time for breakfast and a trip to the backyard.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get the hint.” Even though Friday was a day I normally looked forward to because the weekend was right behind it, I knew that until the Morton case was solved—hopefully leading us to John Vance—we wouldn’t have many weekends ahead of us.

  I mindlessly ate a bagel, drank a cup of coffee, then gave Bandit a good scratch behind the ears before leaving.

  Twenty-five minutes later and in the bull pen, I pulled my to-do list from my jacket pocket and smoothed it flat on my desk. I glanced at the time—we had fifteen minutes before roll call and updates began. I reviewed what I had written last night.

  We needed to find out about the search on Luca Vasquez’s house, get a warrant for Mark Conway’s apartment, hear if Conway gave Henry any information last night, and see if Lutz agreed to get warrants for bank records of the guard at MCC, as well as for Norman Flek, Lonny Mares, the
two guards at Rock Island, and now Luca Vasquez. If all of them had substantial deposits, we’d be one step closer to tying everyone who died to John Vance.

  “Ready?”

  With a Styrofoam coffee cup in hand, Mills was standing alongside my desk.

  “Yep.” I folded the sheet of paper, slipped it in my pocket, and joined him.

  When roll call was complete, Lutz began the updates. “Brownsville PD got back to me late last night. They didn’t find anything in Luca Vasquez’s home that indicates John and Curt Vance were staying there or had ever been there at all.”

  I coughed into my fist then cleared my throat. “Who else would have killed him? There seems to be a pattern with Vance’s hired goons. They like to use knives. They’re nice and quiet. That is, unless you’re in the middle of no-man’s-land just south of Poplar Bluff, Missouri. I guess out there with no neighbors in the immediate vicinity, a bullet to the back of the head is perfectly acceptable.”

  “Point taken, Jesse, but don’t forget Luca Vasquez was a criminal too. He may have had other enemies.” Lutz turned to Henry. “Has Conway made a decision yet?”

  I gave Henry a side-eyed glance. “Decision about what?”

  “Whether he’s going to give us a name or two. He wanted to speak privately with Bell, weigh his options, and get back to us today.”

  Grousing my displeasure, I grumbled to our group. “We’re giving him way too much rope.”

  Frank chimed in. “Maybe so, and if we’re lucky, he’ll hang himself with it.”

  Henry continued. “To answer your question, Boss, I was going to have a chat with Conway as soon as we’re finished here.”

  “Let Jesse and Mills do it. They like to push the intimidation envelope.”

  “Okay, not a problem.”

  I waved to get Bob’s attention, and he tipped his chin at me. “Go ahead.”

  “What about pulling bank records for all the dead men? That’s a good way to see if John’s men paid off each one for their participation in his escape.”

  “Not a bad idea, but it’s a moot point. When John is captured, he’ll go back to prison. He was already serving a life sentence when he escaped, but this time, Curt will join him in Club Fed.”

  I agreed our time could be better spent doing something else and scratched that off my list. “How about the warrant for Conway’s apartment, then? We might get lucky and find names and locations.”

  “The warrant is in the works, and we’ll have it in a matter of hours.”

  I put a check mark next to that entry. My suggestions and concerns had been addressed, and I had nothing else to ask. All I wanted to do now was interrogate Mark Conway. I’d calmed down overnight, and I would give him an earful of what our legal system could do to make his life miserable.

  Our morning meeting wrapped up, and I called Jared Bell. He was needed back at the jail. Official charges against Mark Conway were going down, which included conspiracy to commit murder, stalking, breaking and entering, and poisoning Bandit. His apartment would be gone through, thanks to the warrant about to be dropped in our laps, and he would never see the light of day again. I would toss in the murders of Norman Flek and Lonny Mares as a kicker to get him talking.

  The alarm finally went off on my phone. I’d been catching up with paperwork until Bell arrived. “That’s it, nine a.m. Bell should be downstairs.” I pushed back from my desk and grabbed the folder Henry had compiled last night against Conway. Our visit with him would be his only opportunity to talk—no second or third chances to think about it. I jerked my head toward the door. “Let’s go make his life a living hell.”

  Frank chuckled. “I’m up for that.”

  Downstairs, we entered the jail wing and signed in. Bill confirmed that Bell was there and waiting with Mark Conway in box number two.

  “Good deal.” Frank and I stowed our guns in the wall-mounted lockers and headed down the hallway. We entered the interrogation room and took seats across from Conway and his attorney. I opened the folder and got to the point. “Now that you’ve had your beauty rest, here’s what you’re facing.”

  “Your punk detective Johnson read that shit off to me last night.”

  Bell snapped his head toward Mark. “Shh, I’ll do the talking.”

  I ran my finger down the sheet in front of me. “Just making sure the charges facing you got through that thick head of yours. Here we go. Conspiracy to commit the murder of Tina Morton, breaking and entering.” I locked eyes with him. “And that would be at my house. Not the smartest move on your part.” I cleared my throat and continued. “Stalking at my house, and poisoning my dog. You must be a glutton for punishment.”

  He snarled and leaned back in his chair.

  “I’m also throwing in the murders of Norman Flek and Lonny Mares.”

  “They’re dea—”

  Bell slapped the table. “Mark, shut up!”

  I smiled. “Oops. Looks like talking isn’t your best attribute, idiot. So you obviously knew Nubby and Lon.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Frank took over. “Yeah, you kind of did. Give us the location of Cruz and the Vasquez boys and we drop some of the charges against you and focus on Maria as the one who set the wheels in motion. We all know the Vasquez brothers killed Tina Morton and are John Vance’s heavy-handed puppets. So cut yourself a break, or you’ll be looking at life behind bars. If you don’t give up Cruz and the Vasquez boys right now, we’ll charge you with first-degree murder.” Frank checked the time on his watch. “In thirty seconds, the deal will be taken off the table and you’ll spend life in prison. Don’t think you’ll get special treatment either. You’ll be in gen pop with the rest of the murderers, and if you’re lucky, you may even share a cell with one.”

  “Fine! I’ll tell you where Cruz lives.”

  I nodded. “And the Vasquez brothers?”

  “They’re staying with him.”

  “How much involvement did Hal Morton have in his wife’s death?”

  “Enough to know it was an idea being discussed. So, what do I get for giving you Cruz’s location?”

  Bell tapped Mark’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

  “You won’t spend life in prison.” Frank checked his watch again. “You have six seconds left.”

  “Give me a pen and paper, but I want your deal in writing.” He jotted down the address and waited.

  I snatched the paper from his hand. “You get the deal if your information stands up. If it’s bullshit, you get life.”

  Chapter 36

  Cruz sat on the couch and appeared to be engrossed in a made-for-TV crime movie. In reality, with the suppressor already attached to his gun, he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to put down the brothers. With strict orders from John Vance, he wasn’t about to fail him, or he would be next. He watched as Mauricio and Antonio sat at the kitchen table and played hand after hand of poker.

  In the neighborhood Cruz lived in, and with houses relatively close to each other, he couldn’t risk the sound of gunshots alerting everyone on his street. He tucked the gun in his waistband and adjusted his shirt to cover it.

  Cruz paused the TV, rose from the couch, and strolled into the kitchen with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “I’m ready for a beer.” He walked to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. “Either of you want one?”

  Mauricio turned, and a .45 tactical handgun was pointed straight at his head. “What the—?” He jumped to his feet, and the chair fell backward and crashed to the floor. Antonio spun around.

  “I’m sorry, guys, but John ordered me to do it. If I don’t kill you, he’ll kill me.” Cruz chambered a round and took aim. Before the brothers could plead for their lives, he fired two shots into their chests. After he crossed the kitchen, Cruz looked down at the blood pooling beneath them and pulled the trigger twice more, this time to each man’s forehead. He cursed his own fate as he took pictures of their bloodied bodies as proof to send to John. Hal Morton was next. Cruz had
no choice if he wanted to survive, but as soon as Hal was dead, he would make himself scarce and flee to Mexico. He grabbed his passports, phone, cash, guns, and wallet, as well as the phones and wallets from Mauricio and Antonio’s bodies, then jumped into his Escalade. Nobody affiliated with the Morton murder or to John Vance—especially John himself—would ever see him again.

  Chapter 37

  I updated Lutz as Frank, Henry, Potter, and I headed out the door. We needed to get to the address on Filbranz Lane, given to us by Conway, as soon as humanly possible. Taking Cruz and the Vasquez brothers by surprise was the only way to ensure an effective outcome and wouldn’t give anyone time to alert John Vance or coordinate stories. We would keep the men apart and interrogate them in separate rooms.

  Henry and Potter jumped into one cruiser, and Frank and I into the one next to it. Lutz said Patrol would have three units standing by to escort the men back to our precinct in individual squad cars after we had them in custody. I checked the distance to the location as Frank drove.

  “We should be there in fifteen minutes. Lights and sirens have to be disengaged two miles out.”

  Frank nodded. “We’re finally making headway, Jesse. By the day’s end, we might know where John Vance is holed up.” He gave me a quick frown. “The FBI is going to be pissed that we interfered.”

  I waved off his comment. “We didn’t. We’re only following the bread crumbs affiliated with the Morton murder. We can’t help it if John and Curt Vance are at the end of that trail.” I looked at the GPS on the cruiser’s dash panel. “We’re almost there. Kill the lights and siren.” Frank did, and as I glanced out my side mirror, I saw that Henry, driving the cruiser behind us, did too.

  We pulled to the shoulder a hundred feet from the driveway of the home belonging to Abraham Cruz. We needed to be careful. He had neighbors, and we didn’t want the takedown to go sideways.

  Frank rubbed his forehead as he scouted out the area. “Shit. His house is in a residential neighborhood. Should we move in or evacuate the houses on either side of his first?”