by C. M. Sutter
No wonder Frank smokes. It keeps him from thinking about food.
Last night before we left the hotel, we’d stressed to Jared how important it was to stay put and under no circumstances allow his wife and kids to return home for anything. We also told him not to answer blocked calls and said that if John did contact him through text messaging, to call me, read the text verbatim, and I would tell him how to respond. We couldn’t afford any mistakes. The plot to lure John in couldn’t go sideways, and that meant keeping Jared at arm’s length, but protected, until it was time to send proof of death to John Vance.
I arrived at our district station at eight fifteen, and Mills was leaning against his truck with a cigarette pressed between his lips. After parking my Camaro nose to nose with his truck, I got out and rounded my car. “What’s up?”
He kicked a rock and watched as it skidded twenty feet across the asphalt. “Just waiting for you and decided to have another smoke.” Frank reached for the steaming cup of gas station coffee that sat on the hood.
I frowned at the cup. “Isn’t that like drinking hot tar?”
“Yeah, but you get used to it. Ready to get this day going? Should be fun, eh?” He took a sip of the swill.
I huffed my concerns. “Yeah, as long as the plan works. I am curious about the identity of those men that were stationed in front of Bell’s house, though.”
After stomping out the cigarette butt under his foot, Frank picked it up and flicked it into the bed of his truck. We crossed the lot to our building’s main entrance and checked in using the palm reader.
“That’d be great if Tech got a hit on facial recognition,” Frank said as we climbed the flight of stairs to our bull pen.
I tipped my head in agreement. “And that would fit perfectly in my plan if we got them off the streets. We’d eliminate John’s acquaintances, and he’d have nobody to do his dirty work except for Curt and himself.”
We found the bull pen empty when we walked in. Our normal weekend crew was likely being updated in the roll call room by their sergeant, Cameron Rollins.
Frank patted the doorframe then walked out. “Let’s see if Lutz is here.”
We traced our steps back the same way we came from but continued to the third door on the left. It stood open, and inside, our commander was talking on the phone. He pointed at the guest chairs, and we made ourselves comfortable while he finished his conversation. From what he was saying, I was sure he was being updated by our tech department.
Lutz jotted down information as he talked. Trying to read what he wrote from my side of his desk wasn’t easy, but I did see a name, and that was what we needed. Tech must have gotten a facial hit on one of the men.
Bob hung up seconds later and flashed us a smile. “We have a name for the driver, and he has a criminal record. It looks like he has a few outstanding warrants too.”
“What’s his name?” Frank asked.
Lutz shrugged. “Lee Judd. Just some midlevel thug. I’ll send a couple of officers to his residence and take him by surprise. With a little wheeling and dealing, we’ll get the passenger’s name, too, and pick him up as well. Pretty soon, with nobody answering their phones, John will have to come back to Chicago to deal with Bell personally.”
Frank chuckled. “And we’ll be waiting for him with open arms.”
I browsed our to-do list. Don would have to advise us on which poison would supposedly kill people the fastest. I was sure John would ask Jared what he used, and that information needed to be on the tip of Bell’s tongue. Don would have to write up an autopsy report that Jared would forward to John too. Maria and Conway would have to participate in our plot since their deaths would need to be staged for crime lab photographs.
“We have to get Don on board first, right?”
Lutz opened the folder on his desk. “It’s already done. Don put it together for us last night. I guess he didn’t mind working a little OT.”
Frank and I read over the paperwork. “It looks like he decided on strychnine as the poison of choice. Kills fast and mimics cardiac arrest, respiratory failure, and a handful of other symptoms. So, all Maria and Conway have to do is play dead.”
“Essentially, yes. We’ll have Forensics take pictures while they’re still in the cells, and Don can write up fake autopsy reports giving the typical information along with what he believes was their cause of death.”
Frank rubbed his furrowed brows. “But John isn’t stupid. He’ll think we’ve already arrested Bell.”
“Nah,” Lutz said, “that’s where Jared comes into play. He wouldn’t have his phone with him if we had already arrested him.”
I agreed with Lutz. “We have to think like John and what he believes to be true. He’d know we couldn’t arrest Bell without proof that he did something to Maria and Conway, even if we thought the deaths seemed suspicious. That means Don would have to order a tox screen, and it would take a few days before he’d have the results. That would give John plenty of time to come back to Chicago and do away with Bell himself. The only thing we care about is luring John Vance back here in whatever manner works.”
Lutz pushed back his chair and rose, then he rounded his desk. “The crime lab, Don, and the chief are all on board. Let’s head to Maria’s cell first and let her in on the role she’s about to play. I’ll let Mike know we’re on our way.”
I frowned at Lutz as we took the stairs to our lower level. “Mike is working on a Saturday?”
“By special request only. We’re trying to keep our stunt under wraps, and only the department heads and our team know what we’re doing.”
We met Mike Nordgren—his camera wrapped around his neck and his forensic bag in hand—in our lower-level hallway. We walked to the jail wing together.
Frank grinned. “This is the kind of stuff you’d expect to see in a murder-for-hire sting operation.”
“That’s true,” Mike said, “but usually, those victims are made up to look like they were shot in the head and lying in a pool of blood. Unfortunately, Maria and Conway will look more like they’re asleep, but I’ll tell them to keep their eyes open and have them rolled back a bit.”
We checked in with the weekend jail officer, Tim Morely. He wasn’t told what we were about to do and wouldn’t be inside the cells with us. His only role was to unlock Maria’s door and do the same with Conway’s later. Our group entered the area where we kept the accused until they had their arraignments. We walked past two cells before reaching Maria’s. After their arraignments on Monday, she and Conway would both be transferred to the county lockup, where they would stay until their cases went to trial.
Lutz banged his fist against the steel door. Maria crossed the six-by-eight-foot space and stared at us through the small rectangular plexiglass window. A look of confusion covered her face. Tim unlocked the cell’s door, gave us a nod, and left.
The four of us entered and took up most of the available floor space.
“What is this? Where’s my attorney? You can’t talk to me unless he’s present.” Maria backed up until her legs were resting against the side of the bed.
Frank jerked his head at her bunk. “Sit down and shut up. The commander needs to speak with you.”
Lutz began by telling her about the murders of Antonio and Mauricio. “Your brothers are dead, and you and Mark Conway are next on John Vance’s list.”
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “It can’t be true. I’ve never even met John Vance. This is some kind of con you’re pulling on me, and I want to talk to my attorney now!”
“That isn’t possible, because he’s in hiding. John Vance threatened to murder him and his family if he didn’t kill you. If you don’t want to be lying on a slab in the morgue, you’ll do what we want.”
“There’s no way my attorney would kill me!”
Frank let out a loud sigh. “And that’s why we’re here.”
Maria gave Mike and his equipment a suspicious glance. “Why is he here?”
�
�Because the only way to protect you so you don’t end up like your brothers is to fake your death.”
“But—”
“There aren’t any buts, Maria. It’s what you’re going to do. We’ve already gotten clearance to go forward from the chief himself, so Mike is going to walk you through different poses and facial expressions he wants you to wear. He’ll choose the best pictures, which will be sent to John Vance. It’s the only way to keep you alive. He can have somebody kill you during transport or while you’re in court. John has a long reach.” I saw the wheels turning in her head, and finally, our message was getting through to her. She would either die at John’s hand or cooperate with us.
She sat silently as she wiped the tears that still flowed down her cheeks. “I don’t believe my brothers are dead.”
Lutz gave Mike a nod. “Show her the pictures from the crime scene.”
“Really?”
The commander shrugged. “She needs to know how serious this is, so yeah, go ahead.”
With a few buttons pushed, Mike backtracked his still shots to the scene at Abraham Cruz’s house.
Mauricio and Antonio’s pictures were graphic, and Mike was about to show them to their sister. It would be a vision she could never erase from her mind, but it was necessary.
Mike sat at Maria’s side and scrolled through the forensic photographs.
“Stop, stop! I’ve seen enough.” Her face contorted with agonizing sadness. “Who killed them?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lutz said. “All you need to know is that the order came down from John Vance, and he gave Jared Bell the same order for you just last night. You should thank your lucky stars that your attorney called us instead of carrying out the deed. Now his life is in jeopardy too.”
Chapter 50
Maria finally agreed to play the role of a dead woman. Mike handed her a tissue before proceeding. “Wipe your teeth and lips dry. It has to appear that you’re actually dead. Dab the sheen off your face too.”
She complied with his instructions and posed exactly as he told her to.
“Okay, now roll your eyes up so I can only see the whites, otherwise it’ll seem like you’re looking at me and they won’t appear glassed over.” Mike took close-up shots with her mouth and eyes partially open. He messed up her hair a bit and snapped off more shots. “Now lie down on your bunk, but this time let your hand hang over the side. I’m going to rub a little fingerprint dust on your hands. It’ll resemble blood pooling at the bottom of your hand so it looks like lividity has set in. Don’t worry. Vance will never know the difference, and I can tweak the pictures a little if I have to.”
We spent forty-five minutes in Maria’s cell, and Mike captured thirty variations of what a person would probably look like after dying of a heart attack following strychnine poisoning. A heart attack was a heart attack no matter where it came from—being overweight, natural causes, or poison—but with paperwork from Forensics and the autopsy reports sent with the pictures, John would fall for it hook, line, and sinker. John’s belief that Maria Vasquez and Mark Conway were dead would keep them and Jared Bell alive for the foreseeable future.
“Go ahead and wash that black dust off, or it’ll transfer to whatever you touch,” Mike said when he had finished taking pictures.
Maria walked to the small sink wedged in the corner of her cell and scrubbed her hands. “Will you tell me what happened? With Vance, I mean?”
“It’s doubtful. We probably won’t see you again after your arraignment.”
“But you said you’d give me a deal for names.”
I spoke up. “And you conveniently left out Luca’s name, and now he’s dead too.”
She stared at the floor. “So you aren’t going to talk to the judge?”
“Maybe, but nothing will happen until you actually have a court date. We’ll keep Jared posted.”
We said goodbye and closed the steel door. It slammed with a thud. I watched Maria through the tiny window while Frank called Tim’s desk phone and told him to come back and lock up her cell. It was time to move on to Conway.
When his phone rang, Lutz excused himself for a minute. We entered Conway’s cell and began explaining what he was going to be doing for the next hour, and the commander joined us minutes later. “Looks like these cells are going to start filling. Lee Judd was just picked up.”
I gave Conway a glance, and his expression changed dramatically when Lutz mentioned Judd’s name.
“Whoa, what was that about?” I asked. “Do you know Lee Judd?”
“What if I do? What’s in it for me?”
I snickered as I scratched my cheek. “Here’s how it’s going to play out. John will have you killed if you don’t cooperate with us right now. Every person that he bankrolls in Chicago is likely a hired gun and has connections in and out of the jail and prison systems. Maybe they’ll shoot you on Monday when you’re being transferred to court, or after that when they’re moving you to the county lockup. Maybe the transport driver is on Vance’s payroll too. Get my drift? We’re here to protect you, but if you don’t want our help, we’ll be on our way.” I pushed up my sleeve, checked the time, and then chuckled. “No wonder my stomach is growling. It’s almost noon. How about we just leave? Mark doesn’t want our protection, anyway.”
We turned to exit the six-by-eight-foot space.
“Wait! I know of a half dozen more people on John’s payroll that I’ll tell you about, and yeah, go ahead and do your movie magic on me. I don’t want to end up being another Vance statistic.”
Chapter 51
John stared out the window of the hacienda he would temporarily call home as soon as he took care of business in Chicago. Now more than ever, he needed to get back to the Windy City. With black hair and his glued-on mustache, he and Curt could probably pull off walking around in plain sight without being recognized. His men weren’t answering their phones, and he hadn’t spoken with Cruz since he put bullets in the heads of Mauricio, Antonio, and Hal.
A half block away, John watched as four kids used sticks to chase stray dogs. At least the wrought iron fence around his rental property kept the mutts out, and he was thankful for that.
In a few months, when I’m running at full capacity again with a new crew in Mexico, I’ll move from here and buy a sprawling hacienda on hundreds of acres. I don’t like neighbors this close to me.
He paced the living room as he wondered where Abraham was and why a picture of the men’s bodies lying in the woods fifty miles out of Chicago never arrived in a text as Cruz had promised.
Something is going on with him. I wonder if he got nabbed, but I’m sure he’s too smart for that.
John cupped his hand against his mouth and yelled out. “Curt, where the hell are you?”
His brother’s voice echoed back from the patio area. “In the pool.”
John’s flip-flops snapped against the terra-cotta tiles as he walked to the rear of the house. He found Curt holding a beer bottle as he floated across the pool on an air mattress.
“What’s up, brother?”
“Have you spoken with Cruz?”
“Nope, and he hasn’t texted me either.” Curt lowered his sunglasses and stared at John. “He never got back to you with those last pictures?”
“No, and I’m starting to get pissed. I can’t reach Lee Judd either. I want to know how it’s going with Jared Bell. Judd and Matteo are supposed to be tailing the attorney everywhere he goes. I’m expecting a call that says Bell is at the Second District jail. He only has forty-eight hours to put down both Maria and Conway, and I haven’t heard a damn word from anyone.”
Curt raised his sunglasses and looked toward his brother. “We can go whenever you want, just say the word. We’ll leave the Camry in the parking lot at the car rental agency and take our pick, and I already have something in mind. The rental is on hold for whenever we want to grab it.”
John’s jet-black hair glistened in the sun as he ran his hands through it. “Let’s wait u
ntil I hear from Bell. First and foremost, Cruz is going to answer to me. I don’t take avoidance lightly. And then, after I have proof that Bell has completed his assigned task, we’ll take him out too.” John walked to the outdoor kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed an ice-cold beer from the door rack. He twisted the cap off the bottle and tossed it into the galvanized bucket next to the picnic table, then took a deep pull. “Make sure everything is ready to go tomorrow. I’ll definitely hear from Bell by then.” John grinned. “I’m looking forward to later, when Paulo and Ernesto arrive for dinner. That feast will be our way of thanking them for getting us the new passports and driver’s licenses, and after several beers with dinner, we’ll enjoy cocktails by the pool. Of course, theirs will be doctored up. There’s no need to overexert ourselves when we go for a swim and drown them both.”
Chapter 52
I sipped a soft drink and munched on a bag of chips, with a second bag at the ready just in case. Soda and salty chips were one of my typical vending machine lunches. As I sat at my desk with my fist propping up my cheek, I slipped on my reading glasses and reviewed the to-do list that hadn’t dwindled down as quickly as I’d hoped. I hadn’t heard back from Lieutenant Cal Morrow in Brownsville, who said he would check with his detectives about the best document forgers in the area. I rattled my fingertips on the desk then pulled up a map of the central states, all the way to Brownsville, Texas. I focused on the route between Poplar Bluff and Brownsville, nearly a thousand miles in a stolen vehicle that we hadn’t yet identified. My gut told me that John’s need to be overly cautious had probably diminished after ridding himself of the Odyssey, along with Nubby and Lon. If we could just figure out what car he was in, we might be able to track his whereabouts. I was sure somebody had been assigned to check out stolen cars within a twenty-mile radius of Poplar Bluff in that general time frame.
I called out to our group of detectives. “Who was in charge of finding out about other stolen cars in the Poplar Bluff area on the day Nubby and Lon were killed?” I flipped through the stack of reports strewn across my desk until I found the one I needed. I held it up and read it. “Which was sometime Monday night.” I looked at each face and waited.
