Hard to Kill

by C. M. Sutter

  “Damn it. That doesn’t tell us anything.”

  “Sure it will. I’ll call the toll-free number, give them the make, model, and plate number, and they should be able to tell us who rented it.”

  Hanna jammed her hands into her jeans pockets. “Aren’t you wasting your time? This car isn’t the Ram or my Explorer, so why does it have anything to do with Jesse?”

  Lutz patted her shoulder. “We have to check everything, Hanna. From twenty years of experience, I can tell you that covering all angles does work.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just the not knowing that’s getting to me.”

  “We understand your frustration, and we’ll get to the bottom of this. We’re going to find Jesse. I promise you that.”

  Owens hung back and waited for the forensic team, while Lutz, Frank, and Hanna returned to the lodge. There, Lutz made the call to the rental agency’s toll-free number from a landline. He didn’t want the call to drop midsentence.

  “Hello, this is Commander Robert Lutz from the Chicago Police Department. I need to speak to someone who can give me the name of the person who rented a car from you that we have in our custody.”

  “The police is in possession of one of our cars?”

  “That’s correct. It’s an urgent matter, ma’am. Please connect me with the right person.”

  “I’m connecting you with our reservations department. Hold one moment, please.”

  Lutz groaned as he rolled his eyes. “I’m on hold.” Then he said, “Yes, thank you.” He held his hand over the receiver. “She’s transferring me. Hand me that piece of paper with the numbers on it.”

  Frank fished it out of his pocket and gave it to Lutz.

  “Yes, I’m here. I need to know who rented a black Corolla with a Nebraska license plate.” Lutz read off the VIN and the plate number. “Sure, I’ll wait.” He swatted Frank’s arm. “I need a pen.”

  Frank patted his shirt pocket and came up empty. Hanna pulled a pen from her purse and handed it to Lutz.

  “Here you go, sir.”

  Lutz gave her a thank-you nod. “Okay, I’m ready. A Mike Stiller out of Pilsen, you say? S-T-I-L-L-E-R? Got it.” Lutz pinched the receiver between his ear and shoulder. “You have an address for this Mike character? You said 1517 West Eighteenth Street? Yep, got that too. Appreciate it, sir. Thank you.” Lutz hung up and called Sergeant Norse at the precinct. “Stan, it’s Bob. We have a possible lead coming out of Pilsen. I need someone to check out the resident who lives there. Yeah, call the Twelfth District and ask them to bang on the door. Here’s the address. Call me back the second they speak with the tenant.” Lutz hung up. “Now it’s a waiting game.”

  Chapter 25

  Josh jangled the ring of keys in my face.

  “Think I’ll go have a little fun. Don’t mind making myself at home in your house. Hell, it’s only five minutes away.”

  “There’s nothing in my house that’ll interest you.”

  Josh moved in fast and furious and gave me a hard punch to the throat. The pain was beyond belief, and I couldn’t speak. I was lucky the hit didn’t kill me.

  “Hurts like hell, doesn’t it? Keep that in mind the next time you try to call the shots. I’m in charge, not you, and yeah, I know what you’re thinking. A dumbass like me will set off your high-tech security system and the cops will have me in custody in the blink of an eye. Sorry to ruin your fantasy, but I know how to disable things, remember? Sit tight, McCord. I’ll be back soon enough. Oh yeah, I better tape that mouth of yours closed. I wouldn’t want anyone to hear you yell for help since I have big plans for you tonight.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and came back minutes later with a roll of duct tape. With his teeth, Josh tore off a three-foot length and wrapped it around my head multiple times. I couldn’t open my mouth even if I tried.

  “Next time, I’ll cover your nose, too, asshole. It would be like watching one of those crappies flopping around out of water. See you later.”

  I waited to hear the overhead lift, but it never did. He was smarter than I gave him credit for and likely knew that a BOLO would have been issued for Hanna’s Explorer by then. He was probably walking the alleys to my house. Cutting through alleys would get him there faster and keep him off the streets in case the cops knew he’d escaped. I was desperate to get to that knife, but every time I attempted to scoot the chair one way or the other, the slipknots around my neck tightened. My mind spun as I searched for ideas, but nothing worked. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape my restraints.

  Chapter 26

  Lutz’s phone rang. He expected it to be Norse. “Hello, Commander Lutz speaking. Yes, thanks for calling back. I’m going to put you on Speakerphone if you don’t mind.” Lutz pressed the button and jerked his head for Frank to close the door. “So glad to hear back from you, Detective Chesson. I have one of my Chicago detectives here, Frank Mills, and Jesse’s girlfriend, Hanna Bradley.”

  “Hello, everyone. I just got back from interrogating Leon Stanley again. My partner, Steve White, and myself spent an hour pressing Leon for information.”

  “Does he know his wife is dead and that there’s no incentive for him to lie?”

  “He does. I told him he’s looking at life behind bars. If he gives us the location of your detective, we’ll mention that cooperation to the judge.”

  “And what did he say?” Frank asked.

  “He said he doesn’t know shit about your detective.”

  Frank balled up his fist and cursed under his breath.

  “He knew enough about my detective to try to kill him. If Lila Stanley hadn’t have intervened, Jesse would be dead right now.”

  “Chances are he already is, Commander. Leon is a badass and a tough nut to crack. He’s always been that way. He didn’t even flinch when I told him Lila was dead.”

  “Has he lawyered up?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. Two of my detectives are heading your way, and they should be there in an hour or so. Names are Henry Johnson and Shawn Potter. Before the day’s end, we’ll probably be meeting Mr. Stanley as well. He’s the only person who makes sense in Jesse’s disappearance. We’re checking a car here at the park that seems to be abandoned, but other than that, officers have combed the entire park on foot and with search dogs. Jesse is nowhere to be found, and neither is Hanna’s red Explorer.”

  “Do you want us to keep pressing him?”

  “No, I don’t want to piss him off so much that he lawyers up. My detectives will talk to you, his relatives if there are any in the area, and his known acquaintances. I’ll interrogate that son of a bitch myself when we get there. Thanks for your call, Detective Chesson, and I’ll be in touch.” Lutz had no sooner ended the call than his phone rang again. “This one has to be Norse. Hello, Lutz here. Yep, Stan, tell me what you found out. I have you on Speaker.”

  “Sure. I called the Twelfth District, and they sent two officers to that address. Turns out to be a vacant lot. They asked an employee at a neighboring pizza joint about it, and they said a small house used to be on that property, but it burned down five years back. The address is a dead end, Bob.”

  “Son of a bitch. So that Mike Stiller either showed an ID that was never updated with a new address, or it’s fake and the agent didn’t bother to look at it closely.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Okay, how long ago did Shawn and Henry leave the precinct?”

  “A good hour ago. They’re probably halfway to Decatur.”

  “Good enough. Thanks, pal.” Lutz hung up for the second time and groaned. “We’re getting nowhere fast. Frank, open the name-search database and look up Mike or Michael Stiller. We don’t have a middle initial to include, but we need to know how many men with that name are in Illinois.”

  “On it.” Frank tapped the URL into his phone then, when the site came up, added the name into the search bar. He looked hopeful. “Humph, we might get lucky. The site only shows se
venteen in total throughout the state. The results are the same no matter if I type in Mike or Michael.”

  “Okay, that’s something we can work with. Shoot a text to Tony and tell him to start working on that. We need to know if any of those men recently rented a Corolla that’s sitting in Giant City State Park, and if someone did, why was it left behind?”

  Frank pointed out the window as the forensics van passed by. “Looks like the crime lab is here.”

  “Okay, let’s head back to the Corolla and see if they can lift some prints.”

  “Sir?”

  Lutz turned to Hanna.

  “Yep.”

  “Can we have somebody pop the trunk? I thought I caught a whiff—”

  Lutz rubbed his forehead then grimaced. “We will as soon as Forensics allows it.”

  They returned to the Corolla just as the county forensic team arrived. One man had a camera slung over his shoulder by a strap, and the other carried his printing case. When Lutz walked up, Owens made the introductions.

  “Commander Lutz, this is Jeremy Latch with the camera and John Kendrick with the dusting kit.”

  “Good to meet you, guys. Can you get the photographs you need of the vehicle and area surrounding it first? We’d like to pop the trunk as soon as possible.”

  “Give us fifteen minutes, Commander, and then you can access the vehicle through the passenger-side window. We’ll break the glass, pop the locks, and open the trunk for you. If we find prints, they’re likely going to be on the driver’s-side door and trunk, so we can’t let you disturb that part of the car until it’s printed.”

  “Understood. Just let us know when you’re ready.” Lutz checked his watch. “Come on. It’s midafternoon, and everyone has to be starving by now. Let’s make a quick stop at the lodge’s restaurant, grab some sandwiches, and bring them back here. By then, they should be ready for us to pop the trunk.” Lutz doubted that the vehicle was related to Jesse’s disappearance, yet it didn’t make sense that somebody had deserted the car. He asked Frank if he smelled an odor coming from the trunk, and Frank said he hadn’t. They knew what decomp smelled like, and there was no mistaking that odor. Hanna’s mind could be playing tricks on her since she was likely fearing the worst-case scenario. Lutz would find out more after giving Tony and Kip an hour to make the calls to the seventeen men named Mike Stiller.

  Chapter 27

  Josh had studied the safest route and knew where to go. He was sure that by then, his parole officer had told the authorities that he hadn’t made his daily call as required. The cops would likely have been to Harold’s house to conduct a welfare check, found his body, and had an APB out for Josh minutes later. Chances were good that they were watching Jesse’s house, but Josh knew a roundabout way of cutting through alleys and yards and could jump Jesse’s rear fence without breaking a sweat.

  Take this alley until I reach the T in the road, turn left, walk a block, turn right in to the next alley, cross two streets, and then count the fourth house in, jump the fence, and that’s McCord’s place. Piece of cake.

  Josh quickened his pace and kept his head low. At the girlfriend’s house, he’d found nothing to wear that would conceal his identity, so he had to be even more cautious. He felt for the screwdriver and wire snips he’d put in his pocket, just to make sure they were there, and they were. He counted houses and stopped at the fourth one, looked left and right, and checked neighboring windows—the coast was clear. Grabbing hold of the pickets, he put one foot on the boards and pulled himself up and over. Josh smirked at how easy it was to get into McCord’s yard.

  Now it’s clear sailing. I’ll peek over the gate to see if there’s a car parked nearby with a clueless cop or two inside.

  Barely exposing more than his eyes, Josh carefully looked over the gate. He couldn’t see beyond two houses each way, but no one was parked in the immediate area. He was good to go. After grabbing a chair off the deck, he stood on it, found the security system wires, and snipped them. The detective wouldn’t be any wiser since Josh had his phone. Returning to the back of the house, Josh walked to a rear door that had a small deck surrounding it and facing the back yard. He peered into the nearest window and saw what looked to be a home office. After sliding the house key into the knob, he gave it a jiggle. The knob turned, and he entered the house.

  “Now, let’s see how Mr. Hotshit McCord really lives.”

  He took his time as he walked from room to room and thought of things to destroy.

  Looks like the whole house was recently remodeled. What a shame, but McCord won’t live to see the damage I’m about to do, anyway. It’s for revenge, nothing more.

  Josh ran his hand along the smooth marble countertop and admired the state-of-the-art kitchen appliances. The hardwood floors glistened, and the white walls were smudge-free.

  Hmm, what’s that?

  Crossing the living room to get a closer look, Josh smiled. “Well, isn’t that sweet? A family portrait.”

  He continued through the house then took the stairs to the lower level. A large man cave took up most of the basement space. A built-in bar with ten stools faced the back wall. Across from it hung an enormous wall-mounted TV. The couch, recliners, and coffee table filled the center of the room, and to the side were tables for pool, foosball, and cards.

  “Nice hangout area, McCord. Looks like the police department pays you well.”

  He peeked into the storage room, where shelves filled the wall and totes filled the shelves. The washer and dryer were to his left. One more door caught his attention.

  That has to be the garage.

  Josh opened the door and patted the wall until he located the light switch. He laughed when he found himself staring at McCord’s bright-yellow Camaro. “What a beauty.” He climbed inside, started the engine, and pressed the gas pedal. The engine roared with horsepower. “Nice.” Josh spotted something through the windshield, shut down the car, and got out. “Here we go. Exactly what I was hoping to find.” He picked up the sledgehammer, returned to the car, and swung.

  Chapter 28

  Lutz slipped his car back into the space where it had been earlier. They climbed out holding half-eaten sandwiches and approached the forensic guys.

  “How’s it going?” Lutz asked with a mouthful of smoked turkey with spicy mustard on a ciabatta roll.

  “We’re ready to pop the trunk, but everyone who intends to touch the vehicle or its contents needs to be gloved. We have extras in my forensic kit.”

  Frank and Lutz stretched the one-size-fits-all gloves over their sausage-thick fingers. Lutz jerked his head at the passenger-side window.

  “Go ahead and breach the car.”

  John waved them back. “Stand aside, please.” With his glass breaker, he tapped the window, and the safety glass spiderwebbed. He pulled it toward him and made enough of an opening to fit his hand through. He popped the locks, rounded the front of the car, and with his gloved hand, opened the driver’s-side door and waited for the okay to pull the trunk lever.

  “Hanna, stand at the front of the car for now,” Lutz said.

  She reluctantly obeyed his order.

  Lutz and Frank walked to the rear, Lutz gave the okay, and John pulled the trunk lever. Frank lifted the lid and covered his nose. The odor, although not the scent of decomp, was thick and pungent once it was allowed to escape the trunk.

  “What the hell?” Frank said.

  “What is it? Please tell me!”

  Lutz waved Hanna to the back of the car. “It isn’t Jesse, Hanna, only a bunch of rotting food.”

  She pinched her nose and looked in. “Oh my God. That’s everything Jesse and I had in the cooler!”

  Frank raised a questioning brow. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am. Look at the labels on the packages of cheese and cold cuts. They’re from the deli near Jesse’s house. And the milk, beer, and soda? I picked that up myself. Could this car be the one Leon Stanley’s accomplice rented?”

  Hanna had a
point, and swapping a rental for her Explorer was a no-brainer, especially if Mike Stiller was actually an alias and the man had used a fake ID.

  “How long before you get results from the prints?”

  John frowned. “It isn’t the length of time to match the prints but how many cases are ahead of this one.”

  Lutz swatted the air. “I know the standard response, but we’re talking about one of the top homicide detectives in Chicago.”

  “Understood, Commander Lutz, but we don’t have a testing facility in the county any longer. Everything goes to the state crime lab, and they’re always backlogged.”

  “We can do it faster in Cook County, then. Send the prints to us.”

  “It’s against protocol to send evidence anywhere other than the lab we’re affiliated with. We have to follow the procedures laid out for us, and I’d lose my job if I deviated from that.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Sorry, sir. You’d have to go up the chain of command to address the problem. I can’t personally change anything.”

  Lutz cursed as he walked away, and seconds later, Frank caught up with him.

  “Boss, there’s other ways to find out who rented the car.”

  “Yeah, then enlighten me, because I’m so pissed off now I can’t think.”

  “We need to track down the rental facility it was picked up at, find out if the rental company tracks their cars, and then we’ll know where it’s been and if they have video at the counter. We’ll see who picked it up if they do.”

  “The guy is using a fake name. What good would that do?”

  “If the rental agency tracks their cars, it’ll tell us where he went after picking it up. That could give us a real address that’s attached to a real name.”

  Lutz nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. First let’s find out if Tony and Kip came up with anything on those seventeen men.”

  “I’ll take care of it right now. Have a seat and calm down.”