by Rick Murcer
“We can help fix this, at least most of this,” said Ellen, not sure if she was right. “You have to help us.”
“I’ll try. But you have to send someone to get my family, now. Hell, it could already be too late, but you have to try.”
“What’s your address?”
The cop gave it to her and Brice.
Brice looked at two of the blues standing a few feet away. “You two go to that address and call for back-up on the way, now.”
The two were off to their unit in a dead run.
Ellen tilted her head. “Okay, but what are you going to do for me?”
“In my breast pocket is the other note. It tells me how to pick up the money I earned.”
Ellen stretched her arm to his pocket, unfastened the blue button, and began to remove the note, stopped, reached into her back pocket, and pulled out a rubber glove.
“Could be micro-evidence on this,” she said to no one particular.
She then lifted the folded half-page note from the pocket and opened it.
She swung her head toward Brice, feeling her eyes grow wide. “Someone made a huge mistake here,” she said, barely getting the words out in her excitement.
CHAPTER-53
“Just stop spinning and give me something,” said Aaron, under his breath. For the second time in three hours he was watching the CODIS data base whirl through its search gyrations, forcing him to renew his relationship with motion sickness. He looked away.
He didn’t recall the same effect when discovering Henry’s real identity, but he knew when he became tired or hungry he seemed to be more susceptible to the nausea.
“Yes to hungry and tired,” he grumbled, then smiled. “And add a need for my forever lover to that list.”
He knew that he was a bit different. He got that. So this future Mrs. Aaron Holt would indeed be a special woman.
Someday. He’d meet her someday. He had that hope and the last time he checked, hope helped most people get through the day. Like the hope he and Ellen held that her hunch might be right.
Sometimes, as random as forensic and police work could be, the best elixir was a well-developed hunch. Although that kind of thing was odd for Ellen, her hunches had increased over the last two months. And, more often than not, she’d been right.
They could use another break.
A minute rolled away before he dared another look at the screen. To his relief, and a little surprise, it had finally stopped and left a message. Aaron rolled his chair closer. Ellen had at least been right to this point. Henry had kin on the data base.
Across the top of the screen, just below the FBI insignia, there was a message that said there had been three partial matches specific to his particular search. Ellen had wanted him to check for VNTR loci that matched Henry’s DNA profile with others in the data base. Those matches, 99.9 percent of the time, could only originate from relatives. Blood relatives.
He guided the mouse to the file’s list and opened it.
The list, with accompanying matching marker patterns, started with an Alvin Spencer.
From the match of twelve of the twenty-five markers, Spencer appeared to be Henry’s father.
The displayed profile picture of Spencer resembled Henry, at least around the mouth and nose. He’d been in prison for a double murder in Texas before his death seven years ago. Death by execution.
“Good ol’ Texas,” he said.
Whenever Aaron saw these kind of parent-child links, he wondered if the kids ever had a chance. Henry was a murderer, no doubt. Genetic predisposition? Home environment? He always thought it was a combination. Either way, Henry had followed his father’s footsteps.
The second person was an older woman, probably a grandmother based on the seven-point match. Again, according to the provided information, she’d had a criminal past, including two armed robberies, one leading to a wounded deputy from Arizona. She checked out six months before her son, Alvin Spencer.
Another strike for Henry or was his chosen vocation still his choice? Aaron decided he didn’t care. You kill like Henry killed, you get put away or put down.
Aaron preferred put down.
He began to click the next file and stopped dead in his tracks. Then stood up, the chair falling over from the force of his movements.
“What the hell? Her?” he said, pointing at the screen, all of the while trying to get his mind around a coincidence that wasn’t one.
He grabbed the chair, threw himself in it and then opened the file. The screen sprang to life.
The woman had been arrested several times some fifteen years ago for drug trafficking and three times for prostitution.
He shook his head. This squeaky-clean pillar of the community, this rescuer of the downtrodden, had a past, a real past. But that wasn’t all. She had a brother, a true brother that was one of the worst serial killers the city had ever witnessed.
Amanda Blunt, Henry James Hardy’s biological sister, stared at him from the screen.
CHAPTER-54
The mayor, the honorable Leonard H. Griffin, stood inside the door of the great foyer, hands on his wide waist, talking to the Police chief, Miles Farley.
His face held little emotion as he conversed in low tones to the city’s number one cop. No doubt the mayor was hearing whatever it took from the Chief to ensure the Chicago leader that he and the CPD were on top of this catastrophe, that they would make arrests very soon, that no one gets away with this kind of thing anymore.
Amanda Blunt shifted her weight to the left, just fifteen feet or so from the two men. The cool surface of the gold coin comforted her palm. It was in direct contrast to the warm air coming from the front entrance of the mansion. The hot air streaming from Farley.
Such bullshit.
She knew it. The mayor knew it, and Farley knew it.
Raymond’s people, her people, would never be caught. They had planned well, were too smart, and would be ghosts to this investigation. Especially given Raymond’s learned appreciation for tying up loose ends. He’d been a fast learner in that regard.
The mayor placed his large, ebony hand on Farley’s shoulder, whispered something in his ear, then turned away, his gaze taking him clearly into her direction.
“Mayor.”
Three long strides and he was in front of her, his expensive cologne beating him by a fraction. He’d moved without looking away from her. Then again, he’d always had a difficult time looking away from her, hadn’t he?
“Amanda. Are you all right? I heard about you being struck during this terrible ordeal.”
She rubbed the wound with just the right amount of effort. “I’m fine, Mayor. We’re all tougher than we think, when it gets down to it. I’m simply happy to be alive.”
With strong arms, he gave a hug that seemed to be one of casual concern, but they both knew it was more. “It would have been difficult to handle if something more had happened to you,” he whispered.
“I’m all right.”
He then held her at arm’s length. “I can see that,” he answered with the famous, infectious grin that contributed to him getting elected. That and a few favors from his friends.
Releasing her, he moved to her side, waving at another pair of detectives and CSU specialists that were part of a seemingly endless stream of cops. Once they had passed, he touched her with his elbow. “So why weren’t you killed like the others who stood up to them, my dear Amanda? And before you answer, remember that I know things as well.”
His comments made her smile from true amusement. She took his hand.
“Like I told Detective Garcia, I wasn’t a politician. That seems to be the common thread for dying tonight. As far as what you think you know, well, let’s simply say that knowledge comes and goes, like memories, taking on a different face over time.”
She squeezed his hand then released it. “Those memories are somewhat like elections, Mayor. They can hinge on the smallest of detail that sticks in voter’s minds when they get to th
e polls, whether that detail is true or not.”
“True, but that doesn’t change truth, my lovely Amanda.”
“Truth? What a fickle thing that is. At any rate, what if I told you I could guarantee your next election, Lenny? What if I could put you in office for the next twenty years after that?”
Griffin waved at another group of law enforcement men and women.
“I’m listening,” he said without looking in her direction.
“Let’s say, hypothetically, that I can give you the people who did this and help stamp out a large portion of drug trafficking and violence in the South side of this city in one fell swoop.”
His eyes grew a bit wider, but he kept his composure like the good politician he was. He straightened his black bow tie, shifted his weight away from her, then exhaled.
“Hypothetically, you can do that?”
“Hypothetically, I can do many things, Lenny, those included.”
“I could have you arrested and force you to talk to help avenge these poor souls.”
“You could try. But that could get messy. I wonder what your wife, and the rest of the world, would think of those pictures of you and me in Aruba, the ones with you wearing nothing but handcuffs and me.”
He saluted two Lieutenants brought in from the CPD as they hurried toward the mansion. They both returned the salute and continued on.
“You’re a bitch. I always knew that, but I’m still addicted to you. And you’d do it, wouldn’t you?” he hissed.
“We’ve discussed addictions many times. They are forever present, if not expressed. I’m one of yours.”
“Say I, hypothetically, agree to acquire this important information. What would be in it for you?” he asked, this time, looking in her direction, his large dark eyes staring directly into hers.
She gestured for him to bend near to her. He did. She told him.
Backing away a step, he looked up to the bright stars speaking to a bright moon. His mind was obviously working.
She waited.
Finally, after a minute of what had started out to be one of the hardest decisions of his life she suspected. It then became an easy decision for him. Ambition never really has a competitor, it always wins.
“That’s what you want?”
“It is.”
“Do we shake on it or find a quiet room to consummate this agreement?” he asked.
“Neither, for now. We can discuss both tomorrow, after you become the hero of The Windy City, again. Oh, and there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“None of these people can be taken alive. Not one. Loose ends are not good for future endeavors.”
“I see. I believe that can be arranged.”
“See that you do.”
With that, she slipped a piece of paper into his hand.
CHAPTER-55
Big Harv pointed at Bella. “Where is that bastard supposed to be?”
She glanced up at him, her brown eyes shining with emotion, anger, and excitement, he thought. He’d seen it in more than a few cops over the years. Hell, he probably had the same look. Excitement showed itself when a case was about to be taken to the next step or broken. Anger when another cop was found to be dirty. God knew they’d fought that image over the years. Seeing it come to fruition was bullshit of the worst kind.
He was controlling his anger, almost. Not good for the ticker, and he wasn’t a CPD cop anymore, but you can’t take the cop out of the boy.
“I’m checking the work roster for the night. Hang tight.”
“Yeah, I’m hanging. Just hurry your ass up.”
“Patience.”
He tapped his foot as Bella pounded on the computer. He’d never liked Brown, and that dislike was now validated by the bastard’s actions. He corrected himself. More bad actions.
Brown had been a coward at Lincoln Park those years ago and now he was worse. A damned trader and that was an ultimate no-no. Cops need to trust other cops to have their backs. Something this man obviously didn’t get.
“Hey, Big Harv? Hey?”
Snapping back to the moment, he raised his hands in surrender. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I was thinking about how I’m going to rip his balls off when we find him.”
She stood, flung her black leather purse over her shoulder, then grabbed his arm with her warm, strong hand.
“Come with me and you’ll get that chance.”
“Where is he?” he asked, following her out the door.
“Looks like I won’t get my shapely ass in trouble after all. He’s at that mansion in Winnetka.”
CHAPTER-56
“Who made a mistake?” asked Brice.
Before Ellen could answer him, the two blues he’d sent to Tilly’s address pulled up in a squad car and screeched to a quick stop, bright lights flashing red and blue. The older female officer was out of the passenger side door sprinting in their direction.
Brice and Ellen both pulled their weapons.
“Easy,” yelled Brice.
She stopped on a dime, raising her hands high. “Okay. Okay. But I have to tell you something.”
The anxiety in her voice sounded legitimate to Ellen and it must have to Brice as well. He dropped his weapon to his side. She followed his lead.
“Come closer, but keep your hands where we can see them.”
The female officer picked up the pace and came to within ten feet and stopped.
“Tell me what?”
“You had us all on radio silence so we didn’t know until we got back into the cruiser.”
“Know what? Talk girl,” said Brice.
“There’s been a terrible mass shooting in Winnetka. Six people dead, including four Chicago Councilmen and women,” she said, catching her breath.
“What?” asked Ellen, feeling a little bit of that surreal effect flow over her.
“We don’t have the details yet. My partner’s getting them. But every available cop is supposed to get there. That was about thirty-five minutes ago,” she said.
“Damn it.” Ellen pulled out her phone and turned it on and waited, staring a hole through the screen. What the hell else could happen today? Four politicians?
A moment later, several message notifications popped up on her screen, three from Aaron and one from the Commissioner’s office, confirming what the officer had told them.
Disruption. Disruption.
Her own word was suddenly a source of stark haunting.
“Do you know what was going on up there and why?” asked Ellen, now inches from the cop’s face.
The blue stepped back, mouth open.
Ellen followed. “I asked you a question, officer. Answer me.”
“Ahh, okay, take it easy. There was this big party thing involving a bunch of rich-bitches and Chicago government. They say it’s a charity event but no one ever knows what charity benefits, you know?”
Ellen exhaled. “Sorry for the snapping. And I get it. I assume the mayor is there.”
The officer shrugged. “I’d say so. He likes that money thing too.”
“Why are you asking her about this party gathering?” asked Brice.
She opened the note that Adam had in his pocket, Beaux moving to her feet as she did.
“Look at this stationery.”
Brice squinted in the semi-light. “What about it?”
“See this corner here,” she said pointing to the bottom left.
“That partial design or coat of arms or whatever? Yeah, I see it now. So?”
She was already walking toward the unmarked car driven by the detectives guarding Henry’s corpse. “That paper comes from only one place.”
“Where?” asked Brice catching up to her, Beaux between them.
She stopped, leaning over and patting the dog’s head. “Beaux, you have to wait for Anna. She’ll patch you up and maybe join us later, if you can, got it?”
He hesitated, sighed, and sat down on the sidewalk.
“Good boy.” Then she grabbed B
rice’s hand, rushing toward the car. “We have to get to Winnetka. This letterhead comes from the mayor’s office.”
CHAPTER-57
Ellen motioned for Brice to drive. “I’ve got to call Aaron, so you get us there.”
“I can do that. Then you have to tell me what you’re thinking. I mean I get what you’re saying about the mayor and his stationery on a note written to someone who was trying to shoot me. That’s a natural thing to question. How does that tie in with the killings in Winnetka?”
She raised her hand, waiting for Aaron to answer. “Just a second.”
Her mind was running a mile a second. No thought of forensics or science proving her theory. Just the idea that was blooming in her mind. While putting pieces together like a detective was different than a CSI, she was becoming more familiar with doing it.
“Aaron? What do you have for me?”
She listened intently. “You’re sure about all that you just told me? Involving her and Henry too?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Okay. Okay. Just making sure. I don’t know what that means, maybe nothing, maybe everything.”
She listened to him speak again.
“Could be coincidence, you’re right. We don’t deal in those, however. Send me the full report to my phone, okay?”
“On the way,” he said.
“I need one more thing. You saw what happened in Winnetka, right?” she asked.
Ellen strained to hear him as his voice dropped. “I did. Is this some end of days shit?”
“I know. These two days have been from Hell. Listen. I want you to take the SUV, make sure my kit’s inside and meet us up there,” she answered.
She waited, then drew a thin smile as he answered. “Yeah, I could use a doughnut too. Just hurry. We’ll be there in twenty or so.”
Ellen put her phone in her pocket, then grabbed the handrail above her head as Brice hit Lake Shore drive going faster than maybe even a cop should.
