Miller had collated the mugshots while Gabrielle was on her way back from the morgue. They were faces of violent criminals that Jacob had successfully prosecuted in the last year.
‘Do you recognize this man?’
A picture of a shaven-headed Colombian youth was offered to her. She studied it, then shook her head.
‘And this guy?’
A young African American with braided hair and plenty of attitude.
‘No, I’m sorry …’
‘And this one?’
On it went. A brief look, then a small shake of the head. Until finally there was only one photo remaining.
‘And what about this one?’
In spite of the studied neutrality of Miller’s tone, Nancy realized that there was something special about this last photo. She studied the image of Kassandra Wojcek carefully, as Gabrielle watched her closely for any sign of a reaction. But when Nancy looked up, seemingly as mystified as ever, it was only to say:
‘No. I’ve never seen that girl before in my life.’
32
Everywhere she went, their eyes followed her.
Kassie had never fitted in at school and on days like today she wondered why she’d ever tried. Was it the way she dressed that intrigued them? The way she spoke? Or was it just her flagrant, persistent infraction of the school rules that made her fellow students stare?
Kassie made her way down the long hallway. It was recess and the locker area was crowded – she had to push her way through the bodies to get to hers. As she did so, conversations ceased, gestures were made, words were mouthed. This wasn’t uncommon – she was generally regarded as a freak – but Kassie sensed a raised level of interest – had her peers somehow got wind of her arrest? The police had had to inform the school, so it was perfectly possible.
‘Hey, Mandy, look at that. Did you know the thrift store was having a sale?’
Kassie opened her locker and placed her books inside. Comments like this were commonplace and for a moment Kassie wondered if maybe they hadn’t heard. But the next comment dispelled that fond notion.
‘I heard she’d got a couple of new bracelets to go with her “look”. Steel ones, joined together with a little chain …’
It was Amanda and Jessie – two classic high-school bitches. They usually started the round of insults, when they were bored or had no boys to flirt with.
‘I know, so cute,’ Mandy cooed in response to Jessie’s jibe. ‘Probably the most expensive jewellery she’s ever worn.’
Slamming her locker shut, Kassie turned to face them. Normally she would ignore their taunts, but she was not in the mood today.
‘Got something to say?’ Kassie demanded, staring straight at Mandy.
‘No, but I’m sure you do,’ she responded, grinning.
‘I should warn you though,’ Jessie butted in, hanging on her girlfriend’s shoulder, ‘anything you say may be used against you in a court of law –’
‘Oh, fuck off, Jessie.’
Kassie’s words had the desired effect, a surprised Jessie shocked into silence.
‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’
Kassie barged past them, her shoulder catching Jessie sharply. There were howls of protest and angry responses, but Kassie didn’t stop to trade insults, marching off down the hallway instead. It had felt good to tell them where to go, but she knew she would come to regret it. Mandy and Jessie were unpleasant and predictable, but quickly got bored if they weren’t provoked. They could not ignore such a flagrant challenge, however, especially from someone with so few allies. And that was the bitter irony of school life for Kassie – however much excitement and amusement she generated, she was nevertheless always alone at Grantham High.
Their eyes followed her down the hallway. There was no question of returning to classes now – Jessie and Mandy would find an opportunity to take their revenge – so having navigated a couple of corridors, Kassie darted through the emergency exit and descended the fire escape.
Having checked that the recreation areas were deserted, she hurried across the fading basketball courts, disappearing from view behind the garbage area. The municipal trash cans were huge, providing good cover – this space was often used by the more rebellious students, as the numerous cigarette butts on the ground revealed.
Pulling open her pencil case, Kassie fished out a freshly rolled joint and lit up. She inhaled greedily, wanting to lose herself amid the noxious-smelling garbage. But, as she inhaled a second time, an image of Adam Brandt shot into her mind. She’d been pushing thoughts of him away since their difficult encounter this morning, but now his pale, frightened face forced its way back into her consciousness. Why had she done that to him? Terrified him pretty much out of his wits? She had been angry at the time, not thinking straight, but now she felt bad about pushing him away. Maybe he didn’t believe her, maybe he did think she was crazy, but he was still pretty much the only person in Chicago who was willing to extend the hand of friendship to her.
Should she seek him out? Apologize? Ask for his help? A strong part of her wanted to keep her distance, given what she knew, but another part of her sensed a greater design at work. Was it possible that they had been brought together for a reason? Was this the push she needed to fight her curse? To grasp the nettle?
It wasn’t much of a choice. Willingly embrace danger to confront her birthright. Or stay here, alone and miserable among the foul-smelling dumpsters. Kassie drew deeply on her joint, hoping for some chemical inspiration, an image, a sign, something to help her choose.
But she had never felt as lost as she did today.
33
‘You mustn’t turn your back on her, Natalia. You must reach out to her.’
She didn’t want to meet his eye, fearing he would see her weakness, but Natalia knew she had to. Avoiding his gaze would look shifty or, worse, imply a reluctance to heed his advice. And how she needed his advice. Not since her husband’s sudden death had she felt so rudderless.
‘I know it’s hard. I know she says things that hurt you, that she has sinned and repented, then sinned again … but you are her mother. You were put on this earth to protect and nurture her.’
‘Yes, Father …’
She murmured the words gratefully. Things always seemed so much clearer, so much simpler, after she’d spoken to Father Nowak – he was like your grandfather, father and older brother rolled into one. Smiling, he continued:
‘Now let’s think how we might help Kassie see things more clearly …’
They were huddled together in the empty pews of St Stanislaus Kostka church, talking in hushed, conspiratorial tones. St Stanislaus was still the most popular church for the Chicago Polonia, a place which reminded them of the old country, and it was usually besieged by those seeking comfort or guidance.
Even though Back of the Yards was a long way away, Natalia always made the effort to come here, sometimes three or four times a week. She was devoted to Father Nowak, loved the traditional services, but she was also partial to the regular social events and charity buffets, in which she could indulge her weakness for the food of her childhood – stuffed cabbage, spiced sausage and plums wrapped in bacon.
Father Nowak – 220 pounds of beard, belly and good humour – had been the heart and soul of the revered church for many years and still attended to his duties and parishioners with the energy and zeal of a young man. His words washed over Natalia now, banishing doubt, illuminating the way forward.
‘Yes, Father, I think if I talk to her, she will come. She has always had a soft spot for this place, for you …’
If this was an exaggeration, it was not a lie. Kassandra had liked coming here as a child and had never said a bad word about Father Nowak. Natalia suddenly wanted the good priest to know this, to know that his efforts on their behalf were not unappreciated. He had always been a tower of strength for Natalia.
‘Good, then that’s agreed. Together, together, Natalia, we can help Kassie see more clearly. To cast off
her weakness, her sinfulness, and get well again. Now I think it would be fitting if we were to pray to the Virgin. Will you join me, Natalia?’
Natalia clasped her hands together. The words tripped from her and with each passing moment she felt stronger and more determined. She had allowed herself to be laid low by her daughter’s behaviour, to wallow in self-pity, but now she had a purpose. Now she saw what she must do.
By hook or by crook, she would bring Kassie back into the fold.
34
‘So, are we definitely saying this is a two-man job?’
Detective Montgomery’s question was a good one. She was relatively new to the team, but Gabrielle had a good feeling about her.
‘We’re saying it’s a possibility,’ Gabrielle responded, turning to face the phalanx of detectives crammed into the briefing room. ‘This was a clean abduction and a brutal murder. Maybe it’s a solo killer, maybe Wojcek has an accomplice, what we are looking for at the moment is connections.’
The sea of heads nodded gently. Gabrielle was pleased by their rapt attention and their resolve. She had already had Superintendent Hoskins on the phone – who himself had been called by the Mayor – demanding progress, so she’d called the entire investigative team together in the run-down, peeling briefing room. All their preliminary findings were in and when it came to assimilating it and assessing the possibilities, twelve heads were definitely better than one.
‘You’ll all have had updates from pathology and forensics. You should also have digested Kassie Wojcek’s charge sheet and the witness statements. Detective Miller and I spoke to Jones’s fiancée, Nancy Bright, earlier. She was unable to point the finger at anyone, so it’s up to us to find the links. Suarez, how are you getting on with Jones’s court history?’
‘I’m still working the gang angle. Maybe the Cobras weren’t involved specifically, but Jones has put a lot of guys away in his time. Maybe someone wanted revenge? Maybe he was actually compromising their operations? Andre Hill is a possibility, working out of Humboldt Park. Four of his runners were sent down last month – Jones was the prosecutor on every one. Hill has got form for aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon, likes to carry a big-ass hunting knife around with him.’
‘Find him,’ Gabrielle responded quickly. ‘See who he’s running with now, if he can offer up a decent alibi. Detective Miller?’
Her deputy stepped forward, as Gabrielle turned to her.
‘My guys have been chasing down leads from the Joneses’ personal life. Jacob’s former partners were all on good terms with him, but Nancy Bright has an ex who didn’t take kindly to her engagement to Jones. I don’t think he’s a fit for the attack itself, but he has motive and his best buddy has form. Dale McKenzie, former gym instructor turned bouncer. Numerous busts for drugs, verbal and physical abuse, plus he once took a tyre iron to a love rival, beat him half to death.’
‘Might be a bit of a stretch,’ Gabrielle replied straight away, to Miller’s evident disappointment. ‘Whoever did this was careful and precise – Aaron Holmes has confirmed that Jones was allergic to latex, so we know his attacker was wearing gloves. But talk to the ex, anyway. See if you can gauge the extent of his anger. And check out his digital footprint. Be good to know how involved he was in Nancy Bright’s life. What else?’
‘Jones has got a brother he doesn’t speak to,’ Detective Albright answered, keen to get in on the action. ‘Seems to have vanished off the face of the earth though. Last sighted in Minneapolis four months ago.’
‘Keep on it.’
‘We’re also running the rule over recent releases from Cook County, guys who’ve done long stretches, who still have mental health issues, who enjoy this kind of thing,’ Suarez interjected. ‘It’s possible that Jones was targeted at random.’
‘Possible, but unlikely given the level of planning that must have gone into this. I’m guessing there was some reason he was targeted, however twisted. Anything else?’
‘I think I might have a name …’ Montgomery offered, a little diffidently.
‘Go on,’ Gabrielle replied encouragingly.
Montgomery cleared her throat.
‘As you know, I’ve worked through Kassie Wojcek’s charge sheet. They were all solo arrests, solo offences, and there’s no obvious record of affiliations to gangs. This kid has few friends and seems to prefer her own company.’
‘Agreed.’
‘But she has had contact with some pretty bad boys and girls at the Juvenile Detention Center. She’s been in and out of that place for years …’
‘And …’ Gabrielle prompted, intrigued.
‘And I was wondering about this guy,’ Montgomery went on, handing Gabrielle a sheet of paper. ‘Kyle Redmond.’
Gabrielle looked down at the photocopied charge sheet and the full-colour image of a surly young man. He was shaven-headed, which only made the livid birthmark stand out more. Tattoos partially concealed it on his neck, but it drew your attention to the right side of his face, where the birthmark tugged at his lips and flirted with his nose and ear. He had a septum piercing and his ear was dotted with studs, making his appearance even more startling. Gabrielle drank in his features, especially his eyes – was that anger she saw there? Or something else?
‘They overlapped when Redmond was fifteen and Kassie was eleven. We know this because of an incident report from the time. You can see a photocopy of it on page four.’
Gabrielle flicked to the relevant page, as Montgomery continued:
‘One of the male inmates was bothering Kassie, hitting on her. Redmond took issue with this, put the guy in hospital. Now Redmond’s a thug – maybe he just wanted a fight – but the warden felt that Redmond might have had feelings for Kassie, hence his desire to protect her.’
‘And she would presumably have been grateful to her guardian angel, especially in a place like that,’ Gabrielle added.
‘Back in the day, we had people getting pregnant in there, knife fights, you name it,’ Detective Albright agreed, cheerfully.
‘So maybe they formed a friendship?’ Montgomery continued. ‘A relationship even? Anyhow, Redmond is nineteen now, but he’s been busy.’
Gabrielle digested his arrest history – false imprisonment, torture, actual bodily harm and – intriguingly – alleged sexual assaults against men and women. His ‘CV’ smacked of a man who enjoyed power and had sadistic tendencies. She passed the sheet on to Miller, who whistled quietly at the extent of his misdemeanours.
‘Sick puppy.’
‘Where is he now?’ Gabrielle demanded.
‘No idea. He went off the radar five weeks ago. He’s supposed to check into Central once a week as part of his bail conditions, but they haven’t seen hide or hair of him.’
‘Then we need to find him. Miller will coordinate, aided by Montgomery and Albright.’
The trio nodded, but didn’t move.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Gabrielle barked, aiming her question at all the detectives. ‘Get moving.’
The team obliged, scurrying away to their desks. Gabrielle watched them go, her spirits buoyed. For the first time since that awful discovery in the trunk she felt they were making progress. And not before time. The Chief Super was anxious, the media shrill and inflammatory, and the citizens of central Chicago edgy and unnerved. But the fightback started today.
35
Adam was alone in a sea of humanity. His next appointment wasn’t until four o’clock, so on heading back to Lincoln Park, he’d visited the city zoo in an attempt to clear his head. He’d come here as a boy and in his mind’s eye it was a huge, rambling place that you could lose yourself in.
Today, however, the zoo seemed smaller than he remembered. Furthermore, it was packed with family groups and school students enjoying the spring sunshine. Adam’s first instinct was to abandon his visit. No entrance fee had been paid and there were other places in the park he could go, but after a moment’s hesitation he decided to persevere. He didn’t want soli
tude, he wanted distraction, and he wasn’t prepared to give up on this trip down memory lane just yet.
And with each passing step his mood began to improve. There were some parts of the zoo he recognized and other exhibits, such as the lion enclosure, which were new to him. The lions had predictably drawn the biggest crowds, and as Adam stood by the barrier, taking in the scene before him, he found himself smiling. Dozens of rapt toddlers were virtually clambering over the safety rail in an attempt to get closer to the lions – they were fearless, transfixed, curious. He was just the same at their age.
Back then, it was one of his favourite places to come and he often nagged his parents to be allowed to visit. And though short on means and time, they always obliged. His father worked double shifts, six days a week, and was utterly spent by Sunday, but still he journeyed across town with his son on the bus, exchanging confidences, discussing baseball, weaving improbable stories, while sharing a bag of candy. And although it was slightly bittersweet for Adam to be back here, now that his father had passed away, the memory of their visits together filled him with love. Looking at the harassed parents today, juggling children, strollers, picnics and more, he realized how indulgent his father had been to him. But then perhaps that was the role of a parent, to subjugate one’s own desires and interests in the hope of raising a balanced, happy child? It had certainly been the case with his folks.
Moving away from the lions, Adam made towards the wading birds. Still his thoughts lingered on his parents, whom he’d buried six months apart. That was over ten years ago now, but the memory still provoked a powerful emotional reaction in him, principally because of the sudden nature of his father’s death. Happy, healthy, ebullient one minute, stone dead the next, the victim of a massive cardiac arrest. It had happened when his mother was alone in the house with her husband – in her panic, she’d called her son for advice, when she should have been dialling 911. Adam got there just after the paramedics, but by then it was already too late. His mother was not well and it was perhaps no great surprise that she succumbed soon after, but his father’s sudden death had come as a terrible shock to them all. It was only later they found out that his father had been suffering from heart disease for years, just as his father had before him.
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