by C. M. Sutter
“I’m just taking down information as fast as I can write it. Haven’t compared notes yet.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do to get some order here.” I yelled out to the crowd, “Anyone who was an actual eyewitness to the car veering off the street and onto the curb, stand over here.” I pointed to my right, and several dozen people moved to that side. “Anyone who saw a car speed away or a person running on the opposite side of the street, join that first group.” Only four people changed their position. I turned to Tillson. “Grab a handful of officers and begin the interviews again with the folks who saw the car jump the curb. I’ll talk to the other four myself.”
I pulled aside two women and two men. “Are you couples?”
One man, looking to be around my age, spoke up first. “Nope, I’m alone.”
I asked the other three their status. One female said she was also by herself, and the last man and woman said they were a couple.
“Okay, I’ll try to keep this as brief as possible so you can go about your evening.” I nodded at the single man. “How about you first?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I pulled him aside and asked the others to wait patiently at the sidewalk but on our side of the tape. We headed for a vacant squad car. I needed a writing surface, which was the hood for the time being.
“So, first and foremost, I need to see your driver’s license. If a second interview is necessary, we’ll have your contact information.”
He reached in his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, and removed the license. I copied down the information then looked up.
“Your phone number and email, too, please.”
He gave me that as well, then the interview began.
“So, Aaron, what exactly did you see? A person running down the sidewalk or a car speeding away?”
“I’m certain I saw somebody run and then duck into that tan building back there.”
I stared at the block behind us. “Which one?”
“The one just past that redbrick building with the arched entrance.”
I wrote that down. “Okay, what can you tell me about that person, and how far away from them were you?”
“I was almost to the crosswalk and heading up here to Tasha’s Tap. The person was a man, I guess. Built like a guy, anyway, and was wearing a tracksuit. Looked to be around my size, a buck ninety, and I’m five foot ten.”
“Could you see any features or tell his race?” I was sure he would say no, and he did. “And you’re sure he ducked into that tan building?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, thanks, Aaron.”
He gave me a nod and stepped back into the crowd.
I called out to Foxworthy and told him to grab an officer, advise Lutz, since he was the only commander on site, and then go to that building and track down the guy. I waved over the couple—they were next. After collecting their information, I asked what they’d seen or heard. The woman seemed a little more coherent than her boyfriend, who smelled like he’d just downed a few pitchers of beer.
“We heard gunshots,” she said.
“Do you remember how many?”
“Definitely two.”
The boyfriend disagreed and said there were three. We’d get the true number after talking to additional people. The consensus of the group would give us the correct amount of shots fired, and I was leaning more toward it being two based on the evidence we had.
“Could you tell where the gunshots came from?”
“They sounded really close,” the boyfriend said. “I remember ducking behind a newspaper box.”
Poppy, the girlfriend, pointed down the previous block. “I think they came from a vehicle back there, but the light turned green and the cars took off.” She looked over her shoulder at Charlotte’s vehicle. “I had no idea somebody in a car was hit, though, until it veered off the street and ended up on the sidewalk. People scattered fast.”
“So no car sped away?”
Curt, the boyfriend, shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone speed away. The shots sounded, and then everything seemed normal again.” He jerked his head to his right. “Except for that. Is the driver dead?”
I ignored his question. Seeing the medical examiner’s van parked thirty feet from the scene ought to give them their answer. I thanked the couple for their input and called the last woman over.
“Hello, ma’am.”
“Hello, Officer.”
“It’s Detective McCord. May I see your driver’s license, please?”
“Sure.”
I waited as she pulled her wallet from her purse then handed me the license. I wrote down her information, did a double take when I read that she was six feet tall, then looked down at her feet—flat shoes. I continued. “So can you tell me what you witnessed?” I glanced at the name I’d just written down since I had already given the license back to her. “Miss Smythe?”
“I love watching crime TV, so I enrolled in criminology classes on a lark, but in reality, I’m able to spot things and retain those images much better than the general public.”
“Really?” I hoped I wasn’t dealing with a know-it-all who thought she could solve crimes faster than law enforcement. “So what did you spot?”
She pointed at Charlotte’s car. “That cream-colored vehicle was in the far-right lane.”
That’s pretty obvious.
“And the shots I heard came from about a half block back. The cars that had been at the light continued on, but that one veered right and ended up where it’s sitting now.”
Also obvious facts, but I pushed her for more. “Did you take note of the other cars since you have that amazing recall and think like a cop?”
She smiled as if enjoying my questions. “Of course, but none sped away since that would have attracted unwanted attention, especially after two shots rang out. I do remember what the car directly to the left of the Maxima looked like, though.”
I wondered if she could be helpful after all. “So you say two shots were fired?”
“Not a doubt in my mind.”
“And the description of the vehicle that was to the left of the one belonging to the deceased?”
“It was a red VW Tiguan. I know that vehicle because I almost bought one last year.”
“Humph. Any chance you caught the plate number?”
She cocked her head. “No, Detective McCord. I was focused on staying out of harm’s way, but I’m quite sure the driver was a man. Maybe a disgruntled ex. Who knows?”
“And what leads you to believe that?”
She smirked, obviously pleased that she could enlighten me. “He sat higher in the seat than a woman does, and he wore a cap on his head. That’s really all I saw.”
I closed my notepad and pocketed it. “Appreciate your help, Miss Smythe.”
She waved me off. “Gloria will do.”
I completed the interview and called Tillson over. “Which squad car is yours?”
He pointed at the one behind us.
“I need your help. Got your keys?”
“Yeah, sure. Climb in.” Tillson popped the locks, and I took the passenger seat.
“I need you to pull up VW Tiguan in the DMV database and see how many red ones are in Cook County.”
He frowned. “Just an overall search?”
“Yep. I need to know what we’re dealing with. The last woman I interviewed said a red Tiguan was directly to the left of Charlotte’s Maxima when the gunshots went off. I can’t issue a BOLO without a plate number, so just a rough estimate.”
Tillson tapped the computer keys and came up with 221 that were privately owned. “Don’t forget, there could be a hundred more with all the rental-car agencies in Cook County.”
I groaned. “Why isn’t anything easy?”
“Was that a rhetorical question, because I know the answer.”
I chuckled. “Go ahead and tell me.”
“It’s because we live in a city with nearly three million people in it. If we li
ved in Mayberry USA, we probably wouldn’t find one red Tiguan in the entire county.”
“That sounds nice. Okay, thanks, Greg.” The crowd had thinned, and the sidewalk was nearly empty. I checked the time, and it was pushing three o’clock.
No wonder. The bars are closing for the night. What I’d give for a cup of coffee.
Squeaking wheels caught my attention, and I turned to my left. Mark Nells was pushing the gurney toward Charlotte’s car, which told me Don had finished his field examination and she would be taken to his office for an autopsy. Forensics would take more pictures of the empty car, then it would be towed to our evidence garage. Without skid marks to measure distance, Mike and Danny said they had estimated purely by eyewitness accounts that the car had traveled a good hundred fifty feet before it came to a stop. I added that to my notes as well.
Down the block to my right, a handful of officers still scoured the area, but I had my doubts they would find anything of value before daylight.
I headed toward Lutz. “Well?”
He motioned toward our cars. “Let’s get a cup of coffee and try to make sense of this. All that’s left here at the scene is for the car to be towed. I’ll have a half dozen officers stay put and search these two blocks until the first shift crew can take the reins.”
Chapter 4
I’d always thought it was a genius business tactic that when the bars closed, the diners opened. We found a corner greasy spoon and parked a half block away. From the number of cars in the area, I assumed that was where a good number of people who closed down the bars went to eat and sober up before driving home.
Lutz and I found seats at the far end of the counter, where several stools still sat empty. We plopped down with simultaneous thuds.
With a headshake of disbelief, I sighed since I finally had a minute to think. “This is going to be the toughest death notice I’ll ever give anyone, Bob.”
“Then let me do it. I know how personal this is for you.”
“Nah, I have to be the one. Steve and I go back almost twenty years, and it wouldn’t be right coming from anyone else.” I locked eyes with my commander. “Nothing about this makes sense.”
“What did Charlotte do for a living?”
“She was a dental hygienist, and I wouldn’t consider that a job where you’d make many enemies unless you cleaned teeth too aggressively.”
“We still have to rule out a random shooting that made her the unlucky person whose car was next to the shooter’s. Anything on that man wearing the tracksuit?”
I huffed. “False alarm. It was a locked office building without apartments in it. He may have ducked under the covered stoop, but he didn’t enter the building. The guy could have been out for a jog for all we know.”
Lutz scratched his chin. “Yeah, dressed in a tracksuit leans that way. Red light cameras won’t tell us anything since nobody ran the light.”
“True enough. Tomorrow is Sunday, and we’ll only have a skeleton crew at the precinct.”
Lutz held up his hand. “I’m calling in everyone. We need to solve this shooting and quick before the media grabs it by the tail and spins it into a drive-by killer who targets anyone and everyone in a car. The city will go into a panic, and people will be afraid to drive to work, to the grocery store, and to drop off their kids at school. That’s the last thing Chicago needs.”
We ordered coffee and I browsed the selection of pastries. A couple of sweet rolls would be enough to tide us over.
“If everyone is showing up, then we need to spend the day tracking down people who own a red VW Tiguan and have a criminal record. They’ll be the first people we talk to.” I rubbed my temples. “After that, I’m at a loss.”
Lutz stopped me. “Before you head to the precinct, you need to pay Steve a visit.”
“Guess there’s no time like the present. I’ll get there around five, sit with him for a while, and then head in. The autopsy will take a few hours, and Don won’t have Charlotte presentable for an ID until late morning.”
“Hold off until early afternoon,” Lutz said. “Steve needs time to process that information, and we have to finish up at the scene. It’s not the end of the world if that missing slug isn’t found since the one that killed her is still lodged in her head. The chance of finding a casing is slim unless the shooter actually was on foot. If they shot from a car, then our chances are damn near zero.”
Lutz asked for the check and a coffee to go. I held up two fingers.
“I’ll have one too—large for both of them.”
With a pat on my back, Lutz offered good luck wishes, then he and I parted ways. He headed to the scene, and I was on my way north to Lincoln Park. Steve’s world was about to change, and he would be just like me—with no parents or siblings and only extended family left. My heart broke for him, and as I drove, I thought about Milton’s death two years before. It had been devastating for both Steve and Charlotte, and the funeral was the last time I’d seen her. Now I would be attending hers.
I reached Steve’s condo at 4:50 and parked along the curb. The night was quiet except for the occasional barking dog. People were asleep and would wake to a lazy morning then lounge in bed with coffee and the Sunday newspaper.
Everyone except Steve. His morning will be hell.
With a sigh of regret, I climbed out of my Camaro and headed to the door. Each condo in the building had its own private entrance with a doorbell, so I didn’t have to wait to be buzzed through. I knew Steve had a doorbell camera and could ask who it was right from his phone without getting out of bed. He would know instantly that I wasn’t there at five a.m. for a social call, especially when he’d just seen me less than six hours earlier.
I sucked in a deep breath, pressed the bell, and waited. A groggy voice spoke up seconds later.
“What the hell, Jesse? This better be good.”
I stood silently. There was nothing good about it.
“What’s wrong? Hanna dump you and you need a shoulder to cry on?”
“Steve, for God’s sake, let me in. You think I’d come here and wake you up without a good reason?” I could tell his tone changed quickly.
“Okay, buddy, give me a second.”
He pulled the door open a minute later, wearing nothing but his briefs. “Come inside. It’s freezing out there. So, why the hell are you here?”
“Go put on something.”
“Yeah, hang on.”
He disappeared down the hall and returned wearing flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt. “Good enough?”
I nodded toward the couch. “Have a seat.”
“Just tell me what’s up. You’re starting to freak me out.”
I pointed at the couch and took a seat on the chair next to it.
Steve finally sat down and stared a hole through me. “What happened, and to whom?”
Chapter 5
Soft music played in the background as Vic checked off the name Charlotte Sanders from the list. There was no mistake, and her death wasn’t a random act of violence. She had been chosen, and the rest of the names on that list were chosen as well. They deserved to die. The wrongs had to be righted to preserve balance. The same people couldn’t always win, nor could the same people always lose. Yin needed its yang, karma was a bitch, and so on. The natural balance had to be maintained, and eliminating that group was the first step in making it happen.
Looking at the name below Charlotte’s, Vic tried to think of a fitting end for the person. Charlotte’s manner of death was less than exciting and barely newsworthy. Some pizazz was in order, and mixing it up would not only throw off the cops but would also lead them to believe that different people committed the killings. Nothing said serial killer like repeating the same MO again and again.
There won’t be anything that connects these murders. The manner of death will be different for each of them. They don’t work together, they aren’t related, and hell, they aren’t even friends. I’ll rid the planet of them without any consequences. It’l
l be perfect.
Vic left the sheet of paper on the kitchen counter. Tomorrow, the plan would be thought out more carefully, but now, at five o’clock in the morning, it was time for some shut-eye.
Chapter 6
“Remember when I got that call around eleven thirty last night and had to rush out?”
Steve’s right eyebrow went up. “Yeah, what about it?”
“I was called to a car accident on East Forty-Seventh Street and Dr. Martin Luther King Drive.”
“What does that have to do with you? You work homicide.”
I nodded as I felt my eyes well up. “You’re right, buddy, I do work homicide. The driver of that car had been shot, which ultimately caused the car to crash. Steve—”
“Who was it, Jesse? Just tell me, damn it.”
“Charlotte. I’m so sorry, Steve, but your mom is dead.”
His scream reverberated off the walls. Steve buried his face in his hands and wailed.
“It can’t be true. There’s a mistake. Tell me there’s been a mistake, Jesse! My mom can’t be gone too. There’s nobody in hell who would want her dead. She’s the kindest woman alive. Maybe somebody else was driving her car, or maybe it’s a car that resembles hers.” Steve bore a hole through me until I had to look away. I knew he wanted me to agree with him, but I had been there and knew it was her.
“Steve, I was at the scene—it’s her. The vehicle was registered to Charlotte Sanders, and the purse inside the car contained her driver’s license. Even her cell phone had the picture of you two together as the screen saver.”
He kept shaking his head as if that would make the horror go away. “What happened, Jesse, and who would shoot my mom? She works at a dental office, for God’s sake. None of it makes sense.”
“I know, and it’s our department’s job to track down the killer and bring him to justice. Everyone will be working the case, Steve, and we’ll get him, I promise.”