by C. M. Sutter
Tim pulled out the third chair on the left side of the table and sat down. I placed my laptop on the table and took a seat next to him.
“I have some good news to share with you. After our tech department sharpened up the image of the man, we were able to make out the logo on his shirt. I don’t want to get ahead of myself here with wishful thinking, so I’ll show you the screen grab and get your opinion. Ready?”
He nodded and scooted his chair in closer. I tapped the mouse, and the screen came to life, then I clicked on the attachment that Todd sent to my in-box.
“Okay, here it is. I want you to take your time since there’s no right or wrong answer. All I need is your honest opinion of whether that man is or isn’t the guy you saw behind your condo.”
Tim sucked in a deep breath and stared at the screen. With Todd’s enhancement of the image, even I could tell the man’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but I kept my mouth closed. I didn’t want to sway Tim in one direction or the other.
After studying the man for a solid minute, Tim spoke up. “That’s him.”
“You’re sure?”
“No doubt in my mind.”
“Okay, that’s great. Now we’ll put this enhanced image on the news and see if we get more reliable leads.” I rubbed my hands together.
“Detective McCord?”
“Yep?”
“I’m familiar with that company name on his shirt.”
I jerked my head back at the words written across the man’s chest. “Really? I still can’t read them.”
“I don’t need to know the words—I recognize the logo. Nobody would have that shirt unless they’re an employee or they donated the shirt to charity. It’s from RailGears.”
“RailGears?”
“Yep, and the company I’m employed at works hand in hand with them.”
“Wow! My day just improved by a thousand percent. I’ll head to that company right now with the picture. I look forward to putting cuffs on that murdering piece of trash.” I thanked Tim and walked him out then made a beeline for Lutz’s office.
“Boss?” I stuck my head in through his half-opened door. The office was empty.
Hmm, I wonder where he is.
I passed the lunchroom on my way to the bullpen, and Lutz was standing at the coffee machine. I backed up and entered the room. “Bob, Tim positively identified the man as one of Leslie’s attackers.”
Lutz jerked his head at the nearest table. “Sit down and tell me what he said.”
“He said it was the guy, and I’ll admit, Todd did a good job of enhancing the image. The most important thing, though, was the T-shirt the man had on.”
Bob took a sip of coffee and stared at me. “I don’t follow. Why does his T-shirt matter?”
“Tim recognized the logo. It belongs to RailGears, and Tim’s own company works with them.”
“Okay, that’s a good start.”
“I’m heading there now to find out the guy’s name and address.”
Bob shook his head. “No way in hell. What do we have that ties him to the crime?”
“Tim’s statement.”
“Anybody can be an eyewitness, and look at the number of witness accounts that are wrong. We need physical evidence, not just the word of a man who had a ten-second look at two assailants. Although Tim may be one hundred percent correct, we still need something to work with. If you go storming into that company and demand that employee’s records, it’s doubtful you’ll get them without a warrant and probable cause.”
“We can’t follow him without knowing where he lives.”
“Sure you can. Find out the hours of that company and if they work weekends too. He exited the subway at twelve oh three a.m. Saturday night, or literally Sunday morning. He had on a work T-shirt. It’s doubtful that he’d wear that if he was barhopping on Rush Street. My guess is he works second shift and was heading home. Maybe he lives with the guy who actually stabbed Leslie, giving us both birds with one stone.”
“Yeah, surveillance is key, and you’re absolutely right. If we want the district attorney to even take on a case against him, and a conviction to stick, we need proof like Leslie’s phone or purse before they ditch that evidence. I need to get online and find out where that company is and the work hours.”
“And then go to the Grand Avenue subway and watch for him to board. Start at one p.m. and wait. Chances are his shift starts at three or so. Take Frank with you, and if you do spot him, two people are better than one. He won’t realize he’s being followed. I’ll have somebody from the night crew do the same thing on his way back. They can follow him all the way home, get his address, and then we can watch the residence.”
“I’ll do it then too.”
Lutz held up both palms toward me. “No you won’t. I know you’re gung ho to get these killers off the street, but he can’t know he’s being followed, especially when he’s leading us right to his house.”
“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll help out with the tip-line leads then until it’s time to go.”
Chapter 24
Gnawing on a soft pretzel, Richard sat on a bench at the Grand Avenue subway stop and watched people come and go. His eyes darted left and right in search of those men from the sketches. He would ride the rails day and night until he found one or both of them. They weren’t about to ruin what had worked perfectly for him in the past and hopefully for the foreseeable future.
Richard hadn’t decided how to kill them, but it had to be at a time when they were each alone. Although he was a large, stocky man, he wasn’t about to push his luck by taking both of them on at once. Tipping his wrist, Richard glanced at his watch—12:57. His stomach churned with emptiness. The pretzel he’d eaten two hours earlier was all he’d had since waking up that morning. He needed more.
Checking the board for the next arriving train, Richard saw he had seven minutes of free time. He would hit the men’s room and snag a few snacks from the vending machine since there wasn’t time to wait in line at the hot dog stand.
Entering the men’s room, Richard spotted him right away. The bigger of the two cops who had walked Ninety-Fifth Street on Saturday stood at the sink, washing his hands. Doing his best to maintain his composure, Richard crossed to the urinals, where the other cop relieved himself only inches away.
The big cop, who reminded Richard of Ronald, ripped paper towels from the dispenser and dried his hands. “I’ll grab a couple of coffees, Jesse, and find a spot to watch from.”
The detective who stood next to Richard nodded. “Leave room for cream in mine.”
Richard was so close to him, he feared the man would hear his heart thumping. Exhilaration combined with fear and laugh-out-loud humor nearly overpowered him. He had to hold it together to avoid drawing attention.
The cop walked to the sink, washed his hands, and left the men’s room without giving Richard a second look.
That was almost as exciting as killing someone. There I stood, only inches from you but still as invisible as a ghost. Let’s see who gets to those copycat killers first—you or me. I’m guessing I’ll have the pleasure of watching their blood spill from their bodies since I have much more time on my hands than you do.
Richard exited the men’s room and scanned the waiting area. He spotted the cops on a bench fifty feet away doing their own scanning. Each one had his head on a swivel.
Let’s see how astute they really are. While they’re watching for the killers, I’ll be watching them, and I doubt if they’ll even notice me. What a trip.
Finding an out-of-the-way place to plant himself while able to see the station entrance and the cops, Richard took a seat and ate the vending machine sandwich he’d bought.
Chapter 25
Frank and I sat for hours and watched without luck. The Hispanic guy never showed up. No sign of him or even an accidental sighting of the other man. Lutz was sure this was the right path to take, but I wasn’t, and we didn’t even have circumstantial evidence against the guy.
Eyewitness accounts—especially during a crisis situation—were one of the least reliable reasons to hold a person and involve the district attorney. We needed more, and without it, we couldn’t make an arrest.
I glanced at the digital clock on the board next to the train’s arrival and departure times—3:07. Anybody who actually worked a second shift job would already be there, yet the ponytailed man we hoped to follow was nowhere to be found.
Frank groaned. “This seems like wasted time to me. We could be interviewing tipsters instead of watching passengers get on and off the subway.”
“I’ll call Lutz and see what he says. I’m getting pretty tired of sitting here myself. Maybe someone from the night crew can stake out the subway station nearest RailGears and see if that guy shows up tonight.” I made the call and, pressing the phone to my ear, told our boss that we hadn’t seen the Hispanic man at all.
“Damn it. I was sure he’d show up. Okay, then come on back to the station.”
“Roger that.” I clicked off the call, pocketed my phone, and tipped my head toward the exit. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve already wasted half the day.”
We were back at the station by three forty and at our desks by three forty-five.
“Where are we at with the leads?” I watched as Henry shuffled a stack of notes and added them to one of the three mounting piles on his desk. I stood and walked across the bullpen. “Is there a method to your madness?”
“Yep. Leads we’ve checked that didn’t pan out, leads that are too ridiculous to bother with, and ones that still need to be investigated.”
“Give me half of the to-be-investigated stack.”
Henry handed me a three-inch-thick stack, which I immediately divided into two before handing half to Frank.
He frowned. “Gee, thanks, pal.”
I took my seat and began going through them, and within minutes, I had two stacks of my own. I chuckled as I read a few leads out loud. “Really? A long-lost brother from Guatemala who got separated from his family ten years ago during a vacation in Costa Rica? Why in the hell would he be committing a murder in Chicago?” I continued. “Here’s another good one. The white guy looks just like a local twenty-year-old who lives with his parents on the Gold Coast and volunteers his time to the Big Brothers Big Sisters organization. Doubt if that accurately describes the killer we’re looking for.” I quickly noticed that my “less than one percent chance in hell” pile was growing much faster than the one with leads we would actually take seriously. I glanced at Frank’s stacks, and his looked about the same as mine. I was afraid that getting the few legitimate leads we desperately needed would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
Chapter 26
When he heard the train and felt the whoosh of wind preceding it as it bore through the tunnel, Richard stood. Once the train stopped and the doors opened, he would grab a seat. It was something to do since boredom had begun to creep in. He intended to watch for those men into the late hours of the night, and sooner or later, he’d find one or both of them. At dinnertime, he’d exit again and grab a hot dog from the vendor in the station and continue to watch from the platform.
He rode until five thirty and spotted that redhead who’d exited at the California Street stop the previous night.
I’ll get to you soon enough, you little tramp. You can count on it.
After getting off the train at Grand Avenue again, Richard sat with eyes on every doorway and ate two hot dogs and an order of waffle fries. He watched for twenty minutes before standing when another train approached. He climbed aboard, grabbed the pole nearest the door, then realized how full the train was. As more people squeezed in, he saw what looked to be the white guy exiting the car ahead of his.
“Excuse me, please. Move aside. I’ve boarded the wrong train.”
As the doors began to close, Richard gave them a shoulder hit, which caused them to automatically spread apart again. He jumped out, scanned the crowd, and saw the man heading toward the street exit.
“Gotcha.”
He caught up and slowed his pace as the man made a pit stop at the restroom. Richard found a strategic location against a nearby wall that would give him a close-up look at the guy when he walked out. He pulled up the sketch on his phone then waited for the man to leave. Several minutes later, the man exited the bathroom and passed within four feet of Richard.
Yep, that’s you. I’ve got you dead to rights, and soon enough, you’ll be dead.
Richard pushed off the wall and walked step for step about ten feet behind the man, and he wasn’t about to lose him once he headed outside. Turning south on Halstead, Richard heard the man talking on his phone, which was always a good distraction. The easiest way to go unnoticed was when someone was preoccupied with their cell phone, and it worked to Richard’s advantage every time.
People are just stupid and live in a bubble of false security when they’re on the phone. They think that person on the other end can somehow rescue them if something happens, which is the furthest thing from the truth.
A block down Halstead, the man turned right onto West Hubbard. Richard maintained his distance but stayed within eyeshot of him. They passed North Green and North Peoria, where the woman was killed, then the man made a right on North Sangamon Street. Richard held back at the corner and watched from a distance. With the street dead-ending only four buildings down, he didn’t want to be seen turning that way behind the man. He was still within Richard’s view.
There you go. Looks like you went up the sidewalk of the last building.
Once he’d lost the visual of the man, Richard jogged ahead but stayed on the opposite side of the street. The door closed just as he reached the brick walk-up. Cloaked in the shadows from the setting sun, Richard checked the time—6:12. A first-floor light facing the street came on, and that same man, visible through the window, was in what looked to be the kitchen.
Good. Now I know where you live, and I’ll be watching for your buddy too. Think of the money I’ll save the taxpayers by reducing the police department’s workload. I can do their job, and I don’t even need a salary. It’ll be my pleasure to kill both of you.
Richard crept closer and took a picture of the house and the address number of the lower unit, then he returned to the dark side of the street, where he found a stoop to sit on and wait. He needed to know when that man, or both men, came and went so he could plan their demise.
He jumped at the sound. Richard woke from his unintentional nap and heard what could have been keys jangling. He squinted at the brick house across the street, and the ponytailed man stepped up to the porch. A grin spread across Richard’s face as he checked the time—12:22 a.m. It had to be the Hispanic guy, and since he had his own set of keys, that meant the two men were roommates. One more time, that same light came on, confirming the fact that they lived together in the lower unit.
Killing you will be easy under the veil of darkness, but I have to come up with something for that first guy. I need to kill him inside the house where there aren’t any witnesses. It’s the only way. Nobody will know he’s dead, and then I’ll get my chance with you tomorrow night.
Satisfied for the time being, Richard returned to the subway and rode it to his exit. He would go back to the house tomorrow and wait for the first guy to show up, then Richard would take his life.
Chapter 27
I dropped down in a seat at my desk after roll call on Tuesday morning. We were no further ahead than we’d been when I arrived at the scene of Callie’s murder three days earlier. We had followed up on a good portion of the reliable-sounding leads, but that in itself was a slow process, and like most leads, they ended up going nowhere.
“How many leads do we still need to investigate?”
Henry counted what was on his desk. “I have thirteen.” He turned to Shawn.
“And I have seven.”
“So twenty leads to check out, and are they still coming in?”
Kip said they’d dried up
, and our night crew had confirmed that before they went home. The phones had stopped ringing.
“Okay, let’s wrap up what we have and hit the streets again. With the photo enhancement airing today, more calls will likely pour in, and we have to be ready for another surge of leads, especially if they have merit.”
Frank snickered. “I hope they won’t have us chasing our tails.”
“Callie’s murderer is staying under the radar, or he’s the same guy who killed Leslie. Either way, we can’t drop the ball on her. I’ll clear our day with Lutz, but I think we should walk her neighborhood, too, and show the photo of the Hispanic guy to everyone. Somebody might recognize him.” I tipped my wrist. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, sort through those leads and pick out the ones that sound the most believable.”
I took the hall to Lutz’s office and walked in. His door stood wide open.
“I was expecting you. Have a seat, Jesse.”
“Why were you expecting me?”
“Because I know you’re like a dog with a bone. I’ve considered paying RailGears a visit and only asking if the man in the photo works there. I’ve checked their website, and they have two hundred employees, give or take a handful. Although we don’t have probable cause—meaning no warrant—you can stop in, ask to speak to the human resources manager, and show that person the picture. Maybe you’ll get his name and maybe you won’t, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Great. I’ll head there right now. I was thinking of hitting the pavement today around Leslie and Callie’s neighborhoods with the enhanced photo too. Not everyone watches the news, you know.”
Lutz held up his hand. “Good plan. Just make sure to leave a few officers in the bullpen. If anything important comes in, tell them to forward it to me.”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll keep you posted.”