The Breakthrough

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “Well, former coworker. DeWayne and I don’t have much in common. He’s a lot younger. I never liked his attitude, his work ethic.”

  “But you let a friend of his borrow your car.”

  “I’ve let DeWayne use it a time or two as well. But this time it was only because of the two hundred and that his friend seemed like a good kid. And I’m a veteran myself, so maybe I’ve got a soft spot. Am I getting my car back?”

  “Eventually.”

  “It wasn’t wrecked, was it?”

  “It’s evidence, but no.”

  18

  Dealing

  Detective Antoine Johnson felt as if he were watching a man disintegrate. Pastor Warren Waters sat with his head in hands, the bald spot separating what was left of his rim of red hair shining under the dingy fluorescent bulbs in the kitchen.

  “I’m such a fool,” he moaned, causing his wife to tiptoe in.

  “What is it, Warren? What’s happened?”

  “You remember I told you about that brother of Haeley Lamonica’s?”

  “Wanting to surprise her, yes.”

  “He wasn’t who he said he was.”

  “Mr. Loggyn,” Jack Keller said, sliding his business card across the felt, “I appreciate your cooperation. Now I’m going to ask you a few more questions, and of course I’m going to check you out. If you remember anything else, call me, and if I need your help to apprehend either Mr. Mannock or his friend, can I count on you?”

  Shane Loggyn squinted. “If they’ve committed some kind of a crime, especially with my car, yes, you can.”

  “Excuse me,” Jack said, fishing out his phone. He was punching in the number for Lieutenant Tidwell of the Hammond PD when he noticed Loggyn checking his watch. “I’ll get you back out there as soon as I can.”

  The number rang twice, then: “You know how many people I answer the phone for this time of night?”

  “Only the ones you love, Lefty.”

  “So I made an exception for you. What’s up, Jack?”

  “Kidnapping and possibly GTA.”

  “If it was only grand theft auto, it coulda waited till Monday; am I right?”

  “Right, but a CPD cop’s kid was taken, Tid. Little boy.”

  “Who’m I rounding up?”

  “DeWayne Mannock.”

  “Get out. That scumbag isn’t smart enough to kidnap a cat.”

  “Don’t know how deep he’s into this, but he had help.”

  “If he’s in Indiana, we’ll get him for ya.”

  “Thanks, Tid—”

  But the lieutenant had already hung up.

  “Mr. Loggyn,” Jack said, “what do you know about Mannock coming into some money?”

  “Well, he’s got some—I know that. I remember when he used to beg me for loans so he could play when he was off duty; he was that poor. I put the kibosh on that because it took him so long to pay me back. That’s why he had to give me the two hundred for the car up front. He dealt mostly tournaments, and there you’re depending on the winners to be generous. In cash games you get a buck or so every hand. That’s where the money is.”

  “And you get more cash games because of your seniority?”

  “That’s only part of it. Mannock had been here long enough to get his choice too, but he had a lot of points on his record.”

  “Points?”

  “You get demerits if you’re late, get complaints, take too many days off, that kind of stuff. He was broke and dealing almost only tournaments, and getting fewer and fewer shifts as it was. All of a sudden he’s flashing wads of cash and telling us he may never have to work again. Then a week or so ago he up and quits. But he still comes around. I don’t know if he knocked over a bank or won the lottery, but he’s dressing nice, got himself some jewelry, talks about buying a new car—wants an Escalade.”

  “That’s a lot of car. Yet he needs his friend to borrow yours.”

  “Yeah. Curious.”

  “Why’d you mention the lottery?”

  “’Cause that’s what he claims. But a guy from Gaming—the state gaming commission—said that was easy to check online. So we did. Mannock hasn’t won any of the big ones, certainly nothing big enough to change his life.”

  “Sir, I don’t know if it’ll come to this, but would you be willing to have your phone rigged so we can record your conversations with DeWayne when he comes back here without your Buick?”

  “Are you kidding?” Shane said. “He comes back here without my car, I’m willing to wear a gun.”

  “We can make it so we can monitor phone conversations and regular conversations.”

  “Whatever you have to do. I want that car back.”

  On his way to Mount Sinai, Jack answered a call from Antoine Johnson. “Didn’t get much more out of the pastor, but he was duped, all right. He virtually handed Max to this Alfonso character on a silver platter. Feels awful. I told him not to mention it tomorrow at church. These guys like to get everybody praying about stuff like this.”

  “I know,” Jack said. “And I wish he could, but the fewer who know about this right now, the better.”

  “Downtown tells me Mrs. Quigley has been begging to talk with Chief Drake and Pastor Waters. They put the fear of God in her and told her not to talk to anybody till she hears back from us. She wanted to go to church tomorrow too, but we talked her out of that. No way she could keep quiet.”

  “Anything from the ransom team?”

  “I asked ’em to canvass the cul-de-sac because this Alfonso guy told the pastor some neighbor told him the Drakes were away for the day. Come to find out, no one in the neighborhood saw the car or talked to the soldier. He got his information somewhere else.”

  “So, obviously no ransom calls.”

  “No. Everything’s quiet. No calls to Mrs. Quigley’s phone, and they stop monitoring any calls to Boone’s, Haeley’s, or the home phone as soon as they determine the caller is not the kidnapper.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Sir?”

  “Bad as a ransom demand would be, if someone did call, we’d know what we’re dealing with. Whoever took Max can’t think a Chicago cop has means. It’s likely someone who knows Haeley got that settlement or someone who has other ideas for the boy.”

  “I don’t even want to think about that,” Antoine said.

  “Neither do I, but if we don’t hear from anyone by morning, it’s the only thing we’ll be thinking about.”

  Jack told Antoine about the DeWayne Mannock connection.

  “I don’t know that name.”

  “Haeley’s old boyfriend. Max’s real father.”

  “Well, there you go. And he wasn’t the impostor, pretending to be the brother?”

  “Nah. Doesn’t look anything like him. And the way Florence Quigley and the doorman described him, this guy was way too slick and glib to be Mannock.”

  “But if we find him, we find the kid, right?”

  “Not so sure,” Jack said. “Mannock has already been paid, which I can’t make sense of.”

  “Well, it’s more than revenge or the act of a jilted lover. He took a fee to give the kid up to someone else. But why?”

  “And how did he get the money in advance?”

  Jack pulled into the parking lot at Mount Sinai having told Detective Johnson to take the rest of the night off, “in case I need you tomorrow.”

  He found Margaret dozing in the ICU waiting room and gently touched her shoulder, startling her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I just know I was gonna blab everything if Boone woke up and asked what was going on.”

  “I hope he sleeps till morning.”

  “You know better than that,” she said. “He’s got to be like a mother with a newborn. Part of him is listening for any stirring from Haeley, and part of him is aware he hasn’t talked to Max since we dropped him off. No matter how exhausted he is, one of those things is going to wake him.”

  Jack sat next to Margaret. “Y
ou staying here all night,” he said, “even if Boone sleeps through?”

  She nodded. “You know he’ll be out of here as soon as he finds out about Max.”

  “I’m gonna check in on him.”

  “Jack, no. Let him sleep.”

  “Just for a second.”

  Jack headed out to the nurses’ station and told Chaz Cilano’s replacement where he was going.

  “Sorry, one visitor at a time, sir.”

  “I won’t leave the hall,” he said. “I just need to know if Mr. Drake is still asleep.”

  “I can find out for you,” she said, rising.

  “No need,” he said, heading down the corridor. When she stood as if ready to forbid him, he said, “Promise,” and kept going.

  Jack was grateful to find Boone dead to the world. But Margaret was right. It wasn’t likely he would sleep in. Too much was whirring, even in Boone’s subconscious. If only Jack could buy another hour or two so he’d have a handle on what they were dealing with before he had to inform him . . .

  Jack’s priority would be to corral Boone, focus him, turn his fear, his rage into fuel for his passion. Jack had never seen a cop so obsessed with details. Boone could become a laser for the truth. He just needed to be persuaded, not to set aside the personal part of this equation—that would be impossible—but to invest his entire professional self into becoming the perfect tool for solving this crime.

  Haeley lay there as if she had simply crawled into bed for a nap, though the prodigious ball of gauze encasing her head and the deep purple and yellow face assaulted Jack with the truth.

  He had felt himself softening toward these people of faith—Boone, Haeley, Margaret, Francisco, and many others he had met at Community Life. But he had to admit, seeing Boone go through this again, with Haeley on the brink, and with a wholly innocent child who-knows-where . . . somebody was going to have a lot of explaining to do—starting with God himself.

  Jack’s phone chirped, and he remembered he was supposed to have left it with the nurses. He hurried back down the hall, waving an apology to the nurse heading his way. He slipped into the waiting room to take a call from Lieutenant Tidwell.

  “Here’s everything I got, Jack, and at the end of it, tell me what you want to do, because I gotta get to bed. Mannock lives in the attic of a house on the west side of Hammond. Even though his old Nissan Sentra was parked out front and all the lights were on in his dung heap of a room, he wasn’t there. Landlord who showed me the room lives downstairs. Says DeWayne went out about an hour before with a package under his arm.”

  “Can you keep that landlord from telling Mannock you were asking?”

  “Already swore him to secrecy. He’s got so many violations—’fact, I don’t think he’s even eligible to be renting here—that he’ll cooperate.”

  “DeWayne left on foot?”

  “Took a cab, of all things. Landlord remembered the color, so we knew the company, called them, found out Mannock was taken to the north side of Chicago, originally as a one-way fare.”

  “Bet the cabbie loved that.”

  “Well, while we’re on the phone with them, the cabbie radios in that he’s bringing the fare back to Hammond after all. We wait out of sight, then pull the cab over a few blocks away after he’s dropped Mannock off. Cabbie had an interesting story. Says he tried to get out of the job when the rider told him it was one-way, told Mannock there was no way he’d find somebody in Chicago who wanted a ride to Hammond, especially this time of night. Mannock told him he’d pay him double, but he had his own way back.”

  “He went to the north side, eh?” Jack said. He read off the address of the Bethune Arms apartments, Florence Quigley’s building.

  “That’s the street but not the address. First stop was three blocks or so from there.”

  “First stop?”

  “We caught a break, Jack.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Cabbie says Mannock had him pull into an alley, said it must not be the right one, and had him pull into a couple more. He was pretty exercised about not finding what he was looking for. He gets out at the last alley and goes deeper into it, looks both ways at an intersection. Comes back looking disgusted. Makes a few phone calls, apparently not reaching anybody, claps his phone shut, does a lot of cussing, then tells the guy to drive him back home. Pays him in hundreds, including a big tip. Funny thing, though. Cabbie says all the guy wants to talk about is the new Caddy SUV he’s gettin’ next week, but then the driver gets a peek at what DeWayne’s carrying. Illinois license plates.”

  “So now DeWayne’s home?”

  “Yep, and we’d be happy to roust him out for you.”

  “Not yet,” Jack said and briefed Tidwell on his conversation with Shane Loggyn. “I’m guessing Mannock went to Chicago to put the original plates on that Buick so he could get it back to Shane tomorrow morning.”

  “You don’t want us to collar him?”

  “No. I want you to let the air out of a couple of his tires. I’m going to get Loggyn to rattle his cage in the morning, and when Mannock tries to either appease him or make a break for it, I want his car out of commission.”

  “Police work the way we used to do it. Love it, Jack.”

  “Got anybody who can rig Loggyn’s cell phone so we can hear both sides when he calls Mannock?”

  “This time of night?”

  “Remember, Lefty, we’re talking about a cop’s kid.”

  “Consider it done. Where do I find this Loggyn?”

  Jack told him and also advised him what to tell Shane to say when he called Mannock.

  “Jack, you look terrible,” Margaret said. “You’ve got to get some sleep.”

  “So do you.”

  “I can sleep right here,” she said, laying her palm on the sofa in the waiting room. “I’ve done it before. You need to stretch out.”

  “I know. I’ve got to be ready in the morning. And I have an idea. I’m going to have a squad sent to my place to pick me up some clothes.”

  Jack found the nurse in charge. “I see you’ve got a couple of empty rooms down the hall. I need one.”

  “I’m not authorized—”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you about this. Now, I’ll take the heat, but I’m going to sleep in one of those beds, and I’m going to use the bathroom in there for a shower and a shave in the morning.”

  “Chief Keller, I really—”

  “Do you have anything to help me sleep?”

  “We’ve got a supply of Ambien, but—”

  “You gonna make this happen, or are you going to keep telling me why you can’t? I’m on a major case and I have no choice, so you don’t either. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I lose my job.”

  “I guarantee that’s not going to happen. I’ll bring the full force of the city down on anyone who threatens that.”

  The nurse produced a container of Ambien from her own purse. Jack told her that when a uniformed officer brought his stuff, she should just deliver it to the room. She insisted he take the last room in the corridor and pull the privacy curtains. And she posted a quarantine card on the door.

  As Jack lay on his back in the darkness, his mind swirled with every detail of the case. He knew from experience that Ambien worked quickly for him. As he felt himself drifting, he was imagining Tidwell’s conversation with Shane Loggyn and Loggyn’s recorded conversation with Mannock in the morning. The veteran poker dealer would tell Mannock that if he didn’t have his car delivered to his home by 9 a.m., he’d be calling the cops.

  If that didn’t get this ball rolling, nothing would. Jack faded with the warm feeling that at the very least, he would have Boone with him on the job shortly after he awoke.

  19

  Dawn

  JULY 1

  Boone Drake awoke as a rim of orange peeked over the buildings in the distance. Medicinal smells told him where he was, and the sight of his beloved—her ravaged face an even darker purple now—
reminded him why.

  Boone checked his watch. Way too early to call Florence and try to talk to Max. He couldn’t imagine anyone had told the boy the truth about his mother. When Boone went to relieve himself and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he decided to shower and shave. Who knew when Jack might come by?

  Boone was grateful to feel rested. His emotions were a jumble, naturally, but he was on a mission. He wanted to study everything there was to know about Haeley’s kind of trauma and prepare himself—and in the process, prepare Max—for whatever had to happen from here on to restore his wife to full health. He wanted to be a model at the hospital, staying atop things, of course, but also staying out of the way of medical personnel.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and more optimistic than the night before, Boone started straightening his cot.

  “Morning, sir,” Chaz Cilano said. “Leave that. I’ll have someone make your bed.”

  “Were you here all night?” he said.

  “Yeah, I’m here 24/7. Drugs keep me from having to sleep. Are you nuts? I just got in. Working double shifts this week. Your friends up yet?”

  “My friends?”

  “I got to know Margaret a little last night. She slept in the waiting room. Chief Keller intimidated one of my girls into giving him a room down the hall.”

  “That’s nice of them,” Boone said. “But they shouldn’t have felt obligated.”

  “They care about you.”

  “Where’s Jack?”

  She nodded toward the end of the hall. “He was given a sleep aid, so I’m guessing he’s still out.”

  Boone hurried down the corridor. “This one?” he said.

  “The quarantine, yes.”

  Boone knocked lightly and pushed the door open a few inches. Jack was snoring. Boone pulled the door shut and headed past Chaz toward the waiting room. “Margaret doped up too?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Boone went to the waiting room, where Margaret leaned up on one elbow and squinted at him. “Everything all right?”

  “You tell me.”

  “You talked to Jack?”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  She sighed deeply. “Police stuff. I don’t know. He can tell you.”