by C. M. Sutter
I peered over his shoulder. “Finally! It looks like Jesse and Jenna kept every yearbook.” Henry grabbed an armful, and I did too. “Remember those comfy looking loungers by the TV?”
“Sure do.”
“Let’s have a seat. Going through these may take a while.”
Chapter 19
Jesse was startled by the loud voices coming from beyond the door. His captor was in a heated argument with someone in the house.
Should I yell out or not? Is that other voice just another criminal who doesn’t care if I’m being held captive? The masked man might kill me if I piss him off, but he’s probably going to kill me, anyway. What do I do? What do I do?
Jesse strained against the straps and kicked the bed rails, but nothing freed him. He yelled out. “Help me! I’m being held prisoner. Call the cops, call the FBI, call somebody, damn it. He’s going to kill me!” His head was about to explode, and his body shook. Jesse couldn’t control the thoughts rushing through his mind. His focus jumped from one thing to another in mere milliseconds, then he heard the all too familiar sound of a round being chambered. Jesse held his breath and listened. He heard the stranger plead for his life. Two pops went off, then the house fell quiet.
Was that a gunshot? I did hear a gunshot, didn’t I? Rewind, rewind. Wait—there isn’t a rewind. It wasn’t a gunshot, not loud enough, or was it? Maybe he’s using a suppressor. Shit, I can’t focus. My brain is on fire. I think that son of a bitch just killed somebody.
Seconds later, the door flew open and bounced off the interior wall. Jesse’s captor lowered the stocking cap over his face as he entered and stormed across the room. Jesse turned and braced himself as the grip of the pistol came down on his head.
Time had passed, and he’d finally regained consciousness. Jesse had no idea how long he had been out, but he woke to a throbbing head and a damp pillow. It was either blood from the blow or sweat. His eyes darted from side to side. He was alone and in a different room.
What the hell? Where am I now?
He looked at his arms and bolted upright when he realized he wasn’t strapped to a bed any longer. The current room was smaller than the other and had no windows, but it held a single chair and a sink and toilet that were tucked back in the far corner. He stood, steadied himself, and crossed to the sink. He turned the faucet, cupped his hands under the cold stream, then gulped until he’d had enough.
Thank God. I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted without something to drink.
Jesse ducked his head under the faucet—it felt good. He watched as red-tinted water swirled down the drain. He walked to the closed door and jiggled the handle, but it was locked. Centered in the door was a sliding panel just large enough to stick out his arm. He imagined it was meant for food delivery—similar to prison cell doors. He pushed the panel to the side, knelt, and peered out. A long tiled hallway that led to a large open space lay straight ahead. Jesse squeezed his eyes open and closed a few times to focus. His brain still felt rattled as he stared down the hallway. A dark stain covered the surface of the floor where the hallway met the rest of the house. He squinted. It looked to be a blood pool that was interrupted by drag marks.
It wasn’t my imagination. He did kill that guy, and I’m probably next.
Something to the right of the door caught Jesse’s eye. He pressed his face against the panel to get a better look. A table stood along the wall four feet away, and the syringe lay on its surface. Jesse’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t unsee what he had just seen. He knew it was there intentionally to taunt him, to get in his head, and it was working. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t. Right then and there, all he wanted was the needle and to feel that instant rush every time the drug coursed through his veins.
Chapter 20
We checked the spine of each yearbook. The ones with older dates obviously belonged to Jesse and were the ones we needed to look through.
“Read every page where something is written by classmates. We’ll keep track of the names of the kids who seem like they have a close connection to Jesse. Then we’ll go through the other years and see if that same person has written something again. Since most messages in the yearbook pages don’t include last names, we’ll double-check the class pictures to find those friends.”
“That should work. We’ll track them down and see if any stayed in the area and remained friends with Jesse. But what about college?”
I nodded. “Let’s get this done first then look for anything college related.” When my cell phone rang, I stepped away. Amber was calling. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hope I didn’t interrupt. I figured you’d be having lunch about now.”
“No time for lunch. Henry and I are going through Jesse’s yearbooks, looking for names of anybody he might have been with Sunday night. I’m pretty sure that’s when he was abducted.”
“Yeah, Jack updated us. It sounds like you have your work cut out for you. How’s the head?”
“Harder than I thought.” I heard Amber chuckle through the phone line.
“So, Henry is the detective you were assigned to?”
“Uh-huh, and very nice. We mesh well together.”
“And you’re looking through high school yearbooks for names? What’s the likelihood of high school friends staying close?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Sure. College would be better, but why not pull his personnel file at the PD instead? There’s a resume in there somewhere, and that would give you the information you need much faster.”
“Damn it. Why didn’t anybody here think of that? A resume would have the name of the college he went to, the years he was there, former jobs, and names he listed as references, which were likely his college buddies. I love you, Amber, but I have to go.” I clicked off the call and told Henry what Amber had suggested.
Henry returned the yearbooks to the tote and gathered his notes. “Let’s head back to the station and pull up Jesse’s resume. We’ll keep these high school names in case we need them as a backup plan.” He made the call to Lutz and told him what we needed. Time was of the essence, and Lutz could give the okay to have Jesse’s resume emailed to Henry while we drove to the station.
Once we returned to the homicide division, I attached the visitor’s badge to my sweater and walked alongside Henry to their bull pen. I slid a guest chair next to his desk and watched as he logged in to his email. The Chicago PD’s human resources department was given the okay to send Jesse’s resume to Henry’s in-box.
“Here we go. I hope there’s something in his resume we can use.”
Henry opened the latest message and downloaded the attachment. Jesse had been with the police force for ten years, and just under nine of those were served in the narcotics division. Henry read silently as I wrote down the pertinent information. Amber’s suggestion of using the resume saved us hours of time. I’d remember to repay her later. I pointed at the background information. “Here we go. Jesse has a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice from Carthage College in Kenosha.” My mind took me back to a conversation between Jesse and Jack several months ago when Jesse came to Wisconsin to look for Jenna. He’d mentioned that his best friend, Joe, lived in Pleasant Prairie, which was in Kenosha County, and was a crime fiction writer. I needed to call Jack. With any luck, he’d remember Joe’s last name. I offered to get some coffee as I stood. I’d make the call from the lunchroom. Henry thanked me and took over jotting down information.
I told Jack my thoughts as I filled two coffee cups. Joe could be an old college buddy of Jesse’s and he might even be the birthday boy. Jack didn’t remember Joe’s last name, but he thought of somebody who might.
“I’ll get back to you in a few minutes, Kate. I bet Tim Quarles knows Joe’s last name. It seems like he and Jesse hit it off, plus Tim had spent more time with Jesse than we did. I’ll let you know what I find out as soon as I talk to him.”
I clicked off, pocket
ed my phone, and headed toward the vending machines. I’d give them a once-over before returning to the bull pen. The last thing I’d eaten was the muffin that morning, and I had my doubts that Henry had eaten since the early hours either.
Seconds later, Lutz nearly slammed into me as he rounded the corner. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here. I bet you two didn’t take time for lunch, did you?”
“Nope, we sure didn’t.”
“Why don’t you grab something from the vending machines?”
“I hadn’t even thought of food until I came in here to get coffee and make a call. Now that’s sounding like a good idea.”
Lutz nodded. “Luckily, it’s Wednesday instead of Friday, and there’s still a few decent sandwich choices to pick from.”
I pulled several folded dollars from my back pocket. “Sure, why not?”
“Put your money away. I’m buying.”
I smiled. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. You’re doing us quite a favor by staying here after the fiasco last night. You have carte blanche for whatever you need, and I don’t want to see you paying for anything. Your money is no good in Chicago.”
“Thanks, that’s really kind of you.” I pressed the button for the turkey wrap and pulled it out of the hinged door.
Lutz pressed A-2 twice and released two bags of potato chips, then he loaded the coin slot again and picked a ham and cheese sub for Henry. “Ham and cheese is his favorite. I’ll carry the food if you want to grab those coffees.”
“Sure, but you didn’t get anything for yourself.”
Lutz chuckled. “Next round. Right now, our hands are too full.”
Henry thanked the sergeant for the sandwich, explained what we had found, and took a bite of the sub. We’d take a few minutes to eat then get back to work.
I munched on a potato chip as I told Henry about my conversation with Jack. “He’s making a call to see if he can find out Joe’s last name. What else did you get from the resume?”
“Jesse listed Jenna as a reference along with one other person.”
I shook my head. “That is sad on so many levels. Who was the other person?”
“A Pete Rogers.”
“Perfect. Let’s find Pete and hope he can shed some light on Jesse’s known acquaintances.”
“We have the name of the college too, so we can stop in and talk to the professors if we have to. His former jobs while he was going to school could be another source of information.”
“Good. Print out two copies of that resume, and let’s get busy.”
Chapter 21
Jack texted Joe’s last name to me. Tim Quarles came through again. Although he wasn’t in law enforcement and I doubted he worked at all, Tim had a keen eye and a good memory, and he watched out for his neighbors. The world needed more people like Tim Quarles. I fired off a quick thank-you text to Jack and looked in our name search database for Joe Zimdars. I leaned toward the monitor and stared at the name and city columns. “There.” I pointed halfway down the page. “Joe Zimdars, Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin. That has to be him.” I picked up the desk phone, a blank sheet of paper in front of me, and made the call.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Hello, is this Joe Zimdars?”
“Yes, and I’m not buying whatever you’re selling, just so you know. You have two minutes, tops. I’m busy.”
“Sure, and thanks. Joe, this is Detective Kate Pierce from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office. Are you the same Joe who’s friends with Jesse McCord?”
“Yes, I am.” He paused for a few seconds. “Jesus Christ, did something happen to him?”
“Joe, Jesse is missing.”
“So why are you calling me instead of the Chicago PD? Aren’t they looking for him?”
“I assure you they are, and I’m actually in Chicago lending a hand. When was the last time you spoke to Jesse?”
“Saturday, and I know that for a fact. Jesse and I go back fifteen years to our college days. We’d had a birthday party planned for Steve, another college buddy, on Sunday night, and Jesse called to see if I’d go or bail. I had to bail. I have an editing deadline around the corner, and I’m not done proofreading my manuscript yet.”
“I understand. You said Steve is the birthday guy?”
“Yep, Steve Sanders, who just turned thirty-six on Sunday.”
I took a gulp of coffee then asked another question. “Do you know a Pete Rogers?”
“Yeah, he’s also a college friend of ours. I’m sure he was at the get-together too.”
“Great, and do you know where the party was held?”
“I sure do, and that’s another reason Jesse called. They needed a firm head count on the reservations at Gibsons for nine o’clock.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I needed to know, and I’d appreciate Pete’s phone number if you have it.” I wrote down the number as Joe read it over the phone. “Thanks for your help, Joe, and I’ll be in touch. I promise you, we’re doing our best to find Jesse.” I clicked off and turned to Henry. “I’ll give Gibsons a call. We need to see the security footage and find out who made the reservation.”
Henry and I headed to Gibsons which was twenty minutes north of the police department. I was happy that Henry was driving since rush hour traffic made me nervous. We reached the restaurant at four thirty but finding a parking spot on Rush Street was impossible, and since we had a cruiser, we couldn’t use the valet service. Henry was lucky enough to score a spot on East Cedar Street just as somebody pulled out. From our car, it was only a five-minute walk to the restaurant’s front door.
The hostess welcomed us as we entered and asked if we had reservations. Henry explained who we were and said that I had called earlier. We were there to find out who made the reservations for nine o’clock Sunday night and to see the security footage from the same time.
She thumbed backward through the reservations book then ran her finger down the page. “We have multiple reservations for Sunday night at that time, Detectives.”
“Go ahead and read off the names. Hopefully we’ll hear the one we need.”
“Sure thing. We have Ann, Robert, Joseph—”
I interrupted then remembered Joe didn’t attend. “Sorry, go on.”
“Okay, there’s also a Carolyn and a Pete.”
Henry spoke up. “Pete’s our guy. Let’s confirm the phone number just to be sure.” The hostess read off the number, and it matched what Joe had given me.
“Perfect, thanks. We’ll need to see their bill too, and we’d like to speak to”—I glanced at my notes—“Dave Chase in Security.”
“Not a problem. Right this way.” The hostess led us to the rear of the restaurant, where the security department was located. Inside, a man sat on a chair with his back toward us. He turned when we entered. Several computer monitors and keyboards were positioned on a long built-in counter in front of him. He rose and extended his hand as the hostess made the introductions. The hostess excused herself and left the room to find the bill.
“I’m the man you spoke with on the phone, Detective Pierce.” He shook our hands and offered us the guest chairs. He went to work setting up the time and date parameters on the computer. “You said Sunday night, right?”
“That’s correct. The reservations were made for nine o’clock, but I don’t actually know when the guys got here. How about checking the camera facing Rush Street first? That would show us what time Jesse arrived and from what direction he came.”
“Sure thing. Just give me a minute here to isolate that camera view. What time would you like me to begin the footage?”
I turned to Henry. “What do you think, eight thirtyish?”
Henry scratched his cheek. “Make it eight fifteen. It’s a birthday celebration, and they probably had a few beers before dinner.”
I gave Dave a nod. “Eight fifteen it is.”
“That’s easy enough. We have a wide-angle camera set up outside the entrance. It
catches movement from either side of the door and straight ahead about twenty feet out. I’ll admit, the clarity is damn good too.”
“That’s just what we needed to hear. We’re looking for a group of guys who entered together, or they could have walked in individually if they drove separately. We’ll definitely recognize one of them, and he’s the person in question, anyway. What we’re really interested in is which direction he came from and what time they all parted ways at the end of the night. Hopefully, we can follow our man back to his car using surveillance cameras along the way.”
“Understood. I have the video feed set at eight fifteen. Are we ready to begin?”
Henry gave him a nod. “Absolutely.”
Chapter 22
John had dealt with that dirtbag far too long. Terry Lewis, often referred to as T-Bone, was the man John had just shot. That piece of shit had gotten under John’s skin one too many times. Now, with more than enough reasons to kill Terry, the time had finally come to end his life. With the money Terry brought and the meth John was about to sell him stored back in the vault, John’s immediate task was to rid himself of the body. From his internet search, he knew the northern branch of the Chicago River began in Morton Grove and flowed right into the city. Terry would be found by some unsuspecting person who happened to notice a body floating in the river. John tucked a few fifties and a baggie of powder deep in Terry’s pocket. Law enforcement would brush off his murder as just another drug dealer removed from the streets, a welcome relief for the police department.
Finding the perfect spot took some time. John had to remain unseen at all costs. He needed a remote location, accessible by vehicle, where the water was deep enough and flowed fast enough to move the body downstream. The river was so far from John’s house, there would never be a connection between the place Terry was shot and the place he was dumped.
This will do.