“How did…” he said, searching for air.
“I know a lot of things, Marcus. Especially about you.”
A sudden rush of adrenaline and Marcus Galen knew he needed to finish what he started. He needed to end this. All of this nonsense. And he could. He could easily make it perfect.
“I wouldn’t,” Maggie said, feeling the thoughts gather in Galen’s muscles. “I spent the better part of an hour in this garage. Who knows what I left behind for the police to find? And I guarantee, you would be their first stop if anything happened to me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a killer.”
“Right,” Maggie chuckled, turning her head so he could see the red marks on her neck.
The surgeon’s mind froze. “You haven’t proved anything,” he finally said.
Maggie smiled, her eyes still glued to his.
Marcus Galen wanted to speak, but couldn’t find words. Or thoughts. What flowed through him was completely foreign, completely uninvited. Fear. For the first time since he was a child, Marcus Galen was truly afraid. A small trickle of perspiration ran down his face. Did she see it? Did she know?
“Have a nice day,” Maggie said, turning her back and walking away.
She knew. Maggie Quinn knew everything.
Carmen woke up from her nap to find a note explaining that Maggie had gone to church to meet with a priest. The old woman smiled. The Blessed Virgin had answered her prayers. Now Mr. Quinn’s daughter would find peace.
Two hours later when Maggie walked through the door, there was a huge lunch of carne asada with homemade tortillas. Maggie ate, smiled, chatted, and explained that she would be seeing her priest again tomorrow. And no, she didn’t need Carmen to take her. She preferred solitude when it came to spiritual matters.
Alone in the library, Maggie stared out the window into the backyard and wondered if Galen was waiting behind the fence. No, her brain whispered. Not tonight. He lost control today and wouldn’t risk it again, not so soon. She picked up the phone and dialed her friend.
“Hey, how about breakfast tomorrow. My treat.”
Chapter Sixty-One
“Sorry you got bumped off the case.” Harley frowned as he swallowed his scrambled eggs and Maggie played with the bagel she ordered. “So they dropped everything on him.”
“Yep,” she said quietly. “Do you blame them? I fucked up.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, it was.” Maggie finally looked at Harley. “I crossed the line and a witness got killed before he could give his testimony.”
“He ID’d Galen?” Harley asked.
Maggie nodded. It didn’t matter that she basically squeezed the ID out of Bobby Ballantine. Harley didn’t need to know that. The cops were keeping quiet, so were the people at Stateville. All anyone outside the circle knew was that one inmate was dead, another badly beaten, and a guard was fired. Harley didn’t need to know anything else and he wouldn’t ask. He would trust Maggie. He always trusted Maggie. That’s what she was counting on.
“So what now?” he finally asked.
Maggie shrugged. “He’s going to walk away clean.”
Harley tapped his spoon against the cup. Every strike made Maggie’s skin crawl. He still feels responsible for Rayney’s death, her brain whispered. Maggie saw it and used it.
“The man’s good,” she said.
“And we don’t have shit on him?” Harley shook his head.
Maggie pretended to think for a moment. She took something from her pocket and tossed it on the table. They both sat silently, staring at the diamond stud in the plastic bag. The earring she wore earlier when she was in the surgeon’s garage. She bagged it the minute she left Galen. His saliva was all over it.
“It’s Rayney’s. It might’ve been overlooked somehow,” Maggie said quietly. “You might find something if you send it to the lab.”
Ed Harley stared at the earring while Maggie stared at her friend.
“You’re sure about this?” he finally asked.
Maggie nodded. “Are you?”
The battle inside the ME’s mind was short. “Yeah.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
The house was deadly quite. No phone calls. No knocks at the door. No Tierney. No Dublowski. Nothing. Not since she’d been cut loose from the investigations. She wanted to call Harley, but knew she needed to stay clear. To be safe. With no work, Maggie faced endless, silent hours of waiting. It was okay. She could wait. It was one of the things Maggie was good at. Waiting and thinking.
Every night, she stared out the library window, into the backyard, and wondered if Marcus Galen was staring back. He wasn’t, she kept telling herself. He was licking his wounds, waiting for the next opportunity. And there would be another opportunity. He would make sure of that. So when Maggie saw the doctor pull into her driveway the following Tuesday, she didn’t wait for him to make the next move.
“Very clever?” His voice was smooth, steady as he got out of his car. “My lawyer says the police have an earring with my DNA on it. They say it was found jammed in the pocket of your dead friend’s shirt.”
Maggie shrugged.
“Morris will contest this.”
“And he’ll lose… and you’ll go to trial,” Maggie said.
“A preliminary hearing, actually. Or didn’t anyone tell you,” the doctor answered. “I’m sorry, I forgot you were let go.”
Push, her brain whispered. Knock him off balance. “So, Marcus, I guess you’ll be getting a little exposure. I wouldn’t guess you were into guys. The media loves that kind of shit. Prominent surgeon. Attractive young man. Should read well in the papers.”
Galen’s eyes flamed. “You’ll do anything, won’t you? Anything to put an innocent man behind bars.”
“Not an innocent man, Marcus, just you,” Maggie answered. “You weren’t alone in the garage the other day.”
Maggie watched the man’s eyes settle on the small, very faint circular bruises on her neck.
“What happened between us doesn’t prove anything. Except that I was attracted to you,” the doctor said sincerely.
“Was? I’m crushed. But then, I’m not really your type, am I?” Maggie said. “So, just out of curiosity, do you pull the same thing with everyone you want to fuck? With Angela. Rebecca?”
Galen straightened himself. “Things haven’t been easy for you. I know. Your daughter. Your husband. Then that young man. It must’ve been devastating finding him dead in your own home. I’m sure that’s an image you’ll never be able to get out of your head.”
Maggie wanted to smack him, just reach out and put her fist into his chin. Instead, she smiled. “Anything productive to add or are you just here to rub salt and poke sticks?”
Marcus took a few steps toward her. “I know why you hate me. Honestly I don’t blame you. Your daughter… well, it was tragic.”
That was supposed to hurt and it did.
“So, tell me. When do you give the jewelry to your wife? The day after you butcher the girl or do you wait for a special occasion?”
Galen’s face froze.
“I bet Rebecca had a few questions about how your spit got on a dead man’s earring. Did she cry, Marcus? Offer to help fulfill those needs, too?” Maggie chuckled. “But I’m sure all that will come out at the trial. And in the papers.”
“My wife sees all this for what it is. A set-up. A lie.”
“Really? And how many more trips to the station before she starts doubting you?” Maggie smiled when she saw the doctor’s reaction. “It’s happened already. Well, it was bound to.”
Galen was silent.
“Your wife lost faith in her god, Marcus. That must sting. Only one small step from that spot to admitting you’re a killer. Just one
small step.”
“How stupid do you think I am?” he said coldly.
“Just waiting to see.” She held his stare without effort.
“We are done here,” the surgeon said harshly. “You can go in now. Into your empty house.”
Maggie’s eyes stayed on Marcus as he got back into his car.
“What if I hadn’t kissed you?” Galen asked suddenly.
Maggie laughed. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Dublowski finally had a chance to catch up on his paperwork and prepare for his first preliminary hearing. Leave it to Harley and his crew. Another sweep of the evidence and there it was. Antoine Rayney’s earring with Marcus Galen’s DNA all over it. Enough to arrest the doctor and this time, he wasn’t released with an apology. He was released with a $1.5 million bail. Maggie was right all along. Nick never should’ve doubted her. He wanted to tell her that, but Tierney gave orders to stay clear. At least until after the hearing. They were finally going to put Marcus Galen away and no rookie mistake was going to mess it up.
“Hey, kid, eat something,” Art said. “I brought bagels from Kaufman’s.”
“You drove all the way out to fucking Skokie?” Ray asked, leaning back in his chair. “Jesus, Weinstein. You got nothing better to do?”
“It’s a really good bagel.”
Nick’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten breakfast. Too busy reviewing notes before he met with Carly Weston. She wanted to review things before the hearing on Thursday and he wanted to make sure she had nothing to throw in his face.
Nick’s phone rang as he took the first bite of the sesame bagel. He choked it down fast. “Hello,” the young detective mumbled. “Detective Dublowski.” Suddenly Nick froze. “What did you say?” He looked around for a pen, then flipped open his notebook. “Could you repeat that, please…? Yes, we’ll be right there.”
“Sounds like you got people to see,” Art smiled.
“Ray, we need to go,” Nick grabbed his coat.
“Look, punk, just because you somehow tripped over your dick and caught the bad guy doesn’t mean you…”
“Shut up and let’s go,” Dublowski barked. “We’ve got a lady says her neighbor is running around in a bloody shirt, screaming that he killed Melinda Phillips.”
For a split second there was silence.
“What the fuck is your problem? We got the guy,” Halverson said, waving the young man off.
They had one guy. Phillips was the odd man out. Quinn said so. “Either you go with me or I go alone.”
“Jesus,” Halverson moaned.
The two detectives pulled up to a modest ranch house on South Trumball. There was a sedan in the driveway and, across the street, a patrol car with two uniforms talking to an elderly woman.
“What do we have?” Nick asked, not waiting for Halverson who was still pulling himself out of the car.
A young uniform stepped forward. “This is Edith Farrell. She said about an hour ago she saw her neighbor, Timothy Russo, pacing through his yard. He was wearing a shirt stained with what looked like blood and yelling that he killed Melinda Phillips.”
“Over and over,” the old woman said. “He would start very soft, then just scream out, ‘I did it. I killed her.’ Then he paces back and forth and screams again. ‘I saw them all. All of them dead. I killed them all.’”
The officer looked at Nick.
“Are you positive those were his exact words, Mrs. Farrell? ‘I killed them all,’” Nick asked cautiously.
The old woman paused. “I think. He was screaming and I’m sure it was something like that.”
“Thank you. We’ll check it out,” Nick smiled.
As he approached Timothy Russo’s house, the detective noticed the front door was ajar. Halverson was still talking to the uniforms.
“Mr. Russo. Timothy Russo, this is Detective Dublowski. Chicago Police Department.” Nick poked his head. All the curtains were pulled and there were no lights on. “Mr. Russo, we’re just checking to make sure you’re okay.”
Nick reached in and hoped there was a light switch near the door. There was. He flipped it on and saw a small, thin man sitting on the couch. Next to him was a pile of DVD cases. The man’s clothes were covered in blood. Dry blood.
“Mr. Russo, are you all right?”
“I knew there was something I forgot,” Russo said absently. “I was supposed to get rid of these.” He looked down at his clothes. “But I forgot. I put them in a bag and I was going to burn them, but I forgot. Then I found them. I think… I should wear them. I think that would be right.”
Nick took a small step forward. “It’s okay, Mr. Russo.”
“No, it’s not,” the man screamed. “I killed her.”
Nick held up his hands. “Okay, just tell me. Who did you kill?”
“Melinda. I killed Melinda Phillips. I didn’t know her last name. She told me it was Abercrombie. It wasn’t. I looked it up. At her apartment. She lied. She lied. Bitch!” The man’s face contorted, then relaxed.
“Now just take it easy. We’re going to handle this.”
“I saw all of them, you know. All of them. All of the woman. All of the dead women.” He held up a disk. “Me. And they’re all dead. All dead and cut open.” The man began to weep.
“Jesus Christ.” It was Halverson. He stood in the doorway. His mouth open. “He killed them.”
“Shut up, Ray,” Nick said quietly between clenched teeth.
“I want to go home now,” Timothy Russo said quietly. “I want to go home and see my mom.”
“Okay. Okay, Mr. Russo. We can get you home. You just come with us.” Nick moved slowly toward the man.
“Jesus, I knew it. Just like I told the guys. Stupid Polack brought in the wrong fucking guy.”
“Shut up, Ray,” Nick hissed between his teeth. Russo was balancing on the edge and they needed to handle the situation lightly.
“Fuck you, rookie. Let’s just get this over with. The asshole’s got no gun.” Ray rushed in. “Don’t need to be here all fucking day.” He grabbed Timothy Russo by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “Come on, nut-job.”
Without warning, the small man’s fist plowed into Halverson’s stomach. “Don’t touch me.”
The detective slumped to the floor. Before Dublowski could reach his partner, Russo had Halverson’s gun in his hand. It was pointed at Ray’s head.
“Don’t ever touch me! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” The man waved the gun wildly at Halverson.
“Put it down, Mr. Russo. Drop the gun,” Nick ordered.
“I’ll kill you,” the man said, staring at Halverson.
Nick saw the man’s fingers tighten on the trigger of the gun.
A single shot.
And Timothy Russo fell back onto the couch.
“Jesus Christ,” whined Halverson as he crawled to the door.
Thick, dark blood mingled with the dried stains on Russo’s chest. Nick kept his gun on the killer as he approached. He slowly reached for the man’s neck. There was no reason to remove the weapon from Timothy Russo’s hand. He was dead.
Something was definitely wrong. Maggie felt it the minute she sat in the booth at Dugan’s.
“The judge issued a gag order,” John Tierney said quietly into his beer. “Pavlak pushed for this hard.”
“I bet he did,” Maggie smiled. Galen was running out of options.
“We found Phillips’ killer,” Tierney said suddenly.
“Are you sure?”
Tierney nodded. “A guy named Timothy Russo. He had clothes covered in dried blood. Initial labs are showing a match with Phillips.”
“That’s convenient.”
“A little too con
venient. The guy said he killed them all. All the women. We got a street full of people who heard him.”
“Bullshit,” Maggie said. She thought for a moment. “Did he give details?”
“Didn’t get a chance,” Tierney said. “He got Halverson’s gun and…”
“Dublowski took him out,” Maggie finished. That was Nick. He would always protect his partner, even if it meant fucking up everything else.
“There was a stack of DVDs in the house. Autopsy tapes cut together with some cheesy noir shit. Cramer, Rosenberg. A few of the more recent victims. We picked up some film students in Wrigleyville and Monroe’s assistant.”
“Kurt?”
Tierney nodded. “And a shitload of people from ME offices in just about every Area. Outlying, too. Guess there’s a big market for the real thing. TV shit isn’t good enough.”
Maggie was running the facts through her head. “Russo didn’t kill them all.”
“That’s not what Weston’s saying. She’s trying to make it work.”
“She can’t. There isn’t enough evidence. There wasn’t enough for Galen,” Maggie said. “A confession won’t do it, especially if the guy was unstable.”
“Tell Carly that. She’s taking testimony from Halverson, Russo’s neighbors, even the uniforms. They’re saying he admitted killing all the victims.”
“And Dublowski?”
“He’s not sure. Says the guy was right-handed. Weston’s saying it doesn’t matter because…”
Maggie rubbed her eyes. “Bruise patterns for hand dominance don’t hold up in court. God, Carly must be doing a little dance.”
“The mayor and Walker, too.”
“How about Pavlak?”
“What do you think?” Tierney said, taking a long drink. “This solves most of his problems.”
“Except Rayney.”
They sat in silence. Maggie studied John Tierney’s face as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass. The chief looked up. “I saw the witness list for the prelim.”
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