Ton nodded his head and took another drink.
“And I don’t care about some trial or guilty plea or anything. I want him sitting in a prison cell forever. His dying at an old age in Menard would be a mercy he doesn’t deserve.”
They finished their beers and parted ways outside the pub. The now dark streets Drexel walked with a familiarity gained over the years working his beat and finishing nights with beers with Ton. His friend had been with him through the darkest days after Zora’s death—had never questioned Drexel as he doubted more and more that her death was natural. As he passed under the lights of shop fronts, restaurants, and bars, the understanding that he was close to capturing his wife’s killer settled in his stomach, and he cried. He paused outside his apartment entrance, taking deep breaths and letting them out. He wiped the tears from his cheek and entered the building, walking the steps to his third-floor apartment. From outside the door, he heard Lily’s laugh. As he opened and stepped through, she was pounding her thigh with her fist, laughing harder than he had seen her laugh in years. Ryan looked at her and shook his head.
“I’m going to pee my pants,” Lily sputtered.
Wayne took the bottle of Goose Island from her hand as he smiled.
Ryan looked at Drexel. “Hey bro, shit, we’re remembering the time when Dad was driving that SUV he had in St. Louis.”
Drexel knew the story. A classic in their family. They had driven to St. Louis for a vacation. At a parking garage for the Museum of Natural History, they had pulled in and taken the ticket. Their mother said to their father, “I think we’re too tall to park here.” The SUV—a blue Ford Bronco from what Drexel recalled—had a luggage carrier on top of the roof.
“We’ll be fine,” their dad had replied.
As they turned a corner to dive deeper underground, the truck jerked to a halt. And a geyser of water burst over the truck. Drexel remembers looking out the back seat window. Dry as a bone one moment, and a sheet of water pouring down the next. The luggage rack had snapped a fire sprinkler line.
Lily said between laughs and gasps for breath, “Oh Mom let him have it.”
“Do you remember the family that stared at us?” Ryan put his beer down on the coffee table.
“You could see through the river of water?” Drexel put his messenger bag on the kitchenette’s cabinet.
Ryan smiled. “If you looked hard enough, yes.”
“And Dad panicked.” Lily grabbed Wayne’s knee. “Instead of putting the car into reverse, he put it in park and opened the door. Water poured in. He was soaked. Oh god, Mom was pissed.” She shook her head.
The laughter died down. They had re-told that story dozens of times. They would re-tell it many more.
Drexel grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and set it at the table. The cards for euchre were already there and sorted. As Lily, Ryan, and Wayne stood up, Drexel walked into his room and stored his gun in the safe, found Hart curled up on the bed, and gave him a pet. He said to him, “I’m close buddy. I’m real close to getting the guy who did that to your mommy.” Hart purred and fell asleep as Drexel petted the top of his head between the ears.
They played in their usual teams: Ryan and Drexel versus Lily and Wayne. The first game was a close, back and forth affair. Everyone seemed reluctant to call trump, so many hands passed from dealer to dealer. Lily and Wayne eked out a win of 10-9. As they stretched before starting round two, Lily asked Drexel what was wrong. “Something’s off. Not in a bad way, but something.”
He rolled his head around and then cracked his knuckles. “Sorry.”
“No, no need for a sorry. Curious about what’s up.”
“I’m close to getting who killed Zora.” Drexel could see the statement hitting Lily and her realizing it. “I’ve got him on video.”
Ryan said, “What? When did this happen?”
“What do you mean by close?” Wayne rolled his bottom lip into his mouth.
Drexel told them about the call from Isaac and the subsequent video footage. He got up and pulled the photograph out of his messenger bag. The man in the hat and hoodie walking up to the entrance. “That’s him. Not good enough for a visual identification. Not even close.”
Ryan looked at it and shook his head.
Lily said, “Yeah. You’d think cameras would be better.”
Wayne slid the photograph back over. “You can’t use that in court, can you?”
Drexel shook his head. “But we can use the license plate we got off his car. A few numbers. Rented near O’Hare. I’ve got two names, and I’m tracking those down.”
“Any luck?” asked Ryan.
“Left a message for one. The other number is with someone else now. So I’ve got Daniela—she works with me—hunting him down.” Drexel took a drink. “Just a matter of time.” He nodded several times. “Just a matter of time. Now let’s play. We have to kick your ass.”
And they did. Wayne attempted to go alone and was trumped. Ryan in the next hand went alone and swept the tricks. He and Drexel won 10-2.
“What happened there buddy?” Ryan punched Wayne in the shoulder. “Going alone with only one bower is gutsy.”
“Or stupid.” Lily smiled.
“Yeah, I messed up.” Wayne’s tone was harsh and angry.
“It’s okay.” Ryan looked at Lily.
“He’s got a big speech tomorrow. He’s thinking of that more than the game.”
Wayne smiled and looked around the table. “Yeah, a big one. Okay. Let’s play. I need to redeem myself.”
“If you need to call it a night, that’s okay.” Ryan leaned back. “You only need to forfeit the last hand.”
“Fat chance of that.” Wayne shuffled the cards and dealt them out in twos and threes.
The third round was headed to a blowout with the two brothers leading 7-0 until Lily—powering a comeback with a loner—and Wayne fought back to take the lead. In the final hand, Drexel had two bowers and his brother had the ace, king, and queen in clubs. They took all the tricks and won the match.
Wayne glanced at his watch. “Need to go.”
“Of course,” Lily said. “We’ll see you tomorrow for dinner, right? At Hussain’s?”
The brothers said they would be there. They said their goodnights. Afterward, Ryan and Drexel hung out in the living room, catching up on the baseball news and drinking Goose Island. Ryan drained his beer and stood up. He gestured to the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table. Drexel waved he was done with it. Ryan picked it up and took both into the kitchen where he rinsed them out and set them in the sink. He walked behind the couch on his way to his room. Drexel felt him pause and then lean down over him. “I’m glad you’re close to getting the son of a bitch.” Ryan squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Good night.”
Drexel said, “Good night.”
Ryan’s door closed and left Drexel alone on the couch. He turned off the TV and retreated to his room. Hart looked up at him and then laid his head back down. As Drexel drifted to sleep, he knew he would get his justice soon, but he knew as well that the deep, dark hole of emptiness Zora had filled would remain. Justice was for the living. The dead did not care.
Chapter 29
The next morning, Drexel walked into the station with his Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. He had also splurged and bought an egg, bacon, and cheese on a plain bagel. He unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite as he unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out the electronic photo frame. He plugged it in. Every photograph that cycled through on it was valuable to him. Zora had put them all on the memory card. The first to appear was one of the last with his father. He recognized the backyard of the house. Green lawn, white wooden fence. The edge of the grill just visible. His dad looking frail as the cancer sapped his strength but he still stood strong, his arms around Drexel and Lily. Wayne stood next to Lily, and Zora stood next to Drexel. He was able to rec
all the smells of the grilling burgers and potatoes, which were sliced thin and wrapped with bacon and butter in foil. That had been a good day dimmed only by Ryan’s absence—he was in prison at the time. Never again was his dad able to enjoy life so well.
Drexel took a bite of his sandwich as Victor opened his door and stuck his head out. “Pierce, I got something for you.” The captain’s head disappeared back into his office.
Drexel stood up and took his coffee and sandwich in with him. He turned part way to the office to grab a napkin. He closed Victor’s door behind him, and he did it knowing that he needed to tell his captain about the arrest of Harrison Dodge and crew and what he knew about Victor.
“Here.” Victor held out a manila folder.
“What’s this?”
“It’s what I told you I’d get.”
Drexel took the folder and opened it. Ryan’s mug shot was stapled to the top-left corner of his arrest record. Drexel flipped through the pages. Ryan had been arrested twice for using. The second one the officers had included intent to distribute, which is what landed him in prison. The final pages related to the Wildwood slayings—the leverage Carl had used in efforts to keep Drexel in line. He looked through the fingerprint evidence. The two gang members tied to Ryan’s arrest for distribution were definitely at the Wildwood murder site. Not one of the fingerprints found matched Ryan’s. Carl had been lying all along.
“You sure there’s nothing else that Carl has that isn’t in this?” asked Drexel.
“If there is, then he’s fucked himself by breaking any number of laws. And no way would a prosecutor touch it with a ten-foot pole. Carl’s got nothing.”
Drexel closed his eyes, paused, and then opened them. He set the folder on Victor’s desk. “Thank you.”
Victor smiled but it disappeared. “Thought you’d be a tad happier.”
Drexel took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed. “I’ve got to confess something.” He washed the bite down with a gulp of coffee. His mind wandered to how much he liked Dunkin’ Donuts’ coffee. “I know about the Harrison Dodge crew.”
Victor’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “Dodge. He’s a former detective of mine. In my old gig before I came here. He and a couple of other cops were rolled up for intimidating tenants.”
“So you know about this?”
Victor stood up and walked to the window. He turned, putting his back to the window and his hands on the sill. “Yeah. I was acting undercover for the case. Seems a certain detective in my squad happened on them. Caught them in the act.”
The relief that came over Drexel was immense but was followed by guilt. He should have known that Victor was never corrupt.
Victor continued, “IA was leading the investigation. It’s been going on for years. Two or three.” He tilted his head. “Three. Lucky for us all the evidence was in the bag, and we were trying to get extra gravy. You mind telling me how it was you showed up that night.”
Drexel took in a deep breath. “I was investigating what happened to Zora.”
His captain’s eyes narrowed and small creases appeared on his forehead.
“I found a part of a photograph of hers. Pieced the rest of them together. A building that’s no longer there. I followed the trail of the building, which led me to an IA investigator’s notes. Witnesses reported an angry conversation between a photographer and one of the officers believed to be involved in the harassment.”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Victor’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “I can’t believe you got me so wrong. It’s offensive. So I’m going to tell you about the conversation I had with your wife, and then you’ll leave this office. Zora was investigating the reports. She showed up one night. I spotted her—despite her attempts to hide. And, yes, I yelled at her. Told her she was putting herself at risk. She didn’t like me telling her that, so we argued a bit. That’s it.” He shook his head. “Shit, Pierce, I thought you knew me better than that.” The captain rubbed his jaw. He looked at Drexel, who saw Victor’s eyes moist. “Now get out...”
Drexel nodded and stood up. He bit his lower lip and then said, “I’m sorry.”
Victor waved his hand dismissively.
***
Drexel dropped into his chair and exhaled. He could not blame Victor for his reaction. He would have felt the same in his shoes. Someone you have worked with for years—someone you would rely on to protect you and to comfort you—you question their most basic character. Yes, thought Drexel, he would be righteously pissed off if someone suggested he was both corrupt and a killer. Or one of those.
He shook his head and wondered how he could have screwed up so badly. He knew in the same instant. His wife had been murdered, and he was intent on bringing her killer to justice. That seemed worth the cost.
He turned to the computer and shook the mouse to wake it up. He tossed the rest of the egg sandwich in his hand into the trash can. He drank the last of the coffee and tossed the cup, as well. He turned back to the computer and saw the message from Daniela. He clicked it open. It contained the information she had found on Josh Hayden, Steve Courtier, and Nicholas Standby. Since Standby had not yet returned Drexel’s messages, he started with him.
Standby had a few parking and speeding violations in California. Born in 1963. Died last year in San Francisco. He clicked the link to the obituary. A husband and father of two boys. Served in the Army. Went to the University of California - San Francisco. Graduated with a degree in marketing. Worked at Ellington Brothers Printing and then Westwood Industrial Parts. He was buried in Ackington Park Cemetery. No cause of death was specified and no autopsy was performed.
Steve Courier, the man who answered to Josh Hayden’s phone number, was a city councilman for the city of Palo Alto. He owned the Courier Trucking Company. No arrest record. Divorced. One daughter. Steve Courier activated the phone number last year.
Josh Hayden. Nothing. A big blank. No one in Houston or the surrounding areas matched the name. The phone number was activated the day he rented the car in Chicago.
Josh Hayden—or the man who used Josh Hayden as an alias—was the man. Drexel felt that in his gut. But how to track him down. Renting the car and getting a phone—a burner—the day of Zora’s killing revealed to Drexel that Josh had not planned for murdering someone and had made decisions on the fly. He tried to replay the scenes in his head. Josh was someone Zora knew or someone she could trust. He did not think the cable guy or apartment maintenance was supposed to show up that day. He wrote down to double-check. The killer gained entry. Drexel did not play the scene of his wife’s murder, instead jumping ahead. He has killed her. Not intentional. A killing in the commission of a breaking and entering. So Josh hatches an idea to rent a car, for which he needs to have a phone number. Drexel emailed Daniela to track down where the phone number was purchased. The detective did not expect that the shop Josh purchased it from would have video, but it was worth a shot. He also asked Daniela to get any video from Best Car Rental for the days Josh rented and returned the Honda Accord. He continued to turn the scenario over in his head. Josh needed more than a phone number to rent a car. He needed a valid driver’s license. He could not have gotten that as quickly.
Drexel leaned back in his chair, pondering how that detail threatened to undo all he had considered. His phone buzzed with the default ringtone—the “Mars” section of Gustav Holts’s The Planets. He pulled it out and said, “Drexel Pierce, Detective—”
A panicked voice across the phone line: “Detective, this is Sabeen Lopez.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Hector told me about what he’s done. That he hasn’t worked in months. We fought. I told him I’d tell you the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“The night Vickie was killed, he wasn’t here. I thought he was out drinking at a bar. I didn’t think about it. I knew where he was, but—but�
�now I don’t know. He’s been lying for months. Maybe he lied about that.”
Drexel slumped in the chair. The father? he thought. “Okay. Is something going on right now?”
“He’s sitting outside in the yard. He got angry. He’s drunk. He’s been drunk for months. Why didn’t I see it? Did he kill my precious daughter? Is—”
“I’ll be right there. I’ll have some officers with me. Hold on.”
Drexel hung up and called the patrol officer captain. He brought him up to speed. The captain agreed to have two cars and three officers go with Drexel to the Lopez’s house. After he hung up, he raced down the stairs to meet the officer. He wondered if Hector could have killed his daughter? The darkness and tragedy of that possibility filled him with dread as he went to confront the man.
Chapter 30
Sirens and lights all the way to the Lopez house. As the patrol car angled into the curb, the blue lights caught Sabeen standing on the driveway, back by the gate Drexel had first walked through to interview Hector. Drexel stepped out of the car. The patrol officers stepped out as well, two with guns at the ready.
“Stop it! Put that away!” Sabeen screamed. Her throat was raw from repeated efforts.
Missy, the dog, sat on its haunches, facing Sabeen, and barked. A neighbor stood on his porch. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans. He reached up to his face and inhaled on a cigarette. He turned and saw Drexel walking up the driveway. “‘Bout time you guys got here. Dude has a gun.”
Drexel stopped. He looked back at the patrol officer. “The suspect has a weapon. You better get to clearing the surrounding houses.” He looked at the neighbor. “Sir, please move back to the street.” Drexel gestured in the direction of the police car. “For your own safety.”
“That dude’s nuts.” He turned and walked down the sidewalk of his house toward the street, throwing the cigarette aside.
Justice in Slow Motion (Drexel Pierce Book 3) Page 22