DEAD BY WEDNESDAY

by Beverly Long

  “Where did you land on it?” Robert asked.

  “I left the newspaper on the table one morning, folded so that he could easily see the headline. He read the story and that gave me the opportunity I was waiting for. I tried to gently suggest that it was important to be careful, to always be watching.”

  “What did he say?” Liz asked.

  Carmen rolled her eyes. “He said, and I quote, ‘Sis. There are three million people in the city of Chicago. Eight million if you count the suburbs. I don’t think anybody is looking for me.’ I didn’t push it. I’m crazy enough about other things, like brushed teeth and pants that stay up around his waist.”

  “Raoul’s such a smart kid. You didn’t need to say anything else,” Liz said. “He gets it.”

  “Yeah, and we’re going to get this guy,” Sawyer said, his tone confident. “He’s going to make a mistake. In fact, he already has.”

  “What’s that?” Liz asked.

  “He mutilates and suffocates his victims. That’s been reported in the press. What hasn’t been reported is that the victims have all been found with red handkerchiefs in their mouths. We’ve been successful in keeping that out of the press. But that shows an arrogance on his part—that he’s so confident that he won’t be caught that he can afford to leave clues at the scene. Arrogance makes criminals sloppy.”

  “Can you trace the handkerchiefs?” Carmen asked.

  “We’ve tried. No luck so far,” Robert said. “They’re sold in a bunch of stores. But something will break, soon. It has to.” He leaned across the table and tickled Catherine’s belly. “Right, darling?”

  She giggled, breaking the tension at the table.

  Carmen felt more relaxed than she had in months. That wasn’t how she’d expected the evening to go. She’d gotten to Liz’s house and her friend had quickly pulled her aside. Sawyer just told me he invited Robert, too. Are you okay with that?

  Heck no, she wasn’t okay with that. She’d met Robert Hanson just weeks before Catherine was born, when Catherine’s mother was kidnapped by a gang leader who wanted to steal the baby. Robert had been a little brash, maybe even a little cocky, but he’d been helpful to both Liz and Sawyer.

  And she had tried to ignore that whenever he was close, it seemed a little harder to focus. She’d done pretty well with that until the wedding and then the dance.

  Robert Hanson knew how to hold a woman. For a big man, his touch had been light and his steps graceful.

  But she’d known that he was a man who knew what to do. And her skills were rusty. Real rusty. She was twenty-nine years old and hadn’t been on a date in thirteen years.

  No worries, she’d assured her friend. After all, they’d had one little dance. She remembered it but he’d probably forgotten it the next day. She told herself it was silly to think for even one minute that the evening would be the least bit awkward.

  But when the door opened and she heard his voice in the foyer, her senses had become more acute. She felt her skin get warm and knew it had nothing to do with Sawyer’s nice fireplace.

  And she’d tried to remember that it was just a DWF night. Dinner With Friends. They’d have a little pizza, some wine, a few laughs.

  And she’d prayed that the butterflies in her stomach would get the message.

  She’d worried for nothing. Robert Hanson, in his usual charming way, had made the night perfect.

  Now that they’d finished with their cheesecake, Robert pushed back his chair and began to gather up the dirty plates. Liz started to get up. “I’ve got this,” he said. “I’m anxious to see the paint job that your husband did. I must admit, he’s never impressed me as being all that artistic.”

  Sawyer wadded up his cloth napkin and threw it at Robert. “If I get tired of wrestling with the bad guys, maybe I’ll start my own painting business.”

  “Not a chance, Michelangelo,” Robert said. “You’re not leaving me on my own.”

  Liz shook her head. “Like either of you would ever stop being cops. Come with me.”

  They followed Liz back to Catherine’s room. It had been painted a pale mint-green. Waist-high was a border of dancing teddy bears in yellows and pinks.

  “It’s adorable,” Carmen said. “Very impressive. Can I hire you? My kitchen desperately needs paint.”

  Sawyer smiled and shook his head. “I don’t want to see another stir stick for quite some time. Robert, you seemed to know a lot about painting earlier.”

  “I work cheap,” Robert said, his tone casual.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Carmen said, grateful to get out of the conversation so easily. The idea of sexy Robert Hanson in her kitchen, face smeared with paint, looking all adorable, had the butterflies double-timing it. Her stomach lining was getting scratched. “I should probably get going,” she added.

  Sawyer and Robert grabbed coats out of the closet and Carmen hugged her friend. “Thank you so much. Everything was delicious. Remember, I’m going to be late tomorrow.”

  “Be careful, okay?” Liz replied, her tone serious.

  Both Sawyer and Robert immediately stopped their conversation. “What’s going on, honey?” Sawyer asked, moving close to his wife.

  “Carmen has a new client. Unfortunately, the girl hasn’t told her parents that she’s pregnant. She’s afraid to. Dad evidently has a history of a violent temper. Anyway, she asked Carmen to be there when she breaks the news.”

  Robert took a step forward. “He’s coming to OCM?”

  “No,” Carmen said. “That won’t work. The minute she tells him that she wants to meet him at a pregnancy counseling center, he’s going to have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.”

  “You’re not going to this guy’s house?” Robert asked, his tone challenging.

  Carmen shook her head. “No. I’m not that crazy,” she said, trying to make light of it. She saw that it wasn’t working. “Frank Sage evidently stops for coffee every morning at a little place on the corner of Taylor and Minx. His daughter and I are going to meet there and uh, break the news. It’s a public place where he’ll probably feel inclined to behave. It was the best plan I could come up with.”

  Robert was frowning at her. “You do this kind of thing often?”

  “Not often, but I’ve had cases where we’ve had to quickly remove a young girl from a situation when her parents or her boyfriend or somebody else couldn’t handle the news of the pregnancy. We need to protect our clients and their babies.”

  “You think that’s what’s going to happen here?” Robert asked.

  “I don’t know. I should be able to tell. If I have any reason to believe that he’s going to harm my client physically, I’ll take the necessary steps.”

  Liz stepped in and wrapped an arm around Carmen’s shoulder. “She’s little but she’s tough. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “Be careful driving home.”

  She and Robert left. She saw a red SUV parked behind her car. She assumed it was Robert’s. “Well, good night,” she said when they got to her car.

  “It’s pretty late,” he said. “How about I follow you?”

  Was Robert Hanson asking to be invited in? The idea was absurd. And terribly exciting. She felt sixteen again. “I drive all the time at night,” she said.

  “That doesn’t make it a good thing. Please let me do this.”

  Liz had always said that both Sawyer and Robert were real gentlemen. “Okay. Do you need my address?” she asked. “In case you lose me at a light?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “I won’t lose you.”

  And he didn’t. She drove a sedate thirty-eight miles an hour and he stayed a couple car lengths behind her. The whole time she worried about what she should say if he asked to come in. When she parked at her apartment building, she still didn’t have an answer.

 
He pulled up next to her.

  “What floor?” he asked.

  “Second. That window is my kitchen,” she said, pointing at the end of the building closest to them.

  “Okay. Flip the light twice and I’ll know you’re in safe. Have a good night, Carmen.”

  “Uh...sure. Thanks.” She practically ran into the building. She got inside her apartment and pressed herself up against the hard wall. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she didn’t think it was from the physical exertion.

  Then she remembered to flip the light twice.

  Robert Hanson wasn’t interested in coming inside, and she was a fool to think so.

  Chapter Three

  Thursday

  Carmen was just slipping on her shoes the next morning when she heard Raoul’s door slam. “You’re up early,” she said, ruffling his hair as he walked past her.

  He didn’t answer. Just went to the cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal. He poured a big bowl, added milk, grabbed a spoon from the drawer and stood at the counter. “I have band practice this morning,” he said with his mouth full.

  She ignored the poor manners. Lately, Raoul hadn’t offered much conversation; she wasn’t inclined to shut him down. “Practice before and after school?”

  “Winter concert is next Thursday,” Raoul said. “Mr. Raker said we better improve fast or we’re going to be an embarrassment to ourselves and our families.”

  Carmen smiled. Mr. Raker could get a little over-the-top sometimes. “You’ll pull it off. I know you will.”

  “I guess.” He chewed. “Hey, Carmen. Did Hector have a lot of friends in high school?”

  Hector. He’d been two years older and in every way possible, her hero. And then he’d made a few bad decisions that changed the course of his life. All their lives, really.

  And then he’d died.

  “I guess,” she said. Raoul never talked about Hector. “Why do you ask?”

  He stared at her and put his half-eaten cereal down. “He was my brother. Can’t I ask about my brother?”

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s just...you surprised me, that’s all. What would you like to know?”

  He grabbed his coat. “Never mind,” he said. “I have to go. It’s Mrs. Minelli’s turn to drive. She’s probably already here.”

  “Raoul,” she said.

  A slamming door was her answer.

  “Say hi to Jacob,” she said, her voice trailing off at the end. She sank down on one of her kitchen chairs. Over the years, she’d had a few clients who were as young as fourteen or fifteen, but girls were different. They communicated. Boys just shut down.

  It was driving her crazy.

  She turned the lights off, grabbed her coat and patted her pockets to make sure she had gloves. She normally drove to work, but she knew that parking near the coffee shop would be hard to find. It was easier to take a cab.

  When she was just a few blocks away, she texted Alexa’s cell phone. Are you there?

  The response came almost immediately. No. Five minutes.

  Carmen checked her watch. Alexa’s father stopped in on his way to work. Same time, every day. He was due in ten minutes.

  The cab stopped, and she handed over a ten and got out. She considered waiting outside for Alexa but across the street, the flashing sign on the bank indicated it was ten degrees.

  And in Chicago, the wind never stopped blowing. Which made the windchill about twenty below.

  She opened the coffee shop door, took her place in line and studied her choices. When it was her turn, she ordered a large hot chocolate and a glass of water. Then she turned to find a table.

  And saw him.

  Robert Hanson.

  He smiled at her and held up his own cup. “Morning, Carmen. They make a great cup of coffee here, don’t they?”

  He looked fresh and handsome and as delicious as one of the scones in the front display case. “This is not your coffee shop,” she hissed.

  “I drink coffee all day long, all over the city. Why not here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Look, there’s no need for you to be here. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “Good. Then you can just ignore that I’m here.”

  Robert Hanson was six-two and two hundred pounds of muscle. His eyes were a brilliant blue, his bone structure was strong and his thick light brown hair looked as if a woman had just run her fingers through it.

  He was hard to ignore.

  “Do not interfere,” she said.

  “As long as Dad behaves, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Carmen shook her head and took the table in the corner. She turned her chair so that she could see the door but not Robert. She concentrated on taking deep breaths. When she felt she had it under control, she took small sips of her hot chocolate.

  Alexa came in, wearing the same big, dark coat. The young girl got a cup of coffee and headed for Carmen. “I’m sorry I’m late. He should be here really soon.”

  “No problem.” Carmen decided that now wasn’t the time to lecture on the evils of pregnancy and caffeine. “When he arrives, make eye contact and motion him over to the table. Then I’ll introduce myself and let him know that you have something that you’d like to tell him. Just be calm. It’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know my dad,” Alexa said. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t had much sleep.

  Carmen reached over to pat the girl’s hand but stopped when the teen stiffened in her chair. Carmen turned and immediately saw the resemblance between daughter and father. Their coloring was the same; the nose, too. Frank Sage was a big man, probably at least six feet. He wore gray work pants and a big black coat that hinted at a well-fed stomach. His blond hair was thinning on top.

  He was frowning at his daughter.

  Alexa motioned and the man hesitated. Then he walked across the room, bumping into a chair on the way.

  “Alexa, what are you doing here?” he asked. He had a deep voice, somewhat raspy, likely from years of cigarettes. Carmen could smell smoke on his jacket.

  “Hi, Dad,” Alexa said.

  Carmen stood up. She did not like him towering over her. She extended her hand. He stared at it. “Mr. Sage, I’m Carmen Jimenez. I am a counselor and I’ve been working with your daughter.”

  When it didn’t appear that he was going to return the shake, Carmen dropped her arm. “Will you please have a seat?” she asked.

  The man hesitated, then sat on the edge of his chair. “A counselor? Working with my daughter,” he repeated. “What the hell is this about, Alexa?”

  Carmen sat down. “Alexa has something that she wants to tell you, Mr. Sage. And this is difficult for her. It may also be difficult for you to hear. All I’m asking is that you hear her out, give her a chance.”

  The man nodded. His eyes were narrowed.

  “Dad.” Alexa stopped and licked her lips. “I’m pregnant.”

  The man’s face turned red. He shook his head. “No,” he said, staring at his daughter.

  Alexa nodded. “I’m going to have a baby around April 15.”

  “No,” he repeated, his voice louder, as if by proclaiming it so, he could simply get the problem to disappear.

  Alexa’s face turned pink and she looked quickly around the coffee shop. A few people in line were staring in their direction. “Please, Dad. Carmen is a counselor at Options for Caring Mothers, a pregnancy counseling center. She’s helping me.”

  The man swiveled in his chair, looked at Carmen, then stood up fast, catching the edge of the table. Cups and water glasses flew. Carmen felt the hot splash of liquid on her face and heard Alexa yelp. She looked up to see Frank Sage’s big red face coming toward her.

  * * *

  ROBERT WRENCHED THE m
an’s arm behind his back, put pressure on the back of his knees with a well-placed foot, and in seconds, had him facedown on the tile floor.

  He looked around the room. “My name is Detective Robert Hanson. I’m a police officer with the Chicago Police Department. I need all of you to remain calm and to stay in your seats. I repeat, remain calm and stay in your seats.”

  He turned to look at Carmen. She was standing up. Her mouth was open and she looked shell-shocked. There was hot chocolate on her blouse, and some had splashed on her face and hair. He tightened his grip on Sage’s arm, pulling it just a little higher. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  She nodded and turned to look at the girl who had also stood up. “Alexa?” She wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulder.

  “I told you,” the young girl said, her tone soft. She was looking at her dad.

  There was a disgusting combination of hot chocolate, coffee and water pooling on the table. The uneven slate floor was causing a small trickle to drip off the side.

  A helpful server walked by and offered Carmen a towel. Robert shook his head. “Leave it,” he said. He wanted pictures.

  Robert leaned close to the man’s ear. He spoke quietly. “If you didn’t hear it the first time, my name is Detective Robert Hanson, with the Chicago Police Department. I’m going to let you get up, Mr. Sage. But if you make one wrong move toward your daughter, Ms. Jimenez, me or anybody else in this room, you’re going to be in even bigger trouble than you are now. Do you understand?”

  He waited until the big man nodded. Then he loosened his grip and let the man get to his knees. He kicked a chair toward him. “Sit there,” he ordered.

  The man did as he was instructed. His face was red and his eyes were wild, but he didn’t try anything. He did not look at Alexa or Carmen.