by KJ Kalis
36
Forty-two minutes after talking to Anthony, Emily’s phone chirped, receiving a text from a number she didn’t recognize. “Nine PM tonight.”
Exactly how Anthony got things done, Emily wasn’t sure, but she was grateful for his help. She looked at the time on her cell phone. She still had nearly six hours to wait until she needed to go to the building. Picking up Miner’s leash, she clucked to him, “How about another walk, boy? Mama needs to clear her head and we need to get something for dinner.”
The last few hours before she confronted the perpetrator were often the most tense. Emily knew she needed to keep moving, keep her head clear and focus. She clipped the leash onto Miner’s collar and yelled to Mike, “We’ll be back. Going to the butcher shop.”
Outside, the sun peeked in between thick gray clouds. The weather forecast called for rain starting around dinnertime, though it felt like it could start at any minute. It was Emily’s least favorite weather. Not cold enough to snow and not warm enough for the rain to be pleasant, just damp and cold, the kind of cold that cut through anything anyone could wear to keep warm.
Though the cars buzzed by Emily and Miner as they walked, there was no one on the sidewalk. The houses in her neighborhood looked abandoned, everyone at work or school, living their lives. She shook her head. Little did they know what their neighbor was planning on doing tonight.
After Emily had been arrested, even the neighbors she knew weren’t that interested in talking to her. Over the years, people had moved in and out of the area, but Emily had always been wary about being friendly with any of them. Neighbors could make things extremely uncomfortable for each other if they wanted to.
Turning the corner, Emily saw the last few homes in her area turn into small shops, converted from homes that had been built fifty or sixty years before. A little farther down the road, she and Miner darted between two buildings and in the back door of Sammy’s Butcher Shop, the screen door banging behind them. Miner sniffed and walked right into Carl’s office. Emily dropped the leash and poked her head into the retail area. As soon as she did, Carl turned to her, a wide grin on his face, “Emily! I’ll be with you in just a minute.” Carl was serving an older woman with paper-thin skin and an orange hat, handing her two packages of meat wrapped in white butcher paper.
Emily nodded but didn’t say anything, turning away and walking back to Carl’s office. Miner had taken up his favorite station, curled up underneath Carl’s desk. A moment later, Carl appeared, his giant frame taking up the entire doorway, his white apron stained with meat juice. “Emily, so good to see you. You haven’t been around for the last couple of days.” Out from under Carl’s desk, Miner tiptoed toward Carl, sitting at his feet, looking up. “Were you under my desk again?” The big man laughed and pulled a piece of dried sausage out of his pocket, offering it to Miner, who chewed it happily.
“Yeah, things have been a little busy the last couple of days. Thought we’d stop in and get something good for dinner. Do you have any of those chicken skewers today?” Although the last thing Emily wanted to do was think about eating, she knew that keeping herself busy until she had to meet Vince at the Lakeview was the best she could do.
“Of course. We just made a batch of them this morning. Fresh and delicious like usual. How many do you want?”
“Eight.”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
Emily settled herself down in one of the chairs in Carl’s office, waiting for him. Miner crawled back under Carl’s desk. She wondered if the dog could smell the meat more strongly hiding under there than anywhere else. Or maybe, he just liked the comfort of what seemed like a natural cave. Dogs were funny that way.
A moment later, Carl emerged in the doorway, a thick package wrapped in white paper in his hand. From his pocket, he pulled out a plastic bag. “This will make it easier for you to carry it home. He pulled out another piece of sausage and fed it to Miner, rubbing him behind the ears.
“Thanks,” Emily put some cash on Carl’s desk. “I’ll come in next week and settle up the monthly bill, but this will get you started.”
“That’s not necessary, but thanks,” Carl eyed the hallway.
“How’s business going? Any news from your landlord?” Emily needed something to distract her. Hearing about the progress with Carl’s property owner would be a welcome relief to the tension she felt in her chest.
“Business has been good, but I’m looking for new space for the shop. I called the attorney for the landlord. They won’t budge.” Carl looked at the floor for a moment, “Change is good, you know. Hopefully, I can find someplace close by. I’ll miss you and Miner if I can’t.” A flicker of sadness covered his square face. Emily couldn’t imagine how many people Carl had gotten to know in the neighborhood over the years. Sammy’s was an institution in their part of Chicago. It wasn’t just the meat that was good, it was the people. Carl and the two employees always took care of the community, delivering homemade soup to customers that were sick or a holiday meal to a family that had just lost a job. Unlike Vince, Emily thought, Carl actually cares about people.
“I’m sure you’ll find something close by,” Emily said, looping the bag around one wrist on the leash around another. “No matter where you go, we’ll follow. Miner would miss his sausage, that’s for sure.” Emily tried to sound upbeat, but the reality was that moving a store like Sammy’s out of its original location could destroy the business.
She gave Carl a wave as she and Miner walked out the back door and headed home. A light mist started to fall. Emily pulled up the hood on her coat and walked a little more quickly.
It didn’t take long to get home. Pushing through the back door, Emily let Miner’s leash go, the dog shaking off water droplets on the walls as Emily took her boots off and tossed her coat on the back of a chair. “Get anything good for dinner?” Mike said.
“That depends on whether you were able to find Vince for me.”
“On that front, I have two pieces of good news…”
“What would that be?” Emily said, putting the bag in the refrigerator. Mike sounded like he was trying to be a little too overly cheery, she thought. He was probably trying to make up for the fact that he’d run away a couple of days before.
“The transmitter is still working, that’s number one. And second, Vince is currently at his apartment.”
For a second, Emily considered just going over to Vince’s apartment and handling the situation there but confronting him in a residential area opened the door to lots of problems, including the fact that there were other people nearby, people that could get hurt inadvertently. That was the last thing Emily wanted.
“Okay, keep an eye on his location for me, will you? I’m going to leave here at eight and go to the Lakeview building. You’ll be able to track me on my phone.”
“You’re meeting Vince?”
“We’ll see…” Emily didn’t feel comfortable giving Mike all of the information about how she hoped the case would resolve. Most of the time, Mike was a couple of thousand miles away while Emily worked. She only reached out to him when she needed tech help. This case had been filled with twists and turns, not the least the fact that Mike was watching her every move. The less he knew about how things ended, the better for both of them.
Mike nodded and disappeared with his laptop. Emily heard the television in the family room go on. He’d probably perched himself on the couch, watching a movie while he was watching Vince’s tracking beacon, Emily thought.
From a drawer in the cabinet, Emily pulled out her pistol, taking it out of the holster, dropping the magazine, and ejecting the round that was in the chamber. She used a soft cloth to wipe it down and then aimed and pulled the trigger several times, hearing the satisfying click of the hammer strike. She reloaded it, checking to make sure she had a view of shiny brass when she pulled the slide back. Checking her weapon was something she’d gotten into the habit of during police academy. A misfire, though common, was some
thing that would draw the ire of the range instructors. The habits she learned in the Academy hadn’t ever left her, even though it had been years in the past.
Emily’s breath caught in her throat for a second, the sudden flash of what she was contemplating landing in front of her. She felt the cool metal of the handcuffs on her wrists again. What if she got caught? What if one of these times, things didn’t go as well as she planned? Her throat tightened, a pit forming in her stomach. I’d rather be dead than get arrested again, she thought.
A memory from her time in the Cold Case Division surfaced. A woman with a cane came tottering into the building and hugged Emily without ever identifying herself. Afterward, with a cup of coffee in her hand, the woman said, “I know you don’t know me, but you know my husband. He was the one killed by the drunk driver.”
All the pieces fell into place. Emily and Lou had closed the case of a man crossing the street who had been hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly. The traffic cameras on their corner hadn’t been working, so it took a lot of legwork to figure out who the driver was. That man was now sitting in jail.
Sitting in jail…
Emily swallowed, trying to ease the knot in her throat. She got up, went upstairs and into the bathroom, flipping the light on. Marlowe’s call had come so suddenly that Emily hadn’t taken time to put any makeup on. Her face showed it, dark circles and pale skin stretched over her features, her long dark hair clumped in a messy ponytail, wisps of hair touching her forehead.Turning on the cold water, Emily splashed her face, hoping to revive the circulation in her skin. She dried her face off with a towel and then leaned her hands on the vanity, staring at her reflection for a moment. Emily had a choice about what would happen next. She could call Lou and turn the case over to the police, but there was no guarantee they would handle it. Even working cases from the inside, Emily had seen how many slipped through the cracks.
The memory of Marlowe’s bloodshot eyes and hoarse voice crashed through Emily’s memory. Could she sleep at night knowing that Vince was still loose, still living his life in Chicago without a care in the world? She bit her lip, pulling a small piece of dried skin off, struggling with the idea. She knew she couldn’t live with herself If she didn’t handle the problem.
It had to be handled tonight.
Emily walked out of the bathroom and found Miner perched on the bed, his wide brown eyes following her as she paced. After a minute or two, she plopped down next to him, scratching his back. His ears were halfway back, not forward and not pinned. Emily could tell by his expression he knew she was concerned about something. “It’ll be okay, boy,” she whispered to him, burying her fingers in his thick gray fur. At least she hoped it would be.
On her way out of the bedroom, Emily stopped and put on some lip balm, heading downstairs to the kitchen. Making dinner would keep her busy, even if she didn’t have much of an appetite.
A half-hour later, Mike came into the kitchen. “Something smells good,” he said, carrying his laptop.
Emily set the chicken kebabs down on the table and looked at him, “Where’s Vince?”
Mike flipped open the lid to his laptop. “Right now, he’s downtown, parked at a high rise about three blocks from the Lakeview building. Any idea why he might be there?”
Thinking back to her conversation with Anthony, Emily realized Vince might meet with his new benefactors, the ones that had rescued the building from its condemned status and funded a new round of construction. Why he was there, she didn’t know. All that mattered was that Vince went to the building at nine o’clock to meet the inspector. “No idea. Maybe he has a meeting?”
“A meeting? About what?”
“The Lakeview.”
Mike squinted for a second as if he were processing the information. “Why would Vince have a meeting at the Lakeview? I thought Marlowe said the building had been condemned.”
“I heard from a source the building is back in play.” Emily wasn’t sure what Mike’s reaction would be to the fact that she had information he didn’t. Mike’s whole world was built around information as currency.
A flash of suspicion showed on Mike’s face, “Anthony?”
Emily nodded, waiting for Mike’s reaction. Would he stay calm this time?
Mike slumped down in the chair, his shoulders rounded, “He does seem to have the inside track on good info here in Chicago, doesn’t he?”
Emily let out a breath, thankful for the fact that Mike hadn’t reacted the same way he did last time. Before she could say anything, he interrupted.
“I’m over the thing about Anthony,” he said in a short, clipped sentence. “I’m sorry about what happened with Miner. I should never have done that.”
Although they had already talked it out when Emily drove out to Mike’s cabin to find her dog, she was glad to hear that Mike was still aware of the fact that he’d messed up. Trust wasn’t something that could be repaired easily, or at least that’s what Emily had found in her own life. She looked down at the plate of food in front of her and poked at it with her fork.
“Not hungry?” Mike said through a mouthful of food. “These are delicious. Did you get these from Carl?”
Emily nodded but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t used to having Mike hang around as she anticipated confronting a perpetrator. It wasn’t that she was nervous, more like preoccupied. It felt like her mind was somewhere else, running through the possible scenarios of how the evening could turn out. Eating didn’t seem like a big priority at the moment. A minute later, she got up and found some plastic wrap in the drawer, covering her dinner. She stowed it in the refrigerator. Maybe she’d be hungry later. “I gotta go get ready,” she said, leaving Mike as he heaped another portion on his plate.
Back upstairs, Emily changed into a fresh set of clothes, dark jeans, and a tank top covered by a hoodie. She added longer socks that she knew worked best with her boots. It was a tradition of sorts, getting changed before the final confrontation. Butterflies ran through her stomach, reminding her that this could be the time that everything changed. This could be the time she didn’t get away.
For some reason, this confrontation seemed different. Pulling a pair of boots out of her closet and snugging the laces around her ankles, Emily realized it was because it was her backyard. It was Chicago. She’d never taken a case that was in her hometown before. Chewing her lip, she realized she probably wouldn’t ever again. Everything was just too close to home. If it hadn’t been for Angelica…
Usually, after a confrontation, she quietly slipped into her truck and disappeared out of town before anyone figured out what happened. It gave her an extra sense of anonymity — like she was a ghost that could pass through walls. In Chicago, things were different. She was known, and not for a good reason.
Standing up, she tugged the hoodie down closer to her waist. The one she’d chosen wasn’t oversized, the band at the bottom hitting right at her waistline. She ran a thick belt through the loops on her jeans and secured it. The last thing she needed was to lose her gun while she was dealing with Vince. The best way to prevent doing that was to make sure her equipment was secure.
By the time she went back downstairs, Mike had finished eating and had put away the food, Miner licking the last bits of Mike’s dinner off his plate. “I gotta go,” she said.
Mike’s face hardened as if he knew she was in for a challenging few hours. “What do you need me to do?”
“Track my phone and track Vince. Send me a text when you see him moving towards Lakeview. He is due there at nine o’clock.” Emily picked up her holstered gun and clipped it to her waistband, covering it with the hem of the hoodie and layering a jacket over top. She scrawled a phone number on a piece of paper. Anthony’s. “If I get into trouble, call this number and tell the man who answers who you are and where I am. He’ll know what to do.” As she picked up the keys from the counter, Emily looked back at Mike, “Oh, one more thing…”
“What’s that?”
“Mak
e sure you and Miner are here when I get back.”
Mike nodded and sighed. “It’s going to take you a little time to get past that, isn’t it?”
Emily nodded, a half-smile on her face, “You know what they say about a girl and her dog. Don’t get between them.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. Emily walked out the back door, pulling it closed behind her, leaving the safety and insulation of her home. She glanced back over her shoulder, seeing Mike walk through the kitchen through the lit window. Did she want to stay in Chicago? The thought flashed across her mind and then evaporated before she could grab hold of it. Tonight wasn’t the night to think about such things. Maybe tomorrow.
With rush-hour over, the drive to the Lakeview took four minutes less than it did on the other trips Emily had made to the building, the empty, white skeleton jutting up out of the darkness that had set over the city. Emily drove past the building and then circled the block, parking her truck in an adjacent lot that was empty, all the daily workers having gone home to their families. She checked the line of sight from her parking spot. If she could exit out the back of the building, she should be able to get to her truck without anyone seeing her.
Getting out of her truck, she grabbed two extra magazines filled with nine millimeter ammunition and stuck them in her pocket. If she were on duty, she would have used a magazine holder, but hopefully, she wouldn’t need more than was already loaded in her gun. Stepping away from the truck, she locked it, the truck going black in the darkness and receding into the shadows. Emily stuffed the keys in her pocket and walked the edge of the parking lot, staying in the shadows, heading around the back of the Lakeview.