by E. C. Diskin
“Okay, dear.” She offered Abby a hug¸ and though Abby would normally resist, she couldn’t. They embraced and Abby held on. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and tried to pretend her mom was here, hugging her, making it all better. Mrs. Tanor pulled away and looked at her face.
“Dear, you look so tired. Get some rest.”
Abby let her out and climbed the steps slowly, like each leg weighed a hundred pounds. The phone rang and she sat at the kitchen table, took a breath, and answered.
“Hello?”
“Abby! Holy shit. What the fuck is happening?”
Just hearing Sarah’s voice, her concern, put her back into a state. She tried pushing down the knot in her throat, to explain it all. Sarah could obviously hear the struggle.
“Oh hon. What can I do?”
She spoke through tears. “I’m in a real mess. I need help.”
“Anything.”
But Sarah couldn’t help her with this. Abby pulled it together. “Just check my e-mails for me. Have my secretary go over my docket with you. I can’t even think right now. I just don’t want to miss any filing deadlines. If there’s anything urgent, please take care of it or get someone from the case involved. I’ll be in tomorrow. I really don’t want anyone to find out about this.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks.” Abby took a breath and tried to change topics. “So, how was Aruba? I’ve missed you.”
“Oh please, Abby. We can’t actually talk about Aruba now. I’ve missed you too. I’m just worried.”
“Don’t. I’m working with a detective. Remember I told you about that man that chased me the night I took the wrong train? Turns out he’s a good guy. He’s been like my best friend the last week.”
“Jesus. I can’t leave you alone at all, can I? Gone just two weeks and you go off and find a new best friend.”
They both laughed. It felt good.
Abby heard the faint sound of a buzzer through the wall, from Mrs. Tanor’s place. She walked toward the window in the living room to see who was outside. Four uniformed officers stood at the gate and Mrs. Tanor was heading toward them. To let them in, she guessed.
“Sarah, I gotta go.” Abby hung up the phone before Sarah could respond and stood, motionless, wondering what would be next.
The officers entered the courtyard and walked toward Abby’s front door. And then she heard the pounding. Her heart sank. What could make this worse?
She walked toward the stairs to go let them in. They began shouting. “Police. Open up. We have a search warrant.”
She stood there, momentarily indignant. She had nothing to hide. Perhaps they would finally realize this was all a set up. But then it struck her. If she was being set up, who could she trust? What if these were not good cops? She thought of Isabel Ramirez. She ran back to the kitchen drawer to grab her pepper spray.
They continued shouting through the door. “We will forcibly open this door if necessary!” She opened the kitchen drawer. There, in plain sight, was a quart-sized zip-lock bag full of pills.
She wanted to scream. The pounding on the door continued. This was getting worse and she didn’t know if Marcus could fix it. What if she went down for this crime? Was it possible? She grabbed the bag and ran up the stairs and into the bathroom. She looked at the toilet and thought of all the crime dramas on TV. That never worked. She heard them on the stairs. They were inside.
She ran up the ladder steps and opened the hatch to the roof. It was freezing. The decking was slick with melted snow, now frozen. She carefully stepped onto the ice, closed the hatch behind her, slid to the knee wall connecting her roof to her neighbor’s, and climbed over. Their large barbeque grill was against the wall. Abby ducked behind it. But she still had the drugs. What if they came up, found her with these drugs in her hand? She thought of tossing them off the roof, but then feared they’d find them in the parking lot or worse yet, right outside her front gate. She popped open the grill and dropped them inside. The hatch opened.
TWENTY-FOUR
THE Cadillac was four cars ahead of Marcus. They’d been driving north on Clark for about two miles. Maybe he was headed right back to the kid’s place in Rogers Park. He called Duvane. “I’m following Thomas Callahan. He’s in a tan Cadillac. It’s the kid’s car.”
“Where are you?”
“Clark Street. Now Clark and Montrose. Oh shit. Hold on.” The stoplight ahead turned yellow just as Callahan turned left and headed west down Montrose. The next two cars made it through the light, but the car in front of Marcus stopped at the line. Cars from Montrose were now driving through the intersection. “Duvane, I’ll call you right back.” Marcus tossed the phone aside and strained to see the Cadillac.
He couldn’t wait. He swerved into the southbound lane and, with cars barreling toward him, darted ahead into the intersection. Horns blared and cars screeched to a halt. Marcus made the turn and looked around for trouble. No accidents. No police.
He floored the accelerator but couldn’t see the Cadillac anywhere. It couldn’t be that far ahead, and it looked like there weren’t too many places Callahan could have gone. Within a block, there were only trees to the north—a thick forest preserve that seemed to go on for about a mile. The stoplight up ahead was red and there was no sign of him in the strip mall parking lots on the south side of the street. The preserve entrance was coming up on the right. After the light turned green, Marcus turned in to the entrance. It was worth a shot. The road was narrow and curved around through the dense, barren trees. Snow covered the ground all around him. Marcus took it slow. He saw the Deer Crossing and No Dumping signs just as the road began to straighten out and spill into a giant parking lot. A car was headed right at him: a black Mercedes. Tinted windows. Marcus could only see a shadow. But he knew. As it passed, he looked in his rearview mirror at the license plate. It continued past him back toward Montrose.
The Cadillac was right there, parked at the edge of the empty lot. Marcus pulled up beside it. There was no sign of the boy. He quickly hopped out and looked into the empty car. Needles, pills, a bag of powder, all in plain sight, all over the front seat.
· · ·
ABBY froze behind the grill. She could feel the prickling pain of ice against her feet. Her socks were soaked. The hatch was open but she couldn’t peer around to see what was happening. She heard a voice. Muffled. He was obviously closing the hatch. “Nothing up there.” She took a breath and slowly looked around the corner of the grill toward her roof deck. It was empty. She cautiously moved toward the hatch so she could hear them. She was freezing. What if there were more drugs? How did someone get in her place? Callahan must have been in her home. The thought of him, of kissing him, of waking up naked, created a taste she couldn’t swallow.
She crouched above the hatch, listening for sounds. Nothing. Suddenly, there were voices in the courtyard. She moved over to the wall’s edge and looked down at the four uniformed officers who were walking toward the gate, chatting casually, like they just ended a coffee break. One of them was talking about the Bulls game.
ABBY sat on her bed, removing the socks from her painfully cold feet, with the phone cradled in her neck, and waited. It was Gottlieb’s office. He was out. She asked for his voice mail and left him a message about the warrant and the drugs. She called Nate. His voice mail picked up. She couldn’t keep her voice from cracking. “Nate. I need your help. I’m in trouble. If you get this, call me. If you get a call from Ted Gottlieb, he’s my lawyer. I was arrested today.” It sounded so foreign, so unbelievable.
· · ·
TRIP was driving west on Montrose when the cell rang. He’d been waiting for this call. It was all falling into place.
“That’s impossible! ” He was talking to Dominick from the twenty-third district. He tried not to sound as flabbergasted and frustrated as he was. He’d just planted those pills this morning. The officer sounded annoyed, as if Trip had sent him on a wild goose chase.
“Well, I don’t know what
to tell you. I only know what I saw. Has she seen a judge yet?”
“Yeah, her lawyer got her into the two o’clock call. She’s been out for a while.”
“And who’s the lawyer?”
“Ted Gottlieb.”
Trip tried to hide his reaction. “Okay, thanks for the information.” Trip hung up the phone and pounded on the steering wheel. This bitch was not going to fuck this up. He was too close. He popped open the glove box—he had enough stuff. He made a U-turn and headed toward the townhouse.
· · ·
MARCUS was back on Montrose, frantically searching the road for Callahan. He grabbed the phone. “Duvane. Callahan’s now in the black Mercedes. You need to grab him now.” He rattled off the plate number for Duvane and waited. They had to get to Callahan before Callahan got to Abby.
“Okay, we’ve got officers heading toward Montrose now. What happened to the Cadillac?”
“He dumped it. Listen, you need to get over to the forest preserve that’s just west of Montrose and Clark. I think you’ll find the kid.”
“What’s going on?”
“Callahan. I lost him briefly, but he dumped the car. I saw the Cadillac after he left. No sign of the kid but there were drugs all over the seat.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Me either. And Abby was arrested today with that kid.”
“Arrested? What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m heading to her place right now. Call me the minute you get Callahan.”
“Will do.”
Marcus closed the phone and immediately re-opened it and called Abby’s cell. She answered after one ring.
“Marcus! Where have you been?” She didn’t wait for the answer. “I was arrested! Cops just came here with a warrant and searched my house. I was hiding on the roof!”
“Abby, I heard about the arrest. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you earlier. I was just following Callahan. I’m on my way to you right now.”
“Marcus, there were drugs in my kitchen drawer. It’s just luck that I even found them before the police came in. I put them on the roof.” Her voice was starting to crack.
“Abby, I’m coming. Don’t move.”
“I can’t take this. I’m getting set up. You have to get Callahan and end this.”
“We will. There are cops looking for him right now. They’re gonna pick him up.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m just about ten blocks from you. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Sit tight.”
“I can’t sit in this place. I feel like a target. I’m going outside. I’ll wait for you out there.”
He could hear the panic in her voice. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Abby.”
She cut him off. “I’m not safe here. He knows where I live.” She was obviously having trouble holding it together. “Even Mrs. Tanor is thinking the worst.”
“Abby, I know this seems impossible right now. Just hold on—I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
Marcus closed the phone and tried to gun it down Montrose, only to be slowed by traffic.
· · ·
ABBY closed the cell. She looked around the room. She wanted to fall back on the bed and cry, but if she relaxed, something else would happen. She grabbed socks and shoes and headed downstairs. She was not going to be a sitting duck. She buttoned up her coat, put her cell in her pocket, grabbed a baseball cap, and headed out the door.
Headlights came toward her from the right and people clogged the sidewalks to her left. The streets and sidewalks were filled with the five o’clock rush. The traffic, the noise, the movement, felt comforting. Marcus would be here in just a few minutes. She took some deep breaths and kept her eyes on the road, waiting to see his car.
· · ·
MARCUS held the cell tightly in his hand. He was on Clark, just a few blocks now from Abby’s place, but the traffic was thick and crawling along. He could see the top of her building. “Just hold on, Abby.” He tapped the steering wheel anxiously. He was craning his neck to see what was holding up the cars in front of him. He couldn’t see. Headlights, brake lights, street lights, store signs—all glowed in the darkening sky. He slammed the horn. “Move!” he yelled. The traffic had not eased. He flipped up the cell and called Abby again.
· · ·
TRIP flew down Roscoe toward the townhouse, lowered his window, pounded the portable siren onto the roof, and hit the light. It didn’t make a sound, but the flashing got some attention as he came to a stop. A woman in a baseball cap was standing at the gate in front of Abby’s place. He watched as she tipped the cap lower on her face and briskly walked toward the crowd on the corner. People crossing the intersection at Clark looked his way. He jumped out, the badge dangling from a chain around his neck.
Abby turned toward him and their eyes met. Everyone was watching. Not moving. Abby tried to run but bumped into people. It was like they created a human wall. She was trapped. He had her by the arm within seconds.
“Help!” Abby screamed out to the crowd as he pulled her toward the car.
Trip spoke loudly, wanting to be sure the spectators could all hear him as he pulled her toward his car, forced her body to lean over the back, and cuffed her. “Thanks folks. This has been a tough one. Ms. Donovan, you have the right to remain silent.”
“No! No!” She was resisting. She yelled out to the crowd. “He’s not a police officer! Help me!”
Trip just laughed. “Oh, that’s original. Anything you say can and will be used against you.” No one in the crowd moved. He finished the Miranda rights as he pulled her back up and pushed her head into the backseat.
“No! Someone stop him!” He slammed the door. She was screaming and kicking at the door. He smiled at the watchful crowd and waved as he pulled the siren off the roof. It only took a minute. The crowd separated as he pulled into the intersection and headed south.
· · ·
AFTER four rings, Marcus couldn’t take it anymore. He stared past the traffic, at the slightest hint of a blue light, maybe a strobe, in the distance. Panic set in. The cars were moving again and he swerved into the northbound lane to try and get by. It was gridlock. “Fuck it,” he said. Marcus swerved to the side and abandoned the car. Horns blared. He started running for the townhouse. He was a block away when the flashing light stopped.
He got to the corner and looked down the street. It was quiet. He didn’t see Abby. He ran to the gate and hit her buzzer. No answer. He tried the cell again. Nothing. He called the home phone. Nothing.
He rang unit 8, Mrs. Tanor, repeatedly pushing the button until finally he heard the static of a connection.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Tanor. This is Detective Marcus Henton speaking. I’m looking for your neighbor, Ms. Donovan. Could you help me?”
“Just one moment, Detective.” The connection ended then and Marcus waited, wondering what was keeping her.
Mrs. Tanor’s door opened and she came into the courtyard, wearing a long wool coat over what looked to be a nightgown. She didn’t open the gate.
“I’m really sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but it’s quite urgent that I speak with Ms. Donovan. I spoke to her just ten minutes ago and she was here. Now no one is answering her door or her phone.”
She looked him up and down. “Listen, I don’t know who you are but I’ve seen you here before. You leave Abby alone. She seems to be in a heap of trouble these days and I’m guessing you have something to do with that.”
“Mrs. Tanor, I appreciate that you’re trying to protect Abby, but I am too. I am a detective.” He pulled out his badge and identification and offered it through the bars. “Look.”
She studied the identification and looked back at him, still unsure.
“Mrs. Tanor, I know Abby didn’t do anything. She may have witnessed a crime and she and I have uncovered some illegal activity.” He stopped; it would be too much to try to explain it all now. “Please, I can tell you care about Abby, but she m
ight be in danger. Can you please tell me if you saw her leave or saw someone come here, or better yet, can you get me into her place? She said that you have her spare. I really need to be sure she’s okay.”
Mrs. Tanor reached for the handle. He’d gotten through. “I didn’t see her leave and I haven’t heard anyone come here. And I can hear the buzzer when someone rings her place. That has not happened in the last ten minutes for sure. Wait here.” They were now in the courtyard just outside Mrs. Tanor and Abby’s doors. “I’ll go get the key.”
“Thank you.” Marcus paced the area and called Abby’s cell again. No answer. Mrs. Tanor returned just a minute later. “Detective, it’s not here.”
“Are you sure? Where do you keep it?”
“I always keep it in the kitchen drawer.”
“Have you used it recently?”
“No. Abby brought me the new set when she changed the locks just a couple of weeks ago. It’s not here.” He could tell that she was processing something.
“What is it?”
“I just told Abby that I thought someone had been here. Had been in my house. That drawer was open. I never open that drawer.”
“When was this?”
“Yesterday.”
“Mrs. Tanor, thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch.”
Marcus headed back toward Clark and stopped to talk to a threesome hanging out at the corner.
“Did any of you see a woman standing on this corner a few minutes ago? I was supposed to meet a friend and I can’t find her.”
The three chuckled. “Well, I hope we didn’t see your friend, but we did see some girl get dragged into a car by a cop a few minutes ago.”
The other chimed in, “Dude, it was wild. Total undercover operation. Not even a cop car. But he had the badge and light.”
“Was it a black Mercedes?”
They responded in unison.“Yeah!”
Marcus ran for his car without another word, hearing only a sarcastic, “You’re welcome!” coming from over his shoulder. He felt like his mind was getting cloudy. The panic was almost too familiar. Running through the streets. Feeling mayhem building around him.