by Rick Murcer
Bella fought the idea that maybe this wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. That maybe Big Harv was right. God knows they didn’t get what they were after all of the time and maybe Henry had done something different, like run through the neighborhood’s back streets. But she’d been successful more than half the time with these searches, and sometimes with a lot less to work with.
“We still have some tricks up our sleeves, Old Man. Let’s check this last intersection before we call it a done deal.”
He shrugged. “Your dime, Sanchez. We probably should be out canvassing the neighborhoods for witnesses too. Well you should, I’m a private dick now so I can do whatever the hell I want.”
“Yeah, that’s you. Not caring about the best lead we have.”
She watched him shake his head.
“It ain’t such a good lead if we can’t get something on the screen.”
Bella didn’t answer, she just clicked the last link that had matched up with her search perimeters, fingers crossed and saying a prayer she had learned going to Catholic school on the west side.
This feed was the least likely to hold a secret. Their man would have had to go up a least one block, turn toward the busiest intersection, then, after two blocks or so, finish the U-shaped pattern and end up on the opposite of the apartment complex, completing a double-back. Risky at the very least. But if he got by the cops coming from that direction, he could be in Kalamazoo, Michigan by now.
The screen leaped into life and she and Big Harv jerked away from it in perfect sync.
“What’s that?” asked Big Harv.
“I’ve got it.”
The magnification on the camera had somehow been turned up to about a thousand percent, matching its uncontrolled speed, giving them the experience akin to playing a virtual reality game that had them diving over a cliff in a jet.
Bella quickly began to bring the magnification and focus back to normal, looking at the controls, not the screen.
“Wait. Stop. Don’t make this feed any smaller,” said Big Harv, grabbing her arm.
Bella did what was asked and then paused the feed. “Okay, but why? What did you see?”
“I’m not sure. I thought I saw something. Make this damn video bigger and then back it up about twenty seconds.”
It wasn’t often she heard a trace of real urgency in Big Harv’s tone.
Hitting the keys to grow the images, she then guided the mouse over the pad, reversing the images in cartoonish fashion.
“Okay, real slow. Watch the lower left section of the video. And let’s make sure that I ain’t crazy.”
“No guarantees on that one. Let’s see what you think you saw, though.”
The image began to wind forward as she controlled the speed. Headlights on two vehicles trundled past the part of the street that she and Big Harv were concentrating on.
Then she saw him. Same jacket. Same pants. He was limping, but seemed to be moving well.
She stopped the video. “That’s him. It has to be. Good eyes.”
“Yeah, well that’s not all I saw. Keep going,” he said quietly.
Her pulse quickened. “I don’t know what that was.”
“Roll it. Just roll it and you’ll see.”
The mouse felt warm and clammy in her hand as she forced the video forward. Their suspect ran along the street, each step looking like it was harder than the last. He then stumbled and righted himself in the same motion. She was right. He was running out of gas, no questions.
Henry moved another thirty or forty feet, reaching the edge of the side street, then stopped while she stared in amazement at what he did next. He looked one way, then the other, moving his feet and legs like a child who need to go to the bathroom. But that wasn’t it.
He was waiting for someone, that was obvious. They didn’t have to wait long to see for who.
A CPD cruiser came into the picture and pulled next to the curb.
“What the hell?” she said out loud.
“Keep running that thing,” said Big Harv. “This show ain’t over.”
The blue and white stopped.
Their suspect hesitated and, looked around like he expected someone to come rushing out of the bushes to take him down.
After a few more seconds, he put his head down and approached the window on the passenger side of the cruiser and leaned over.
Suddenly, an arm reached out of the window, handed him a small, manila package, and then sped away from the intersection. Their suspect stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket and then hurried away, still limping, in the opposite direction from the apartment complex.
“What is that package? Can you get a close up?” asked Big Harv.
Hitting the keys with force, she rewound the video, focused on the package and made it as clear as she could. Even before it came into focus, she knew what it was. She suspected Big Harv did too, but wanted to wait for the proof like a good cop should.
The screen’s focus module almost immediately brought her request into focus.
At first, she thought she’d been wrong, then she saw it, just as Big Harv jumped out of his chair. She joined him.
“Son of a bitch. I don’t believe even though I’m seeing it.”
She knew what he meant.
On the corner of the package was a small tear displaying what Big Harv was no doubt referring to. There was no mistaking the content of that small bundle, as much as she didn’t want to believe it.
Big Harv took the phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Ellen to tell her where to start with that wonder dog of theirs.”
“What about that other junk we just saw?” she asked.
“Those piece of shit cops just handed that piece of shit killer an envelope full of cash. You know what to do, Bella. Get it done.”
Ellen’s dad was right. She did know what to do. At least where to start.
She sat back down at the computer and went to work.
CHAPTER-46
Ellen hit the red button on her phone.
“Beaux, wait.”
The dog stopped, turned toward her, and sat down.
She turned toward Brice. “Did you hear all of that?”
Brice nodded, tight lipped. “This case is off the chart crazy. Explain what that means, that it looks like Henry got money from cops. CPD cops?”
Ellen shrugged and glanced at the other cops who had gathered around. “I don’t know, but it’s more important than ever that we run this man down. He’ll be able to tell us why.”
Brice shook his head. “Agreed. There could be a dozen reasons and they all stink. Let’s get him over to the intersection where Big Harv and Bella saw Henry. Now.”
“No. We need to let him start here and do what he does. I want him to lead us on Henry’s route. We might find something else that will help and it won’t send us all off in different directions.”
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
“In a second. I have to know if Bella will be able to ID the cruiser in that area.”
“Why?” asked Brice, exhibiting some impatience of his own.
“Because I don’t like the idea of being shot at again. If CPD people are giving Henry money for whatever reason, this goes deep and that means desperate.”
Brice sighed. “Right. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue. All the CPD’s units have GPSs attached inside the engine compartment. The thing is, some of the blues have figured out how to mess with the GPSs or even shut them down completely so I don’t know what she’ll find there.”
“She has the camera system to work with if that doesn’t work, right?”
“She does. She’ll blow up every part of the screen to see if she can ID the car or maybe who was in the unit. She’s going to run that through some facial recognition programs.”
“You don’t sound too fired up about the possibilities.”
Brice shrugged. “Whatever the hell is going on here, it didn’t get this far because these people are stupid, you know? That
doesn’t mean they didn’t make mistakes, but anytime there could be cops involved in this shit, whatever this shit truly is, unraveling the facts won’t be easy.”
He looked at Beaux. “This dog might be our best chance. So let’s hit it.”
“You heard the man, Beaux, let’s do this.”
Beaux began again, this time a slow, purposeful jog, nose to the ground, heading in the direction Henry had fled as the small entourage of CPD detectives and blues proceeded for their units, leaving Ellen and Brice with Beaux.
Brice had worked out a way for the three cars to follow Beaux, him, and Ellen without seeming too obvious. They also were to stop radio and cell phone contact considering the newest developments that CPD could somehow be involved.
She twisted that prospect around in her mind.
Anyone who had ever seen a police thriller or crime show on television had seen corrupt cops or government that led to well-known crime families or whatever fantasy the writers had dreamed up. But the truth of that situation was far from the make believe La-La land created.
Most cops were hard working, family loving, servants. They’d gotten into this business to make their world and the world around them a better place. But there were always exceptions. And to almost every situation.
That was another reason the sciences spoke to her, the variances of truth were rare and static and reliable. Good God, she loved reliable. She glanced to her right and caught Brice’s profile in the ambient light. Reliable was another word for him.
Beaux took a slight left off the path, the rhythmic patter of his feet leaving the cement getting her attention then, after maybe ten steps, he veered back to the sidewalk, with what appeared to be an exact retrace of their suspect’s steps. He held his nose higher from the ground, his posture confident. It was if he had made up his mind about all that his special senses had dictated to him and was totally aboard with his search.
This dog was committed to his path.
Still moving at a slow jog, the three of them traveled another five blocks, coming to a traffic light that was blinking red on the north and south face, yellow on the east and west. Beaux hesitated, lifted his snout into the air, glanced back at Ellen and Brice, and waited.
“What’s going on Beaux?”
He did a quick turn of his head to the south and looked up at the light again.
She got it. “You’re such a bright boy. Walk with us.”
The K-9 had recognized the signaled intersection for what it was and was going to make sure they crossed the street properly.
Brice stood on his left, Ellen on his right, and they crossed the road to the other side. Two of the CPD units, the detectives and one of the blues, were now waiting at the light as they traversed the intersection.
Beaux stopped for a moment to sniff something significant to him on an early-blooming rose bush whose blossoms had closed for the evening, then resumed his purposeful jog along the narrower sidewalk.
It didn’t take a genius to see that their suspect had looped back behind the crime scene, as the video Bella and Big Harv had reviewed indicated.
To some, like Brice had expressed, this retrace of his known route might seem to be a waste of time, but Ellen knew better. Cases are solved in the most unusual ways from time to time. Who really knew where he went after taking that money from the CPD unit? And who knew what they might find along the way to where that money exchange took place?
Five minutes passed while she and Brice kept up with Beaux, who seemed to know what was a comfortable pace for them while they journeyed past shadowy trees and suspicious buildings that were less than secure. Unless you were a cop and had Brice and Beaux with you.
As they reached the next block’s intersection, Beaux began to slow, his ears, higher than before, his demeanor more deliberate. He slowed even more as the low, throaty growl began to escape from him. Brice unshouldered his weapon, as did Ellen.
“What it is, Beaux?”
He swung his head a fraction to the right, staring at one of the narrow alley ways not uncommon in this part of town. He then stood stiff at attention. He could have been a statue.
Ellen’s heart raced as she heard Brice call for the two units behind them to move their asses.
They were too late.
Henry sprang from the alley, screaming, flailing long knives from both hands. And he ran directly toward Ellen.
CHAPTER-47
“This is damned insane,” growled Big Harv.
“For once, Old Man, we agree on something. What the hell is this, Halloween?” answered Bella.
Big Harv glanced back to the radio as the dispatcher repeated her announcement about the shootings in Winnetka that had involved several of Chicago’s elite society and government officials.
Although that town wasn’t exactly CPD’s jurisdiction, he could only imagine how many of Chicago’s squad cars and unmarked units were on the way to the mansion in question. And why not? Hardworking people did the work, the affluent owned where that work took place. Not so different from the peasant and lord relationships from the Middle Ages, except for the paycheck.
Somehow, considering the mayhem and confusion of the last few days, he wasn’t surprised. It was as if this latest tragedy was another steppingstone to what was building into something more bizarre and terrible. But what?
Hell, he could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he didn’t think so.
“Halloween? It’s more like Armageddon.”
“A little dramatic for you, anciano.”
“I told you to stop calling me old. And yeah, maybe it is. This shit is piling up and this investigation seems to be stinking more than it should.”
Bella flipped on the lights of the video room.
“Like how?”
“Just sit down for a minute. We have to think about this.”
She pulled another chair around, sat down, and turned toward him, her pretty face wearing an expression he’d seen a million times before from cops and detectives alike.
“We’re, well, I’m, supposed to get my butt up to Winnetka,” she said.
“And drop what we’re doing for Ellen and Brice?”
“You heard dispatch, every available officer from five, four, and three.”
Her voice was building that edge he enjoyed in her. She was dealing with those dumbass orders.
“Do you consider yourself available?”
Bella glanced out the window, pulled a stick of the cinnamon gum she loved from her jacket, and shoved it into her mouth. “Damn it Big Harv, I’m not sure. This is loco.”
“So is letting down your partner and Ellen. Someone has to research that patrol car dishing out Benjamins to a psycho. If we can ID the unit or who was in it, then we might make some sense of this last three days instead of scrambling things even more by leaving something half-ass completed.”
The doubt was obviously growing as she wrung her hands together. “Let’s say you’re right and we can help, then what?”
“Then we help. It still depends on what we find.”
“And if you’re wrong? That we can’t find anything and we’re on a wild goose chase?”
He leaned over and put his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t think that, right? You have a feeling this all might be connected somehow too.”
“I don’t know what I think. But you’re right. The timing of this is all too goofy, even for a new detective like me to ignore.”
She stared at the large screen, then looked down to the floor. “Okay, but I may need a place to live after tonight,” she sighed.
Good Cop.
“I’ll rent you my spare room.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she began pounding on the keyboard.
As he watched, he hoped they were doing the right thing. Not obeying a direct order for what was obviously a multi-murder situation wasn’t how they had been trained.
Then again, good police work wasn’t always pie-in-the-sky and silver linings. Sometimes it went
south and got sticky. A perception of disobeying orders might make it worse, eventually. But for now, they had to stay on task.
There was something to find, he was sure of that. Big Harv wasn’t at all sure he was going to like what they might uncover, if they were lucky.
Not at all.
CHAPTER-48
Instinct and training told Ellen to hit the deck, and fast. But her heart had an instinct of its own. Some would call it a maternal instinct, she called it something more.
Ellen raised her Glock, but couldn’t match Beaux’s speed. He was already in mid-air, hitting Henry in the chest. The impact sent them both flying to Ellen’s left. Henry grunted in pain, then Beaux yelped as Henry’s hands flailed toward his unexpected attacker. Beaux yelped a second time as the two of them tumbled over in a 360.
Aiming her weapon, panic creeping through at the thought that Beaux was hurt and in real danger, she fired without hesitation. Another shot rang out a split second after hers.
The human scream broke though the noise of the moment as Henry rolled away from Beaux, clutching his leg at the knee, blood pouring onto the alley’s surface.
A blazing fast look toward Brice told her that he’d fired on Henry as well. His Glock was still aiming in the direction of their would-be assailant, his cleft jaw jutted out like a defiant gladiator. Even in the semi-light of the streetlamps, she could tell that his eyes were fixed on a single purpose.
She suddenly realized that he was protecting her and not just Beaux. In that split second, she realized everything she’d been running though her mind about Brice had been true. Not a figment of her imagination or some high school infatuation. It was good to be loved.
Ellen then ran toward Beaux. As she reached him, Beaux stood to greet her, a nasty cut on his front shoulder and a smaller on his flank.
She sighed in relief. Neither wound would threaten the dog’s life tonight. She turned back to Henry, looking for the knives. She was quick to grab the first one, but too late on the second.