Drop Dead Perfect (An Ellen Harper Psycho-Thriller) (26 page)

“What the hell am I missing?” she whispered.

“Ellie?”

She turned to see a first-year FT holding something in her hand.

“What do you have?”

“It’s the first mold of the tire tracks you found on the other side of the site. What do you want me to do?”

“Good work. Take it inside the mobile lab and see if we get a match with Treadmark in the FBI’s system. Let me know.”

“Will do, Ellen.”

The tech moved behind her, and she heard the door close. Ellen was alone with her thoughts again. Her mind raced, going over everything she’d experienced over the last two days, not the least being Brice’s kiss.

She touched her cheek. She feared it would be the one and only time that would happen.

CHAPTER-46

“Why are you calling me? I told you I’d reach you when everything was set,” said Kyle.

“I’m just checking in,” answered the other.

There was almost no way of describing how utterly disgusting that voice was to him. Some things never change.

“Don’t check in. Don’t do anything until I tell you to, got it?”

“How long? There’s only a few cops left by the warehouse. I think it’s safe.”

“I’ll do the damn thinking.”

“I know, and you’re good at it, but you need me to get what you want, so don’t be so damn disrespectful. It’s not proper.”

He hesitated. He hated relying on others. After tonight, with any luck, he would never have to again.

“You’re right. It’s just that I’m so close and I don’t want any screw-ups.”

“There won’t be. I promise.”

“Good. I’ll call you after I get back to the warehouse.”

There was a moment of silence then the voice spoke again. “Where’s your brother?”

The smile was instantaneous. “Don’t worry. He’s just hanging around, waiting for me to return.”

“Does he know what this is all about?” asked the voice quietly.

“No, but it won’t be a problem. Now hang up and wait for my call. We’ve already talked too long.”

The air went dead, and Kyle stuffed the phone in his pocket.

If his source was right, he wouldn’t have to wait any longer to resolve what should have been mended a long time ago. That had always been the true motivation for all of this, hadn’t it? Righting wrongs.

It was really that simple.

He left his apartment and climbed into the old pickup. As he turned south on Michigan, he reflected on his source.

She’d better be right.

CHAPTER-47

The door swung open on the mobile lab, and Big Harv climbed in, shaking his head. “Damn, Ellie. Go ahead and go home. It’s been a long day, and you’ve done your part,” he said.

Glancing up from the computer where she was going over fresh forensic reports from the material gathered where Brice and Joannie had gone missing, she shook her head, stood, and stretched her back.

“You sound like Kate. She called and told me the same thing. I’ll tell you what I told her; I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got material turning in the centrifuge, reports to review, and I think better alone. People will just be interrupting me back at the lab, and maybe I’ll think of something I haven’t thought of yet. But you’re right about one thing, Dad. I’ve been sitting in this chair so long it’s attached to my cheeks.”

She met his eyes and realized just how tired he looked. Almost pale. He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, but he’d aged the last two days, more than maybe he should have.

“You feeling all right, old man? You’re the one who looks like they need a break.”

“I’m tired, but fine. And who you calling old? I can still kick your ass.”

He gave her a quick smile. “I think.”

“Maybe, dad, maybe not,” she said, returning his grin.

“And I know what you mean about going home or to the office. I stayed here for a different reason, though.”

“You thinking Brice and Joannie might come back here? Like some sort of unspoken rendezvous point?”

“Something like that. Brice is ex-military; he’ll get that. And I’m racking my brain for something else to go on. Anything.”

“You really think that could happen?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping and being here is better than tossing and turning at home or breaking another phone in the office.”

Ellen understood.

“You still look like you could use some sleep.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll sleep when I’m six feet under. Anything new?”

“Not really. We’ve confirmed two blood types on Brice’s jacket, and I’m waiting for the DNA report, but that’ll be tomorrow. We didn’t have any luck with the tread search, only that the tire probably fit an older Ford pickup.
There are only about twenty thousand of them in Cook County, but we’re trying to narrow the search to within three miles of 32nd.”

“Good.”

“Your idea to look for ownership records is a good one, but it’ll be an hour or two before we get that information. It stands to reason an owner might have a clue on what’s going on around here.”

Big Harv flopped into the other chair. It protested but held firm.

“Maybe. Most of these old buildings were foreclosed on and the city still owns them. But we could get lucky.”

“I figured that, and I’d take some luck right now.”

Ellen reached for the cup of coffee turning ever cooler, sipped it, wrinkled her nose, and sat it back down. She stared at the emblem from the local coffee shop.

Once again, doubt rose up like high tide and threatened to drown her. Every minute that
passed gave credence to the axiom that the first forty-eight hours of any crime were the most critical. After that, well . . . after that, the devil has his way.

“Stop. You can’t go there,” said Big Harv.

She turned and saw her dad looking at her. His eyes were soft, caring, not tough and cynical, like she’d seen him so often since her mom had died. He looked very much like a caring father, not a life-hardened police department captain. She liked it.

“Go where?” she asked.

“We’re going to find those women and Brice, and we’ll find them alive.”

Ellen moved over and kissed him on the forehead.

“So what are you now, a psychic?”

“Nope. Just been around a few rodeos like this one, that’s all. And what was that for?”

“For being—”

Her phone rang. One of the FT Techs who Ellen had sent back to the lab was calling.

“Got to take this. Harper here.”

“Ellen! You were right. You’ll be getting the report in a few minutes, but we found something in Jansen’s office you’ll want to see.”

She felt her stomach dance. “What did you find?”

“We got into his locked drawer and found a key.”

“A key? So?”

“I’ll tell you. It was for a padlock, except it wasn’t clean, you know? It looked like it had been wiped but we used Luminol and found traces of blood and, after a couple of more tests, oddly enough, mucus.”

Now her logic was dancing with her stomach. “You think it’s Oscar’s blood, right?”

“We do, but you know the DNA matching test takes time, maybe we can confirm by the morning. We’re almost positive though . . . I mean who else could it be?”

“It makes sense. Send me a scan of the key now, and then get someone to bring it over when you’re through with it. Good work.”

Hanging up, Ellen turned to Big Harv and started to speak, then stopped. Oscar had been thinking to the end—just like him. There were no tears this time. She almost wished there were. They might help fight off the emptiness created by the unabashed frustration due to his absence.

One more time. She wanted to hug him one more time.

“You okay, Ellie?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“What key?

“Oscar was thinking of how to help catch his killer even when he knew he was going to die. I think the reason his chest was torn open was to retrieve the key we were just talking about. He must have thought that it was important.”

Her phone chimed and she opened the scan sent from the tech. The key belonged to an older style lock because it was thicker, and the keys were more defined than the newer ones. Yet, it appeared to be somewhat worn. She studied it. She flipped the photo at two other angles and read the faint name of the manufacturer on the top. Then her eyes grew wide. “Damn, that’s it.”

“What?” asked Big Harv, getting out of his chair.

She threw on her windbreaker and opened the door of the lab, waiting for Big Harv to follow her.

“How many cops do we have outside?” she asked.

“Sanchez is back, eating dinner in her car. She sent her worn-out crew home and took my
place guarding the crime scene when I came to see you. There’s a cruiser with two uniforms at the entrance of the street. So, five counting you. Why?

“Grab Sanchez and get to the west side of the building. We’ll be enough for now. If I’m right, we’ll call for back up.”

“What do you mean, girl?” said Big Harv, following her out the door.

“I think I know where that key might go.”

CHAPTER-48

Gary Kelter looked at his partner and shook his head. “This isn’t what I signed up for, you know?”

His partner flipped his cigarette out his open window then took another sip from the steaming coffee in his thermos cup. “Yeah, I hear ya, Gary, but making sure nobody goes down this street until Big Harv tells us ain’t so bad. We could be doing vice, or working some gangbanger call and getting shot at, or some shit. So stop bitching.”

“Hey, pour me some of that. It smells good. At least I’d feel like I was doing something,” Kelter answered, handing his cup to his partner.

“Don’t worry. I think they’ll be days that you wish you were on this kind of detail. In fact, you can take it to the bank. Getting’ shot at ain’t so cool.”

“Maybe getting shot at ain’t so fun, but pulling the trigger, well, that’s a different story.”

Startled, Gary turned toward the voice just outside his window. He recognized her and frowned. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be home or something?”

She raised her gun and fired twice, killing both men before they could move. She watched the blood crawl down the windshield then turned, walking toward the mobile lab two-hundred yards away. Reaching into her front pocket, she pulled a red bandana and wiped the suppressor clean.

“Something like that,” she said out loud, walking steadily down the worn road.

Hurrying around the yellow Chicago PD tape, Ellen pulled the small flashlight from her jacket, shining the light in front of her to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face. A minute later, she reached the boarded door and grabbed the lock. It had the same brand name as the, and that wasn’t all. She could see by the thin scratches that the lock had been used. She frowned. How could that be since the door was boarded up?

Running the light over the end of the faded half-planks that crossed the door, she noticed that the nails were not rusted, but instead held a silver luster.

Shit. She’d missed it. She’d been so concerned with the area where Brice had disappeared from, and the fact that the rescue team had searched this building, that she hadn’t felt the need to go around the warehouse herself. She clenched her jaw.

“Dumb-ass move,” she puffed.

“What was a dumb-ass move?” asked Big Harv, coming up behind her, breathing hard.

“I should have checked this building more thoroughly. I didn’t think I needed to, I guess, but I think I was wrong.”

“Why would you think that? The rescue teams did their jobs. There’s no reason to believe there’s anything going on here.”

“I know you’re right. I . . . maybe I could have seen something else. The lead we had from the dust analysis from the old case was right, so maybe I could’ve seen something else.”

“We’re here now. What do you see?”

“Look at this door and lock. No question that key and this lock are from the same
company. Also, the wood is old, but it has new nails keeping it in place. See?”

“So someone used this door and tried to cover their tracks?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“Maybe it was just some type of maintenance effort.”

“That doesn’t work for me. Otherwise, why would Jansen have the key?”

“Good point.”

“We need to get in, but I don’t have that key yet.”

“I think I can handle that.”

He pulled out a ring with a dozen or so keys jingling together.

“Shine that light on these. They’re all master keys from the four major lock companies, and a couple of them go back years.”

“How did you—? Never mind. Let’s see if one of these works.”