Fractured (7 page)

“Absolutely.” Shaky, she took a sip of coffee to help settle her nerves. “Could you tell what they were moving?”

“Looked like household stuff, furniture, that kind of thing.”

“What day was that?”

“Not sure. I lose track of days on the streets.” He shrugged.

“Sure. I get that. Before the moving truck, did you see anything else? Any visitors?” At this point, she hadn't learned anything she didn't already know. Lou and Cynthia moved out while she was at work.

“Not that cop guy you were hanging with. I haven't seen him for a while.” He gave her a smile. “If you two broke up, it might be time to make my move. I might not be as good-looking as him, but I bet he can't dance like me.”

She laughed. “You're probably right about that.”

“But I did see a couple of other guys. One looked like a punk, the other looked like a cop.”

“Was the cop wearing a uniform?”

Leo shook his head. “Nope. But he drove what looked like an unmarked cop car and had on a suit. He sure did smell like a cop, even from a block away.”

“Did he ring the bell or just look around?” She needed some kind of thread to pull this together.

“Nope. He went inside. I think he talked to the renter you had on the first floor. You know, the one with the moving truck.”

A weird slither worked its way down her back. “What did the cop look like? Anybody on CPD that you know?”

“This guy wasn't CPD.” He shook his head. “The guy was about fifty, with graying hair at the temples.”

What was Malone doing talking to Lou a couple of days before her father ended up dead in her apartment?

“You okay, Ms. Detective?” Leo tugged at the sleeve of her coat.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she mumbled, not really sure about anything or anybody right now. It seemed like the more she dug, the more complicated things got.

“Uhm…Sorry…Leo. I was preoccupied.” She drew in a breath and tamped back the revulsion stewing inside. The Feds had somehow snared her family in a web of deception and lies and there was nothing she could do about it. For now.

“Anything else you need?”

Even though this revelation had shaken her, she should have seen it coming. Feds never did anything halfway. They were in it to win it, so to speak. But this time they'd messed with the wrong woman.

“Uhm…yeah.…” She finally gained enough composure to look him in the eye. “Do…you…” She cleared her throat to regain focus. “Do you know anybody who hangs in the Little Village area?” Since it was the last place Lou and Cynthia lived before her place, she figured she should start there.

“I hang in Old Town because you people are rich. Heck, the people who live in Little Village are nearly as poor as we are. Can't make much money when nobody's got any pocket change.”

“Guess you're right about that.”

Leo smiled but kept his lips closed, hiding the scarcity of teeth. “But there's somebody I know in West Loop. It's not too far away. Annie might know something. She's a busybody.”

“Does she hang out on Lower Wacker at night?”

“Most times. I think she likes being the only female down there.”

Isabella handed him a twenty. “How about if I pick you up tonight and give you a ride? Maybe Annie can help.” Somehow finding Lou seemed to be the key to unlocking this whole mystery. Maybe Annie might give Isabella an idea of where he might be hiding.

“Sure. I'll be here till around seven.” He pulled up the sleeve on his coat to reveal a couple of different watches attached to his forearm.

She didn't dare ask how or where he'd gotten them. Some questions were better off left unasked. “Don't drink up that twenty before I get here. I'll give you another twenty tonight.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled. “For that kind of change, I can hold off drinking until after you leave.” He gave her a salute and moved toward the row of cars waiting for the light to change.

* * *

Seconds after Isabella left the apartment, Landry called Malone. “She just left.” Landry fixed himself coffee and wished he didn't feel like pond scum.

“Where's she headed?”

“Not sure. You have somebody on standby?” The only way Landry could make peace about being dishonest with her was to think of her safety. That was only if he could muster enough trust in Malone to get to that point.

“They'll pick her up as soon as she walks out your door.” Malone took a sip of coffee. “Did she tell you anything last night?”

“Listen, Malone, this is a two-way street. You want me to keep an eye on her, you've gotta give me some info, too.” He tried to tamp down the feelings of betrayal, but they were getting more and more difficult to navigate through. “And don't give me any excuses. You know she's clean. What is it you're after?”

“I can't elaborate. It might compromise the investigation.” He sighed. “I would if I could, but I can't.” His voice softened.

Landry flexed his jaw as he struggled to read between the lines of what Malone did tell him, which was pretty much diddly. “Isabella does her own thing. I can't keep her here indefinitely.”

“I understand. I'm working on this end to ensure she's kept out of her place for as long as possible to make things easier for you.”

“I'd like to say thanks, but this whole thing makes me feel like a creep. She should know you're having me keep an eye on her.” Landry had second, third and fourth thoughts about agreeing to the deal. This conversation with Malone wasn't making him feel any better.

“Okay, I'll give you one thing: We did spring Samuels out of Stateville. I can't tell you why. But you have to know we believed that was Sanchez visiting him at prison. I'm still not convinced it wasn't.”

* * *

Isabella called Scott at the ME's office once she got back to her car. He answered on the second ring.

“Scott, just who I was looking for. It's Isabella Sanchez.” While the ME pretty much had no use for her, or any cop for that matter, his assistant, Scott, had been helpful on more than one occasion. “Is the autopsy finished for Tyrone Samuels?”

“Let me check. I believe Dr. Long just finished the report.” She heard the shuffling of papers. “I'm not even sure if he talked to the lieutenant or that Fed guy yet.”

Inside, she did a slow burn even though she knew what Scott said was following protocol. Still, if Malone was behind this whole frame job on her, it didn't seem kosher he was privy to information firsthand.

Scott continued. “The time of death was between 10 and ten 10:30 p.m. He was shot from about fifteen feet away. Based on the downward trajectory, shooter was standing, victim was kneeling or sitting. No signs of struggle. He must have been caught by surprise.” He hesitated for a second. “Ah…The report states Mr. Samuels was suffering from advanced-stage liver cancer. He probably only had a few months, maybe weeks, to live.”

Something foreign and very scary clogged her throat as she wiped away an errant tear. Where had that come from? The man was dead. And dead was dead no matter the circumstances.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder why, knowing he was dying, he chose her apartment. What did he want to tell her?

* * *

Since she was in the neighborhood, she stopped by an Italian beef place and picked up a sandwich for her and Landry. With the traffic gods on her side, and utilizing side streets, it didn't take long to make it back to the apartment. The sandwiches were still toasty warm by the time she walked through the front door.

It looked like Landry had just finished his shower and was in the middle of shaving when he peeked out the bathroom door. “Smells great. I'll be done in a second.”

She pulled plates from the cupboards and a bottle of water for each of them from the fridge and set everything on the table. After unwrapping the sandwiches and fries, she put them on the plates.

Landry joined her seconds later. His hair glistened from the shower and he had on his jeans and an undershirt. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and sat down. “You're an angel. Normally I nuke a frozen dinner before heading out.”

“It's the closest you'll ever see me get to cooking.”

He shrugged. “Works for me.” After taking a sip of water, he looked at her. “What you been doing all morning?”

“My father was dying of cancer.” Her breath hitched. Somehow over the last couple of days she'd become an emotional pansy.

“How did you find out?”

“Scott at the ME's office.” She took a sip of water, ignored the squeezing sensation inside her chest and fought hard not to reach into her pocket to touch the handkerchief. “Do you think they would have let him out early because of it? But why the elaborate cover-up? And what the hell was he doing at my house?” She wanted him to believe her father's untimely visit had been an invasion of her space rather than anything remotely sentimental. Except for that burning sensation inside her chest, she might actually believe it herself.

He reached across the table to touch her fingers but she pulled them away. She didn't want any twisted sense of compassion from him or anybody else. Her father was dead. Big deal. She barely remembered the man. If not for the tattoo she might not even have recognized him.

“They wouldn't have released him because of his illness, but it might have had a role in any decision they made.” He drew in a breath and looked her in the eyes. “Maybe your father wanted to see you to make amends for the past, especially if he was dying.”

“He said all he had to say when he became a murderer.” With a whole lot of effort she willed away the feelings and sensations of long ago. Little kids loved their parents no matter what kind of idiots they were. Any sentimentality she felt was based on juvenile fantasy.

“What did your grandfather tell you about your dad?”

She rubbed her forehead as she fought against memories.

“After my mom died, my biggest fear was losing my grandfather as well. There seemed to be some bad blood between my dad and my grandfather.” She squeezed her eyes to ward off tears. “The only thing my dad ever gave me was a teddy bear for my sixth birthday. He probably stole it.” Forcing a cynical laugh, she continued. “I didn't know it at the time, but he went to prison shortly after that.”

For weeks she carried that teddy bear, or Teddy-B as she called him, with her wherever she went. Then it disappeared and she'd cried for days. She didn't put two and two together until years later when she recognized her grandfather wanted to erase all memories of her father.

“When did you find out he was in prison?”

Landry's question forced her back to the present. “At first I would ask about him, but my grandfather would change the subject. For years I figured my dad had forgotten about me.” Saying it out loud caused a hiccup to get lodged in her chest. She ignored it. “I might have been twelve or so before I learned what happened. There was a birthday card in the mail with Stateville as the return address.” She shrugged. “My grandfather rarely got angry, but that day I saw his temper. That must have been enough for me to know I had no interest in having my father in my life.”

“But didn't your dad's cellmate say your father knew all about you? That he even had recent pictures? How did he keep up to date?”

“Who knows? Probably half of his old buddies were in and out of Stateville.”

He examined her face for a few seconds before continuing. “Besides the cancer, did you find out anything else?”

Opting to pick her poison, so to speak, she decided to fill Landry in on what she'd learned about Malone's involvement and Leo's observations. “So how do you feel about breaking into a crime scene after you get off work?”

“What do you think you'll find?” He took a bite of the sandwich.

“Not sure. But it pisses me off that Malone is in charge of keeping me out of my own place.”

“These are Feds working the scene, not some CPD CSI wannabes. They've been crawling all over that place for days now. There can't be anything left to find.”

“But why are they there? It doesn't make sense. Unless they're interested in planting more evidence.”

“If the Feds wanted to frame you for a crime, they'd do a hell of a better job. Even if things happened as they're portraying, nothing there was a ‘real' crime. They've done nothing but set up a smoke screen. You'd get further if you worked another angle.”

She knew he was right, but something in her didn't want to sit back and let somebody else dictate where she could or couldn't go. “I want to see what they missed.”

“And you expect me to join you?” He gulped his water. “And commit a crime?” He gave her a half smile. “How could I resist an offer like that?”

“We'll meet here after your shift. I'm going to pick up Leo at seven and he's going to introduce me to Annie. Hopefully she'll have some information I can use regarding Lou.”

“I'll see you then.” He stood, put his plate in the dishwasher and slipped on his shirt. “Whose car we taking tonight?”

“What kind of criminal are you?” She'd finished half her sandwich and wrapped up the rest for later. “We're taking the El.”

“Right.” He smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She yanked him by the front of his shirt and gave him a ‘real' kiss. When he kissed her back, she wound her arms around his neck and enjoyed the ride, the whole time trying to brush back the feeling of how good it felt.

The more Landry thought about it, the more convinced he was that Malone suspected somebody was using Isabella. Somebody was yanking the strings around her like a puppet and enjoying the show. Given that scenario, it made sense Malone would keep her in the dark. If she got wind of it, there'd be trouble for anybody in her path.

For all he knew, Lou might be tied into this mess. Even if the kid didn't seem like the type.

Or it could be Ramirez. The guy had connections all over the city and could coerce people into doing his bidding out of fear or blackmail. Good money would be on him for a possible mastermind. For right now, he'd have to sit tight and hope Isabella didn't find out what he was up to.

Landry entered the locker room at the station, still unable to shake the bad vibe. Maybe it was all about loss of control. Maybe it was about what a jerk he was for not being truthful with Isabella.

Then again, maybe it was about not being truthful with himself, his family and everyone else in his life. They all thought he was a career cop, waiting for his opportunity to move up the ranks. No one knew he'd taken the detective's exam a couple of years back, had passed with flying colors, but had decided to choose another path.

Family tradition and expectation had driven him into choices he wouldn't have otherwise made. But that only got him so far. Acknowledging he wasn't cut from the same Taylor cloth had been the first step.

He was different. He always had been. But unlike Isabella, he'd internalized the struggle, never gave anyone the inkling that he wanted something different for himself.

Pulling the acceptance letter out of his wallet, he read it through for the tenth time in the last two days. Could he pull the trigger, so to speak?

With no good way of separating this out in his head right now, he changed into his uniform and went outside to the squad car. It was his turn to drive, so he slipped behind the steering wheel and started the engine.

Jonas joined him a few moments later. After buckling in, he took a sip of coffee and settled in.

“Must have been a bad night if you're inhaling caffeine at this hour.”

Jonas looked like crap. He had circles on top of circles under his eyes. His youngest kid had been acting up big time for a couple of years now.

“Don't get me started. I swear that kid is going to be the death of me.”

“What's he doing now?” There'd been a litany of trouble since the kid was thirteen or so, which coincided with the time Jonas and his first wife got divorced.

“Stayed out all night, then came home higher than a kite. We plunked his butt in rehab this morning, but to tell you the truth, I don't know how much more my pocketbook can take. Between the legal fees and the insurance co-pays, I'm mortgaged up to my eyeballs.”

“That sucks.”

“Damn straight. Forget the kid, let's talk about something else.” He took a long sip of coffee as they pulled out of the lot. “What's going on with you and Sanchez? Are you hot and heavy again?”

“She's staying with me, if that's what you're asking, but nothing's going on.”

“Only a matter of time, my man. Only a matter of time. Sooner or later she'll be begging you for it.”

Landry bit out a laugh. “I wouldn't bet money on that one.”

“She's a good kid, even if her dad was scum. Different last name, so I never knew about the connection until a couple of days ago.” He clutched the cup in his hands and took another long gulp.

“She kept it to herself. Did you know her dad? You must have been around when he got convicted. I heard it was a major bust at the time. Samuels gunned down a couple of undercover cops in broad daylight.”

Jonas shook his head. “That was a long time ago. Don't remember too much about the details. Only the name.”

Landry made a mental note to check into the old case files to see if he could find anything of interest.

* * *

Isabella pulled up to Leo's usual corner at North and Wells only to find it vacant. The wind had picked up from earlier in the day, so she did a quick reconnaissance of the neighborhood, looking into door alcoves and alleyways, any place he might have sought shelter while he waited for her.

When she couldn't spot him, she got out of her car and walked. She opened any unlocked doorways and peered inside. Next she tackled alcoves and alleyways. With mounting trepidation, she stepped inside the coffee shop.

Five people sat in the small tables around the perimeter. A couple talked while sitting on an overstuffed purple loveseat, but no Leo. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath fighting the obvious.

A few moments later, she opened the door to the liquor store on Wells, and peered inside. She cursed her own stupidity. By this time of night, with a twenty in his pocket, he could be darn near pickled on cheap booze.

She thought about where he might head after he indulged in his vice. Would he be embarrassed and avoid her altogether? Or would he head into the streets and share his newfound wealth with his buddies?

The owner smiled. “Evening, Detective. What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Leo?”

He shook his head. “Not for a couple of days.”

Isabella let out the breath. “Could you give me a call if you see him?” She handed him a card with her cell number.

Pulling up the collar of her coat, she left. After searching the area one more time, she looked at her watch.

Seven twenty.

Most street people had a strict sense of time, even though the idea seemed like a bit of an oxymoron. They had to know the ebb and flow of traffic and people patterns. They needed to know the time frame for getting into a shelter and a free hot meal and bed if they wanted one. Most shelters had a limit to the number of people they could take in each night, so lines started to form before the doors opened for the evening. So street people definitely needed to keep track of the time.

Besides, it wasn't like Leo to break a promise.

She worried her lip and walked back to her car. After driving through the neighborhood one more time, she headed toward Lower Wacker Drive. In a perfect world, she'd do a more thorough search, shake the bushes and find Leo somewhere somehow. But the one thing she'd learned through the years is that if somebody didn't want to be found, it's a difficult task, especially in a short period of time.

“Leo's a no show, but I'm heading to Lower Wacker to scope it out.” For some reason, her promise to Landry to be careful was more important than she anticipated as she'd picked up the phone and called him without even thinking about it.

He swore. “I'll see if there's somebody in the area to meet you there, unless you were thinking about calling Matthews.”

“I thought about that, but I'm off the clock, and I'm not sure he'd be so keen about the idea.” Her partner didn't really go out of his way to get the job done, especially when it had nothing to do with a case.

“Then wait until I get off around eleven.”

“But I'd like to catch them around dinner. I'm stopping at the sandwich shop to entice them with food and hope for a little cooperation.”

“I'll see who's in the area and have them swing by.”

“Perfect. But if they could keep a low profile, I would appreciate it.”

He grumbled something under his breath. “I'll see what I can do.”

* * *

The darkness and girders below Wacker Drive lent an eerie backdrop as she drove through the quagmire. Even when the sun was out, light barely made it to this underground street. At night it was downright creepy.

It wasn't a large area. To circle the perimeter didn't take long. But distinguishing Leo from a whole cast of other homeless men while circling the area in a car was impossible. There were too many hiding places, too many dark areas and too many cardboard houses sheltering people from the elements.

She glanced around but didn't see a squad. Then again, she'd told Landry to ask them to keep a low profile. Maybe that's just what they were doing.

She exited the car, fingered the handkerchief in her pocket for luck, felt for the gun at the center of her back for assurance, zippered her leather coat and took off on foot. The place smelled of car exhaust, oil, grease, urine and garbage. She trudged on, letting her black boots slide along the pavement.

A fine mist had filtered in from the nearby river, giving the already damp place another dimension of chill. People milled about, either in groups or alone. Most of those on their own were busy setting up their ‘residences' for the evening. Some were mumbling incoherently or singing while doing their task, some were quiet and reserved and minding their own business so as to not attract attention.

Somebody, she couldn't tell if they were male or female, was sleeping under some layers of cardboard. Not feeling especially adventurous yet, she slipped past, choosing to look closer at the small group keeping warm by a trash can fire.

“I'm looking for Leo.” She held out sandwiches to the five people standing around. They hesitated for a second before allowing self-preservation to supersede caution and grabbing at the offering. “Anybody see him tonight?”

“Nope.” A toothless man in an old Army coat took a bite of sandwich.

“How about Annie? Anybody see her?”

They looked at each other, then deferred to the obvious leader, the man in the Army coat. “You a cop?”

No use denying it. The people making up the underbelly of most cities could spot a cop a mile away even when she dressed in jeans, a red Gap V-neck sweater and short leather coat, like tonight.

“Yes, but I'm not here on official business. I only need some information.” She gulped. “I'm willing to pay for it.” It felt a little corrupt offering money to people who were desperate for it.

Nobody responded at first. But through some unspoken language she didn't totally recognize, she began to attract attention from the stragglers nearby. Several others in the vicinity started to converge, maybe out of curiosity, maybe something else. Some of them carried pieces of wood, which could be for tossing into the trashcan fire, or alternately used as weapons. Odds were most of these people had a weapon of some sort. They had to. It was self-preservation.

She wasn't afraid of street people, but there was an overwhelming mob mentality that came into play at times like these. She wouldn't think twice about talking to a gangbanger one-on-one, but a group was a totally different scenario. One bad apple was enough to sway the whole crowd in a very bad or good direction. Right now she didn't feel all that optimistic, even if most of this group probably weren't hardened criminals. They might be petty thieves, mentally unbalanced and alcoholics, but they wouldn't attack a cop unless provoked. Still, a warning tingle started to form and she glanced around to insure back-up lingered nearby.

She held out her hands. “I'm not looking for trouble. I was supposed to meet Leo earlier. When he didn't show, I came here to try to find him. I'm worried about him.” As discretely as possible she re-checked her gun, knowing it was the bastion of last resort.

“Leo can take care of himself. Besides, he might have stayed the night in the shelter. He doesn't show every night.” The guy who spoke was no more than twenty, but had lines and scars that shouldn't be there at such a young age. He also smelled and swayed like he'd had more than his share of the bottle he held in his right hand.

She surveyed the crowd of about ten. Some were old, but some weren't. They all seemed to look for direction from the guy with the army coat or the young kid. All of them were men. She nervously contemplated what to do next. She might be a risk-taker, but she wasn't stupid. The hairs standing straight up on her arms told her pressing this matter much further would be a bad idea.

“I'm not going to sic my cop buddies on you if you don't talk to me.” She needed to make her position clear, even though it didn't seem as if anybody was paying attention.

Periodically, the city would decide to clean up the place and give patrol officers the unenviable task of dispersing the people who lived here. Sometimes they'd flood the place with water; sometimes they'd go around and demand they move on. Understandably, these people hated cops.

“Damn straight you're not.” The young one spoke again. His eyes darted back and forth as his arms moved in a frenetic pattern indicating to her there was more than alcohol fueling his bravado. “We don't talk to cops, no matter how cute they are.” He winked, which seemed both weird and creepy considering the circumstances and his age.

Hostility simmered below the surface as curses rippled through the growing crowd. Holding up her hands in surrender, she started to back away. “I'll head to my car and leave you alone.”

They stared and postured, but luckily the distance between her and them widened. About the same time she reached the safety of her car, she spotted the undercover car about a half block away. She sucked in a deep breath, thanked her grandfather for watching over her and started the engine.

She eased away from the curb, still keeping a cautionary eye on the group behind her in the rearview mirror. They seemed to have relaxed their stance and didn't even look her way. The undercover pulled alongside her and put down their window.

“How you doing, Sanchez?” Trevino spoke from the passenger side.

“Good. Thanks for watching my back. I appreciate it.” She felt a little guilty they'd been drawn into this, especially since nothing much happened. Normally she wouldn't have been so quick to cave to Landry's suggestion, but the episode the other night must have shaken her more than she originally thought.

“No problem. We're off to bust a few knuckleheads. We'll catch you later.” They sped off towards the exit in their late model Oldsmobile.

She followed right behind them until she spotted a lone woman and the tingling in her spine started up again. She slowed the car and watched. Wrapped in a blanket, she scavenged through the items in her shopping cart, oblivious to Isabella's presence.