The Vengeful Dead (12 page)

“You believe Agent Carpenter could see ghosts?”

“Hey, you tell me, Jack,” he said. “She was your partner.”

“And if I told you she could, that I’d seen her do it?”

“Then I’d have to believe you, now wouldn’t I?”

“But would you really believe?”

He thought in silence for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I would. There’s lots of shit out there that I believe but have never seen. Ghosts being one of them. Where you going with this, Jack?”

“I’ve seen them too,” Jackie said in a quiet voice. “Ghosts. I’ve talked to them, seen where they come from.”

“No shit?” He raised a warning hand at Jackie’s scathing stare. “OK. Really. I believe you. Whose ghost did you see?”

“Laurel’s for one,” she replied. “Others, too. I went there when I almost died in Drake’s attack at the funeral home.” She would leave out the part about Nick drinking her blood. Ghosts were enough for one day.

He stared out the window in silence. “Wow. I think seeing my partner’s ghost would freak me out just a little.”

“It was unnerving at first,” she said, “but the worst thing is, after all of this, I seem to be able to speak to ghosts, too.”

Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Serious?”

“Completely. Reason I’m helping on this case is to see just what I can do.” She watched him nod his head with acceptance and breathed a small sigh of relief.

“That’s pretty damn cool, Jack,” he said. “Scary, but cool. Anything I can do?”

“Just keep being cool about it. Don’t give me any shit, because honestly, I don’t think I’d handle that well.”

“You got it,” he said. “Certainly going to make things interesting.” He laughed and Jackie smiled.
Interesting
wasn’t even the word. “So, what do we do with all of this?”

Jackie turned a corner and began to head back to headquarters. “I have no idea,” she said. “I guess we do what we always do and see what happens. We work the case.”

McManus rubbed his hands together. “Sounds great. Can’t wait.”

You’re probably going to regret saying that,
Jackie thought. They always do.

Chapter 15

Jackie stood in the conference room before the case board. Outside, McManus was making calls to Gang Enforcement, trying to find some connections, and collecting all of the information currently known about the gang involved. There were several pictures of the two crime scenes taped up, depicting the victims and other noteworthy evidence, like bullet holes and blood spatter. There was a list of notable gang members associated with the victims. There was a note from the crime lab indicating that the bullets found at the second scene were indeed fired from a law-enforcement weapon.

The first scene had clearly been made to look like robbery in order to cover up a vicious murder. The second was pure cold-blooded killing. Except for the evisceration. Two of the four victims were cut open. What sort of motivation inspired that kind of butchery? Vengeance? Sending a message to someone else? That was one hell of a message.

If it weren’t for the bullets used in the second murders, the case would be far more cut and dry. The woman’s ex-boyfriend was a prime suspect, one Renaldo “Rennie” Vasquez, and a sticky next to him indicated he was still at large. But the bullets indicated two different weapons, which likely meant two different shooters. This gave credence to gang retaliation of some kind, except that the bullets in the second indicated law enforcement. A note under forensic information on the bullets stated that there were no reported stolen weapons or ammunition by local law enforcement. So, taking that one step further, what would it mean if the second killer was a cop? Someone had even written
cop?
underneath. Could one killer have used two different weapons? It was certainly possible, but generally unlikely.

For Jackie, it was the eviscerations that were most disturbing. Why were those particular two people targeted? Both were affiliated gang members, the first being the former girlfriend of a gang member, the second an actual member of the gang. It took a particularly twisted sort of soul to gut someone, especially if that someone was pregnant. Nothing on the board indicated anything beyond gang affiliation. It could have been gang retaliation. Wars between gangs could get extremely brutal, but that was nearly always shootings or stabbings. Taking the time to slice them open was personal.

And then there was the ghosts. A shiver ran through Jackie. This was information she clearly had no clue how to process. Had the occurrences at the two crime scenes meant anything other than spirits really pissed off that they had died? Jackie sighed and turned away from the board. Laurel might know.

Nick stood in the doorway to the conference room, watching her with a faint smile on his face. “Hello, Jackie. Come up with anything?”

After her heart kick-started itself, Jackie shook her head. “No. The information we have now is somewhat confusing and contradictory. We need more. What are you doing here?”

“Belgerman asked me to come to a meeting this afternoon about the case and give everyone the paranormal angle on things.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
And here’s Jack to help out because she’s hearing ghosts, too.

Nick shoved his hands into his jean’s pockets. “I’ll leave your situation out of my discussion if you want.”

She nodded again. “Please. I’m not ready yet.”

“Hey. Excuse me,” McManus said, nudging up behind Nick. He stepped aside and Ryan walked in. “I didn’t get much from Gang Enforcement.” He gave Nick a cursory look-over. “Who’s this?”

“McManus, this is Nick Anderson. The setup guy.”

He stared at Nick for a moment without saying anything; Nick gave him a polite nod. “I see. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson.” McManus stuck out his hand. “Anyone who saves a fed is a friend of mine.”

Nick shook his hand. “Agent McManus. The pleasure’s mine, and call me Nick.”

“You here for the case meeting?” McManus looked down at his hand for just a second and then at Nick’s.

Jackie knew exactly what he was thinking: Why the hell was the man’s hand so cool? “He’s going to give us the ghost angle.”

“Excellent,” McManus said. “Looking forward to hearing about that.”

Nick cocked an eyebrow. “Glad to help any way I can. I’m going to go get a cup of that swill you all call coffee here, let you discuss case matters.” He gave Jackie a nod. “See you shortly, Agent Rutledge.”

“OK,” she said and watched him leave. “You got nothing useful?”

“Nah, nothing new,” McManus said. “No major gang warfare going on at the moment. No recent killings that might indicate someone is out looking for vengeance. If I were to guess, I’d say we have something internal going on. Someone stole some cash or drugs or slept with someone’s girlfriend. Something stupid.”

Jackie turned back to the board. “You don’t gut people over something stupid. Someone is extremely motivated and angry.”

“He killed a pregnant woman,” McManus said, disgusted. “We’re dealing with a sociopath.”

“Maybe more than one,” Jackie added. “Killers like this like to use the same weapon. They like the routine. None of this is making a lot of sense to me yet.”

“We just started,” he said. “I think we should go talk to some of these gang members, especially that witness who can’t remember anything. You don’t stand in a room and watch two murders happen and block out everything. Shock only goes so far.”

“Maybe. But yeah, I’d like to talk to her, too.”

“You up for a little interviewing after the meeting?”

“And deal with obnoxious gangland bravado?” Jackie smiled. “When do we leave?”

The meeting went as well as Jackie could have hoped for. Only Pernetti didn’t look pleased to have her back, though he wisely kept his mouth shut about it. Nick elicited groans from everyone with the possibility of a ghost being involved, followed immediately by murmurs of wishes that Laurel was around. They were relieved that Nick and Shelby would be around to deal with it. Jackie’s role was designated as an assist and liaison for Special Investigations. They were working every angle for now, from cop involvement to gang assassination, under the assumption that whoever was involved would be killing again.

Nick wanted to speak with the witness as well, so McManus called where she was staying and arranged a time to talk to her later that evening. He would meet up with them then. With about three hours to kill, McManus took them out to “chat with the locals.” He wanted to see if there was any buzz on the street about what had happened. Jackie agreed, but found herself in the uncomfortable position of playing second fiddle to McManus.

“So that guy is a legit ghosthunter,” he said, turning on the wipers against the steady rain that now fell. The wind-whipped clouds were particularly low, dragging their soggy fingers across the city streets. The Chicago skyline was a stunted block of concrete and steel.

“He and his business partner can both see and talk to ghosts,” said Jackie. “Even their office manager is a psychic.”

“Who’d have thought?” he said. “I’ll be interested to see it in action.”

“There’s not much to see,” Jackie replied. “Usually.”

He laughed. “Usually?”

“A powerful ghost can make themselves seen. They look like . . . ghosts. Kind of washed out, seethrough versions of themselves, I guess.” Jackie shrugged. This was not something she was comfortable explaining.

“You think we’ll see one?”

“McManus, how would I know that?” she snapped. “I don’t see the future.”

“OK, sorry. Just curious,” he said.

“I don’t really like talking about it. You should talk to Anderson. He’s the expert.”

“That guy had very weird-looking eyes. You notice that before?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve noticed.”

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the soft, rhythmic thump of the wiper motor. Jackie absently rubbed her hands together, unaccustomed to the fact they were not on the wheel.

“Do you know anything about the gang landscape in Chicago?” he asked.

“Not really my area,” she replied. “I think I’ve been involved in a couple of homicides involving gang members before, but mostly it’s the Gang Enforcement Task Force.”

“I should probably take the lead with these guys then,” he said. “Be easier.”

Lead? Who died and made you boss?
“Why would it be easier? You think I can’t talk to a bunch of macho gangbangers? I can hold my own against any trashtalking thugs who might think a female fed—”

“Whoa!” McManus laughed. “I’m not trying to steal your thunder here, Jack. I’m fluent in Spanish is all. I worked with gangs, so I’m more familiar with how to talk to them and get useful information.”

“Oh.” She gave him a halfhearted smile. “That makes sense.”

“I believe partners should play to their strengths. Mine just happens to be gangs. I’ll follow your lead on the homicide stuff. I’m still learning there.”

“Sorry. I’m just used to being the one in the driver’s seat. Laurel didn’t like being lead.”

He nodded. “No problem. We’ll figure it out as we go. I don’t want to step on any toes here.”

Jackie had a feeling that was going to happen regardless. Laurel had never wanted to take the controls. She never cared about stuff like that. Likely because she had been in love with her. Jackie wondered then how much of their working relationship had been predicated on that simple fact? Probably everything. Certainly no worries about that being the case now. The world had flipped upside down and there would be no righting it. She would just have to make things work. Somehow.

Rain was coming down in swirling waves when McManus finally parked the car. They were up somewhere near Lincoln Park. Jackie was not sure exactly where. Given the few people she had seen on the street and the Spanish language signs everywhere, they were in the center of a Hispanic neighborhood. Jackie couldn’t recall the last time she had been up in this part of Chicago.

They were just beyond the city’s efforts at gentrification. Six blocks south and you went from poor working class to solid middle class. No peeling paint or graffiti back there. The sidewalks and pavement were at least a decade newer, and most of the businesses did not have bars over their windows. City money did not trickle down to this level.

Across the street, a flickering neon bull provided a rather unwelcome invitation to the El Toro Furioso, a dark gray-sided building at the end of the block with a brick skirting that was missing a few dozen bricks.

“This looks charming,” Jackie said.

“The Raging Bull,” McManus replied. “Was told this is a popular hangout for a bunch of the Kings.”

“The Almighty Latin Kings? That’s who we’re dealing with?” Of course she had not bothered to check out who they were yet. Jackie knew of them—a large, if not the largest, gang in Chicago with chapters in many cities around the country. A very organized group as far as gangs went, with a long history in the area. Founded on Latin pride more than any desire to be an organized criminal group, they delved into it like any other gang. Jackie knew little beyond the basics, though. Gang Enforcement did most of the work.

“It’s what the guy in GE told me,” he said. “This will just be kind of a ‘shooting the shit with the boys.’ They don’t know me at all, so it’s more a chance to let them see I’m not an asshole.”

“Need me to do anything particular?”

“Just keep eyes and ears alert. We’re hoping for clues on the whereabouts of Vasquez. If we hit any nerves, it’ll probably be from someone we’re not talking to. Family of the victims have been interviewed already, so I’m guessing word of these murders has spread to almost everyone. Word spreads fast in these communities.”

“OK, easy enough. Let’s go.”

They jogged across the puddled street and entered the dark doorway. It took Jackie a moment to adjust to the lighting change, and by then it was apparent everyone in the place had noticed their presence. Latino music blared from a jukebox. She caught the clack of pool balls from the back, where she could just see the edge of a pool table beyond a partition. A giant flag of Mexico graced the wall opposite the bar, where four booths were filled with mostly tattooed, Hispanic men, half-empty beer bottles, shot glasses, chip baskets, and smoldering ashtrays. A thick haze of smoke hung in the air, stirred up into drifting eddies by a pair of overhead ceiling fans.

Along with the couple dozen wary eyes burrowing into her, Jackie could feel something else, a cold breath of air that failed to stir the smoke around her. The dead. The taint of Deadworld lingered in this place.

Yeah, this was going to be fun. She followed McManus up to the bar where he spoke in rapid Spanish to the bartender and flashed his badge. The bartender did not sound pleased with their presence.

Two stools down, a weathered-looking Latino stubbed out his cigarette and gave Jackie a leering smile. One arm had a miasma of color running from wrist to shoulder, and letters decorating each finger of his hand. He spit a slew of words Jackie couldn’t understand.

“No Spanish here,” she said. “Got something to say, talk to the man.”

“Didn’t know they made
federales
so little,” he said with a thick accent. “How’s little girl fed going to catch big, bad Latino man?”

Jackie frowned. Guys certainly didn’t change much across racial lines when it came to women. “By planting her little steel-toed boot into the bad Latino’s ball sack.”

He laughed and McManus turned to him, speaking once again in fluent Spanish. The smile disappeared and he replied in a far less amused tone. After several exchanges, the man grabbed his beer and walked away. In his place sat the faint, translucent form of another man, hunched over, his hands resting on the bar.

Jackie’s mouth dropped open, her voice a whisper. “Holy shit.”

McManus looked at her. “What?”

“You see that?” She pointed. “There, sitting on the barstool.”

He glanced over at the barstool and then back. “See what?”

The ghost turned his head, eyes widening as he realized Jackie could see him. He said something, but his voice was drowned out by the din in the bar.

“It’s, um, nothing.” What the hell was she supposed to say?
Oh, it’s just a ghost of some guy. No biggie.