Every Breath You Take: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 2) (44 page)

“Yes, Captain?”

He sighs. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“For what?”

“Pursuing Junior.”

“That’s your job.”

“What about Czaka and Flannigan?”

“They’re my job. Don’t worry about them.”

I tell him about the intel Tedford has provided and about not being able to get hold of Gary, who is supposed to be guarding Penny.

“You need some help, but it might not be a good idea to go into the office until I get hold of Czaka and Fergosi.”

“What about Squires?”

“I’ll call him for you. Where do you want to meet him?”

“Penny’s.”

“Now listen, Conner, don’t do anything stupid—and don’t tell me you won’t, because you already have. If you see any sign of a hostile situation, call it in to Dispatch. No matter how hard someone is working to shut this angle down, the cat’s out of the bag, and you’ll get the full support of CPD. Pick up if I call. After Squires, I’ll let Blackshear know what’s going on, then I’ll duke it out with Czaka and Fergosi.”

“Sounds like you’re feeling better, sir.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“If you don’t mind my asking . . . what is with Czaka and shutting cases down?”

“I do mind you asking. That’s an insubordinate attitude. He’s better than you think, Conner. He’s gotta make decisions. Listen, the case against Martin is righteous. It just so happens it might not be right.”

75

SO THIS IS
how it ends.

Did I always know I was destined to fail? I can’t believe how close I got to the prize. Maybe I was never as close as I thought.

When I saw Jack’s head—Dad’s head—beat in with a hammer I knew it was him. I didn’t know—but I knew. I treated this like a game. How stupid could I have been? Anyone who could batter a man’s head in with a hammer has something seriously wrong with him. He could never be trusted under any circumstances.

I thought Derrick might help. Bobby has something on him. I may never know what.

I thought I could get around Bobby by establishing a direct relationship with Grandpa—just like I did to Barbara by connecting with Jack. I should have already learned my lesson. Bobby was pulling strings. No way was Flannigan ever going to back off from trying me.

He’s not right in the head. I knew he was angry and that he resented Jack and his lifestyle. But I didn’t know how deep the hatred ran.

I wonder if Grandpa or Jack ever knew it was him that set up Barbara . . . Mom . . . in business as a silent partner. Barbara didn’t know why but suspected it might be to spite Jack. Then when she tried to defend me for the first time in her life, he killed her.

I thought I was smart but I obviously wasn’t smart enough to stay clear of him.

So it ends here. The same place life started anew for me. Mom’s place.

I wonder what he’ll have done to my bodyguard. He was okay. I don’t think I adequately prepared him for what was coming. I’ve got so much blood on my hands.

She strained aganst her restraints. He had gone to another room. The two men were conferring quietly. She couldn’t hear the words, but she knew the details of how her life was to end were being analyzed.

She tugged at the plastic holding her arms and legs again. Her movements only tighted them.

76

“NOW’S NOT A good time to talk, Derrick,” Bobby Durham said.

“Dude . . . Bobby . . . this has got to stop. I’m not part of this anymore.”

“Derrick, once you’re in, you’re committed. You don’t get to just change your mind and quit because things get tough.”

“I never committed to Jack or Barbara being . . . to dying.”

“After what Jack did to you, I’m not even sure what you’re saying.”

“I loved Jack.”

“I did too. Listen, Derrick, we’re on the same team. This mess is about over. I agree, none of the bad stuff was supposed to happen. Come see me tonight so we can talk all this through.”

“Your house?”

“No. I’m at Barbara’s.”

“Really? Why Barbara’s?”

“I have to be honest, Derrick. I had a lot of respect for Barbara. I miss her. I’m going through stuff to see if there’s anything we should save for Penny.”

“You’re doing that? That’s nice, Bobby.”

“Come over and help me. We’ll talk.”

He’ll be over. He knows what happens to his old man’s company if I pull the plug on funding his latest merger. Not sure Derrick cares about his dad, but he does care about his inheritance.

She commits suicide at her mom’s place. That works. Great story. A modern tragedy. Our family will take some hits, but people don’t come to us because of how nice we are, they come because Dad and I know how to make money for them.

How do I fit Derrick into the picture?

He did love Barbara. He never forgave Jack for what he did to her and him.

Jack loved to tell people the story that Dad bought him a prostitute for his sixteenth birthday. What a lying weasel. Derrick fell for an older woman—so Jack made a move and slept with her and got her pregnant.

Why? Who knows with Jack. Who knows. He was a cancer to his family and to society.

I don’t want to hurt Derrick. I like him. I feel sorry for him. He does get emotional. I think he’ll fall in line when I remind him what Jack did to him . . . and remind him that I’ll bankrupt his old man and his future if he bucks me.

• • •

After flashing my badge and a little bullying, I finally get the security guard for the condo to open her door. I have a bad feeling what I’m going to find there. It’s empty. No bodies.

Okay, as far as I know, Gary and Penny are alive. But where are they? How do I find them?

A simple explanation is she skipped bail and paid Gary extra to drive her somewhere and keep his mouth shut.

I look down. Don’t recognize the number. I pick up, praying it isn’t Czaka.

“Conner.”

“Kristen, it’s Derrick.”

“Now’s not a good time to talk, Derrick,” I say.

“You’re the second person to say that to me in the past ten minutes,” he says.

Okay.

“I think I’m ready to talk to you, Conner. Really talk. I know who killed Jack. I’m on my way to see him now.”

“Talk to me, Derrick.”

• • •

I call Don and he finally picks up. I tell him to follow me to Barbara Ferguson’s—and to be armed and ready to use deadly force. I hang up before he can protest.

“Konkade.”

“This is Conner.”

“Is the prodigal ready to come home?”

“No time for chit-chat, Sergeant. What’s the status of Barbara Ferguson’s apartment? Do I have access?”

“It’s a crime scene and last I heard you were an investigating officer on the case.”

“So I can enter the premises completely legally?”

“It needs to be logged.”

“Can you do it for me?”

“Sure. But what’s up, Kristen? You’se in a boatload of trouble. Is this going to get you deeper in the muck?”

“All or nothing, Konkade.”

“You need backup?”

“I got Squires.”

“I’ll send Martinez and Randall.”

“Not Randall!”

“What’s that mean?”

“Call the boss. He’ll update you.”

“I’ve been trying. His answer goes straight into voice mail.”

“He’s doing his job. And I’m doing mine.”

“Okay. I’ll send Martinez and I’m on my way.”

“No Randall.”

“No Randall.”

77

“SHE WAS POPULAR when she was alive . . . she seems to be just as popular dead. Rest in peace,” the doorman says, doing the sign of the Cross over his chest.

“So the others are already here?”

“Just two, I think,” he answers.

“Thank you, Frank,” I say looking at his name badge. Listen, one or two more police officers will be here in the next little while. Can you buzz them up when they get here?”

“Sure.”

“I need to head on up now.”

“I’ll key you up.”

“Speaking of keys, do you have an extra one to the apartment?”

“I do, but I don’t mind going up and opening the door for you. But if you have a colleague already up there can’t you just knock on the door?”

I don’t know who’s up there. I’m flying by the seat of my pants. What do I say now?

“Based on a new lead, I know we’re running some new tests up there so I don’t want to disturb anything that’s in progress. And I don’t want to disturb you from keeping an eye on the lobby. So just give me the key to Ms. Ferguson’s unit and I’ll bring it back. Work for you?”

“I’m really not supposed to.”

“I’ll bring it back before I leave. Scouts’ honor,” I say, holding up two fingers and crossing my heart.

I was never a Boy Scout so I’m not sure if it’s two fingers or three.

“Just be sure you bring it back to me so I can sign it back in.”

“Will do.”

“And Detective?”

“Yes, Frank?”

“The press said a lot of horrible things about Ms. Ferguson. But she was always good to me and the others who work here. I hope you nail whoever killed her.”

“I do too, Frank.”

• • •

Derrick told me he was on his way to meet Bobby Durham at Barbara’s place. He didn’t mention anyone else. Is he already here? Or someone else?

I begin thinking through attack and defense strategies and tactics on my ride up the elevator. I know the layout of Ferguson’s condo very well. That helps. But it’s big. A lot of space to account for with Junior, a possible colleague, and maybe a hostage.

Will Junior be armed? How about the other guy?

I arrive on Ferguson’s floor and it sounds to me like the elevator bell rings louder than an air raid siren. I wonder if they could hear it in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

I am thankful the tiled hallways—looks like marble—are striped by a long carpet runner. Red of course. I’m wearing a pair of Asics running shoes and could have kept my footsteps quiet anyway, but this makes a quiet approach even easier.

I turn left out of the elevator, walk twenty feet to a corner and turn left. She’s in the large northeast corner unit.

Forget the sound of footsteps, my heart is pounding so hard I think it is echoing off the walls down in the lobby. I wonder how far behind Squires and whoever Konkade gets moving is.
Where are you boys?

I get to Ferguson’s door. I can see a tiny full moon of light behind the peep hole. I press my eye and see exactly what I expect to see. Nothing but the distorted shapes of furniture in an empty room.

I have drawn my Sig. If I end up using it everyone in a square mile will hear it. No one in the condo that is asleep will be once the explosive charge of a handgun sounds. I pause. It’s almost midnight but the sounds of the city are still wide awake. Tires squeal. Horns blare. Motors rev. The swoop-swoop-swoop of traffic on Lake Shore Drive is constant. I can feel the beat of music. Must be a club on this street. Might be my imagination but I hear what I think is the faint trace of voices and laughter.

What awaits me behind the door?

• • •

“Where is Conner?”

Randall glances at a phone app and his eyes go wide.

“What?”

“She’s here.”

“She’s quite the pest,” Durham, Jr. says with a sigh. “I should have kept the Ajax crew here.”

He looks at Penny and sets the syringe down.

“I think we can handle this ourselves, Randall. Now is when you earn the big bucks.”

• • •

Can’t perch on the edge of the diving board forever. You have to jump.

Time to go in and find what’s waiting for me. I raise the electronic key to the keypad over the door handle. A security chain will probably stop the door after five inches. I’m going put my legs, shoulder, and all 115 pounds of me into that gap and break it. I’ll keep my Sig Sauer held high and my head on a swivel. I will be ready to deal with what whatever awaits me. I’ll enter the living room, sprint to the dining room—with a tuck and roll if necessary—dive into the kitchen, zigzag into the sunroom, and finish my orbit in the back hall that leads into the bedrooms. The key will be to keep moving.

The Lord shall preserve thy going out and coming from this time forth.
I breathe a phrase from a Psalm I learned when I was a kid. I don’t know which one. But I know I need some preserving where I’m going to—particularly if I want to come out alive.